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diff --git a/5140-h/5140-h.htm b/5140-h/5140-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c9bf61f --- /dev/null +++ b/5140-h/5140-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,37986 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml"> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=ISO-8859-1" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of He Knew He Was Right, by Anthony Trollope</title> +<style type="text/css"> + body {background:#fdfdfd; + color:black; + font-family: "Times-Roman", serif; + font-size: large; + margin-left:15%; + margin-right:15%; + text-align:justify; } + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 {text-align: center; + clear: both; } + hr.narrow { width: 40%; + text-align: center; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; } + hr { width: 100%; } + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 4px; + border-width: 4px 0 0 0; /* remove all borders except the top one */ + border-style: solid; + border-color: #000000; + clear: both; } + blockquote { font-size: large; } + blockquote.med { font-size: medium; } + img.left { float:left; + margin: 0px 8px 6px 0px; } + table {font-size: large; } + table.sm {font-size: medium; } + table.j {font-size: large; + text-align: justify; } + td.j {text-align: justify; } + p {text-indent: 4%; } + p.noindent { text-indent: 0%; } + p.noindentind { text-indent: 0%; + margin-left: 4%; } + .caption { font-size: small; + font-weight: bold; } + .center { text-align: center; } + img { border: 0; } + .ind2 { margin-left: 2em; } + .ind4 { margin-left: 4em; } + .ind6 { margin-left: 6em; } + .ind8 { margin-left: 8em; } + .ind10 { margin-left: 10em; } + .ind12 { margin-left: 12em; } + .ind15 { margin-left: 15em; } + .ind18 { margin-left: 18em; } + .jright { text-align: right; } + .wide { letter-spacing: 2em; } + .nowrap { white-space: nowrap; } + .nonser { font-family: Arial, non-serif; } + .small { font-size: 85%; } + .large { font-size: 130%; } + .smallcaps { font-variant: small-caps; } + .u { text-decoration: underline; } + a:link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + link {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:visited {color:blue; + text-decoration:none} + a:hover {color:red; + text-decoration: underline; } + pre {font-size: 70%; } +</style> +</head> +<body> +<h1>The Project Gutenberg eBook, He Knew He Was Right, by Anthony Trollope, +Illustrated by Marcus Stone</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 class="noindent">Title: He Knew He Was Right</p> +<p class="noindent">Author: Anthony Trollope</p> +<p class="noindent">Release Date: May 13, 2002 [eBook #5140]<br /> +HTML version most recently updated: April 16, 2011</p> +<p class="noindent">Language: English</p> +<p class="noindent">Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p class="noindent">***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HE KNEW HE WAS RIGHT***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Andrew Turek<br /> + and revised by Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D., and Delpine Lettau<br /> + <br /> + HTML version prepared by<br /> + Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D., and Delphine Lettau</h3> +<p> </p> +<table class="sm" border="0" style="background-color: #ccccff;" cellpadding="10"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + Transcriber's note: + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + This novel was first published in serial form in 1868-1869, + followed by a two-volume book version in 1869. Both were + illustrated by Marcus Stone, and those illustrations + are used in this HTML version of this e-text. + </td> + </tr> +</table> +<p> </p> + +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h1>HE KNEW HE WAS RIGHT</h1> + +<p> </p> + +<h4>BY</h4> + +<h2>ANTHONY TROLLOPE</h2> + +<p> </p> + +<h4>WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY</h4> + +<h3>MARCUS STONE</h3> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> + +<h3>CONTENTS</h3> +<div class="center"> +<table class="sm" style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="3"> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">I. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c1" >SHEWING HOW WRATH BEGAN.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">II. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c2" >COLONEL OSBORNE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">III. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c3" >LADY MILBOROUGH'S DINNER PARTY.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">IV. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c4" >HUGH STANBURY.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">V. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c5" >SHEWING HOW THE QUARREL PROGRESSED.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VI. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c6" >SHEWING HOW RECONCILIATION WAS MADE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c7" >MISS JEMIMA STANBURY, OF EXETER.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">VIII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c8" >"I KNOW IT WILL DO."</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">IX. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c9" >SHEWING HOW THE QUARREL PROGRESSED<br />AGAIN.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">X. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c10" >HARD WORDS.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XI. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c11" >LADY MILBOROUGH AS AMBASSADOR.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c12" >MISS STANBURY'S GENEROSITY.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XIII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c13" >THE HONOURABLE MR. GLASCOCK.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XIV. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c14" >THE CLOCK HOUSE AT NUNCOMBE PUTNEY.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XV. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c15" >WHAT THEY SAID ABOUT IT IN THE CLOSE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XVI. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c16" >DARTMOOR.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XVII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c17" >A GENTLEMAN COMES TO<br />NUNCOMBE PUTNEY.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XVIII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c18" >THE STANBURY CORRESPONDENCE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XIX. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c19" >BOZZLE, THE EX-POLICEMAN.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XX. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c20" >SHEWING HOW COLONEL OSBORNE<br />WENT TO COCKCHAFFINGTON.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXI. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c21" >SHEWING HOW COLONEL OSBORNE<br />WENT TO NUNCOMBE PUTNEY.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c22" >SHEWING HOW MISS STANBURY<br />BEHAVED TO HER TWO NIECES.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXIII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c23" >COLONEL OSBORNE AND MR. BOZZLE<br />RETURN TO LONDON.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXIV. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c24" >NIDDON PARK.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXV. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c25" >HUGH STANBURY SMOKES HIS PIPE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXVI. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c26" >A THIRD PARTY IS SO OBJECTIONABLE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXVII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c27" >MR. TREVELYAN'S LETTER TO HIS WIFE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXVIII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c28" >GREAT TRIBULATION.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXIX. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c29" >MR. AND MRS. OUTHOUSE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXX. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c30" >DOROTHY MAKES UP HER MIND.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXXI. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c31" >MR. BROOKE BURGESS.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXXII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c32" >THE "FULL MOON" AT ST. DIDDULPH'S.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXXIII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c33" >HUGH STANBURY SMOKES ANOTHER PIPE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXXIV. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c34" >PRISCILLA'S WISDOM.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXXV. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c35" >MR. GIBSON'S GOOD FORTUNE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXXVI. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c36" >MISS STANBURY'S WRATH.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXXVII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c37" >MONT CENIS.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXXVIII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c38" >VERDICT OF THE JURY—"MAD, MY LORD."</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XXXIX. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c39" >MISS NORA ROWLEY IS MALTREATED.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XL. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c40" >"C. G."</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XLI. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c41" >SHEWING WHAT TOOK PLACE AT<br />ST. DIDDULPH'S.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XLII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c42" >MISS STANBURY AND MR. GIBSON<br />BECOME TWO.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XLIII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c43" >LABURNUM COTTAGE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XLIV. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c44" >BROOKE BURGESS TAKES LEAVE OF EXETER.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XLV. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c45" >TREVELYAN AT VENICE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XLVI. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c46" >THE AMERICAN MINISTER.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XLVII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c47" >ABOUT FISHING, AND NAVIGATION,<br />AND HEAD-DRESSES.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XLVIII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c48" >MR. GIBSON IS PUNISHED.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XLIX. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c49" >MR. BROOKE BURGESS AFTER SUPPER.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">L. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c50" >CAMILLA TRIUMPHANT.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LI. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c51" >SHEWING WHAT HAPPENED DURING<br />MISS STANBURY'S ILLNESS.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c52" >MR. OUTHOUSE COMPLAINS THAT IT'S HARD.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LIII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c53" >HUGH STANBURY IS SHEWN TO BE<br />NO CONJUROR.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LIV. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c54" >MR. GIBSON'S THREAT.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LV. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c55" >THE REPUBLICAN BROWNING.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LVI. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c56" >WITHERED GRASS.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LVII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c57" >DOROTHY'S FATE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LVIII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c58" >DOROTHY AT HOME.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LIX. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c59" >MR. BOZZLE AT HOME.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LX. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c60" >ANOTHER STRUGGLE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXI. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c61" >PARKER'S HOTEL, MOWBRAY STREET.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c62" >LADY ROWLEY MAKES AN ATTEMPT.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXIII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c63" >SIR MARMADUKE AT HOME.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXIV. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c64" >SIR MARMADUKE AT HIS CLUB.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXV. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c65" >MYSTERIOUS AGENCIES.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXVI. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c66" >OF A QUARTER OF LAMB.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXVII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c67" >RIVER'S COTTAGE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXVIII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c68" >MAJOR MAGRUDER'S COMMITTEE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXIX. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c69" >SIR MARMADUKE AT WILLESDEN.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXX. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c70" >SHEWING WHAT NORA ROWLEY<br />THOUGHT ABOUT CARRIAGES.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXI. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c71" >SHEWING WHAT HUGH STANBURY<br />THOUGHT ABOUT THE DUTY OF MAN.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c72" >THE DELIVERY OF THE LAMB.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXIII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c73" >DOROTHY RETURNS TO EXETER.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXIV. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c74" >THE LIONESS AROUSED.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXV. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c75" >THE ROWLEYS GO OVER THE ALPS.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXVI. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c76" >"WE SHALL BE SO POOR."</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXVII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c77" >THE FUTURE LADY PETERBOROUGH.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXVIII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c78" >CASALUNGA.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXIX. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c79" >"I CAN SLEEP ON THE BOARDS."</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXX. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c80" >"WILL THEY DESPISE HIM?"</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXXI. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c81" >MR. GLASCOCK IS MASTER.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXXII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c82" >MRS. FRENCH'S CARVING KNIFE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXXIII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c83" >BELLA VICTRIX.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXXIV. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c84" >SELF-SACRIFICE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXXV. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c85" >THE BATHS OF LUCCA.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXXVI. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c86" >MR. GLASCOCK AS NURSE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXXVII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c87" >MR. GLASCOCK'S MARRIAGE COMPLETED.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXXVIII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c88" >CROPPER AND BURGESS.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">LXXXIX. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c89" >"I WOULDN'T DO IT, IF I WAS YOU."</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XC. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c90" >LADY ROWLEY CONQUERED.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XCI. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c91" >FOUR O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XCII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c92" >TREVELYAN DISCOURSES ON LIFE.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XCIII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c93" >"SAY THAT YOU FORGIVE ME."</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XCIV. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c94" >A REAL CHRISTIAN.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XCV. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c95" >TREVELYAN BACK IN ENGLAND.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XCVI. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c96" >MONKHAMS.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XCVII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c97" >MRS. BROOKE BURGESS.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XCVIII. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c98" >ACQUITTED.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="right" valign="top">XCIX. </td> <td align="left"><a href="#c99" >CONCLUSION.</a></td></tr> +</table> +</div> +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> + +<h3>ILLUSTRATIONS</h3> +<div class="center"> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" class="sm" cellpadding="4"> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ip1-007" >SHEWING HOW WRATH BEGAN.</a></td><td valign="bottom" align="right"> Chapter I</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ip1-039" >SHEWING HOW RECONCILIATION WAS MADE.</a></td><td valign="bottom" align="right"> Chapter VI</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ip1-071" >"I ONLY COME AS A MESSENGER."</a></td><td valign="bottom" align="right"> Chapter IX</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ip1-092" >AUNT STANBURY AT DINNER WILL NOT SPEAK.</a></td><td valign="bottom" align="right"> Chapter XII</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ip1-107" >TO HAVE BEEN THE MOTHER OF A FUTURE PEER!</a></td><td valign="bottom" align="right"> Chapter XIII</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ip1-125" >NORA TRIES TO MAKE HERSELF BELIEVE.</a></td><td valign="bottom" align="right"> Chapter XVI</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ip1-167" >THE WOODEN-LEGGED POSTMAN<br /> OF NUNCOMBE PUTNEY.</a></td><td valign="bottom" align="right"> Chapter XXI</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ip1-192" >NIDDON PARK.</a></td><td valign="bottom" align="right"> Chapter XXIV</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ip1-205" >THAT THIRD PERSON WAS MR. BOZZLE.</a></td><td valign="bottom" align="right"> Chapter XXVI</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ip1-238" >DOROTHY MAKES UP HER MIND.</a></td><td valign="bottom" align="right"> Chapter XXX</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ip1-256" >THE "FULL MOON" AT ST. DIDDULPH'S.</a></td><td valign="bottom" align="right"> Chapter XXXII</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ip1-281" >"I WONDER WHY PEOPLE MAKE THESE REPORTS."</a></td><td valign="bottom" align="right"> Chapter XXXV</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ip1-304" >"AM I TO GO?"</a></td><td valign="bottom" align="right"> Chapter XXXIX</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ip1-318" >AT ST. DIDDULPH'S.</a></td><td valign="bottom" align="right"> Chapter XLI</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ip1-346" >BROOKE BURGESS TAKES HIS LEAVE.</a></td><td valign="bottom" align="right"> Chapter XLIV</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ip1-378" >MISS STANBURY VISITS THE FRENCHES.</a></td><td valign="bottom" align="right"> Chapter XLVIII</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ip2-016" >THE WORLD WAS GOING ROUND WITH DOROTHY.</a></td><td valign="bottom" align="right"> Chapter LI</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ip2-031" >NORA'S LETTER.</a></td><td valign="bottom" align="right"> Chapter LIII</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ip2-060" >"BROOKE WANTS ME TO BE HIS WIFE."</a></td><td valign="bottom" align="right"> Chapter LVII</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ip2-074" >"PUT IT ON THE FIRE-BACK, BOZZLE."</a></td><td valign="bottom" align="right"> Chapter LIX</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ip2-118" >"AND WHY DOES HE COME HERE?"</a></td><td valign="bottom" align="right"> Chapter LXIII</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ip2-137" >"YOU HAVEN'T FORGOTTEN MAMMA?"</a></td><td valign="bottom" align="right"> Chapter LXVII</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ip2-158" >"BUT YOU MUST GIVE IT UP,"<br /> SAID SIR MARMADUKE.</a></td><td valign="bottom" align="right"> Chapter LXX</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ip2-183" >"ONLY THE VAGARIES OF AN OLD WOMAN."</a></td><td valign="bottom" align="right"> Chapter LXXIII</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ip2-206" >THE RIVALS.</a></td><td valign="bottom" align="right"> Chapter LXXVI</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ip2-229" >"IT IS HARD TO SPEAK SOMETIMES."</a></td><td valign="bottom" align="right"> Chapter LXXIX</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ip2-251" >CAMILLA'S WRATH.</a></td><td valign="bottom" align="right"> Chapter LXXXII</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ip2-268" >TREVELYAN AT CASALUNGA.</a></td><td valign="bottom" align="right"> Chapter LXXXIV</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ip2-302" >BARTY BURGESS.</a></td><td valign="bottom" align="right"> Chapter LXXXVIII</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ip2-317" >"I MUST ALWAYS REMEMBER THAT<br /> I MET YOU THERE."</a></td><td valign="bottom" align="right"> Chapter XC</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ip2-358" >NORA'S VEIL.</a></td><td valign="bottom" align="right"> Chapter XCV</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#ip2-367" >MONKHAMS.</a></td><td valign="bottom" align="right"> Chapter XCVI</td></tr> +</table> +</div> +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> + + +<p><a name="c1" id="c1"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER I.</h3> +<h4>SHEWING HOW WRATH BEGAN.<br /> </h4> + + +<p><img class="left" src="images/ch01a.jpg" width="310" alt="Illustration" /> +When Louis Trevelyan was twenty-four years old, he had all the world +before him where to choose; and, among other things, he chose to go +to the Mandarin Islands, and there fell in love with Emily Rowley, +the daughter of Sir Marmaduke, the governor. Sir Marmaduke Rowley, at +this period of his life, was a respectable middle-aged public +servant, in good repute, who had, however, as yet achieved for +himself neither an exalted position nor a large fortune. He had been +governor of many islands, and had never lacked employment; and now, +at the age of fifty, found himself at the Mandarins, with a salary of +£3,000 a year, living in a temperature at which 80° in the shade is +considered to be cool, with eight daughters, and not a shilling +saved. A governor at the Mandarins who is social by nature and +hospitable on principle, cannot save money in the islands even on +£3,000 a year when he has eight daughters. And at the Mandarins, +though hospitality is a duty, the gentlemen who ate Sir Rowley's +dinners were not exactly the men whom he or Lady Rowley desired to +welcome to their bosoms as sons-in-law. Nor when Mr. Trevelyan came +that way, desirous of seeing everything in the somewhat indefinite +course of his travels, had Emily Rowley, the eldest of the flock, +then twenty years of age, seen as yet any Mandariner who exactly came +up to her fancy. And, as Louis Trevelyan was a remarkably handsome +young man, who was well connected, who had been ninth wrangler at +Cambridge, who had already published a volume of poems, and who +possessed £3,000 a year of his own, arising from various perfectly +secure investments, he was not forced to sigh long in vain. Indeed, +the Rowleys, one and all, felt that providence had been very good to +them in sending young Trevelyan on his travels in that direction, for +he seemed to be a very pearl among men. Both Sir Marmaduke and Lady +Rowley felt that there might be objections to such a marriage as that +proposed to them, raised by the Trevelyan family. Lady Rowley would +not have liked her daughter to go to England, to be received with +cold looks by strangers. But it soon appeared that there was no one +to make objections. Louis, the lover, had no living relative nearer +than cousins. His father, a barrister of repute, had died a widower, +and had left the money which he had made to an only child. The head +of the family was a first cousin who lived in Cornwall on a moderate +property,—a very good sort of stupid fellow, as Louis said, who +would be quite indifferent as to any marriage that his cousin might +make. No man could be more independent or more clearly justified in +pleasing himself than was this lover. And then he himself proposed +that the second daughter, Nora, should come and live with them in +London. What a lover to fall suddenly from the heavens into such a +dovecote!</p> + +<p>"I haven't a penny-piece to give to either of them," said Sir Rowley.</p> + +<p>"It is my idea that girls should not have fortunes," said Trevelyan. +"At any rate, I am quite sure that men should never look for money. A +man must be more comfortable, and, I think, is likely to be more +affectionate, when the money has belonged to himself."</p> + +<p>Sir Rowley was a high-minded gentleman, who would have liked to have +handed over a few thousand pounds on giving up his daughters; but, +having no thousands of pounds to hand over, he could not but admire +the principles of his proposed son-in-law. As it was about time for +him to have his leave of absence, he and sundry of the girls went to +England with Mr. Trevelyan, and the wedding was celebrated in London +by the Rev. Oliphant Outhouse, of Saint Diddulph-in-the-East, who had +married Sir Rowley's sister. Then a small house was taken and +furnished in Curzon Street, Mayfair, and the Rowleys went back to the +seat of their government, leaving Nora, the second girl, in charge of +her elder sister.</p> + +<p>The Rowleys had found, on reaching London, that they had lighted upon +a pearl indeed. Louis Trevelyan was a man of whom all people said all +good things. He might have been a fellow of his college had he not +been a man of fortune. He might already,—so Sir Rowley was +told,—have been in Parliament, had he not thought it to be wiser to +wait awhile. Indeed, he was very wise in many things. He had gone out +on his travels thus young,—not in search of excitement, to kill +beasts, or to encounter he knew not what novelty and amusement,—but +that he might see men and know the world. He had been on his travels +for more than a year when the winds blew him to the Mandarins. Oh, +how blessed were the winds! And, moreover, Sir Rowley found that his +son-in-law was well spoken of at the clubs by those who had known him +during his university career, as a man popular as well as wise, not a +book-worm, or a dry philosopher, or a prig. He could talk on all +subjects, was very generous, a man sure to be honoured and respected; +and then such a handsome, manly fellow, with short brown hair, a nose +divinely chiselled, an Apollo's mouth, six feet high, with shoulders +and legs and arms in proportion,—a pearl of pearls! Only, as Lady +Rowley was the first to find out, he liked to have his own way.</p> + +<p>"But his way is such a good way," said Sir Marmaduke. "He will be +such a good guide for the girls!"</p> + +<p>"But Emily likes her way too," said Lady Rowley.</p> + +<p>Sir Marmaduke argued the matter no further, but thought, no doubt, +that such a husband as Louis Trevelyan was entitled to have his own +way. He probably had not observed his daughter's temper so accurately +as his wife had done. With eight of them coming up around him, how +should he have observed their tempers? At any rate, if there were +anything amiss with Emily's temper, it would be well that she should +find her master in such a husband as Louis Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>For nearly two years the little household in Curzon Street went on +well, or if anything was the matter no one outside of the little +household was aware of it. And there was a baby, a boy, a young +Louis, and a baby in such a household is apt to make things go +sweetly.</p> + +<p>The marriage had taken place in July, and after the wedding tour +there had been a winter and a spring in London; and then they passed +a month or two at the sea-side, after which the baby had been born. +And then there came another winter and another spring. Nora Rowley +was with them in London, and by this time Mr. Trevelyan had begun to +think that he should like to have his own way completely. His baby +was very nice, and his wife was clever, pretty, and attractive. Nora +was all that an unmarried sister should be. But,—but there had come +to be trouble and bitter words. Lady Rowley had been right when she +said that her daughter Emily also liked to have her own way.</p> + +<p>"If I am suspected," said Mrs. Trevelyan to her sister one morning, +as they sat together in the little back drawing-room, "life will not +be worth having."</p> + +<p>"How can you talk of being suspected, Emily?"</p> + +<p>"What does he mean then by saying that he would rather not have +Colonel Osborne here? A man older than my own father, who has known +me since I was a baby!"</p> + +<p>"He didn't mean anything of that kind, Emily. You know he did not, +and you should not say so. It would be too horrible to think of."</p> + +<p>"It was a great deal too horrible to be spoken, I know. If he does +not beg my pardon, I shall,—I shall continue to live with him, of +course, as a sort of upper servant, because of baby. But he shall +know what I think and feel."</p> + +<p>"If I were you I would forget it."</p> + +<p>"How can I forget it? Nothing that I can do pleases him. He is civil +and kind to you because he is not your master; but you don't know +what things he says to me. Am I to tell Colonel Osborne not to come? +Heavens and earth! How should I ever hold up my head again if I were +driven to do that? He will be here to-day I have no doubt; and Louis +will sit there below in the library, and hear his step, and will not +come up."</p> + +<p>"Tell Richard to say you are not at home."</p> + +<p>"Yes; and everybody will understand why. And for what am I to deny +myself in that way to the best and oldest friend I have? If any such +orders are to be given, let him give them and then see what will come +of it."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Trevelyan had described Colonel Osborne truly as far as words +went, in saying that he had known her since she was a baby, and that +he was an older man than her father. Colonel Osborne's age exceeded +her father's by about a month, and as he was now past fifty, he might +be considered perhaps, in that respect, to be a safe friend for a +young married woman. But he was in every respect a man very different +from Sir Marmaduke. Sir Marmaduke, blessed and at the same time +burdened as he was with a wife and eight daughters, and condemned as +he had been to pass a large portion of his life within the tropics, +had become at fifty what many people call quite a middle-aged man. +That is to say, he was one from whom the effervescence and elasticity +and salt of youth had altogether passed away. He was fat and slow, +thinking much of his wife and eight daughters, thinking much also of +his dinner. Now Colonel Osborne was a bachelor, with no burdens but +those imposed upon him by his position as a member of Parliament,—a +man of fortune to whom the world had been very easy. It was not +therefore said so decidedly of him as of Sir Marmaduke, that he was a +middle-aged man, although he had probably already lived more than +two-thirds of his life. And he was a good-looking man of his age, +bald indeed at the top of his head, and with a considerable +sprinkling of grey hair through his bushy beard; but upright in his +carriage, active, and quick in his step, who dressed well, and was +clearly determined to make the most he could of what remained to him +of the advantages of youth. Colonel Osborne was always so dressed +that no one ever observed the nature of his garments, being no doubt +well aware that no man after twenty-five can afford to call special +attention to his coat, his hat, his cravat, or his trousers; but +nevertheless the matter was one to which he paid much attention, and +he was by no means lax in ascertaining what his tailor did for him. +He always rode a pretty horse, and mounted his groom on one at any +rate as pretty. He was known to have an excellent stud down in the +shires, and had the reputation of going well with hounds. Poor Sir +Marmaduke could not have ridden a hunt to save either his government +or his credit. When, therefore, Mrs. Trevelyan declared to her sister +that Colonel Osborne was a man whom she was entitled to regard with +semi-parental feelings of veneration because he was older than her +father, she made a comparison which was more true in the letter than +in the spirit. And when she asserted that Colonel Osborne had known +her since she was a baby, she fell again into the same mistake. +Colonel Osborne had indeed known her when she was a baby, and had in +old days been the very intimate friend of her father; but of herself +he had seen little or nothing since those baby days, till he had met +her just as she was about to become Mrs. Trevelyan; and though it was +natural that so old a friend should come to her and congratulate her +and renew his friendship, nevertheless it was not true that he made +his appearance in her husband's house in the guise of the useful old +family friend, who gives silver cups to the children and kisses the +little girls for the sake of the old affection which he has borne for +the parents. We all know the appearance of that old gentleman, how +pleasant and dear a fellow he is, how welcome is his face within the +gate, how free he makes with our wine, generally abusing it, how he +tells our eldest daughter to light his candle for him, how he gave +silver cups when the girls were born, and now bestows tea-services as +they get married,—a most useful, safe, and charming fellow, not a +year younger-looking or more nimble than ourselves, without whom life +would be very blank. We all know that man; but such a man was not +Colonel Osborne in the house of Mr. Trevelyan's young bride.</p> + +<p>Emily Rowley, when she was brought home from the Mandarin Islands to +be the wife of Louis Trevelyan, was a very handsome young woman, +tall, with a bust rather full for her age, with dark eyes—eyes that +looked to be dark because her eye-brows and eye-lashes were nearly +black, but which were in truth so varying in colour, that you could +not tell their hue. Her brown hair was very dark and very soft; and +the tint of her complexion was brown also, though the colour of her +cheeks was often so bright as to induce her enemies to say falsely of +her that she painted them. And she was very strong, as are some girls +who come from the tropics, and whom a tropical climate has suited. +She could sit on her horse the whole day long, and would never be +weary with dancing at the Government House balls. When Colonel +Osborne was introduced to her as the baby whom he had known, he +thought it would be very pleasant to be intimate with so pleasant a +friend,—meaning no harm indeed, as but few men do mean harm on such +occasions,—but still, not regarding the beautiful young woman whom +he had seen as one of a generation succeeding to that of his own, to +whom it would be his duty to make himself useful on account of the +old friendship which he bore to her father.</p> + +<p>It was, moreover, well known in London,—though not known at all to +Mrs. Trevelyan,—that this ancient Lothario had before this made +himself troublesome in more than one family. He was fond of +intimacies with married ladies, and perhaps was not averse to the +excitement of marital hostility. It must be remembered, however, that +the hostility to which allusion is here made was not the hostility of +the pistol or the horsewhip,—nor, indeed, was it generally the +hostility of a word of spoken anger. A young husband may dislike the +too-friendly bearing of a friend, and may yet abstain from that +outrage on his own dignity and on his wife, which is conveyed by a +word of suspicion. Louis Trevelyan having taken a strong dislike to +Colonel Osborne, and having failed to make his wife understand that +this dislike should have induced her to throw cold water upon the +Colonel's friendship, had allowed himself to speak a word which +probably he would have willingly recalled as soon as spoken. But +words spoken cannot be recalled, and many a man and many a woman who +has spoken a word at once regretted, are far too proud to express +that regret. So it was with Louis Trevelyan when he told his wife +that he did not wish Colonel Osborne to come so often to his house. +He had said it with a flashing eye and an angry tone; and though she +had seen the eye flash before, and was familiar with the angry tone, +she had never before felt herself to be insulted by her husband. As +soon as the word had been spoken Trevelyan had left the room, and had +gone down among his books. But when he was alone, he knew that he had +insulted his wife. He was quite aware that he should have spoken to +her gently, and have explained to her, with his arm round her waist, +that it would be better for both of them that this friend's +friendship should be limited. There is so much in a turn of the eye +and in the tone given to a word when such things have to be said,—so +much more of importance than in the words themselves. As Trevelyan +thought of this, and remembered what his manner had been, how much +anger he had expressed, how far he had been from having his arm round +his wife's waist as he spoke to her, he almost made up his mind to go +up-stairs and to apologise. But he was one to whose nature the giving +of any apology was repulsive. He could not bear to have to own +himself to have been wrong. And then his wife had been most provoking +in her manner to him. When he had endeavoured to make her understand +his wishes by certain disparaging hints which he had thrown out as to +Colonel Osborne, saying that he was a dangerous man, one who did not +show his true character, a snake in the grass, a man without settled +principles, and such like, his wife had taken up the cudgels for her +friend, and had openly declared that she did not believe a word of +the things that were alleged against him. "But still, for all that, +it is true," the husband had said. "I have no doubt that you think +so," the wife had replied. "Men do believe evil of one another, very +often. But you must excuse me if I say that I think you are mistaken. +I have known Colonel Osborne much longer than you have done, Louis, +and papa has always had the highest opinion of him." Then Mr. +Trevelyan had become very angry, and had spoken those words which he +could not recall. As he walked to and fro among his books +down-stairs, he almost felt that he ought to beg his wife's pardon. +He knew his wife well enough to be sure that she would not forgive +him unless he did so. He would do so, he thought, but not exactly +now. A moment would come in which it might be easier than at present. +He would be able to assure her when he went up to dress for dinner, +that he had meant no harm. They were going out to dine at the house +of a lady of rank, the Countess Dowager of Milborough, a lady +standing high in the world's esteem, of whom his wife stood a little +in awe; and he calculated that this feeling, if it did not make his +task easy would yet take from it some of its difficulty. Emily would +be, not exactly cowed, by the prospect of Lady Milborough's dinner, +but perhaps a little reduced from her usual self-assertion. He would +say a word to her when he was dressing, assuring her that he had not +intended to animadvert in the slightest degree upon her own conduct.</p> + + +<div class="center"><a name="ip1-007" id="ip1-007"></a> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="4px"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/p1-007.jpg"> + <img src="images/p1-007-t.jpg" width="540" + alt="Shewing how wrath began." /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <span class="caption">Shewing how wrath began.<br /> + Click to <a href="images/p1-007.jpg">ENLARGE</a></span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p>Luncheon was served, and the two ladies went down into the +dining-room. Mr. Trevelyan did not appear. There was nothing in +itself singular in that, as he was accustomed to declare that +luncheon was a meal too much in the day, and that a man should eat +nothing beyond a biscuit between breakfast and dinner. But he would +sometimes come in and eat his biscuit standing on the hearth-rug, and +drink what he would call half a quarter of a glass of sherry. It +would probably have been well that he should have done so now; but he +remained in his library behind the dining-room, and when his wife and +his sister-in-law had gone up-stairs, he became anxious to learn +whether Colonel Osborne would come on that day, and, if so, whether +he would be admitted. He had been told that Nora Rowley was to be +called for by another lady, a Mrs. Fairfax, to go out and look at +pictures. His wife had declined to join Mrs. Fairfax's party, having +declared that, as she was going to dine out, she would not leave her +baby all the afternoon. Louis Trevelyan, though he strove to apply +his mind to an article which he was writing for a scientific +quarterly review, could not keep himself from anxiety as to this +expected visit from Colonel Osborne. He was not in the least jealous. +He swore to himself fifty times over that any such feeling on his +part would be a monstrous injury to his wife. Nevertheless he knew +that he would be gratified if on that special day Colonel Osborne +should be informed that his wife was not at home. Whether the man +were admitted or not, he would beg his wife's pardon; but he could, +he thought, do so with more thorough efficacy and affection if she +should have shown a disposition to comply with his wishes on this +day.</p> + +<p>"Do say a word to Richard," said Nora to her sister in a whisper as +they were going up-stairs after luncheon.</p> + +<p>"I will not," said Mrs. Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"May I do it?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not, Nora. I should feel that I were demeaning myself were +I to allow what was said to me in such a manner to have any effect +upon me."</p> + +<p>"I think you are so wrong, Emily. I do indeed."</p> + +<p>"You must allow me to be the best judge what to do in my own house, +and with my own husband."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; certainly."</p> + +<p>"If he gives me any command I will obey it. Or if he had expressed +his wish in any other words I would have complied. But to be told +that he would rather not have Colonel Osborne here! If you had seen +his manner and heard his words, you would not have been surprised +that I should feel it as I do. It was a gross insult,—and it was not +the first."</p> + +<p>As she spoke the fire flashed from her eye, and the bright red colour +of her cheek told a tale of her anger which her sister well knew how +to read. Then there was a knock at the door, and they both knew that +Colonel Osborne was there. Louis Trevelyan, sitting in his library, +also knew of whose coming that knock gave notice.</p> + + +<p><a name="c2" id="c2"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER II.</h3> +<h4>COLONEL OSBORNE.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>It has been already said that Colonel Osborne was a bachelor, a man +of fortune, a member of Parliament, and one who carried his half +century of years lightly on his shoulders. It will only be necessary +to say further of him that he was a man popular with those among whom +he lived, as a politician, as a sportsman, and as a member of +society. He could speak well in the House, though he spoke but +seldom, and it was generally thought of him that he might have been +something considerable, had it not suited him better to be nothing at +all. He was supposed to be a Conservative, and generally voted with +the Conservative party; but he could boast that he was altogether +independent, and on an occasion would take the trouble of proving +himself to be so. He was in possession of excellent health; had all +that the world could give; was fond of books, pictures, architecture, +and china; had various tastes, and the means of indulging them, and +was one of those few men on whom it seems that every pleasant thing +has been lavished. There was that little slur on his good name to +which allusion has been made; but those who knew Colonel Osborne best +were generally willing to declare that no harm was intended, and that +the evils which arose were always to be attributed to mistaken +jealousy. He had, his friends said, a free and pleasant way with +women which women like,—a pleasant way of free friendship; that +there was no more, and that the harm which had come had always come +from false suspicion. But there were certain ladies about the +town,—good, motherly, discreet women,—who hated the name of Colonel +Osborne, who would not admit him within their doors, who would not +bow to him in other people's houses, who would always speak of him as +a serpent, a hyena, a kite, or a shark. Old Lady Milborough was one +of these, a daughter of a friend of hers having once admitted the +serpent to her intimacy.</p> + +<p>"Augustus Poole was wise enough to take his wife abroad," said old +Lady Milborough, discussing about this time with a gossip of hers the +danger of Mrs. Trevelyan's position, "or there would have been a +break-up there; and yet there never was a better girl in the world +than Jane Marriott."</p> + +<p>The reader may be quite certain that Colonel Osborne had no +premeditated evil intention when he allowed himself to become the +intimate friend of his old friend's daughter. There was nothing +fiendish in his nature. He was not a man who boasted of his +conquests. He was not a ravening wolf going about seeking whom he +might devour, and determined to devour whatever might come in his +way; but he liked that which was pleasant; and of all pleasant things +the company of a pretty clever woman was to him the pleasantest. At +this exact period of his life no woman was so pleasantly pretty to +him, and so agreeably clever, as Mrs. Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>When Louis Trevelyan heard on the stairs the step of the dangerous +man, he got up from his chair as though he too would have gone into +the drawing-room, and it would perhaps have been well had he done so. +Could he have done this, and kept his temper with the man, he would +have paved the way for an easy reconciliation with his wife. But when +he reached the door of his room, and had placed his hand upon the +lock, he withdrew again. He told himself he withdrew because he would +not allow himself to be jealous; but in truth he did so because he +knew he could not have brought himself to be civil to the man he +hated. So he sat down, and took up his pen, and began to cudgel his +brain about the scientific article. He was intent on raising a +dispute with some learned pundit about the waves of sound,—but he +could think of no other sound than that of the light steps of Colonel +Osborne as he had gone up-stairs. He put down his pen, and clenched +his fist, and allowed a black frown to settle upon his brow. What +right had the man to come there, unasked by him, and disturb his +happiness? And then this poor wife of his, who knew so little of +English life, who had lived in the Mandarin Islands almost since she +had been a child, who had lived in one colony or another almost since +she had been born, who had had so few of those advantages for which +he should have looked in marrying a wife, how was the poor girl to +conduct herself properly when subjected to the arts and practised +villanies of this viper? And yet the poor girl was so stiff in her +temper, had picked up such a trick of obstinacy in those tropical +regions, that Louis Trevelyan felt that he did not know how to manage +her. He too had heard how Jane Marriott had been carried off to +Naples after she had become Mrs. Poole. Must he too carry off his +wife to Naples in order to place her out of the reach of this hyena? +It was terrible to him to think that he must pack up everything and +run away from such a one as Colonel Osborne. And even were he to +consent to do this, how could he explain it all to that very wife for +whose sake he would do it? If she got a hint of the reason she would, +he did not doubt, refuse to go. As he thought of it, and as that +visit up-stairs prolonged itself, he almost thought it would be best +for him to be round with her! We all know what a husband means when +he resolves to be round with his wife. He began to think that he +would not apologise at all for the words he had spoken,—but would +speak them again somewhat more sharply than before. She would be very +wrathful with him; there would be a silent enduring indignation, +which, as he understood well, would be infinitely worse than any +torrent of words. But was he, a man, to abstain from doing that which +he believed to be his duty because he was afraid of his wife's anger? +Should he be deterred from saying that which he conceived it would be +right that he should say, because she was stiff-necked? No. He would +not apologise, but would tell her again that it was necessary, both +for his happiness and for hers, that all intimacy with Colonel +Osborne should be discontinued.</p> + +<p>He was brought to this strongly marital resolution by the length of +the man's present visit; by that and by the fact that, during the +latter portion of it, his wife was alone with Colonel Osborne. Nora +had been there when the man came, but Mrs. Fairfax had called, not +getting out of her carriage, and Nora had been constrained to go down +to her. She had hesitated a moment, and Colonel Osborne had observed +and partly understood the hesitation. When he saw it, had he been +perfectly well-minded in the matter, he would have gone too. But he +probably told himself that Nora Rowley was a fool, and that in such +matters it was quite enough for a man to know that he did not intend +any harm.</p> + +<p>"You had better go down, Nora," said Mrs. Trevelyan; "Mrs. Fairfax +will be ever so angry if you keep her waiting."</p> + +<p>Then Nora had gone and the two were alone together. Nora had gone, +and Trevelyan had heard her as she was going and knew that Colonel +Osborne was alone with his wife.</p> + +<p>"If you can manage that it will be so nice," said Mrs. Trevelyan, +continuing the conversation.</p> + +<p>"My dear Emily," he said, "you must not talk of my managing it, or +you will spoil it all."</p> + +<p>He had called them both Emily and Nora when Sir Marmaduke and Lady +Rowley were with them before the marriage, and, taking the liberty of +a very old family friend, had continued the practice. Mrs. Trevelyan +was quite aware that she had been so called by him in the presence of +her husband,—and that her husband had not objected. But that was now +some months ago, before baby was born; and she was aware also that he +had not called her so latterly in presence of her husband. She +thoroughly wished that she knew how to ask him not to do so again; +but the matter was very difficult, as she could not make such a +request without betraying some fear on her husband's part. The +subject which they were now discussing was too important to her to +allow her to dwell upon this trouble at the moment, and so she +permitted him to go on with his speech.</p> + +<p>"If I were to manage it, as you call it,—which I can't do at +all,—it would be a gross job."</p> + +<p>"That's all nonsense to us, Colonel Osborne. Ladies always like +political jobs, and think that they,—and they only,—make politics +bearable. But this would not be a job at all. Papa could do it better +than anybody else. Think how long he has been at it!"</p> + +<p>The matter in discussion was the chance of an order being sent out to +Sir Marmaduke to come home from his islands at the public expense, to +give evidence, respecting colonial government in general, to a +committee of the House of Commons which was about to sit on the +subject. The committee had been voted, and two governors were to be +brought home for the purpose of giving evidence. What arrangement +could be so pleasant to a governor living in the Mandarin Islands, +who had had a holiday lately, and who could but ill afford to take +any holidays at his own expense? Colonel Osborne was on this +committee, and, moreover, was on good terms at the Colonial Office. +There were men in office who would be glad to do Colonel Osborne a +service, and then if this were a job, it would be so very little of a +job! Perhaps Sir Marmaduke might not be the very best man for the +purpose. Perhaps the government of the Mandarins did not afford the +best specimen of that colonial lore which it was the business of the +committee to master. But then two governors were to come, and it +might be as well to have one of the best sort, and one of the second +best. No one supposed that excellent old Sir Marmaduke was a paragon +of a governor, but then he had an infinity of experience! For over +twenty years he had been from island to island, and had at least +steered clear of great scrapes.</p> + +<p>"We'll try it, at any rate," said the Colonel.</p> + +<p>"Do, Colonel Osborne. Mamma would come with him, of course?"</p> + +<p>"We should leave him to manage all that. It's not very likely that he +would leave Lady Rowley behind."</p> + +<p>"He never has. I know he thinks more of mamma than he ever does of +himself. Fancy having them here in the autumn! I suppose if he came +for the end of the session, they wouldn't send him back quite at +once?"</p> + +<p>"I rather fancy that our foreign and colonial servants know how to +stretch a point when they find themselves in England."</p> + +<p>"Of course they do, Colonel Osborne; and why shouldn't they? Think of +all that they have to endure out in those horrible places. How would +you like to live in the Mandarins?"</p> + +<p>"I should prefer London, certainly."</p> + +<p>"Of course you would; and you mustn't begrudge papa a month or two +when he comes. I never cared about your being in Parliament before, +but I shall think so much of you now if you can manage to get papa +home."</p> + +<p>There could be nothing more innocent than this,—nothing more +innocent at any rate as regarded any offence against Mr. Trevelyan. +But just then there came a word which a little startled Mrs. +Trevelyan, and made her feel afraid that she was doing wrong.</p> + +<p>"I must make one stipulation with you, Emily," said the Colonel.</p> + +<p>"What is that?"</p> + +<p>"You must not tell your husband."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear! and why not?"</p> + +<p>"I am sure you are sharp enough to see why you should not. A word of +this repeated at any club would put an end at once to your project, +and would be very damaging to me. And, beyond that, I wouldn't wish +him to know that I had meddled with it at all. I am very chary of +having my name connected with anything of the kind; and, upon my +word, I wouldn't do it for any living human being but yourself. +You'll promise me, Emily?"</p> + +<p>She gave the promise, but there were two things in the matter, as it +stood at present, which she did not at all like. She was very averse +to having any secret from her husband with Colonel Osborne; and she +was not at all pleased at being told that he was doing for her a +favour that he would not have done for any other living human being. +Had he said so to her yesterday, before those offensive words had +been spoken by her husband, she would not have thought much about it. +She would have connected the man's friendship for herself with his +very old friendship for her father, and she would have regarded the +assurance as made to the Rowleys in general, and not to herself in +particular. But now, after what had occurred, it pained her to be +told by Colonel Osborne that he would make, specially on her behalf, +a sacrifice of his political pride which he would make for no other +person living. And then, as he had called her by her Christian name, +as he had exacted the promise, there had been a tone of affection in +his voice that she had almost felt to be too warm. But she gave the +promise; and when he pressed her hand at parting, she pressed his +again, in token of gratitude for the kindness to be done to her +father and mother.</p> + +<p>Immediately afterwards Colonel Osborne went away, and Mrs. Trevelyan +was left alone in her drawing-room. She knew that her husband was +still down-stairs, and listened for a moment to hear whether he would +now come up to her. And he, too, had heard the Colonel's step as he +went, and for a few moments had doubted whether or no he would at +once go to his wife. Though he believed himself to be a man very firm +of purpose, his mind had oscillated backwards and forwards within the +last quarter of an hour between those two purposes of being round +with his wife, and of begging her pardon for the words which he had +already spoken. He believed that he would best do his duty by that +plan of being round with her; but then it would be so much +pleasanter—at any rate, so much easier, to beg her pardon. But of +one thing he was quite certain, he must by some means exclude Colonel +Osborne from his house. He could not live and continue to endure the +feelings which he had suffered while sitting down-stairs at his desk, +with the knowledge that Colonel Osborne was closeted with his wife +up-stairs. It might be that there was nothing in it. That his wife +was innocent he was quite sure. But nevertheless, he was himself so +much affected by some feeling which pervaded him in reference to this +man, that all his energy was destroyed, and his powers of mind and +body were paralysed. He could not, and would not, stand it. Rather +than that he would follow Mr. Poole, and take his wife to Naples. So +resolving, he put his hat on his head and walked out of the house. He +would have the advantage of the afternoon's consideration before he +took either the one step or the other.</p> + +<p>As soon as he was gone Emily Trevelyan went up-stairs to her baby. +She would not stir as long as there had been a chance of his coming +to her. She very much wished that he would come, and had made up her +mind, in spite of the fierceness of her assertion to her sister, to +accept any slightest hint at an apology which her husband might offer +to her. To this state of mind she was brought by the consciousness of +having a secret from him, and by a sense not of impropriety on her +own part, but of conduct which some people might have called improper +in her mode of parting from the man against whom her husband had +warned her. The warmth of that hand-pressing, and the affectionate +tone in which her name had been pronounced, and the promise made to +her, softened her heart towards her husband. Had he gone to her now +and said a word to her in gentleness all might have been made right. +But he did not go to her.</p> + +<p>"If he chooses to be cross and sulky, he may be cross and sulky," +said Mrs. Trevelyan to herself as she went up to her baby.</p> + +<p>"Has Louis been with you?" Nora asked, as soon as Mrs. Fairfax had +brought her home.</p> + +<p>"I have not seen him since you left me," said Mrs. Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"I suppose he went out before Colonel Osborne?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed. He waited till Colonel Osborne had gone, and then he +went himself; but he did not come near me. It is for him to judge of +his own conduct, but I must say that I think he is very foolish."</p> + +<p>This the young wife said in a tone which clearly indicated that she +had judged her husband's conduct, and had found it to be very foolish +indeed.</p> + +<p>"Do you think that papa and mamma will really come?" said Nora, +changing the subject of conversation.</p> + +<p>"How can I tell? How am I to know? After all that has passed I am +afraid to say a word lest I should be accused of doing wrong. But +remember this, Nora, you are not to speak of it to any one."</p> + +<p>"You will tell Louis?"</p> + +<p>"No; I will tell no one."</p> + +<p>"Dear, dear Emily; pray do not keep anything secret from him."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by secret? There isn't any secret. Only in such +matters as that,—about politics,—no gentleman likes to have his +name talked about!"</p> + +<p>A look of great distress came upon Nora's face as she heard this. To +her it seemed to be very bad that there should be a secret between +her sister and Colonel Osborne to be kept from her brother-in-law.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you will suspect me next?" said Mrs. Trevelyan, angrily.</p> + +<p>"Emily, how can you say anything so cruel?"</p> + +<p>"You look as if you did."</p> + +<p>"I only mean that I think it would be wiser to tell all this to +Louis."</p> + +<p>"How can I tell him Colonel Osborne's private business, when Colonel +Osborne has desired me not to do so. For whose sake is Colonel +Osborne doing this? For papa's and mamma's! I suppose Louis won't +be—jealous, because I want to have papa and mamma home. It would not +be a bit less unreasonable than the other."</p> + + +<p><a name="c3" id="c3"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER III.</h3> +<h4>LADY MILBOROUGH'S DINNER PARTY.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Louis Trevelyan went down to his club in Pall Mall, the Acrobats, and +there heard a rumour that added to his anger against Colonel Osborne. +The Acrobats was a very distinguished club, into which it was now +difficult for a young man to find his way, and almost impossible for +a man who was no longer young, and therefore known to many. It had +been founded some twenty years since with the idea of promoting +muscular exercise and gymnastic amusements; but the promoters had +become fat and lethargic, and the Acrobats spent their time mostly in +playing whist, and in ordering and eating their dinners. There were +supposed to be, in some out-of-the-way part of the building, certain +poles and sticks and parallel bars with which feats of activity might +be practised, but no one ever asked for them now-a-days, and a man, +when he became an Acrobat, did so with a view either to the whist or +the cook, or possibly to the social excellences of the club. Louis +Trevelyan was an Acrobat;—as was also Colonel Osborne.</p> + +<p>"So old Rowley is coming home," said one distinguished Acrobat to +another in Trevelyan's hearing.</p> + +<p>"How the deuce is he managing that? He was here a year ago?"</p> + +<p>"Osborne is getting it done. He is to come as a witness for this +committee. It must be no end of a lounge for him. It doesn't count as +leave, and he has every shilling paid for him, down to his cab-fares +when he goes out to dinner. There's nothing like having a friend at +Court."</p> + +<p>Such was the secrecy of Colonel Osborne's secret! He had been so +chary of having his name mentioned in connection with a political +job, that he had found it necessary to impose on his young friend the +burden of a secret from her husband, and yet the husband heard the +whole story told openly at his club on the same day! There was +nothing in the story to anger Trevelyan had he not immediately felt +that there must be some plan in the matter between his wife and +Colonel Osborne, of which he had been kept ignorant. Hitherto, +indeed, his wife, as the reader knows, could not have told him. He +had not seen her since the matter had been discussed between her and +her friend. But he was angry because he first learned at his club +that which he thought he ought to have learned at home.</p> + +<p>As soon as he reached his house he went at once to his wife's room, +but her maid was with her, and nothing could be said at that moment. +He then dressed himself, intending to go to Emily as soon as the girl +had left her; but the girl remained,—was, as he believed, kept in +the room purposely by his wife, so that he should have no moment of +private conversation. He went down-stairs, therefore, and found Nora +standing by the drawing-room fire.</p> + +<p>"So you are dressed first to-day?" he said. "I thought your turn +always came last."</p> + +<p>"Emily sent Jenny to me first to-day because she thought you would be +home, and she didn't go up to dress till the last minute."</p> + +<p>This was intended well by Nora, but it did not have the desired +effect. Trevelyan, who had no command over his own features, frowned, +and showed that he was displeased. He hesitated a moment, thinking +whether he would ask Nora any question as to this report about her +father and mother; but, before he had spoken, his wife was in the +room.</p> + +<p>"We are all late, I fear," said Emily.</p> + +<p>"You, at any rate, are the last," said her husband.</p> + +<p>"About half a minute," said the wife.</p> + +<p>Then they got into the hired brougham which was standing at the door.</p> + +<p>Trevelyan, in the sweet days of his early confidence with his wife, +had offered to keep a carriage for her, explaining to her that the +luxury, though costly, would not be beyond his reach. But she had +persuaded him against the carriage, and there had come to be an +agreement that instead of the carriage there should always be an +autumn tour. "One learns something from going about; but one learns +nothing from keeping a carriage," Emily had said. Those had been +happy days, in which it had been intended that everything should +always be rose-coloured. Now he was meditating whether, in lieu of +that autumn tour, it would not be necessary to take his wife away to +Naples altogether, so that she might be removed from the influence +of—of—of—; no, not even to himself would he think of Colonel +Osborne as his wife's lover. The idea was too horrible! And yet, how +dreadful was it that he should have, for any reason, to withdraw her +from the influence of any man!</p> + +<p>Lady Milborough lived ever so far away, in Eccleston Square, but +Trevelyan did not say a single word to either of his companions +during the journey. He was cross and vexed, and was conscious that +they knew that he was cross and vexed. Mrs. Trevelyan and her sister +talked to each other the whole way, but they did so in that tone +which clearly indicates that the conversation is made up, not for any +interest attached to the questions asked or the answers given, but +because it is expedient that there should not be silence. Nora said +something about Marshall and Snellgrove, and tried to make believe +that she was very anxious for her sister's answer. And Emily said +something about the opera at Covent Garden, which was intended to +show that her mind was quite at ease. But both of them failed +altogether, and knew that they failed. Once or twice Trevelyan +thought that he would say a word in token, as it were, of repentance. +Like the naughty child who knew that he was naughty, he was trying to +be good. But he could not do it. The fiend was too strong within him. +She must have known that there was a proposition for her father's +return through Colonel Osborne's influence. As that man at the club +had heard it, how could she not have known it? When they got out at +Lady Milborough's door he had spoken to neither of them.</p> + +<p>There was a large dull party, made up mostly of old people. Lady +Milborough and Trevelyan's mother had been bosom friends, and Lady +Milborough had on this account taken upon herself to be much +interested in Trevelyan's wife. But Louis Trevelyan himself, in +discussing Lady Milborough with Emily, had rather turned his mother's +old friend into ridicule, and Emily had, of course, followed her +husband's mode of thinking. Lady Milborough had once or twice given +her some advice on small matters, telling her that this or that air +would be good for her baby, and explaining that a mother during a +certain interesting portion of her life, should refresh herself with +a certain kind of malt liquor. Of all counsel on such domestic +subjects Mrs. Trevelyan was impatient,—as indeed it was her nature +to be in all matters, and consequently, authorized as she had been by +her husband's manner of speaking of his mother's friend, she had +taken a habit of quizzing Lady Milborough behind her back, and almost +of continuing the practice before the old lady's face. Lady +Milborough, who was the most affectionate old soul alive, and +good-tempered with her friends to a fault, had never resented this, +but had come to fear that Mrs. Trevelyan was perhaps a little +flighty. She had never as yet allowed herself to say anything worse +of her young friend's wife than that. And she would always add that +that kind of thing would cure itself as the nursery became full. It +must be understood therefore that Mrs. Trevelyan was not anticipating +much pleasure from Lady Milborough's party, and that she had accepted +the invitation as a matter of duty.</p> + +<p>There was present among the guests a certain Honourable Charles +Glascock, the eldest son of Lord Peterborough, who made the affair +more interesting to Nora than it was to her sister. It had been +whispered into Nora's ears, by more than one person,—and among +others by Lady Milborough, whose own daughters were all +married,—that she might, if she thought fit, become the Honourable +Mrs. Charles Glascock. Now, whether she might think fit, or whether +she might not, the presence of the gentleman under such +circumstances, as far as she was concerned, gave an interest to the +evening. And as Lady Milborough took care that Mr. Glascock should +take Nora down to dinner, the interest was very great. Mr. Glascock +was a good-looking man, just under forty, in Parliament, heir to a +peerage, and known to be well off in respect to income. Lady +Milborough and Mrs. Trevelyan had told Nora Rowley that should +encouragement in that direction come in her way, she ought to allow +herself to fall in love with Mr. Glascock. A certain amount of +encouragement had come in her way, but she had not as yet allowed +herself to fall in love with Mr. Glascock. It seemed to her that Mr. +Glascock was quite conscious of the advantages of his own position, +and that his powers of talking about other matters than those with +which he was immediately connected were limited. She did believe that +he had in truth paid her the compliment of falling in love with her, +and this is a compliment to which few girls are indifferent. Nora +might perhaps have tried to fall in love with Mr. Glascock, had she +not been forced to make comparisons between him and another. This +other one had not fallen in love with her, as she well knew; and she +certainly had not fallen in love with him. But still, the comparison +was forced upon her, and it did not result in favour of Mr. Glascock. +On the present occasion Mr. Glascock as he sat next to her almost +proposed to her.</p> + +<p>"You have never seen Monkhams?" he said. Monkhams was his father's +seat, a very grand place in Worcestershire. Of course he knew very +well that she had never seen Monkhams. How should she have seen it?</p> + +<p>"I have never been in that part of England at all," she replied.</p> + +<p>"I should so like to show you Monkhams. The oaks there are the finest +in the kingdom. Do you like oaks?"</p> + +<p>"Who does not like oaks? But we have none in the islands, and nobody +has ever seen so few as I have."</p> + +<p>"I'll show you Monkhams some day. Shall I? Indeed, I hope that some +day I may really show you Monkhams."</p> + +<p>Now when an unmarried man talks to a young lady of really showing her +the house in which it will be his destiny to live, he can hardly mean +other than to invite her to live there with him. It must at least be +his purpose to signify that, if duly encouraged, he will so invite +her. But Nora Rowley did not give Mr. Glascock much encouragement on +this occasion.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid it is not likely that anything will ever take me into +that part of the country," she said. There was something perhaps in +her tone which checked Mr. Glascock, so that he did not then press +the invitation.</p> + +<p>When the ladies were up-stairs in the drawing-room, Lady Milborough +contrived to seat herself on a couch intended for two persons only, +close to Mrs. Trevelyan. Emily, thinking that she might perhaps hear +some advice about Guinness's stout, prepared herself to be saucy. But +the matter in hand was graver than that. Lady Milborough's mind was +uneasy about Colonel Osborne.</p> + +<p>"My dear," said she, "was not your father very intimate with that +Colonel Osborne?"</p> + +<p>"He is very intimate with him, Lady Milborough."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes; I thought I had heard so. That makes it of course natural +that you should know him."</p> + +<p>"We have known him all our lives," said Emily, forgetting probably +that out of the twenty-three years and some months which she had +hitherto lived, there had been a consecutive period of more than +twenty years in which she had never seen this man whom she had known +all her life.</p> + +<p>"That makes a difference, of course; and I don't mean to say anything +against him."</p> + +<p>"I hope not, Lady Milborough, because we are all especially fond of +him." This was said with so much of purpose, that poor, dear old Lady +Milborough was stopped in her good work. She knew well the terrible +strait to which Augustus Poole had been brought with his wife, +although nobody supposed that Poole's wife had ever entertained a +wrong thought in her pretty little heart. Nevertheless he had been +compelled to break up his establishment, and take his wife to Naples, +because this horrid Colonel would make himself at home in Mrs. +Poole's drawing-room in Knightsbridge. Augustus Poole, with courage +enough to take any man by the beard, had taking by the beard been +possible, had found it impossible to dislodge the Colonel. He could +not do so without making a row which would have been disgraceful to +himself and injurious to his wife; and therefore he had taken Mrs. +Poole to Naples. Lady Milborough knew the whole story, and thought +that she foresaw that the same thing was about to happen in the +drawing-room in Curzon Street. When she attempted to say a word to +the wife, she found herself stopped. She could not go on in that +quarter after the reception with which the beginning of her word had +been met. But perhaps she might succeed better with the husband. +After all, her friendship was with the Trevelyan side, and not with +the Rowleys.</p> + +<p>"My dear Louis," she said, "I want to speak a word to you. Come +here." And then she led him into a distant corner, Mrs. Trevelyan +watching her all the while, and guessing why her husband was thus +carried away. "I just want to give you a little hint, which I am sure +I believe is quite unnecessary," continued Lady Milborough. Then she +paused, but Trevelyan would not speak. She looked into his face, and +saw that it was black. But the man was the only child of her dearest +friend, and she persevered. "Do you know I don't quite like that +Colonel Osborne coming so much to your house." The face before her +became still blacker, but still the man said nothing. "I dare say it +is a prejudice on my part, but I have always disliked him. I think he +is a dangerous friend;—what I call a snake in the grass. And though +Emily's high good sense, and love for you, and general feelings on +such a subject, are just what a husband must desire—Indeed, I am +quite sure that the possibility of anything wrong has never entered +into her head. But it is the very purity of her innocence which makes +the danger. He is a bad man, and I would just say a word to her, if I +were you, to make her understand that his coming to her of a morning +is not desirable. Upon my word, I believe there is nothing he likes +so much as going about and making mischief between men and their +wives."</p> + +<p>Thus she delivered herself; and Louis Trevelyan, though he was sore +and angry, could not but feel that she had taken the part of a +friend. All that she had said had been true; all that she had said to +him he had said to himself more than once. He too hated the man. He +believed him to be a snake in the grass. But it was intolerably +bitter to him that he should be warned about his wife's conduct by +any living human being; that he, to whom the world had been so full +of good fortune,—that he, who had in truth taught himself to think +that he deserved so much good fortune, should be made the subject of +care on behalf of his friend, because of danger between himself and +his wife! On the spur of the moment he did not know what answer to +make. "He is not a man whom I like myself," he said.</p> + +<p>"Just be careful, Louis, that is all," said Lady Milborough, and then +she was gone.</p> + +<p>To be cautioned about his wife's conduct cannot be pleasant to any +man, and it was very unpleasant to Louis Trevelyan. He, too, had been +asked a question about Sir Marmaduke's expected visit to England +after the ladies had left the room. All the town had heard of it +except himself. He hardly spoke another word that evening till the +brougham was announced; and his wife had observed his silence. When +they were seated in the carriage, he together with his wife and Nora +Rowley, he immediately asked a question about Sir Marmaduke. "Emily," +he said, "is there any truth in a report I hear that your father is +coming home?" No answer was made, and for a moment or two there was +silence. "You must have heard of it, then," he said. "Perhaps you can +tell me, Nora, as Emily will not reply. Have you heard anything of +your father's coming?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I have heard of it," said Nora slowly.</p> + +<p>"And why have I not been told?"</p> + +<p>"It was to be kept a secret," said Mrs. Trevelyan boldly.</p> + +<p>"A secret from me; and everybody else knows it! And why was it to be +a secret?"</p> + +<p>"Colonel Osborne did not wish that it should be known," said Mrs. +Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"And what has Colonel Osborne to do between you and your father in +any matter with which I may not be made acquainted? I will have +nothing more between you and Colonel Osborne. You shall not see +Colonel Osborne. Do you hear me?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I hear you, Louis."</p> + +<p>"And do you mean to obey me? By G——, +you shall obey me. Remember +this, that I lay my positive order upon you, that you shall not see +Colonel Osborne again. You do not know it, perhaps, but you are +already forfeiting your reputation as an honest woman, and bringing +disgrace upon me by your familiarity with Colonel Osborne."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Louis, do not say that!" said Nora.</p> + +<p>"You had better let him speak it all at once," said Emily.</p> + +<p>"I have said what I have got to say. It is now only necessary that +you should give me your solemn assurance that you will obey me."</p> + +<p>"If you have said all that you have to say, perhaps you will listen +to me," said his wife.</p> + +<p>"I will listen to nothing till you have given me your promise."</p> + +<p>"Then I certainly shall not give it you."</p> + +<p>"Dear Emily, pray, pray do what he tells you," said Nora.</p> + +<p>"She has yet to learn that it is her duty to do as I tell her," said +Trevelyan. "And because she is obstinate, and will not learn from +those who know better than herself what a woman may do, and what she +may not, she will ruin herself, and destroy my happiness."</p> + +<p>"I know that you have destroyed my happiness by your unreasonable +jealousy," said the wife. "Have you considered what I must feel in +having such words addressed to me by my husband? If I am fit to be +told that I must promise not to see any man living, I cannot be fit +to be any man's wife." Then she burst out into an hysterical fit of +tears, and in this condition she got out of the carriage, entered her +house, and hurried up to her own room.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, she has not been to blame," said Nora to Trevelyan on the +staircase.</p> + +<p>"Why has there been a secret kept from me between her and this man; +and that too, after I had cautioned her against being intimate with +him? I am sorry that she should suffer; but it is better that she +should suffer a little now, than that we should both suffer much +by-and-by."</p> + +<p>Nora endeavoured to explain to him the truth about the committee, and +Colonel Osborne's promised influence, and the reason why there was to +be a secret. But she was too much in a hurry to get to her sister to +make the matter plain, and he was too much angered to listen to her. +He shook his head when she spoke of Colonel Osborne's dislike to have +his name mentioned in connection with the matter. "All the world +knows it," he said with scornful laughter.</p> + +<p>It was in vain that Nora endeavoured to explain to him that though +all the world might know it, Emily herself had only heard of the +proposition as a thing quite unsettled, as to which nothing at +present should be spoken openly. It was in vain to endeavour to make +peace on that night. Nora hurried up to her sister, and found that +the hysterical tears had again given place to anger. She would not +see her husband, unless he would beg her pardon; and he would not see +her unless she would give the promise he demanded. And the husband +and wife did not see each other again on that night.</p> + + +<p><a name="c4" id="c4"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER IV.</h3> +<h4>HUGH STANBURY.<br /> </h4> + + +<p><img class="left" src="images/ch04a.jpg" width="310" alt="Illustration" /> +It has been already stated that Nora Rowley was not quite so well +disposed as perhaps she ought to have been, to fall in love with the +Honourable Charles Glascock, there having come upon her the habit of +comparing him with another gentleman whenever this duty of falling in +love with Mr. Glascock was exacted from her. That other gentleman was +one with whom she knew that it was quite out of the question that she +should fall in love, because he had not a shilling in the world; and +the other gentleman was equally aware that it was not open to him to +fall in love with Nora Rowley—for the same reason. In regard to such +matters Nora Rowley had been properly brought up, having been made to +understand by the best and most cautious of mothers, that in that +matter of falling in love it was absolutely necessary that bread and +cheese should be considered. "Romance is a very pretty thing," Lady +Rowley had been wont to say to her daughters, "and I don't think life +would be worth having without a little of it. I should be very sorry +to think that either of my girls would marry a man only because he +had money. But you can't even be romantic without something to eat +and drink." Nora thoroughly understood all this, and being well aware +that her fortune in the world, if it ever was to be made at all, +could only be made by marriage, had laid down for herself certain +hard lines,—lines intended to be as fast as they were hard. Let what +might come to her in the way of likings and dislikings, let the +temptation to her be ever so strong, she would never allow her heart +to rest on a man who, if he should ask her to be his wife, would not +have the means of supporting her. There were many, she knew, who +would condemn such a resolution as cold, selfish, and heartless. She +heard people saying so daily. She read in books that it ought to be +so regarded. But she declared to herself that she would respect the +judgment neither of the people nor of the books. To be poor alone, to +have to live without a husband, to look forward to a life in which +there would be nothing of a career, almost nothing to do, to await +the vacuity of an existence in which she would be useful to no one, +was a destiny which she could teach herself to endure, because it +might probably be forced upon her by necessity. Were her father to +die there would hardly be bread for that female flock to eat. As it +was, she was eating the bread of a man in whose house she was no more +than a visitor. The lot of a woman, as she often told herself, was +wretched, unfortunate, almost degrading. For a woman such as herself +there was no path open to her energy, other than that of getting a +husband. Nora Rowley thought of all this till she was almost sick of +the prospect of her life,—especially sick of it when she was told +with much authority by the Lady Milboroughs of her acquaintance that +it was her bounden duty to fall in love with Mr. Glascock. As to +falling in love with Mr. Glascock, she had not as yet quite made up +her mind. There was so much to be said on that side of the question, +if such falling in love could only be made possible. But she had +quite made up her mind that she would never fall in love with a poor +man. In spite, however, of all that, she felt herself compelled to +make comparisons between Mr. Glascock and one Mr. Hugh Stanbury, a +gentleman who had not a shilling.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hugh Stanbury had been at college the most intimate friend of +Louis Trevelyan, and at Oxford had been, in spite of Trevelyan's +successes, a bigger man than his friend. Stanbury had not taken so +high a degree as Trevelyan,—indeed had not gone out in honours at +all. He had done little for the credit of his college, and had never +put himself in the way of wrapping himself up for life in the scanty +lambswool of a fellowship. But he had won for himself reputation as a +clever speaker, as a man who had learned much that college tutors do +not profess to teach, as a hard-headed, ready-witted fellow, who, +having the world as an oyster before him, which it was necessary that +he should open, would certainly find either a knife or a sword with +which to open it.</p> + +<p>Immediately on leaving college he had come to town, and had entered +himself at Lincoln's Inn. Now, at the time of our story, he was a +barrister of four years' standing, but had never yet made a guinea. +He had never made a guinea by his work as a barrister, and was +beginning to doubt of himself whether he ever would do so. Not, as he +knew well, that guineas are generally made with ease by barristers of +four years' standing, but because, as he said to his friends, he did +not see his way to the knack of it. He did not know an attorney in +the world, and could not conceive how any attorney should ever be +induced to apply to him for legal aid. He had done his work of +learning his trade about as well as other young men, but had had no +means of distinguishing himself within his reach. He went the Western +Circuit because his aunt, old Miss Stanbury, lived at Exeter, but, as +he declared of himself, had he had another aunt living at York, he +would have had nothing whatsoever to guide him in his choice. He sat +idle in the courts, and hated himself for so sitting. So it had been +with him for two years without any consolation or additional burden +from other employment than that of his profession. After that, by +some chance, he had become acquainted with the editor of the Daily +Record, and by degrees had taken to the writing of articles. He had +been told by all his friends, and especially by Trevelyan, that if he +did this, he might as well sell his gown and wig. He declared, in +reply, that he had no objection to sell his gown and wig. He did not +see how he should ever make more money out of them than he would do +by such sale. But for the articles which he wrote, he received +instant payment, a process which he found to be most consolatory, +most comfortable, and, as he said to Trevelyan, as warm to him as a +blanket in winter.</p> + +<p>Trevelyan, who was a year younger than Stanbury, had taken upon +himself to be very angry. He professed that he did not think much of +the trade of a journalist, and told Stanbury that he was sinking from +the highest to almost the lowest business by which an educated man +and a gentleman could earn his bread. Stanbury had simply replied +that he saw some bread on the one side, but none on the other; and +that bread from some side was indispensable to him. Then there had +come to be that famous war between Great Britain and the republic of +Patagonia, and Hugh Stanbury had been sent out as a special +correspondent by the editor and proprietor of the Daily Record. His +letters had been much read, and had called up a great deal of +newspaper pugnacity. He had made important statements which had been +flatly denied, and found to be utterly false; which again had been +warmly reasserted and proved to be most remarkably true to the +letter. In this way the correspondence, and he as its author, became +so much talked about that, on his return to England, he did actually +sell his gown and wig and declare to his friends,—and to Trevelyan +among the number,—that he intended to look to journalism for his +future career.</p> + +<p>He had been often at the house in Curzon Street in the earliest happy +days of his friend's marriage, and had thus become +acquainted,—intimately acquainted,—with Nora Rowley. And now again, +since his return from Patagonia, that acquaintance had been renewed. +Quite lately, since the actual sale of that wig and gown had been +effected, he had not been there so frequently as before, because +Trevelyan had expressed his indignation almost too openly.</p> + +<p>"That such a man as you should be so faint-hearted," Trevelyan had +said, "is a thing that I can not understand."</p> + +<p>"Is a man faint-hearted when he finds it improbable that he shall be +able to leap his horse over a house?"</p> + +<p>"What you had to do had been done by hundreds before you."</p> + +<p>"What I had to do has never yet been done by any man," replied +Stanbury. "I had to live upon nothing till the lucky hour should +strike."</p> + +<p>"I think you have been cowardly," said Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>Even this had made no quarrel between the two men; but Stanbury had +expressed himself annoyed by his friend's language, and partly on +that account, and partly perhaps on another, had stayed away from +Curzon Street. As Nora Rowley had made comparisons about him, so had +he made comparisons about her. He had owned to himself that had it +been possible that he should marry, he would willingly entrust his +happiness to Miss Rowley. And he had thought once or twice that +Trevelyan had wished that such an arrangement might be made at some +future day. Trevelyan had always been much more sanguine in expecting +success for his friend at the Bar, than Stanbury had been for +himself. It might well be that such a man as Trevelyan might think +that a clever rising barrister would be an excellent husband for his +sister-in-law, but that a man earning a precarious living as a writer +for a penny paper would be by no means so desirable a connection. +Stanbury, as he thought of this, declared to himself that he would +not care two straws for Trevelyan in the matter, if he could see his +way without other impediments. But the other impediments were there +in such strength and numbers as to make him feel that it could not +have been intended by Fate that he should take to himself a wife. +Although those letters of his to the Daily Record had been so +pre-eminently successful, he had never yet been able to earn by +writing above twenty-five or thirty pounds a month. If that might be +continued to him he could live upon it himself; but, even with his +moderate views, it would not suffice for himself and family.</p> + +<p>He had told Trevelyan that while living as an expectant barrister he +had no means of subsistence. In this, as Trevelyan knew, he was not +strictly correct. There was an allowance of £100 a year coming to him +from the aunt whose residence at Exeter had induced him to devote +himself to the Western Circuit. His father had been a clergyman with +a small living in Devonshire, and had now been dead some fifteen +years. His mother and two sisters were still living in a small +cottage in his late father's parish, on the interest of the money +arising from a life insurance. Some pittance from sixty to seventy +pounds a year was all they had among them. But there was a rich aunt, +Miss Stanbury, to whom had come considerable wealth in a manner most +romantic,—the little tale shall be told before this larger tale is +completed,—and this aunt had undertaken to educate and place out in +the world her nephew Hugh. So Hugh had been sent to Harrow, and then +to Oxford,—where he had much displeased his aunt by not +accomplishing great things,—and then had been set down to make his +fortune as a barrister in London, with an allowance of £100 a year, +his aunt having paid, moreover, certain fees for entrance, tuition, +and the like. The very hour in which Miss Stanbury learned that her +nephew was writing for a penny newspaper she sent off a dispatch to +tell him that he must give up her or the penny paper. He replied by +saying that he felt himself called upon to earn his bread in the only +line from which, as it seemed to him, bread would be forthcoming. By +return of post he got another letter to say that he might draw for +the quarter then becoming due, but that that would be the last. And +it was the last.</p> + +<p>Stanbury made an ineffectual effort to induce his aunt to make over +the allowance,—or at least a part of it,—to his mother and sisters, +but the old lady paid no attention whatever to the request. She never +had given, and at that moment did not intend to give, a shilling to +the widow and daughters of her brother. Nor did she intend, or had +she ever intended, to leave a shilling of her money to Hugh +Stanbury,—as she had very often told him. The money was, at her +death, to go back to the people from whom it had come to her.</p> + +<p>When Nora Rowley made those comparisons between Mr. Hugh Stanbury and +Mr. Charles Glascock, they were always wound up very much in favour +of the briefless barrister. It was not that he was the handsomer man, +for he was by no means handsome, nor was he the bigger man, for Mr. +Glascock was six feet tall; nor was he better dressed, for Stanbury +was untidy rather than otherwise in his outward person. Nor had he +any air of fashion or special grace to recommend him, for he was +undoubtedly an awkward-mannered man. But there was a glance of +sunshine in his eye, and a sweetness in the curl of his mouth when he +smiled, which made Nora feel that it would have been all up with her +had she not made so very strong a law for her own guidance. Stanbury +was a man about five feet ten, with shoulders more than broad in +proportion, stout limbed, rather awkward of his gait, with large feet +and hands, with soft wavy light hair, with light grey eyes, with a +broad, but by no means ugly, nose. His mouth and lips were large, and +he rarely showed his teeth. He wore no other beard than whiskers, +which he was apt to cut away through heaviness of his hand in +shaving, till Nora longed to bid him be more careful. "He doesn't +care what sort of a guy he makes of himself," she once said to her +sister, almost angrily. "He is a plain man, and he knows it," Emily +had replied. Mr. Trevelyan was doubtless a handsome man, and it was +almost on Nora's tongue to say something ill-natured on the subject. +Hugh Stanbury was reputed to be somewhat hot in spirit and manner. He +would be very sage in argument, pounding down his ideas on politics, +religion, or social life with his fist as well as his voice. He was +quick, perhaps, at making antipathies, and quick, too, in making +friendships; impressionable, demonstrative, eager, rapid in his +movements,—sometimes to the great detriment of his shins and +knuckles; and he possessed the sweetest temper that was ever given to +a man for the blessing of a woman. This was the man between whom and +Mr. Glascock Nora Rowley found it to be impossible not to make +comparisons.</p> + +<p>On the very day after Lady Milborough's dinner party Stanbury +overtook Trevelyan in the street, and asked his friend where he was +going eastward. Trevelyan was on his way to call upon his lawyer, and +said so. But he did not say why he was going to his lawyer. He had +sent to his wife by Nora that morning to know whether she would make +to him the promise he required. The only answer which Nora could draw +from her sister was a counter question, demanding whether he would +ask her pardon for the injury he had done her. Nora had been most +eager, most anxious, most conciliatory as a messenger; but no good +had come of these messages, and Trevelyan had gone forth to tell all +his trouble to his family lawyer. Old Mr. Bideawhile had been his +father's ancient and esteemed friend, and he could tell things to Mr. +Bideawhile which he could not bring himself to tell to any other +living man; and he could generally condescend to accept Mr. +Bideawhile's advice, knowing that his father before him had been +guided by the same.</p> + +<p>"But you are out of your way for Lincoln's Inn Fields," said +Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"I have to call at Twining's. And where are you going?"</p> + +<p>"I have been three times round St. James's Park to collect my +thoughts," said Stanbury, "and now I am on my way to the Daily R., +250, Fleet Street. It is my custom of an afternoon. I am prepared to +instruct the British public of to-morrow on any subject, as per +order, from the downfall of a European compact to the price of a +London mutton chop."</p> + +<p>"I suppose there is nothing more to be said about it," said +Trevelyan, after a pause.</p> + +<p>"Not another word. How should there be? Aunt Jemima has already drawn +tight the purse strings, and it would soon be the casual ward in +earnest if it were not for the Daily R. God bless the Daily R. Only +think what a thing it is to have all subjects open to one, from the +destinies of France to the profit proper to a butcher."</p> + +<p>"If you like it!"</p> + +<p>"I do like it. It may not be altogether honest. I don't know what is. +But it's a deal honester than defending thieves and bamboozling +juries. How is your wife?"</p> + +<p>"She's pretty well, thank you."</p> + +<p>Stanbury knew at once from the tone of his friend's voice that there +was something wrong.</p> + +<p>"And Louis the less?" he said, asking after Trevelyan's child.</p> + +<p>"He's all right."</p> + +<p>"And Miss Rowley? When one begins one's inquiries one is bound to go +through the whole family."</p> + +<p>"Miss Rowley is pretty well," said Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>Previously to this, Trevelyan when speaking of his sister-in-law to +Stanbury, had always called her Nora, and had been wont to speak of +her as though she were almost as much the friend of one of them as of +the other. The change of tone on this occasion was in truth +occasioned by the sadness of the man's thoughts in reference to his +wife, but Stanbury attributed it to another cause. "He need not be +afraid of me," he said to himself, "and at least he should not show +me that he is." Then they parted, Trevelyan going into Twining's +bank, and Stanbury passing on towards the office of the Daily R.</p> + +<p>Stanbury had in truth been altogether mistaken as to the state of his +friend's mind on that morning. Trevelyan, although he had, according +to his custom, put in a word in condemnation of the newspaper line of +life, was at the moment thinking whether he would not tell all his +trouble to Hugh Stanbury. He knew that he should not find anywhere, +not even in Mr. Bideawhile, a more friendly or more trustworthy +listener. When Nora Rowley's name had been mentioned, he had not +thought of her. He had simply repeated the name with the usual +answer. He was at the moment cautioning himself against a confidence +which after all might not be necessary, and which on this occasion +was not made. When one is in trouble it is a great ease to tell one's +trouble to a friend; but then one should always wash one's dirty +linen at home. The latter consideration prevailed, and Trevelyan +allowed his friend to go on without burdening him with the story of +that domestic quarrel. Nor did he on that occasion tell it to Mr. +Bideawhile; for Mr. Bideawhile was not found at his chambers.</p> + + +<p><a name="c5" id="c5"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER V.</h3> +<h4>SHEWING HOW THE QUARREL PROGRESSED.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Trevelyan got back to his own house at about three, and on going into +the library, found on his table a letter to him addressed in his +wife's handwriting. He opened it quickly, hoping to find that promise +which he had demanded, and resolving that if it were made he would at +once become affectionate, yielding, and gentle to his wife. But there +was not a word written by his wife within the envelope. It contained +simply another letter, already opened, addressed to her. This letter +had been brought up to her during her husband's absence from the +house, and was as <span class="nowrap">follows:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">Acrobats, Thursday.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear Emily</span>,</p> + +<p>I have just come from the Colonial Office. It is all +settled, and Sir M. has been sent for. Of course, you will +tell T. now.</p> + +<p class="ind15">Yours, F. O.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>The letter was, of course, from Colonel Osborne, and Mrs. Trevelyan, +when she received it, had had great doubts whether she would enclose +it to her husband opened or unopened. She had hitherto refused to +make the promise which her husband exacted, but nevertheless, she was +minded to obey him. Had he included in his demand any requirement +that she should receive no letter from Colonel Osborne, she would not +have opened this one. But nothing had been said about letters, and +she would not shew herself to be afraid. So she read the note, and +then sent it down to be put on Mr. Trevelyan's table in an envelope +addressed to him.</p> + +<p>"If he is not altogether blinded, it will show him how cruelly he has +wronged me," said she to her sister. She was sitting at the time with +her boy in her lap, telling herself that the child's features were in +all respects the very same as his father's, and that, come what come +might, the child should always be taught by her to love and respect +his father. And then there came a horrible thought. What if the child +should be taken away from her? If this quarrel, out of which she saw +no present mode of escape, were to lead to a separation between her +and her husband, would not the law, and the judges, and the courts, +and all the Lady Milboroughs of their joint acquaintance into the +bargain, say that the child should go with his father? The judges, +and the courts, and the Lady Milboroughs would, of course, say that +she was the sinner. And what could she do without her boy? Would not +any humility, any grovelling in the dust be better for her than that? +"It is a very poor thing to be a woman," she said to her sister.</p> + +<p>"It is perhaps better than being a dog," said Nora; "but, of course, +we can't compare ourselves to men."</p> + +<p>"It would be better to be a dog. One wouldn't be made to suffer so +much. When a puppy is taken away from its mother, she is bad enough +for a few days, but she gets over it in a week." There was a pause +then for a few moments. Nora knew well which way ran the current of +her sister's thoughts, and had nothing at the present moment which +she could say on that subject. "It is very hard for a woman to know +what to do," continued Emily, "but if she is to marry, I think she +had better marry a fool. After all, a fool generally knows that he is +a fool, and will trust some one, though he may not trust his wife."</p> + +<p>"I will never wittingly marry a fool," said Nora.</p> + +<p>"You will marry Mr. Glascock, of course. I don't say that he is a +fool; but I do not think he has that kind of strength which shows +itself in perversity."</p> + +<p>"If he asked me, I should not have him;—and he will never ask me."</p> + +<p>"He will ask you, and, of course, you'll take him. Why not? You can't +be otherwise than a woman. And you must marry. And this man is a +gentleman, and will be a peer. There is nothing on earth against him, +except that he does not set the Thames on fire. Louis intends to set +the Thames on fire some day, and see what comes of it."</p> + +<p>"All the same, I shall not marry Mr. Glascock. A woman can die, at +any rate," said Nora.</p> + +<p>"No, she can't. A woman must be decent; and to die of want is very +indecent. She can't die, and she mustn't be in want, and she oughtn't +to be a burden. I suppose it was thought necessary that every man +should have two to choose from; and therefore there are so many more +of us than the world wants. I wonder whether you'd mind taking that +down-stairs to his table? I don't like to send it by the servant; and +I don't want to go myself."</p> + +<p>Then Nora had taken the letter down, and left it where Louis +Trevelyan would be sure to find it.</p> + +<p>He did find it, and was sorely disappointed when he perceived that it +contained no word from his wife to himself. He opened Colonel +Osborne's note, and read it, and became, as he did so, almost more +angry than before. Who was this man that he should dare to address +another man's wife as "Dear Emily?" At the moment Trevelyan +remembered well enough that he had heard the man so call his wife, +that it had been done openly in his presence, and had not given him a +thought. But Lady Rowley and Sir Marmaduke had then been present +also; and that man on that occasion had been the old friend of the +old father, and not the would-be young friend of the young daughter. +Trevelyan could hardly reason about it, but felt that whereas the one +was not improper, the other was grossly impertinent, and even wicked. +And then, again, his wife, his Emily, was to show to him, to her +husband, or was not to show to him, the letter which she received +from this man, the letter in which she was addressed as "Dear Emily," +according to this man's judgment and wish, and not according to his +judgment and wish,—not according to the judgment and wish of him who +was her husband, her lord, and her master! "Of course you will tell +T. now." This was intolerable to him. It made him feel that he was to +be regarded as second, and this man to be regarded as first. And then +he began to recapitulate all the good things he had done for his +wife, and all the causes which he had given her for gratitude. Had he +not taken her to his bosom, and bestowed upon her the half of all +that he had simply for herself, asking for nothing more than her +love? He had possessed money, position, a name,—all that makes life +worth having. He had found her in a remote corner of the world, with +no fortune, with no advantages of family or social standing,—so +circumstanced that any friend would have warned him against such a +marriage; but he had given her his heart, and his hand, and his +house, and had asked for nothing in return but that he should be all +in all to her,—that he should be her one god upon earth. And he had +done more even than this. "Bring your sister," he had said. "The +house shall be big enough for her also, and she shall be my sister as +well as yours." Who had ever done more for a woman, or shown a more +absolute confidence? And now what was the return he received? She was +not contented with her one god upon earth, but must make to herself +other gods,—another god, and that too out of a lump of the basest +clay to be found around her. He thought that he could remember to +have heard it said in early days, long before he himself had had an +idea of marrying, that no man should look for a wife from among the +tropics, that women educated amidst the languors of those sunny +climes rarely came to possess those high ideas of conjugal duty and +feminine truth which a man should regard as the first requisites of a +good wife. As he thought of all this, he almost regretted that he had +ever visited the Mandarins, or ever heard the name of Sir Marmaduke +Rowley.</p> + +<p>He should have nourished no such thoughts in his heart. He had, +indeed, been generous to his wife and to his wife's family; but we +may almost say that the man who is really generous in such matters, +is unconscious of his own generosity. The giver who gives the most, +gives, and does not know that he gives. And had not she given too? In +that matter of giving between a man and his wife, if each gives all, +the two are equal, let the things given be what they may! King +Cophetua did nothing for his beggar maid, unless she were to him, +after he had married her, as royal a queen as though he had taken her +from the oldest stock of reigning families then extant. Trevelyan +knew all this himself,—had said so to himself a score of times, +though not probably in spoken words or formed sentences. But, that +all was equal between himself and the wife of his bosom, had been a +thing ascertained by him as a certainty. There was no debt of +gratitude from her to him which he did not acknowledge to exist also +as from him to her. But yet, in his anger, he could not keep himself +from thinking of the gifts he had showered upon her. And he had been, +was, would ever be, if she would only allow it, so true to her! He +had selected no other friend to take her place in his councils! There +was no "dear Mary," or "dear Augusta," with whom he had secrets to be +kept from his wife. When there arose with him any question of +interest,—question of interest such as was this of the return of Sir +Marmaduke to her,—he would show it in all its bearings to his wife. +He had his secrets too, but his secrets had all been made secrets for +her also. There was not a woman in the world in whose company he took +special delight in her absence.</p> + +<p>And if there had been, how much less would have been her ground of +complaint? Let a man have any such friendships,—what friendships he +may,—he does not disgrace his wife. He felt himself to be so true of +heart that he desired no such friendships; but for a man indulging in +such friendships there might be excuse. Even though a man be false, a +woman is not shamed and brought unto the dust before all the world. +But the slightest rumour on a woman's name is a load of infamy on her +husband's shoulders. It was not enough for Cæsar that his wife should +be true; it was necessary to Cæsar that she should not even be +suspected. Trevelyan told himself that he suspected his wife of no +sin. God forbid that it should ever come to that, both for his sake +and for hers; and, above all, for the sake of that boy who was so +dear to them both! But there would be the vile whispers, and dirty +slanders would be dropped from envious tongues into envious ears, and +minds prone to evil would think evil of him and of his. Had not Lady +Milborough already cautioned him? Oh, that he should have lived to +have been cautioned about his wife;—that he should be told that eyes +outside had looked into the sacred shrine of his heart and seen that +things there were fatally amiss! And yet Lady Milborough was quite +right. Had he not in his hand at this moment a document that proved +her to be right? "Dear Emily!" He took this note and crushed it in +his fist, and then pulled it into fragments.</p> + +<p>But what should he do? There was, first of all considerations, the +duty which he owed to his wife, and the love which he bore her. That +she was ignorant and innocent he was sure; but then she was so +contumacious that he hardly knew how to take a step in the direction +of guarding her from the effects of her ignorance, and maintaining +for her the advantages of her innocence. He was her master, and she +must know that he was her master. But how was he to proceed when she +refused to obey the plainest and most necessary command which he laid +upon her? Let a man be ever so much his wife's master, he cannot +maintain his masterdom by any power which the law places in his +hands. He had asked his wife for a promise of obedience, and she +would not give it to him! What was he to do next? He could, no +doubt,—at least he thought so,—keep the man from her presence. He +could order the servant not to admit the man, and the servant would +doubtless obey him. But to what a condition would he then have been +brought! Would not the world then be over for him,—over for him as +the husband of a wife whom he could not love unless he respected her? +Better that there should be no such world, than call in the aid of a +servant to guard the conduct of his wife!</p> + +<p>As he thought of it all it seemed to him that if she would not obey +him, and give him this promise, they must be separated. He would not +live with her, he would not give her the privileges of his wife, if +she refused to render to him the obedience which was his privilege. +The more he thought of it, the more convinced he was that he ought +not to yield to her. Let her once yield to him, and then his +tenderness should begin, and there should be no limit to it. But he +would not see her till she had yielded. He would not see her; and if +he should find that she did see Colonel Osborne, then he would tell +her that she could no longer dwell under the same roof with him.</p> + +<p>His resolution on these points was very strong, and yet there came +over him a feeling that it was his duty to be gentle. There was a +feeling also that that privilege of receiving obedience, which was so +indubitably his own, could only be maintained by certain wise +practices on his part, in which gentleness must predominate. Wives +are bound to obey their husbands, but obedience cannot be exacted +from wives, as it may from servants, by aid of law and with +penalties, or as from a horse, by punishments and manger +curtailments. A man should be master in his own house, but he should +make his mastery palatable, equitable, smooth, soft to the touch, a +thing almost unfelt. How was he to do all this now, when he had +already given an order to which obedience had been refused unless +under certain stipulations,—an agreement with which would be +degradation to him? He had pointed out to his wife her duty, and she +had said she would do her duty as pointed out, on condition that he +would beg her pardon for having pointed it out! This he could not and +would not do. Let the heavens fall,—and the falling of the heavens +in this case was a separation between him and his wife,—but he would +not consent to such injustice as that!</p> + +<p>But what was he to do at this moment,—especially with reference to +that note which he had destroyed. At last he resolved to write to his +wife, and he consequently did write and send to her the following +<span class="nowrap">letter:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">May 4.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dearest Emily</span>,</p> + +<p>If Colonel Osborne should write to you again, it will be +better that you should not open his letter. As you know +his handwriting, you will have no difficulty in so +arranging. Should any further letter come from Colonel +Osborne addressed to you, you had better put it under +cover to me, and take no notice of it yourself.</p> + +<p>I shall dine at the club to-day. We were to have gone to +Mrs. Peacock's in the evening. You had better write a line +to say that we shall not be there. I am very sorry that +Nora should lose her evening. Pray think very carefully +over what I have asked of you. My request to you is, that +you shall give me a promise that you will not willingly +see Colonel Osborne again. Of course you will understand +that this is not supposed to extend to accidental +meetings, as to which, should they occur,—and they would +be sure to occur,—you would find that they would be +wholly unnoticed by me.</p> + +<p>But I must request that you will comply with my wish in +this matter. If you will send for me, I will go to you +instantly, and after one word from you to the desired +effect, you will find that there will be no recurrence by +me to a subject so hateful. As I have done, and am doing +what I think to be right, I cannot stultify myself by +saying that I think I have been wrong.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="ind6">Yours always, +dearest Emily,</span><br /> +<span class="ind10">With the most thorough love,</span></p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Louis Trevelyan</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>This letter he himself put on his wife's dressing-room table, and +then he went out to his club.</p> + + +<p><a name="c6" id="c6"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER VI.</h3> +<h4>SHEWING HOW RECONCILIATION WAS MADE.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>"Look at that," said Mrs. Trevelyan, when her sister came into her +room about an hour before dinner-time. Nora read the letter, and then +asked her sister what she meant to do. "I have written to Mrs. +Peacock. I don't know what else I can do. It is very hard upon +you,—that you should have been kept at home. But I don't suppose Mr. +Glascock would have been at Mrs. Peacock's."</p> + +<p>"And what else will you do, Emily?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing;—simply live deserted and forlorn till he shall choose to +find his wits again. There is nothing else that a woman can do. If he +chooses to dine at his club every day, I can't help it. We must put +off all the engagements, and that will be hard upon you."</p> + +<p>"Don't talk about me. It is too terrible to think that there should +be such a quarrel."</p> + +<p>"What can I do? Have I been wrong?"</p> + +<p>"Simply do what he tells you, whether it is wrong or right. If it's +right, it ought to be done, and if it's wrong, it will not be your +fault."</p> + +<p>"That's very easily said, and it sounds logical; but you must know +it's unreasonable."</p> + +<p>"I don't care about reason. He is your husband, and if he wishes it +you should do it. And what will be the harm? You don't mean to see +Colonel Osborne any more. You have already said that he's not to be +admitted."</p> + +<p>"I have said that nobody is to be admitted. Louis has driven me to +that. How can I look the servant in the face and tell him that any +special gentleman is not to be admitted to see me? Oh dear! oh dear! +have I done anything to deserve it? Was ever so monstrous an +accusation made against any woman! If it were not for my boy, I would +defy him to do his worst."</p> + +<p>On the day following, Nora again became a messenger between the +husband and wife, and before dinner-time a reconciliation had been +effected. Of course the wife gave way at last; and of course she gave +way so cunningly that the husband received none of the gratification +which he had expected in her surrender. "Tell him to come," Nora had +urged. "Of course he can come if he pleases," Emily had replied. Then +Nora had told Louis to come, and Louis had demanded whether, if he +did so, the promise which he had exacted would be given. It is to be +feared that Nora perverted the truth a little; but if ever such +perversion may be forgiven, forgiveness was due to her. If they could +only be brought together, she was sure that there would be a +reconciliation. They were brought together, and there was a +reconciliation.</p> + +<p>"Dearest Emily, I am so glad to come to you," said the husband, +walking up to his wife in their bed-room, and taking her in his arms.</p> + + +<div class="center"><a name="ip1-039" id="ip1-039"></a> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="4px"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/p1-039.jpg"> + <img src="images/p1-039-t.jpg" width="540" + alt="Shewing how reconciliation was made." /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <span class="caption">Shewing how reconciliation was made.<br /> + Click to <a href="images/p1-039.jpg">ENLARGE</a></span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p>"I have been very unhappy, Louis, for the last two days," said she, +very gravely,—returning his kiss, but returning it somewhat coldly.</p> + +<p>"We have both been unhappy, I am sure," said he. Then he paused that +the promise might be made to him. He had certainly understood that it +was to be made without reserve,—as an act on her part which she had +fully consented to perform. But she stood silent, with one hand on +the dressing-table, looking away from him, very beautiful, and +dignified too, in her manner; but not, as far as he could judge, +either repentant or submissive. "Nora said that you would make me the +promise which I ask from you."</p> + +<p>"I cannot think, Louis, how you can want such a promise from me."</p> + +<p>"I think it right to ask it; I do indeed."</p> + +<p>"Can you imagine that I shall ever willingly see this gentleman again +after what has occurred? It will be for you to tell the servant. I do +not know how I can do that. But, as a matter of course, I will +encourage no person to come to your house of whom you disapprove. It +would be exactly the same of any man or of any woman."</p> + +<p>"That is all that I ask."</p> + +<p>"I am surprised that you should have thought it necessary to make any +formal request in the matter. Your word was quite sufficient. That +you should find cause of complaint in Colonel Osborne's coming here +is of course a different thing."</p> + +<p>"Quite a different thing," said he.</p> + +<p>"I cannot pretend to understand either your motives or your fears. I +do not understand them. My own self-respect prevents me from +supposing it to be possible that you have attributed an evil thought +to me."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, indeed, I never have," said the husband.</p> + +<p>"That I can assure you I regard as a matter of course," said the +wife.</p> + +<p>"But you know, Emily, the way in which the world talks."</p> + +<p>"The world! And do you regard the world, Louis?"</p> + +<p>"Lady Milborough, I believe, spoke to yourself."</p> + +<p>"Lady Milborough! No, she did not speak to me. She began to do so, +but I was careful to silence her at once. From you, Louis, I am bound +to hear whatever you may choose to say to me; but I will not hear +from any other lips a single word that may be injurious to your +honour." This she said very quietly, with much dignity, and he felt +that he had better not answer her. She had given him the promise +which he had demanded, and he began to fear that if he pushed the +matter further she might go back even from that amount of submission. +So he kissed her again, and had the boy brought into the room, and by +the time that he went to dress for dinner he was able, at any rate, +to seem to be well pleased.</p> + +<p>"Richard," he said to the servant, as soon as he was down-stairs, +"when Colonel Osborne calls again, say that your mistress is—not at +home." He gave the order in the most indifferent tone of voice which +he could assume; but as he gave it he felt thoroughly ashamed of it. +Richard, who, with the other servants, had of course known that there +had been a quarrel between his master and mistress for the last two +days, no doubt understood all about it.</p> + +<p>While they were sitting at dinner on the next day, a Saturday, there +came another note from Colonel Osborne. The servant brought it to his +mistress, and she, when she had looked at it, put it down by her +plate. Trevelyan knew immediately from whom the letter had come, and +understood how impossible it was for his wife to give it up in the +servant's presence. The letter lay there till the man was out of the +room, and then she handed it to Nora. "Will you give that to Louis?" +she said. "It comes from the man whom he supposes to be my lover."</p> + +<p>"Emily!" said he, jumping from his seat, "how can you allow words so +horrible and so untrue to fall from your mouth?"</p> + +<p>"If it be not so, why am I to be placed in such a position as this? +The servant knows, of course, from whom the letter comes, and sees +that I have been forbidden to open it." Then the man returned to the +room, and the remainder of the dinner passed off almost in silence. +It was their custom when they dined without company to leave the +dining-room together, but on this evening Trevelyan remained for a +few minutes that he might read Colonel Osborne's letter. He waited, +standing on the rug with his face to the fire-place, till he was +quite alone, and then he opened it. It ran as +<span class="nowrap">follows:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">House of Commons, Saturday.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear +Emily</span>,—<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p class="noindent">Trevelyan, as he read this, +cursed Colonel Osborne between his teeth.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear +Emily</span>,</p> + +<p>I called this afternoon, but you were out. I am afraid you +will be disappointed by what I have to tell you, but you +should rather be glad of it. They say at the C. O. that +Sir Marmaduke would not receive their letter if sent now +till the middle of June, and that he could not be in +London, let him do what he would, till the end of July. +They hope to have the session over by that time, and +therefore the committee is to be put off till next +session. They mean to have Lord Bowles home from Canada, +and they think that Bowles would like to be here in the +winter. Sir Marmaduke will be summoned for February next, +and will of course stretch his stay over the hot months. +All this will, on the whole, be for the best. Lady Rowley +could hardly have packed up her things and come away at a +day's notice, whatever your father might have done. I'll +call to-morrow at luncheon time.</p> + +<p class="ind10">Yours always,</p> + +<p class="ind15">F. O.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>There was nothing objectionable in this letter,—excepting always the +"Dear Emily,"—nothing which it was not imperative on Colonel Osborne +to communicate to the person to whom it was addressed. Trevelyan must +now go up-stairs and tell the contents of the letter to his wife. But +he felt that he had created for himself a terrible trouble. He must +tell his wife what was in the letter, but the very telling of it +would be a renewing of the soreness of his wound. And then what was +to be done in reference to the threatened visit for the Sunday +morning? Trevelyan knew very well that were his wife denied at that +hour, Colonel Osborne would understand the whole matter. He had +doubtless in his anger intended that Colonel Osborne should +understand the whole matter; but he was calmer now than he had been +then, and almost wished that the command given by him had not been so +definite and imperious. He remained with his arm on the mantel-piece, +thinking of it, for some ten minutes, and then went up into the +drawing-room. "Emily," he said, walking up to the table at which she +was sitting, "you had better read that letter."</p> + +<p>"I would so much rather not," she replied haughtily.</p> + +<p>"Then Nora can read it. It concerns you both equally."</p> + +<p>Nora, with hesitating hand, took the letter and read it. "They are +not to come after all," said she, "till next February."</p> + +<p>"And why not?" asked Mrs. Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"Something about the session. I don't quite understand."</p> + +<p>"Lord Bowles is to come from Canada," said Louis, "and they think he +would prefer being here in the winter. I dare say he would."</p> + +<p>"But what has that to do with papa?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose they must both be here together," said Nora.</p> + +<p>"I call that very hard indeed," said Mrs. Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"I can't agree with you there," said her husband. "His coming at all +is so much of a favour that it is almost a job."</p> + +<p>"I don't see that it is a job at all," said Mrs. Trevelyan. "Somebody +is wanted, and nobody can know more of the service than papa does. +But as the other man is a lord, I suppose papa must give way. Does he +say anything about mamma, Nora?"</p> + +<p>"You had better read the letter yourself," said Trevelyan, who was +desirous that his wife should know of the threatened visit.</p> + +<p>"No, Louis, I shall not do that. You must not blow hot and cold too. +Till the other day I should have thought that Colonel Osborne's +letters were as innocent as an old newspaper. As you have supposed +them to be poisoned I will have nothing to do with them."</p> + +<p>This speech made him very angry. It seemed that his wife, who had +yielded to him, was determined to take out the value of her +submission in the most disagreeable words which she could utter. Nora +now closed the letter and handed it back to her brother-in-law. He +laid it down on the table beside him, and sat for a while with his +eyes fixed upon his book. At last he spoke again. "Colonel Osborne +says that he will call to-morrow at luncheon time. You can admit him, +if you please, and thank him for the trouble he has taken in this +matter."</p> + +<p>"I shall not remain in the room if he be admitted," said Mrs. +Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>There was silence again for some minutes, and the cloud upon +Trevelyan's brow became blacker than before. Then he rose from his +chair and walked round to the sofa on which his wife was sitting. "I +presume," said he, "that your wishes and mine in this matter must be +the same."</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell what your wishes are," she replied. "I never was more +in the dark on any subject in my life. My wishes at present are +confined to a desire to save you as far as may be possible from the +shame which must be attached to your own suspicions."</p> + +<p>"I have never had any suspicions."</p> + +<p>"A husband without suspicions does not intercept his wife's letters. +A husband without suspicions does not call in the aid of his servants +to guard his wife. A husband without +<span class="nowrap">suspicions—"</span></p> + +<p>"Emily," exclaimed Nora Rowley, "how can you say such things,—on +purpose to provoke him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; on purpose to provoke me," said Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"And have I not been provoked? Have I not been injured? You say now +that you have not suspected me, and yet in what condition do I find +myself? Because an old woman has chosen to talk scandal about me, I +am placed in a position in my own house which is disgraceful to you +and insupportable to myself. This man has been in the habit of coming +here on Sundays, and will, of course, know that we are at home. You +must manage it as you please. If you choose to receive him, I will go +up-stairs."</p> + +<p>"Why can't you let him come in and go away, just as usual?" said +Nora.</p> + +<p>"Because Louis has made me promise that I will never willingly be in +his company again," said Mrs. Trevelyan. "I would have given the +world to avoid a promise so disgraceful to me; but it was exacted, +and it shall be kept." Having so spoken, she swept out of the room, +and went up-stairs to the nursery. Trevelyan sat for an hour with his +book before him, reading or pretending to read, but his wife did not +come down-stairs. Then Nora went up to her, and he descended to his +solitude below. So far he had hardly gained much by the enforced +obedience of his wife.</p> + +<p>On the next morning the three went to church together, and as they +were walking home Trevelyan's heart was filled with returning +gentleness towards his wife. He could not bear to be at wrath with +her after the church service which they had just heard together. But +he was softer-hearted than was she, and knowing this, was almost +afraid to say anything that would again bring forth from her +expressions of scorn. As soon as they were alone within the house he +took her by the hand and led her apart. "Let all this be," said he, +"as though it had never been."</p> + +<p>"That will hardly be possible, Louis," she answered. "I cannot forget +that I have been—cautioned."</p> + +<p>"But cannot you bring yourself to believe that I have meant it all +for your good?"</p> + +<p>"I have never doubted it, Louis;—never for a moment. But it has hurt +me to find that you should think that such caution was needed for my +good."</p> + +<p>It was almost on his tongue to beg her pardon, to acknowledge that he +had made a mistake, and to implore her to forget that he had ever +made an objection to Colonel Osborne's visit. He remembered at this +moment the painful odiousness of that "Dear Emily;" but he had to +reconcile himself even to that, telling himself that, after all, +Colonel Osborne was an old man,—a man older even than his wife's +father. If she would only have met him with gentleness, he would have +withdrawn his command, and have acknowledged that he had been wrong. +But she was hard, dignified, obedient, and resentful. "It will, I +think," he said, "be better for both of us that he should be asked in +to lunch to-day."</p> + +<p>"You must judge of that," said Emily. "Perhaps, upon the whole, it +will be best. I can only say that I will not be present. I will lunch +up-stairs with baby, and you can make what excuse for me you please." +This was all very bad, but it was in this way that things were +allowed to arrange themselves. Richard was told that Colonel Osborne +was coming to lunch, and when he came something was muttered to him +about Mrs. Trevelyan being not quite well. It was Nora who told the +innocent fib, and though she did not tell it well, she did her very +best. She felt that her brother-in-law was very wretched, and she was +most anxious to relieve him. Colonel Osborne did not stay long, and +then Nora went up-stairs to her sister.</p> + +<p>Louis Trevelyan felt that he had disgraced himself. He had meant to +have been strong, and he had, as he knew, been very weak. He had +meant to have acted in a high-minded, honest, manly manner; but +circumstances had been so untoward with him, that on looking at his +own conduct, it seemed to him to have been mean, and almost false and +cowardly. As the order for the exclusion of this hated man from his +house had been given, he should at any rate have stuck to the order. +At the moment of his vacillation he had simply intended to make +things easy for his wife; but she had taken advantage of his +vacillation, and had now clearly conquered him. Perhaps he respected +her more than he had done when he was resolving, three or four days +since, that he would be the master in his own house; but it may be +feared that the tenderness of his love for her had been impaired.</p> + +<p>Late in the afternoon his wife and sister-in-law came down dressed +for walking, and, finding Trevelyan in the library, they asked him to +join them,—it was a custom with them to walk in the park on a Sunday +afternoon,—and he at once assented, and went out with them. Emily, +who had had her triumph, was very gracious. There should not be a +word more said by her about Colonel Osborne. She would avoid that +gentleman, never receiving him in Curzon Street, and having as little +to say to him as possible elsewhere; but she would not throw his name +in her husband's teeth, or make any reference to the injury which had +so manifestly been done to her. Unless Louis should be indiscreet, it +should be as though it had been forgotten. As they walked by +Chesterfield House and Stanhope Street into the park, she began to +discuss the sermon they had heard that morning, and when she found +that that subject was not alluring, she spoke of a dinner to which +they were to go at Mrs. Fairfax's house. Louis Trevelyan was quite +aware that he was being treated as a naughty boy, who was to be +forgiven.</p> + +<p>They went across Hyde Park into Kensington Gardens, and still the +same thing was going on. Nora found it to be almost impossible to say +a word. Trevelyan answered his wife's questions, but was otherwise +silent. Emily worked very hard at her mission of forgiveness, and +hardly ceased in her efforts at conciliatory conversation. Women can +work so much harder in this way than men find it possible to do! She +never flagged, but continued to be fluent, conciliatory, and +intolerably wearisome. On a sudden they came across two men together, +who, as they all knew, were barely acquainted with each other. These +were Colonel Osborne and Hugh Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"I am glad to find you are able to be out," said the Colonel.</p> + +<p>"Thanks; yes. I think my seclusion just now was almost as much due to +baby as to anything else. Mr. Stanbury, how is it we never see you +now?"</p> + +<p>"It is the D. R., Mrs. Trevelyan;—nothing else. The D. R. is a most +grateful mistress, but somewhat exacting. I am allowed a couple of +hours on Sundays, but otherwise my time is wholly passed in Fleet +Street."</p> + +<p>"How very unpleasant."</p> + +<p>"Well; yes. The unpleasantness of this world consists chiefly in the +fact that when a man wants wages, he must earn them. The Christian +philosophers have a theory about it. Don't they call it the primeval +fall, original sin, and that kind of thing?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Stanbury, I won't have irreligion. I hope that doesn't come from +writing for the newspapers."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not with me, Mrs. Trevelyan. I have never been put on to +take that branch yet. Scrubby does that with us, and does it +excellently. It was he who touched up the Ritualists, and then the +Commission, and then the Low Church bishops, till he didn't leave one +of them a leg to stand upon."</p> + +<p>"What is it, then, that the Daily Record upholds?"</p> + +<p>"It upholds the Daily Record. Believe in that and you will surely be +saved." Then he turned to Miss Rowley, and they two were soon walking +on together, each manifestly interested in what the other was saying, +though there was no word of tenderness spoken between them.</p> + +<p>Colonel Osborne was now between Mr. and Mrs. Trevelyan. She would +have avoided the position had it been possible for her to do so. +While they were falling into their present places, she had made a +little mute appeal to her husband to take her away from the spot, to +give her his arm and return with her, to save her in some way from +remaining in company with the man to whose company for her he had +objected; but he took no such step. It had seemed to him that he +could take no such step without showing his hostility to Colonel +Osborne.</p> + +<p>They walked on along the broad path together, and the Colonel was +between them.</p> + +<p>"I hope you think it satisfactory,—about Sir Rowley," he said.</p> + +<p>"Beggars must not be choosers, you know, Colonel Osborne. I felt a +little disappointed when I found that we were not to see them till +February next."</p> + +<p>"They will stay longer then, you know, than they could now."</p> + +<p>"I have no doubt when the time comes we shall all believe it to be +better."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you think, Emily, that a little pudding to-day is better +than much to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Colonel Osborne certainly had a caressing, would-be affectionate mode +of talking to women, which, unless it were reciprocated and enjoyed, +was likely to make itself disagreeable. No possible words could have +been more innocent than those he had now spoken; but he had turned +his face down close to her face, and had almost whispered them. And +then, too, he had again called her by her Christian name. Trevelyan +had not heard the words. He had walked on, making the distance +between him and the other man greater than was necessary, anxious to +show to his wife that he had no jealousy at such a meeting as this. +But his wife was determined that she would put an end to this state +of things, let the cost be what it might. She did not say a word to +Colonel Osborne, but addressed herself at once to her husband.</p> + +<p>"Louis," she said, "will you give me your arm? We will go back, if +you please." Then she took her husband's arm, and turned herself and +him abruptly away from their companion.</p> + +<p>The thing was done in such a manner that it was impossible that +Colonel Osborne should not perceive that he had been left in anger. +When Trevelyan and his wife had gone back a few yards, he was obliged +to return for Nora. He did so, and then rejoined his wife.</p> + +<p>"It was quite unnecessary, Emily," he said, "that you should behave +like that."</p> + +<p>"Your suspicions," she said, "have made it almost impossible for me +to behave with propriety."</p> + +<p>"You have told him everything now," said Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"And it was requisite that he should be told," said his wife. Then +they walked home without interchanging another word. When they +reached their house, Emily at once went up to her own room, and +Trevelyan to his. They parted as though they had no common interest +which was worthy of a moment's conversation. And she by her step, and +gait, and every movement of her body showed to him that she was not +his wife now in any sense that could bring to him a feeling of +domestic happiness. Her compliance with his command was of no use to +him unless she could be brought to comply in spirit. Unless she would +be soft to him he could not be happy. He walked about his room +uneasily for half-an-hour, trying to shake off his sorrow, and then +he went up to her room. "Emily," he said, "for God's sake let all +this pass away."</p> + +<p>"What is to pass away?"</p> + +<p>"This feeling of rancour between you and me. What is the world to us +unless we can love one another? At any rate it will be nothing to +me."</p> + +<p>"Do you doubt my love?" said she.</p> + +<p>"No; certainly not."</p> + +<p>"Nor I yours. Without love, Louis, you and I can not be happy. But +love alone will not make us so. There must be trust, and there must +also be forbearance. My feeling of annoyance will pass away in time; +and till it does, I will shew it as little as may be possible."</p> + +<p>He felt that he had nothing more to say, and then he left her; but he +had gained nothing by the interview. She was still hard and cold, and +still assumed a tone which seemed to imply that she had manifestly +been the injured person.</p> + +<p>Colonel Osborne, when he was left alone, stood for a few moments on +the spot, and then with a whistle, a shake of the head, and a little +low chuckle of laughter, rejoined the crowd.</p> + + +<p><a name="c7" id="c7"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER VII.</h3> +<h4>MISS JEMIMA STANBURY, OF EXETER.<br /> </h4> + + +<p><img class="left" src="images/ch07a.jpg" width="310" alt="Illustration" /> +Miss Jemima Stanbury, the aunt of our friend Hugh, was a maiden lady, +very much respected, indeed, in the city of Exeter. It is to be hoped +that no readers of these pages will be so un-English as to be unable +to appreciate the difference between county society and town +society,—the society, that is, of a provincial town, or so ignorant +as not to know also that there may be persons so privileged, that +although they live distinctly within a provincial town, there is +accorded to them, as though by brevet rank, all the merit of living +in the county. In reference to persons so privileged, it is +considered that they have been made free from the contamination of +contiguous bricks and mortar by certain inner gifts, probably of +birth, occasionally of profession, possibly of merit. It is very +rarely, indeed, that money alone will bestow this acknowledged rank; +and in Exeter, which by the stringency and excellence of its +well-defined rules on such matters, may perhaps be said to take the +lead of all English provincial towns, money alone has never availed. +Good blood, especially if it be blood good in Devonshire, is rarely +rejected. Clergymen are allowed within the pale,—though by no means +as certainly as used to be the case; and, indeed, in these days of +literates, clergymen have to pass harder examinations than those ever +imposed upon them by bishops' chaplains, before they are admitted ad +eundem among the chosen ones of the city of Exeter. The wives and +daughters of the old prebendaries see well to that. And, as has been +said, special merit may prevail. Sir Peter Mancrudy, the great Exeter +physician, has won his way in,—not at all by being Sir Peter, which +has stood in his way rather than otherwise,—but by the acknowledged +excellence of his book about saltzes. Sir Peter Mancrudy is supposed +to have quite a metropolitan, almost a European reputation,—and +therefore is acknowledged to belong to the county set, although he +never dines out at any house beyond the limits of the city. Now, let +it be known that no inhabitant of Exeter ever achieved a clearer +right to be regarded as "county," in opposition to "town," than had +Miss Jemima Stanbury. There was not a tradesman in Exeter who was not +aware of it, and who did not touch his hat to her accordingly. The +men who drove the flies, when summoned to take her out at night, +would bring oats with them, knowing how probable it was that they +might have to travel far. A distinct apology was made if she was +asked to drink tea with people who were simply "town." The Noels of +Doddescombe Leigh, the Cliffords of Budleigh Salterton, the Powels of +Haldon, the Cheritons of Alphington,—all county persons, but very +frequently in the city,—were greeted by her, and greeted her, on +terms of equality. Her most intimate friend was old Mrs. MacHugh, the +widow of the last dean but two, who could not have stood higher had +she been the widow of the last bishop. And then, although Miss +Stanbury was intimate with the Frenches of Heavitree, with the +Wrights of Northernhay, with the Apjohns of Helion Villa,—a really +magnificent house, two miles out of the city on the Crediton Road, +and with the Crumbies of Cronstadt House, Saint Ide's,—who would +have been county people, if living in the country made the +difference;—although she was intimate with all these families, her +manner to them was not the same, nor was it expected to be the same, +as with those of her own acknowledged set. These things are +understood in Exeter so well!</p> + +<p>Miss Stanbury belonged to the county set, but she lived in a large +brick house, standing in the Close, almost behind the Cathedral. +Indeed it was so close to the eastern end of the edifice that a +carriage could not be brought quite up to her door. It was a large +brick house, very old, with a door in the middle, and five steps +ascending to it between high iron rails. On each side of the door +there were two windows on the ground floor, and above that there were +three tiers of five windows each, and the house was double +throughout, having as many windows looking out behind into a gloomy +courtyard. But the glory of the house consisted in this, that there +was a garden attached to it, a garden with very high walls, over +which the boughs of trees might be seen, giving to the otherwise +gloomy abode a touch of freshness in the summer, and a look of space +in the winter, which no doubt added something to the reputation even +of Miss Stanbury. The fact,—for it was a fact,—that there was no +gloomier or less attractive spot in the whole city than Miss +Stanbury's garden, when seen inside, did not militate against this +advantage. There were but half-a-dozen trees, and a few square yards +of grass that was never green, and a damp ungravelled path on which +no one ever walked. Seen from the inside the garden was not much; +but, from the outside, it gave a distinct character to the house, and +produced an unexpressed acknowledgment that the owner of it ought to +belong to the county set.</p> + +<p>The house and all that was in it belonged to Miss Stanbury herself, +as did also many other houses in the neighbourhood. She was the owner +of the "Cock and Bottle," a very decent second class inn on the other +side of the Close, an inn supposed to have clerical tendencies, which +made it quite suitable for a close. The choristers took their beer +there, and the landlord was a retired verger. Nearly the whole of one +side of a dark passage leading out of the Close towards the High +Street belonged to her; and though the passage be narrow and the +houses dark, the locality is known to be good for trade. And she +owned two large houses in the High Street, and a great warehouse at +St. Thomas's, and had been bought out of land by the Railway at St. +David's,—much to her own dissatisfaction, as she was wont to express +herself, but, undoubtedly, at a very high price. It will be +understood therefore, that Miss Stanbury was wealthy, and that she +was bound to the city in which she lived by peculiar ties.</p> + +<p>But Miss Stanbury had not been born to this wealth, nor can she be +said to have inherited from her forefathers any of these high +privileges which had been awarded to her. She had achieved them by +the romance of her life and the manner in which she had carried +herself amidst its vicissitudes. Her father had been vicar of +Nuncombe Putney, a parish lying twenty miles west of Exeter, among +the moors. And on her father's death, her brother, also now dead, had +become vicar of the same parish,—her brother, whose only son, Hugh +Stanbury, we already know, working for the "D. R." up in London. When +Miss Stanbury was twenty-one she became engaged to a certain Mr. +Brooke Burgess, the eldest son of a banker in Exeter,—or, it might, +perhaps, be better said, a banker himself; for at the time Mr. Brooke +Burgess was in the firm. It need not here be told how various +misfortunes arose, how Mr. Burgess quarrelled with the Stanbury +family, how Jemima quarrelled with her own family, how, when her +father died, she went out from Nuncombe Putney parsonage, and lived +on the smallest pittance in a city lodging, how her lover was untrue +to her and did not marry her, and how at last he died and left her +every shilling that he possessed.</p> + +<p>The Devonshire people, at the time, had been much divided as to the +merits of the Stanbury quarrel. There were many who said that the +brother could not have acted otherwise than he did; and that Miss +Stanbury, though by force of character and force of circumstances she +had weathered the storm, had in truth been very indiscreet. The +results, however, were as have been described. At the period of which +we treat, Miss Stanbury was a very rich lady, living by herself in +Exeter, admitted, without question, to be one of the county set, and +still at variance with her brother's family. Except to Hugh, she had +never spoken a word to one of them since her brother's death. When +the money came into her hands, she at that time being over forty and +her nephew being then just ten years old, she had undertaken to +educate him, and to start him in the world. We know how she had kept +her word, and how and why she had withdrawn herself from any further +responsibility in the matter.</p> + +<p>And in regard to this business of starting the young man she had been +careful to let it be known that she would do no more than start him. +In the formal document, by means of which she had made the proposal +to her brother, she had been careful to let it be understood that +simple education was all that she intended to bestow upon him,—"and +that only," she had added, "in the event of my surviving till his +education be completed." And to Hugh himself she had declared that +any allowance which she made him after he was called to the Bar, was +only made in order to give him room for his foot, a spot of ground +from whence to make his first leap. We know how he made that leap, +infinitely to the disgust of his aunt, who, when he refused obedience +to her in the matter of withdrawing from the Daily Record, +immediately withdrew from him, not only her patronage and assistance, +but even her friendship and acquaintance. This was the letter which +she wrote to <span class="nowrap">him—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p>I don't think that writing radical stuff for a penny +newspaper is a respectable occupation for a gentleman, and +I will have nothing to do with it. If you choose to do +such work, I cannot help it; but it was not for such that +I sent you to Harrow and Oxford, nor yet up to London and +paid £100 a year to Mr. Lambert. I think you are treating +me badly, but that is nothing to your bad treatment of +yourself. You need not trouble yourself to answer this, +unless you are prepared to say that you will not write any +more stuff for that penny newspaper. Only I wish to be +understood. I will have no connection that I can help, and +no acquaintance at all, with radical scribblers and +incendiaries.</p> + +<p class="ind12"><span class="smallcaps">Jemima +Stanbury</span>.</p> + +<p class="noindent">The Close, Exeter, April 15, 186—.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>Hugh Stanbury had answered this, thanking his aunt for past favours, +and explaining to her,—or striving to do so,—that he felt it to be +his duty to earn his bread, as a means of earning it had come within +his reach. He might as well have spared himself the trouble. She +simply wrote a few words across his own letter in red ink:—"The +bread of unworthiness should never be earned or eaten;" and then sent +the letter back under a blank envelope to her nephew.</p> + +<p>She was a thorough Tory of the old school. Had Hugh taken to writing +for a newspaper that had cost sixpence, or even threepence, for its +copies, she might perhaps have forgiven him. At any rate the offence +would not have been so flagrant. And had the paper been conservative +instead of liberal, she would have had some qualms of conscience +before she gave him up. But to live by writing for a newspaper! and +for a penny newspaper!! and for a penny radical newspaper!!! It was +more than she could endure. Of what nature were the articles which he +contributed it was impossible that she should have any idea, for no +consideration would have induced her to look at a penny newspaper, or +to admit it within her doors. She herself took in the John Bull and +the Herald, and daily groaned deeply at the way in which those once +great organs of true British public feeling were becoming demoralised +and perverted. Had any reduction been made in the price of either of +them, she would at once have stopped her subscription. In the matter +of politics she had long since come to think that everything good was +over. She hated the name of Reform so much that she could not bring +herself to believe in Mr. Disraeli and his bill. For many years she +had believed in Lord Derby. She would fain believe in him still if +she could. It was the great desire of her heart to have some one in +whom she believed. In the bishop of her diocese she did believe, and +annually sent him some little comforting present from her own hand. +And in two or three of the clergymen around her she believed, finding +in them a flavour of the unascetic godliness of ancient days which +was gratifying to her palate. But in politics there was hardly a name +remaining to which she could fix her faith and declare that there +should be her guide. For awhile she thought she would cling to Mr. +Lowe; but, when she made inquiry, she found that there was no base +there of really well-formed conservative granite. The three gentlemen +who had dissevered themselves from Mr. Disraeli when Mr. Disraeli was +passing his Reform bill, were doubtless very good in their way; but +they were not big enough to fill her heart. She tried to make herself +happy with General Peel, but General Peel was after all no more than +a shade to her. But the untruth of others never made her untrue, and +she still talked of the excellence of George III. and the glories of +the subsequent reign. She had a bust of Lord Eldon, before which she +was accustomed to stand with hands closed and to weep,—or to think +that she wept.</p> + +<p>She was a little woman, now nearly sixty years of age, with bright +grey eyes, and a strong Roman nose, and thin lips, and a sharp-cut +chin. She wore a head-gear that almost amounted to a mob-cap, and +beneath it her grey hair was always frizzled with the greatest care. +Her dress was invariably of black silk, and she had five gowns,—one +for church, one for evening parties, one for driving out, and one for +evenings at home, and one for mornings. The dress, when new, always +went to church. Nothing, she was wont to say, was too good for the +Lord's house. In the days of crinolines she had protested that she +had never worn one,—a protest, however, which was hardly true; and +now, in these later days, her hatred was especially developed in +reference to the head-dresses of young women. "Chignon" was a word +which she had never been heard to pronounce. She would talk of "those +bandboxes which the sluts wear behind their noddles;" for Miss +Stanbury allowed herself the use of much strong language. She was +very punctilious in all her habits, breakfasting ever at half-past +eight, and dining always at six. Half-past five had been her time, +till the bishop, who, on an occasion, was to be her guest, once +signified to her that such an hour cut up the day and interfered with +clerical work. Her lunch was always of bread and cheese, and they who +lunched with her either eat that,—or the bread without the cheese. +An afternoon "tea" was a thing horrible to her imagination. Tea and +buttered toast at half-past eight in the evening was the great luxury +of her life. She was as strong as a horse, and had never hitherto +known a day's illness. As a consequence of this, she did not believe +in the illness of other people,—especially not in the illness of +women. She did not like a girl who could not drink a glass of beer +with her bread and cheese in the middle of the day, and she thought +that a glass of port after dinner was good for everybody. Indeed, she +had a thorough belief in port wine, thinking that it would go far to +cure most miseries. But she could not put up with the idea that a +woman, young or old, should want the stimulus of a glass of sherry to +support her at any odd time of the day. Hot concoctions of strong +drink at Christmas she would allow to everybody, and was very strong +in recommending such comforts to ladies blessed, or about to be +blessed, with babies. She took the sacrament every month, and gave +away exactly a tenth of her income to the poor. She believed that +there was a special holiness in a tithe of a thing, and attributed +the commencement of the downfall of the Church of England to rent +charges, and the commutation of clergymen's incomes. Since Judas, +there had never been, to her thinking, a traitor so base, or an +apostate so sinful, as Colenso; and yet, of the nature of Colenso's +teaching she was as ignorant as the towers of the cathedral opposite +to her.</p> + +<p>She believed in Exeter, thinking that there was no other provincial +town in England in which a maiden lady could live safely and +decently. London to her was an abode of sin; and though, as we have +seen, she delighted to call herself one of the county set, she did +not love the fields and lanes. And in Exeter the only place for a +lady was the Close. Southernhay and Northernhay might be very well, +and there was doubtless a respectable neighbourhood on the Heavitree +side of the town; but for the new streets, and especially for the +suburban villas, she had no endurance. She liked to deal at dear +shops; but would leave any shop, either dear or cheap, in regard to +which a printed advertisement should reach her eye. She paid all her +bills at the end of each six months, and almost took a delight in +high prices. She would rejoice that bread should be cheap, and grieve +that meat should be dear, because of the poor; but in regard to other +matters no reduction in the cost of an article ever pleased her. She +had houses as to which she was told by her agent that the rents +should be raised; but she would not raise them. She had others which +it was difficult to let without lowering the rents, but she would not +lower them. All change was to her hateful and unnecessary.</p> + +<p>She kept three maid-servants, and a man came in every day to clean +the knives and boots. Service with her was well requited, and much +labour was never exacted. But it was not every young woman who could +live with her. A rigidity as to hours, as to religious exercises, and +as to dress, was exacted, under which many poor girls altogether +broke down; but they who could stand this rigidity came to know that +their places were very valuable. No one belonging to them need want +for aught, when once the good opinion of Miss Stanbury had been +earned. When once she believed in her servant there was nobody like +that servant. There was not a man in Exeter could clean a boot except +Giles Hickbody,—and if not in Exeter, then where else? And her own +maid Martha, who had lived with her now for twenty years, and who had +come with her to the brick house when she first inhabited it, was +such a woman that no other servant anywhere was fit to hold a candle +to her. But then Martha had great gifts,—was never ill, and really +liked having sermons read to her.</p> + +<p>Such was Miss Stanbury, who had now discarded her nephew Hugh. She +had never been tenderly affectionate to Hugh, or she would hardly +have asked him to live in London on a hundred a year. She had never +really been kind to him since he was a boy, for although she had paid +for him, she had been almost penurious in her manner of doing so, and +had repeatedly given him to understand, that in the event of her +death not a shilling would be left to him. Indeed, as to that matter +of bequeathing her money, it was understood that it was her purpose +to let it all go back to the Burgess family. With the Burgess family +she had kept up no sustained connection, it being quite understood +that she was never to be asked to meet the only one of them now left +in Exeter. Nor was it as yet known to any one in what manner the +money was to go back, how it was to be divided, or who were to be the +recipients. But she had declared that it should go back, explaining +that she had conceived it to be a duty to let her own relations know +that they would not inherit her wealth at her death.</p> + +<p>About a week after she had sent back poor Hugh's letter with the +endorsement on it as to unworthy bread, she summoned Martha to the +back parlour in which she was accustomed to write her letters. It was +one of the theories of her life that different rooms should be used +only for the purposes for which they were intended. She never allowed +pens and ink up into the bed-rooms, and had she ever heard that any +guest in her house was reading in bed, she would have made an instant +personal attack upon that guest, whether male or female, which would +have surprised that guest. Poor Hugh would have got on better with +her had he not been discovered once smoking in the garden. Nor would +she have writing materials in the drawing-room or dining-room. There +was a chamber behind the dining-room in which there was an inkbottle, +and if there was a letter to be written, let the writer go there and +write it. In the writing of many letters, however, she put no +confidence, and regarded penny postage as one of the strongest +evidences of the coming ruin.</p> + +<p>"Martha," she said, "I want to speak to you. Sit down. I think I am +going to do something." Martha sat down, but did not speak a word. +There had been no question asked of her, and the time for speaking +had not come. "I am writing to Mrs. Stanbury, at Nuncombe Putney; and +what do you think I am saying to her?"</p> + +<p>Now the question had been asked, and it was Martha's duty to reply.</p> + +<p>"Writing to Mrs. Stanbury, ma'am?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, to Mrs. Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"It ain't possible for me to say, ma'am, unless it's to put Mr. Hugh +from going on with the newspapers."</p> + +<p>"When my nephew won't be controlled by me, I shan't go elsewhere to +look for control over him; you may be sure of that, Martha. And +remember, Martha, I don't want to have his name mentioned again in +the house. You will tell them all so, if you please."</p> + +<p>"He was a very nice gentleman, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"Martha, I won't have it; and there's an end of it. I won't have it. +Perhaps I know what goes to the making of a nice gentleman as well as +you do."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Hugh, ma'am,—"</p> + +<p>"I won't have it, Martha. And when I say so, let there be an end of +it." As she said this, she got up from her chair, and shook her head, +and took a turn about the room. "If I'm not mistress here, I'm +nobody."</p> + +<p>"Of course you're mistress here, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"And if I don't know what's fit to be done, and what's not fit, I'm +too old to learn; and, what's more, I won't be taught. I'm not going +to have my house crammed with radical incendiary stuff, printed with +ink that stinks, on paper made out of straw. If I can't live without +penny literature, at any rate I'll die without it. Now listen to me."</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"I have asked Mrs. Stanbury to send one of the girls over here."</p> + +<p>"To live, ma'am?" Martha's tone as she asked the question, showed how +deeply she felt its importance.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Martha; to live."</p> + +<p>"You'll never like it, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose I shall."</p> + +<p>"You'll never get on with it, ma'am; never. The young lady'll be out +of the house in a week; or if she ain't, somebody else will."</p> + +<p>"You mean yourself."</p> + +<p>"I'm only a servant, ma'am, and it don't signify about me."</p> + +<p>"You're a fool."</p> + +<p>"That's true, ma'am, I don't doubt."</p> + +<p>"I've sent for her, and we must do the best we can. Perhaps she won't +come."</p> + +<p>"She'll come fast enough," said Martha. "But whether she'll stay, +that's a different thing. I don't see how it's possible she's to +stay. I'm told they're feckless, idle young ladies. She'll be so +soft, ma'am, and <span class="nowrap">you,—"</span></p> + +<p>"Well; what of me?"</p> + +<p>"You'll be so hard, ma'am!"</p> + +<p>"I'm not a bit harder than you, Martha; nor yet so hard. I'll do my +duty, or at least I'll try. Now you know all about it, and you may go +away. There's the letter, and I mean to go out and post it myself."</p> + + +<p><a name="c8" id="c8"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER VIII.</h3> +<h4>"I KNOW IT WILL DO."<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Miss Stanbury carried her letter all the way to the chief post-office +in the city, having no faith whatever in those little subsidiary +receiving houses which are established in different parts of the +city. As for the iron pillar boxes which had been erected of late +years for the receipt of letters, one of which,—a most hateful thing +to her,—stood almost close to her own hall door, she had not the +faintest belief that any letter put into one of them would ever reach +its destination. She could not understand why people should not walk +with their letters to a respectable post-office instead of chucking +them into an iron stump,—as she called it,—out in the middle of the +street with nobody to look after it. Positive orders had been given +that no letter from her house should ever be put into the iron post. +Her epistle to her sister-in-law, of whom she never spoke otherwise +than as Mrs. Stanbury, was as +<span class="nowrap">follows:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">The Close, Exeter, 22nd April, 186—.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My Dear Sister +Stanbury</span>,</p> + +<p>Your son, Hugh, has taken to courses of which I do not +approve, and therefore I have put an end to my connection +with him. I shall be happy to entertain your daughter +Dorothy in my house if you and she approve of such a plan. +Should you agree to this, she will be welcome to receive +you or her sister,—<span class="u">not her +brother</span>,—in my house any +Wednesday morning between half-past nine and half-past +twelve. I will endeavour to make my house pleasant to her +and useful, and will make her an allowance of £25 per +annum for her clothes as long as she may remain with me. I +shall expect her to be regular at meals, to be constant in +going to church, and not to read modern novels.</p> + +<p>I intend the arrangement to be permanent, but of course I +must retain the power of closing it if, and when, I shall +see fit. Its permanence must be contingent on my life. I +have no power of providing for any one <span class="u">after +my death</span>.</p> + +<p class="ind8">Yours truly,</p> + +<p class="ind12"><span class="smallcaps">Jemima Stanbury</span>.</p> + +<p class="noindent">I hope the young lady +does not have any false hair about her.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>When this note was received at Nuncombe Putney the amazement which it +occasioned was extreme. Mrs. Stanbury, the widow of the late vicar, +lived in a little morsel of a cottage on the outskirts of the +village, with her two daughters, Priscilla and Dorothy. Their whole +income, out of which it was necessary that they should pay rent for +their cottage, was less than £70 per annum. During the last few +months a five-pound note now and again had found its way to Nuncombe +Putney out of the coffers of the "D. R.;" but the ladies there were +most unwilling to be so relieved, thinking that their brother's +career was of infinitely more importance than their comforts or even +than their living. They were very poor, but they were accustomed to +poverty. The elder sister was older than Hugh, but Dorothy, the +younger, to whom this strange invitation was now made, was two years +younger than her brother, and was now nearly twenty-six. How they had +lived, and dressed themselves, and had continued to be called ladies +by the inhabitants of the village was, and is, and will be a mystery +to those who have had the spending of much larger incomes, but have +still been always poor. But they had lived, had gone to church every +Sunday in decent apparel, and had kept up friendly relations with the +family of the present vicar, and with one or two other neighbours.</p> + +<p>When the letter had been read first by the mother, and then aloud, +and then by each of them separately, in the little sitting-room in +the cottage, there was silence among them,—for neither of them +desired to be the first to express an opinion. Nothing could be more +natural than the proposed arrangement, had it not been made unnatural +by a quarrel existing nearly throughout the whole life of the person +most nearly concerned. Priscilla, the elder daughter, was the one of +the family who was generally the ruler, and she at last expressed an +opinion adverse to the arrangement. "My dear, you would never be able +to bear it," said Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"I suppose not," said Mrs. Stanbury, plaintively.</p> + +<p>"I could try," said Dorothy.</p> + +<p>"My dear, you don't know that woman," said Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"Of course I don't know her," said Dorothy.</p> + +<p>"She has always been very good to Hugh," said Mrs. Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"I don't think she has been good to him at all," said Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"But think what a saving it would be," said Dorothy. "And I could +send home half of what Aunt Stanbury says she would give me."</p> + +<p>"You must not think of that," said Priscilla, "because she expects +you to be dressed."</p> + +<p>"I should like to try," she said, before the morning was over,—"if +you and mamma don't think it would be wrong."</p> + +<p>The conference that day ended in a written request to Aunt Stanbury +that a week might be allowed for consideration,—the letter being +written by Priscilla, but signed with her mother's name,—and with a +very long epistle to Hugh, in which each of the ladies took a part, +and in which advice and decision were demanded. It was very evident +to Hugh that his mother and Dorothy were for compliance, and that +Priscilla was for refusal. But he never doubted for a moment. "Of +course she will go," he said in his answer to Priscilla; "and she +must understand that Aunt Stanbury is a most excellent woman, as true +as the sun, thoroughly honest, with no fault but this, that she likes +her own way. Of course Dolly can go back again if she finds the house +too hard for her." Then he sent another five-pound note, observing +that Dolly's journey to Exeter would cost money, and that her +wardrobe would want some improvement.</p> + +<p>"I'm very glad that it isn't me," said Priscilla, who, however, did +not attempt to oppose the decision of the man of the family. Dorothy +was greatly gratified by the excitement of the proposed change in her +life, and the following letter, the product of the wisdom of the +family, was written by Mrs. +<span class="nowrap">Stanbury:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">Nuncombe Putney, 1st May, 186—.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My Dear +Sister Stanbury</span>,</p> + +<p>We are all very thankful for the kindness of your offer, +which my daughter Dorothy will accept with feelings of +affectionate gratitude. I think you will find her docile, +good-tempered, and amiable; but a mother, of course, +speaks well of her own child. She will endeavour to comply +with your wishes in all things reasonable. She, of course, +understands that should the arrangement not suit, she will +come back home on the expression of your wish that it +should be so. And she will, of course, do the same, if she +should find that living in Exeter does not suit herself. +[This sentence was inserted at the instance of Priscilla, +after much urgent expostulation.] Dorothy will be ready to +go to you on any day you may fix after the 7th of this +month.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="ind6">Believe me to remain,</span><br /> +<span class="ind8">Your affectionate sister-in-law,</span></p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">P. Stanbury</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>"She's going to come," said Miss Stanbury to Martha, holding the +letter in her hand.</p> + +<p>"I never doubted her coming, ma'am," said Martha.</p> + +<p>"And I mean her to stay, unless it's her own fault. She'll have the +small room up-stairs, looking out front, next to mine. And you must +go and fetch her."</p> + +<p>"Go and fetch her, ma'am?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. If you won't, I must."</p> + +<p>"She ain't a child, ma'am. She's twenty-five years old, and surely +she can come to Exeter by herself, with a railroad all the way from +Lessboro'."</p> + +<p>"There's no place a young woman is insulted in so bad as those +railway carriages, and I won't have her come by herself. If she is to +live with me, she shall begin decently at any rate."</p> + +<p>Martha argued the matter, but was of course beaten, and on the day +fixed started early in the morning for Nuncombe Putney, and returned +in the afternoon to the Close with her charge. By the time that she +had reached the house she had in some degree reconciled herself to +the dangerous step that her mistress had taken, partly by perceiving +that in face Dorothy Stanbury was very like her brother Hugh, and +partly, perhaps, by finding that the young woman's manner to herself +was both gentle and sprightly. She knew well that gentleness alone, +without some back-bone of strength under it, would not long succeed +with Miss Stanbury. "As far as I can judge, ma'am, she's a sweet +young lady," said Martha, when she reported her arrival to her +mistress, who had retired up-stairs to her own room, in order that +she might thus hear a word of tidings from her lieutenant, before she +showed herself on the field of action.</p> + +<p>"Sweet! I hate your sweets," said Miss Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"Then why did you send for her, ma'am?"</p> + +<p>"Because I was an old fool. But I must go down and receive her, I +suppose."</p> + +<p>Then Miss Stanbury went down, almost trembling as she went. The +matter to her was one of vital importance. She was going to change +the whole tenour of her life for the sake,—as she told herself,—of +doing her duty by a relative whom she did not even know. But we may +fairly suppose that there had in truth been a feeling beyond that, +which taught her to desire to have some one near her to whom she +might not only do her duty as guardian, but whom she might also love. +She had tried this with her nephew; but her nephew had been too +strong for her, too far from her, too unlike to herself. When he came +to see her he had smoked a short pipe,—which had been shocking to +her,—and he had spoken of Reform, and Trades' Unions, and meetings +in the parks, as though they had not been Devil's ordinances. And he +was very shy of going to church,—utterly refusing to be taken there +twice on the same Sunday. And he had told his aunt that owing to a +peculiar and unfortunate weakness in his constitution he could not +listen to the reading of sermons. And then she was almost certain +that he had once kissed one of the maids! She had found it impossible +to manage him in any way; and when he positively declared himself as +permanently devoted to the degrading iniquities of penny newspapers, +she had thought it best to cast him off altogether. Now, thus late in +life, she was going to make another venture, to try an altogether new +mode of living,—in order, as she said to herself, that she might be +of some use to somebody,—but, no doubt, with a further unexpressed +hope in her bosom, that the solitude of her life might be relieved by +the companionship of some one whom she might love. She had arrayed +herself in a clean cap and her evening gown, and she went down-stairs +looking sternly, with a fully-developed idea that she must initiate +her new duties by assuming a mastery at once. But inwardly she +trembled, and was intensely anxious as to the first appearance of her +niece. Of course there would be a little morsel of a bonnet. She +hated those vile patches,—dirty flat daubs of millinery as she +called them; but they had become too general for her to refuse +admittance for such a thing within her doors. But a chignon, a +bandbox behind the noddle,—she would not endure. And then there were +other details of feminine gear, which shall not be specified, as to +which she was painfully anxious,—almost forgetting in her anxiety +that the dress of this young woman whom she was about to see must +have ever been regulated by the closest possible economy.</p> + +<p>The first thing she saw on entering the room was a dark straw hat, a +straw hat with a strong penthouse flap to it, and her heart was +immediately softened.</p> + +<p>"My dear," she said, "I am glad to see you."</p> + +<p>Dorothy, who, on her part, was trembling also, whose position was one +to justify most intense anxiety, murmured some reply.</p> + +<p>"Take off your hat," said the aunt, "and let me give you a kiss."</p> + +<p>The hat was taken off and the kiss was given. There was certainly no +chignon there. Dorothy Stanbury was light haired, with almost flaxen +ringlets, worn after the old-fashioned way which we used to think so +pretty when we were young. She had very soft grey eyes, which ever +seemed to beseech you to do something when they looked at you, and +her mouth was a beseeching mouth. There are women who, even amidst +their strongest efforts at giving assistance to others, always look +as though they were asking aid themselves, and such a one was Dorothy +Stanbury. Her complexion was pale, but there was always present in it +a tint of pink running here and there, changing with every word she +spoke, changing indeed with every pulse of her heart. Nothing ever +was softer than her cheek; but her hands were thin and hard, and +almost fibrous with the working of the thread upon them. She was +rather tall than otherwise, but that extreme look of feminine +dependence which always accompanied her, took away something even +from the appearance of her height.</p> + +<p>"These are all real, at any rate," said her aunt, taking hold of the +curls, "and won't be hurt by a little cold water."</p> + +<p>Dorothy smiled but said nothing, and was then taken up to her +bed-room. Indeed, when the aunt and niece sat down to dinner together +Dorothy had hardly spoken. But Miss Stanbury had spoken, and things +upon the whole had gone very well.</p> + +<p>"I hope you like roast chicken, my dear?" said Miss Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you."</p> + +<p>"And bread sauce? Jane, I do hope the bread sauce is hot."</p> + +<p>If the reader thinks that Miss Stanbury was indifferent to +considerations of the table, the reader is altogether ignorant of +Miss Stanbury's character. When Miss Stanbury gave her niece the +liver-wing, and picked out from the attendant sausages one that had +been well browned and properly broken in the frying, she meant to do +a real kindness.</p> + +<p>"And now, my dear, there are mashed potatoes and bread sauce. As for +green vegetables, I don't know what has become of them. They tell me +I may have green peas from France at a shilling a quart; but if I +can't have English green peas, I won't have any."</p> + +<p>Miss Stanbury was standing up as she said this,—as she always did on +such occasions, liking to have a full mastery over the dish.</p> + +<p>"I hope you like it, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"Everything is so very nice."</p> + +<p>"That's right. I like to see a young woman with an appetite. Remember +that God sends the good things for us to eat; and as long as we don't +take more than our share, and give away something to those who +haven't a fair share of their own, I for one think it quite right to +enjoy my victuals. Jane, this bread sauce isn't hot. It never is hot. +Don't tell me; I know what hot is!"</p> + +<p>Dorothy thought that her aunt was very angry; but Jane knew Miss +Stanbury better, and bore the scolding without shaking in her shoes.</p> + +<p>"And now, my dear, you must take a glass of port wine. It will do you +good after your journey."</p> + +<p>Dorothy attempted to explain that she never did drink any wine, but +her aunt talked down her scruples at once.</p> + +<p>"One glass of port wine never did anybody any harm, and as there is +port wine, it must be intended that somebody should drink it."</p> + +<p>Miss Stanbury, as she sipped hers out very slowly, seemed to enjoy it +much. Although May had come, there was a fire in the grate, and she +sat with her toes on the fender, and her silk dress folded up above +her knees. She sat quite silent in this position for a quarter of an +hour, every now and then raising her glass to her lips. Dorothy sat +silent also. To her, in the newness of her condition, speech was +impossible.</p> + +<p>"I think it will do," said Miss Stanbury at last.</p> + +<p>As Dorothy had no idea what would do, she could make no reply to +this.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure it will do," said Miss Stanbury, after another short +interval. "You're as like my poor sister as two eggs. You don't have +headaches, do you?"</p> + +<p>Dorothy said that she was not ordinarily affected in that way.</p> + +<p>"When girls have headaches it comes from tight-lacing, and not +walking enough, and carrying all manner of nasty smells about with +them. I know what headaches mean. How is a woman not to have a +headache, when she carries a thing on the back of her poll as big as +a gardener's wheel-barrow? Come, it's a fine evening, and we'll go +out and look at the towers. You've never even seen them yet, I +suppose?"</p> + +<p>So they went out, and finding the verger at the Cathedral door, he +being a great friend of Miss Stanbury's, they walked up and down the +aisles, and Dorothy was instructed as to what would be expected from +her in regard to the outward forms of religion. She was to go to the +Cathedral service on the morning of every week-day, and on Sundays in +the afternoon. On Sunday mornings she was to attend the little church +of St. Margaret. On Sunday evenings it was the practice of Miss +Stanbury to read a sermon in the dining-room to all of whom her +household consisted. Did Dorothy like daily services? Dorothy, who +was more patient than her brother, and whose life had been much less +energetic, said that she had no objection to going to church every +day when there was not too much to do.</p> + +<p>"There never need be too much to do to attend the Lord's house," said +Miss Stanbury, somewhat angrily.</p> + +<p>"Only if you've got to make the beds," said Dorothy.</p> + +<p>"My dear, I beg your pardon," said Miss Stanbury. "I beg your pardon, +heartily. I'm a thoughtless old woman, I know. Never mind. Now, we'll +go in."</p> + +<p>Later in the evening, when she gave her niece a candlestick to go to +bed, she repeated what she had said before.</p> + +<p>"It'll do very well, my dear. I'm sure it'll do. But if you read in +bed either night or morning, I'll never forgive you."</p> + +<p>This last caution was uttered with so much energy, that Dorothy gave +a little jump as she promised obedience.</p> + + +<p><a name="c9" id="c9"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER IX.</h3> +<h4>SHEWING HOW THE QUARREL PROGRESSED AGAIN.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>On one Sunday morning, when the month of May was nearly over, Hugh +Stanbury met Colonel Osborne in Curzon Street, not many yards from +Trevelyan's door. Colonel Osborne had just come from the house, and +Stanbury was going to it. Hugh had not spoken to Osborne since the +day, now a fortnight since, on which both of them had witnessed the +scene in the park; but on that occasion they had been left together, +and it had been impossible for them not to say a few words about +their mutual friends. Osborne had expressed his sorrow that there +should be any misunderstanding, and had called Trevelyan a +"confounded fool." Stanbury had suggested that there was something in +it which they two probably did not understand, and that matters would +be sure to come all right. "The truth is Trevelyan bullies her," said +Osborne; "and if he goes on with that he'll be sure to get the worst +of it." Now,—on this present occasion,—Stanbury asked whether he +would find the ladies at home. "Yes, they are both there," said +Osborne. "Trevelyan has just gone out in a huff. She'll never be able +to go on living with him. Anybody can see that with half an eye." +Then he had passed on, and Hugh Stanbury knocked at the door.</p> + +<p>He was shown up into the drawing-room, and found both the sisters +there; but he could see that Mrs. Trevelyan had been in tears. The +avowed purpose of his visit,—that is, the purpose which he had +avowed to himself,—was to talk about his sister Dorothy. He had told +Miss Rowley, while walking in the park with her, how Dorothy had been +invited over to Exeter by her aunt, and how he had counselled his +sister to accept the invitation. Nora had expressed herself very +interested as to Dorothy's fate, and had said how much she wished +that she knew Dorothy. We all understand how sweet it is, when two +such persons as Hugh Stanbury and Nora Rowley cannot speak of their +love for each other, to say these tender things in regard to some one +else. Nora had been quite anxious to know how Dorothy had been +received by that old conservative warrior, as Hugh Stanbury had +called his aunt, and Hugh had now come to Curzon Street with a letter +from Dorothy in his pocket. But when he saw that there had been some +cause for trouble, he hardly knew how to introduce his subject.</p> + +<p>"Trevelyan is not at home?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No," said Emily, with her face turned away. "He went out and left us +a quarter of an hour since. Did you meet Colonel Osborne?"</p> + +<p>"I was speaking to him in the street not a moment since." As he +answered he could see that Nora was making some sign to her sister. +Nora was most anxious that Emily should not speak of what had just +occurred, but her signs were all thrown away. "Somebody must tell +him," said Mrs. Trevelyan, "and I don't know who can do so better +than so old a friend as Mr. Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"Tell what, and to whom?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"No, no, no," said Nora.</p> + +<p>"Then I must tell him myself," said she, "that is all. As for +standing this kind of life, it is out of the question. I should +either destroy myself or go mad."</p> + +<p>"If I could do any good I should be so happy," said Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"Nobody can do any good between a man and his wife," said Nora.</p> + +<p>Then Mrs. Trevelyan began to tell her story, putting aside, with an +impatient motion of her hands, the efforts which her sister made to +stop her. She was very angry, and as she told it, standing up, all +trace of sobbing soon disappeared from her voice. "The fact is," she +said, "he does not know his own mind, or what to fear or what not to +fear. He told me that I was never to see Colonel Osborne again."</p> + +<p>"What is the use, Emily, of your repeating that to Mr. Stanbury?"</p> + +<p>"Why should I not repeat it? Colonel Osborne is papa's oldest friend, +and mine too. He is a man I like very much,—who is a real friend to +me. As he is old enough to be my father, one would have thought that +my husband could have found no objection."</p> + +<p>"I don't know much about his age," said Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"It does make a difference. It must make a difference. I should not +think of becoming so intimate with a younger man. But, however, when +my husband told me that I was to see him no more,—though the insult +nearly killed me, I determined to obey him. An order was given that +Colonel Osborne should not be admitted. You may imagine how painful +it was; but it was given, and I was prepared to bear it."</p> + +<p>"But he had been lunching with you on that Sunday."</p> + +<p>"Yes; that is just it. As soon as it was given Louis would rescind +it, because he was ashamed of what he had done. He was so jealous +that he did not want me to see the man; and yet he was so afraid that +it should be known that he ordered me to see him. He ordered him into +the house at last, and I,—I went away up-stairs."</p> + +<p>"That was on the Sunday that we met you in the park?" asked Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"What is the use of going back to all that?" said Nora.</p> + +<p>"Then I met him by chance in the park," continued Mrs. Trevelyan, +"and because he said a word which I knew would anger my husband, I +left him abruptly. Since that my husband has begged that things might +go on as they were before. He could not bear that Colonel Osborne +himself should think that he was jealous. Well; I gave way, and the +man has been here as before. And now there has been a scene which has +been disgraceful to us all. I cannot stand it, and I won't. If he +does not behave himself with more manliness,—I will leave him."</p> + +<p>"But what can I do?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing, Mr. Stanbury," said Nora.</p> + +<p>"Yes; you can do this. You can go to him from me, and can tell him +that I have chosen you as a messenger because you are his friend. You +can tell him that I am willing to obey him in anything. If he +chooses, I will consent that Colonel Osborne shall be asked never to +come into my presence again. It will be very absurd; but if he +chooses, I will consent. Or I will let things go on as they are, and +continue to receive my father's old friend when he comes. But if I +do, I will not put up with an imputation on my conduct because he +does not like the way in which the gentleman thinks fit to address +me. I take upon myself to say that if any man alive spoke to me as he +ought not to speak, I should know how to resent it myself. But I +cannot fly into a passion with an old gentleman for calling me by my +Christian name, when he has done so habitually for years."</p> + +<p>From all this it will appear that the great godsend of a rich +marriage, with all manner of attendant comforts, which had come in +the way of the Rowley family as they were living at the Mandarins, +had not turned out to be an unmixed blessing. In the matter of the +quarrel, as it had hitherto progressed, the husband had perhaps been +more in the wrong than his wife; but the wife, in spite of all her +promises of perfect obedience, had proved herself to be a woman very +hard to manage. Had she been earnest in her desire to please her lord +and master in this matter of Colonel Osborne's visits,—to please him +even after he had so vacillated in his own behests,—she might +probably have so received the man as to have quelled all feeling of +jealousy in her husband's bosom. But instead of doing so she had told +herself that as she was innocent, and as her innocence had been +acknowledged, and as she had been specially instructed to receive +this man whom she had before been specially instructed not to +receive, she would now fall back exactly into her old manner with +him. She had told Colonel Osborne never to allude to that meeting in +the park, and to ask no creature as to what had occasioned her +conduct on that Sunday; thus having a mystery with him, which of +course he understood as well as she did. And then she had again taken +to writing notes to him and receiving notes from him,—none of which +she showed to her husband. She was more intimate with him than ever, +and yet she hardly ever mentioned his name to her husband. Trevelyan, +acknowledging to himself that he had done no good by his former +interference, feeling that he had put himself in the wrong on that +occasion, and that his wife had got the better of him, had borne with +all this, with soreness and a moody savageness of general conduct, +but still without further words of anger with reference to the man +himself. But now, on this Sunday, when his wife had been closeted +with Colonel Osborne in the back drawing-room, leaving him with his +sister-in-law, his temper had become too hot for him, and he had +suddenly left the house, declaring that he would not walk with the +two women on that day. "Why not, Louis?" his wife had said, coming up +to him. "Never mind why not, but I shall not," he had answered; and +then he left the room.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter with him?" Colonel Osborne had asked.</p> + +<p>"It is impossible to say what is the matter with him," Mrs. Trevelyan +had replied. After that she had at once gone up-stairs to her child, +telling herself that she was doing all that the strictest propriety +could require in leaving the man's society as soon as her husband was +gone. Then there was an awkward minute or two between Nora and +Colonel Osborne, and he took his leave.</p> + +<p>Stanbury at last promised that he would see Trevelyan, repeating, +however, very frequently that often-used assertion, that no task is +so hopeless as that of interfering between a man and his wife. +Nevertheless he promised, and undertook to look for Trevelyan at the +Acrobats on that afternoon. At last he got a moment in which to +produce the letter from his sister, and was able to turn the +conversation for a few minutes to his own affairs. Dorothy's letter +was read and discussed by both the ladies with much zeal. "It is +quite a strange world to me," said Dorothy, "but I am beginning to +find myself more at my ease than I was at first. Aunt Stanbury is +very good-natured, and when I know what she wants, I think I shall be +able to please her. What you said of her disposition is not so bad to +me, as of course a girl in my position does not expect to have her +own way."</p> + +<p>"Why shouldn't she have her share of her own way as well as anybody +else?" said Mrs. Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"Poor Dorothy would never want to have her own way," said Hugh.</p> + +<p>"She ought to want it," said Mrs. Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"She has spirit enough to turn if she's trodden on," said Hugh.</p> + +<p>"That's more than what most women have," said Mrs. Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>Then he went on with the letter. "She is very generous, and has given +me £6 5<i>s.</i> in advance of my allowance. +When I said I would send part +of it home to mamma, she seemed to be angry, and said that she wanted +me always to look nice about my clothes. She told me afterwards to do +as I pleased, and that I might try my own way for the first quarter. +So I was frightened, and only sent thirty shillings. We went out the +other evening to drink tea with Mrs. MacHugh, an old lady whose +husband was once dean. I had to go, and it was all very nice. There +were a great many clergymen there, but many of them were young men." +"Poor Dorothy," exclaimed Nora. "One of them was the minor canon who +chants the service every morning. He is a +<span class="nowrap">bachelor—"</span> "Then there is +a hope for her," said Nora—"and he always talks a little as though +he were singing the Litany." "That's very bad," said Nora; "fancy +having a husband to sing the Litany to you always." "Better that, +perhaps, than having him always singing something else," said Mrs. +Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>It was decided between them that Dorothy's state might on the whole +be considered as flourishing, but that Hugh was bound as a brother to +go down to Exeter and look after her. He explained, however, that he +was expressly debarred from calling on his sister, even between the +hours of half-past nine and half-past twelve on Wednesday mornings, +and that he could not see her at all unless he did so +surreptitiously.</p> + +<p>"If I were you I would see my sister in spite of all the old viragos +in Exeter," said Mrs. Trevelyan. "I have no idea of anybody taking so +much upon themselves."</p> + +<p>"You must remember, Mrs. Trevelyan, that she has taken upon herself +much also in the way of kindness, in doing what perhaps I ought to +call charity. I wonder what I should have been doing now if it were +not for my Aunt Stanbury."</p> + +<p>He took his leave, and went at once from Curzon Street to Trevelyan's +club, and found that Trevelyan had not been there as yet. In another +hour he called again, and was about to give it up, when he met the +man whom he was seeking on the steps.</p> + +<p>"I was looking for you," he said.</p> + +<p>"Well, here I am."</p> + +<p>It was impossible not to see in the look of Trevelyan's face, and not +to hear in the tone of his voice, that he was, at the moment, in an +angry and unhappy frame of mind. He did not move as though he were +willing to accompany his friend, and seemed almost to know beforehand +that the approaching interview was to be an unpleasant one.</p> + +<p>"I want to speak to you, and perhaps you wouldn't mind taking a turn +with me," said Stanbury.</p> + +<p>But Trevelyan objected to this, and led the way into the club +waiting-room. A club waiting-room is always a gloomy, unpromising +place for a confidential conversation, and so Stanbury felt it to be +on the present occasion. But he had no alternative. There they were +together, and he must do as he had promised. Trevelyan kept on his +hat and did not sit down, and looked very gloomy. Stanbury having to +commence without any assistance from outward auxiliaries, almost +forgot what it was that he had promised to do.</p> + +<p>"I have just come from Curzon Street," he said.</p> + +<p>"Well!"</p> + +<p>"At least I was there about two hours ago."</p> + +<p>"It doesn't matter, I suppose, whether it was two hours or two +minutes," said Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"Not in the least. The fact is this; I happened to come upon the two +girls there, when they were very unhappy, and your wife asked me to +come and say a word or two to you."</p> + +<p>"Was Colonel Osborne there?"</p> + +<p>"No; I had met him in the street a minute or two before."</p> + +<p>"Well, now; look here, Stanbury. If you'll take my advice, you'll +keep your hands out of this. It is not but that I regard you as being +as good a friend as I have in the world; but, to own the truth, I +cannot put up with interference between myself and my wife."</p> + +<p>"Of course you understand that I only come as a messenger."</p> + + +<div class="center"><a name="ip1-071" id="ip1-071"></a> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="4px"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/p1-071.jpg"> + <img src="images/p1-071-t.jpg" height="500" + alt='"I only come as a messenger."' /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <span class="caption">"I only come as a messenger."<br /> + Click to <a href="images/p1-071.jpg">ENLARGE</a></span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p>"You had better not be a messenger in such a cause. If she has +anything to say she can say it to myself."</p> + +<p>"Am I to understand that you will not listen to me?"</p> + +<p>"I had rather not."</p> + +<p>"I think you are wrong," said Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"In that matter you must allow me to judge for myself. I can easily +understand that a young woman like her, especially with her sister to +back her, should induce such a one as you to take her part."</p> + +<p>"I am taking nobody's part. You wrong your wife, and you especially +wrong Miss Rowley."</p> + +<p>"If you please, Stanbury, we will say nothing more about it." This +Trevelyan said holding the door of the room half open in his hand, so +that the other was obliged to pass out through it.</p> + +<p>"Good evening," said Stanbury, with much anger.</p> + +<p>"Good evening," said Trevelyan, with an assumption of indifference.</p> + +<p>Stanbury went away in absolute wrath, though the trouble which he had +had in the interview was much less than he had anticipated, and the +result quite as favourable. He had known that no good would come of +his visit. And yet he was now full of anger against Trevelyan, and +had become a partisan in the matter,—which was exactly that which he +had resolutely determined that he would not become. "I believe that +no woman on earth could live with him," he said to himself as he +walked away. "It was always the same with him,—a desire for mastery, +which he did not know how to use when he had obtained it. If it were +Nora, instead of the other sister, he would break her sweet heart +within a month."</p> + +<p>Trevelyan dined at his club, and hardly spoke a word to any one +during the evening. At about eleven he started to walk home, but went +by no means straight thither, taking a long turn through St. James's +Park, and by Pimlico. It was necessary that he should make up his +mind as to what he would do. He had sternly refused the interference +of a friend, and he must be prepared to act on his own +responsibility. He knew well that he could not begin again with his +wife on the next day as though nothing had happened. Stanbury's visit +to him, if it had done nothing else, had made this impossible. He +determined that he would not go to her room to-night, but would see +her as early as possible in the morning;—and would then talk to her +with all the wisdom of which he was master.</p> + +<p>How many husbands have come to the same resolution; and how few of +them have found the words of wisdom to be efficacious!</p> + + +<p><a name="c10" id="c10"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER X.</h3> +<h4>HARD WORDS.<br /> </h4> + + +<p><img class="left" src="images/ch10a.jpg" width="310" alt="Illustration" /> +It is to be feared that men in general do not regret as they should +do any temporary ill-feeling, or irritating jealousy between husbands +and wives, of which they themselves have been the cause. The author +is not speaking now of actual love-makings, of intrigues and devilish +villany, either perpetrated or imagined; but rather of those passing +gusts of short-lived and unfounded suspicion to which, as to other +accidents, very well-regulated families may occasionally be liable. +When such suspicion rises in the bosom of a wife, some woman +intervening or being believed to intervene between her and the man +who is her own, that woman who has intervened or been supposed to +intervene, will either glory in her position or bewail it bitterly, +according to the circumstances of the case. We will charitably +suppose that, in a great majority of such instances, she will bewail +it. But when such painful jealous doubts annoy the husband, the man +who is in the way will almost always feel himself justified in +extracting a slightly pleasurable sensation from the transaction. He +will say to himself probably, unconsciously indeed, and with no +formed words, that the husband is an ass, an ass if he be in a +twitter either for that which he has kept or for that which he has +been unable to keep, that the lady has shewn a good deal of +appreciation, and that he himself is—is—is—quite a Captain bold of +Halifax. All the while he will not have the slightest intention of +wronging the husband's honour, and will have received no greater +favour from the intimacy accorded to him than the privilege of +running on one day to Marshall and Snellgrove's, the haberdashers, +and on another to Handcocks', the jewellers. If he be allowed to buy +a present or two, or to pay a few shillings here or there, he has +achieved much. Terrible things now and again do occur, even here in +England; but women, with us, are slow to burn their household gods. +It happens, however, occasionally, as we are all aware, that the +outward garments of a domestic deity will be a little scorched; and +when this occurs, the man who is the interloper, will generally find +a gentle consolation in his position, let its interest be ever so +flaccid and unreal, and its troubles in running about, and the like, +ever so considerable and time-destructive.</p> + +<p>It was so certainly with Colonel Osborne when he became aware that +his intimacy with Mrs. Trevelyan had caused her husband uneasiness. +He was not especially a vicious man, and had now, as we know, reached +a time of life when such vice as that in question might be supposed +to have lost its charm for him. A gentleman over fifty, popular in +London, with a seat in Parliament, fond of good dinners, and +possessed of everything which the world has to give, could hardly +have wished to run away with his neighbour's wife, or to have +destroyed the happiness of his old friend's daughter. Such wickedness +had never come into his head; but he had a certain pleasure in being +the confidential friend of a very pretty woman; and when he heard +that that pretty woman's husband was jealous, the pleasure was +enhanced rather than otherwise. On that Sunday, as he had left the +house in Curzon Street, he had told Stanbury that Trevelyan had just +gone off in a huff, which was true enough, and he had walked from +thence down Clarges Street, and across Piccadilly to St. James's +Street, with a jauntier step than usual, because he was aware that he +himself had been the occasion of that trouble. This was very wrong; +but there is reason to believe that many such men as Colonel Osborne, +who are bachelors at fifty, are equally malicious.</p> + +<p>He thought a good deal about it on that evening, and was still +thinking about it on the following morning. He had promised to go up +to Curzon Street on the Monday,—really on some most trivial mission, +on a matter of business which no man could have taken in hand whose +time was of the slightest value to himself or any one else. But now +that mission assumed an importance in his eyes, and seemed to require +either a special observance or a special excuse. There was no real +reason why he should not have stayed away from Curzon Street for the +next fortnight; and had he done so he need have made no excuse to +Mrs. Trevelyan when he met her. But the opportunity for a little +excitement was not to be missed, and instead of going he wrote to her +the following <span class="nowrap">note:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">Albany, Monday.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear Emily</span>,</p> + +<p>What was it all about yesterday? I was to have come up +with the words of that opera, but perhaps it will be +better to send it. If it be not wicked, do tell me whether +I am to consider myself as a banished man. I thought that +our little meetings were so innocent,—and so pleasant! +The green-eyed monster is of all monsters the most +monstrous,—and the most unreasonable. Pray let me have a +line, if it be not forbidden.</p> + +<p class="ind10">Yours always heartily,</p> + +<p class="ind15">F. O.</p> + +<p class="noindent">Putting aside all +joking, I beg you to remember that I +consider myself always entitled to be regarded by you as +your most sincere friend.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>When this was brought to Mrs. Trevelyan, about twelve o'clock in the +day, she had already undergone the infliction of those words of +wisdom which her husband had prepared for her, and which were +threatened at the close of the last chapter. Her husband had come up +to her while she was yet in her bed-room, and had striven hard to +prevail against her. But his success had been very doubtful. In +regard to the number of words, Mrs. Trevelyan certainly had had the +best of it. As far as any understanding, one of another, was +concerned, the conversation had been useless. She believed herself to +be injured and aggrieved, and would continue so to assert, let him +implore her to listen to him as loudly as he might. "Yes;—I will +listen, and I will obey you," she had said, "but I will not endure +such insults without telling you that I feel them." Then he had left +her, fully conscious that he had failed, and went forth out of his +house into the City, to his club, to wander about the streets, not +knowing what he had best do to bring back that state of tranquillity +at home which he felt to be so desirable.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Trevelyan was alone when Colonel Osborne's note was brought to +her, and was at that moment struggling with herself in anger against +her husband. If he laid any command upon her, she would execute it; +but she would never cease to tell him that he had ill-used her. She +would din it into his ears, let him come to her as often as he might +with his wise words. Wise words! What was the use of wise words when +a man was such a fool in nature? And as for Colonel Osborne,—she +would see him if he came to her three times a day, unless her husband +gave some clearly intelligible order to the contrary. She was +fortifying her mind with this resolution when Colonel Osborne's +letter was brought to her. She asked whether any servant was waiting +for an answer. No,—the servant, who had left it, had gone at once. +She read the note, and sat working, with it before her, for a quarter +of an hour; and then walked over to her desk and answered it.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My dear Colonel +Osborne</span>,</p> + +<p>It will be best to say nothing whatever about the +occurrence of yesterday; and if possible, not to think of +it. As far as I am concerned, I wish for no +change;—except that people should be more reasonable. You +can call of course whenever you please; and I am very +grateful for your expression of friendship.</p> + +<p class="ind10">Yours most sincerely,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Emily +Trevelyan</span>.</p> + +<p class="noindent">Thanks for the words of the opera.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>When she had written this, being determined that all should be open +and above board, she put a penny stamp on the envelope, and desired +that the letter should be posted. But she destroyed that which she +had received from Colonel Osborne. In all things she would act as she +would have done if her husband had not been so foolish, and there +could have been no reason why she should have kept so unimportant a +communication.</p> + +<p>In the course of the day Trevelyan passed through the hall to the +room which he himself was accustomed to occupy behind the parlour, +and as he did so saw the note lying ready to be posted, took it up, +and read the address. He held it for a moment in his hand, then +replaced it on the hall table, and passed on. When he reached his own +table he sat down hurriedly, and took up in his hand some Review that +was lying ready for him to read. But he was quite unable to fix his +mind upon the words before him. He had spoken to his wife on that +morning in the strongest language he could use as to the unseemliness +of her intimacy with Colonel Osborne; and then, the first thing she +had done when his back was turned was to write to this very Colonel +Osborne, and tell him, no doubt, what had occurred between her and +her husband. He sat thinking of it all for many minutes. He would +probably have declared himself that he had thought of it for an hour +as he sat there. Then he got up, went up-stairs and walked slowly +into the drawing-room. There he found his wife sitting with her +sister. "Nora," he said, "I want to speak to Emily. Will you forgive +me, if I ask you to leave us for a few minutes?" Nora, with an +anxious look at Emily, got up and left the room.</p> + +<p>"Why do you send her away?" said Mrs. Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"Because I wish to be alone with you for a few minutes. Since what I +said to you this morning, you have written to Colonel Osborne."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—I have. I do not know how you have found it out; but I suppose +you keep a watch on me."</p> + +<p>"I keep no watch on you. As I came into the house, I saw your letter +lying in the hall."</p> + +<p>"Very well. You could have read it if you pleased."</p> + +<p>"Emily, this matter is becoming very serious, and I strongly advise +you to be on your guard in what you say. I will bear much for you, +and much for our boy; but I will not bear to have my name made a +reproach."</p> + +<p>"Sir, if you think your name is shamed by me, we had better part," +said Mrs. Trevelyan, rising from her chair, and confronting him with +a look before which his own almost quailed.</p> + +<p>"It may be that we had better part," he said, slowly. "But in the +first place I wish you to tell me what were the contents of that +letter."</p> + +<p>"If it was there when you came in, no doubt it is there still. Go and +look at it."</p> + +<p>"That is no answer to me. I have desired you to tell me what are its +contents."</p> + +<p>"I shall not tell you. I will not demean myself by repeating anything +so insignificant in my own justification. If you suspect me of +writing what I should not write, you will suspect me also of lying to +conceal it."</p> + +<p>"Have you heard from Colonel Osborne this morning?"</p> + +<p>"I have."</p> + +<p>"And where is his letter?"</p> + +<p>"I have destroyed it."</p> + +<p>Again he paused, trying to think what he had better do, trying to be +calm. And she stood still opposite to him, confronting him with the +scorn of her bright angry eyes. Of course, he was not calm. He was +the very reverse of calm. "And you refuse to tell me what you wrote," +he said.</p> + +<p>"The letter is there," she answered, pointing away towards the door. +"If you want to play the spy, go and look at it for yourself."</p> + +<p>"Do you call me a spy?"</p> + +<p>"And what have you called me? Because you are a husband, is the +privilege of vituperation to be all on your side?"</p> + +<p>"It is impossible that I should put up with this," he said;—"quite +impossible. This would kill me. Anything is better than this. My +present orders to you are not to see Colonel Osborne, not to write to +him or have any communication with him, and to put under cover to me, +unopened, any letter that may come from him. I shall expect your +implicit obedience to these orders."</p> + +<p>"Well;—go on."</p> + +<p>"Have I your promise?"</p> + +<p>"No;—no. You have no promise. I will make no promise exacted from me +in so disgraceful a manner."</p> + +<p>"You refuse to obey me?"</p> + +<p>"I will refuse nothing, and will promise nothing."</p> + +<p>"Then we must part;—that is all. I will take care that you shall +hear from me before to-morrow morning."</p> + +<p>So saying, he left the room, and, passing through the hall, saw that +the letter had been taken away.</p> + + +<p><a name="c11" id="c11"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XI.</h3> +<h4>LADY MILBOROUGH AS AMBASSADOR.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>"Of course, I know you are right," said Nora to her sister;—"right +as far as Colonel Osborne is concerned; but nevertheless you ought to +give way."</p> + +<p>"And be trampled upon?" said Mrs. Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"Yes; and be trampled upon, if he should trample on you;—which, +however, he is the last man in the world to do."</p> + +<p>"And to endure any insult and any names? You yourself—you would be a +Griselda, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to talk about myself," said Nora, "nor about Griselda. +But I know that, however unreasonable it may seem, you had better +give way to him now and tell him what there was in the note to +Colonel Osborne."</p> + +<p>"Never! He has ordered me not to see him or to write to him, or to +open his letters,—having, mind you, ordered just the reverse a day +or two before; and I will obey him. Absurd as it is, I will obey him. +But as for submitting to him, and letting him suppose that I think he +is right;—never! I should be lying to him then, and I will never lie +to him. He has said that we must part, and I suppose it will be +better so. How can a woman live with a man that suspects her? He +cannot take my baby from me."</p> + +<p>There were many such conversations as the above between the two +sisters before Mrs. Trevelyan received from her husband the +communication with which she had been threatened. And Nora, acting on +her own judgment in the matter, made an attempt to see Mr. Trevelyan, +writing to him a pretty little note, and beseeching him to be kind to +her. But he declined to see her, and the two women sat at home, with +the baby between them, holding such pleasant conversations as that +above narrated. When such tempests occur in a family, a woman will +generally suffer the least during the thick of the tempest. While the +hurricane is at the fiercest, she will be sustained by the most +thorough conviction that the right is on her side, that she is +aggrieved, that there is nothing for her to acknowledge, and no +position that she need surrender. Whereas her husband will desire a +compromise, even amidst the violence of the storm. But afterwards, +when the wind has lulled, but while the heavens around are still all +black and murky, then the woman's sufferings begin. When passion +gives way to thought and memory, she feels the loneliness of her +position,—the loneliness, and the possible degradation. It is all +very well for a man to talk about his name and his honour; but it is +the woman's honour and the woman's name that are, in truth, placed in +jeopardy. Let the woman do what she will, the man can, in truth, show +his face in the world;—and, after awhile, does show his face. But +the woman may be compelled to veil hers, either by her own fault, or +by his. Mrs. Trevelyan was now told that she was to be separated from +her husband, and she did not, at any rate, believe that she had done +any harm. But, if such separation did come, where could she live, +what could she do, what position in the world would she possess? +Would not her face be, in truth, veiled as effectually as though she +had disgraced herself and her husband?</p> + +<p>And then there was that terrible question about the child. Mrs. +Trevelyan had said a dozen times to her sister that her husband could +not take the boy away from her. Nora, however, had never assented to +this, partly from a conviction of her own ignorance, not knowing what +might be the power of a husband in such a matter, and partly thinking +that any argument would be good and fair by which she could induce +her sister to avoid a catastrophe so terrible as that which was now +threatened.</p> + +<p>"I suppose he could take him, if he chose," she said at last.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe he is wicked like that," said Mrs. Trevelyan. "He +would not wish to kill me."</p> + +<p>"But he will say that he loves baby as well as you do."</p> + +<p>"He will never take my child from me. He could never be so bad as +that."</p> + +<p>"And you will never be so bad as to leave him," said Nora after a +pause. "I will not believe that it can come to that. You know that he +is good at heart,—that nobody on earth loves you as he does."</p> + +<p>So they went on for two days, and on the evening of the second day +there came a letter from Trevelyan to his wife. They had neither of +them seen him, although he had been in and out of the house. And on +the afternoon of the Sunday a new grievance, a very terrible +grievance, was added to those which Mrs. Trevelyan was made to bear. +Her husband had told one of the servants in the house that Colonel +Osborne was not to be admitted. And the servant to whom he had given +this order was the—cook. There is no reason why a cook should be +less trustworthy in such a matter than any other servant; and in Mr. +Trevelyan's household there was a reason why she should be more +so,—as she, and she alone, was what we generally call an old family +domestic. She had lived with her master's mother, and had known her +master when he was a boy. Looking about him, therefore, for some one +in his house to whom he could speak,—feeling that he was bound to +convey the order through some medium,—he called to him the ancient +cook, and imparted to her so much of his trouble as was necessary to +make the order intelligible. This he did with various ill-worded +assurances to Mrs. Prodgers that there really was nothing amiss. But +when Mrs. Trevelyan heard what had been done,—which she did from +Mrs. Prodgers herself, Mrs. Prodgers having been desired by her +master to make the communication,—she declared to her sister that +everything was now over. She could never again live with a husband +who had disgraced his wife by desiring her own cook to keep a guard +upon her. Had the footman been instructed not to admit Colonel +Osborne, there would have been in such instruction some apparent +adherence to the recognised usages of society. If you do not desire +either your friend or your enemy to be received into your house, you +communicate your desire to the person who has charge of the door. But +the cook!</p> + +<p>"And now, Nora, if it were you, do you mean to say that you would +remain with him?" asked Mrs. Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>Nora simply replied that anything under any circumstances would be +better than a separation.</p> + +<p>On the morning of the third day there came the following +<span class="nowrap">letter:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">Wednesday, June 1, 12 midnight.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dearest Emily</span>,</p> + +<p>You will readily believe me when I say that I never in my +life was so wretched as I have been during the last two +days. That you and I should be in the same house together +and not able to speak to each other is in itself a misery, +but this is terribly enhanced by the dread lest this state +of things should be made to continue.</p> + +<p>I want you to understand that I do not in the least +suspect you of having as yet done anything wrong,—or +having even said anything injurious either to my position +as your husband, or to your position as my wife. But I +cannot but perceive that you are allowing yourself to be +entrapped into an intimacy with Colonel Osborne which if +it be not checked, will be destructive to my happiness and +your own. After what had passed before, you cannot have +thought it right to receive letters from him which I was +not to see, or to write letters to him of which I was not +to know the contents. It must be manifest to you that such +conduct on your part is wrong as judged by any of the +rules by which a wife's conduct can be measured. And yet +you have refused even to say that this shall be +discontinued! I need hardly explain to you that if you +persist in this refusal you and I cannot continue to live +together as man and wife. All my hopes and prospects in +life will be blighted by such a separation. I have not as +yet been able to think what I should do in such wretched +circumstances. And for you, as also for Nora, such a +catastrophe would be most lamentable. Do, therefore, think +of it well, and write me such a letter as may bring me +back to your side.</p> + +<p>There is only one friend in the world to whom I could +endure to talk of this great grief, and I have been to her +and told her everything. You will know that I mean Lady +Milborough. After much difficult conversation I have +persuaded her to see you, and she will call in Curzon +Street to-morrow about twelve. There can be no +kinder-hearted, or more gentle woman in the world than +Lady Milborough; nor did any one ever have a warmer friend +than both you and I have in her. Let me implore you then +to listen to her, and be guided by her advice.</p> + +<p>Pray believe, dearest Emily, that I am now, as ever, your +most affectionate husband, and that I have no wish so +strong as that we should not be compelled to part.</p> + +<p class="ind12"><span class="smallcaps">Louis +Trevelyan</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>This epistle was, in many respects, a very injudicious composition. +Trevelyan should have trusted either to the eloquence of his own +written words, or to that of the ambassador whom he was about to +despatch; but by sending both he weakened both. And then there were +certain words in the letter which were odious to Mrs. Trevelyan, and +must have been odious to any young wife. He had said that he did not +"as yet" suspect her of having done anything wrong. And then, when he +endeavoured to explain to her that a separation would be very +injurious to herself, he had coupled her sister with her, thus +seeming to imply that the injury to be avoided was of a material +kind. She had better do what he told her, as, otherwise, she and her +sister would not have a roof over their head! That was the nature of +the threat which his words were supposed to convey.</p> + +<p>The matter had become so serious, that Mrs. Trevelyan, haughty and +stiff-necked as she was, did not dare to abstain from showing the +letter to her sister. She had no other counsellor, at any rate, till +Lady Milborough came, and the weight of the battle was too great for +her own unaided spirit. The letter had been written late at night, as +was shown by the precision of the date, and had been brought to her +early in the morning. At first she had determined to say nothing +about it to Nora, but she was not strong enough to maintain such a +purpose. She felt that she needed the poor consolation of discussing +her wretchedness. She first declared that she would not see Lady +Milborough. "I hate her, and she knows that I hate her, and she ought +not to have thought of coming," said Mrs. Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>But she was at last beaten out of this purpose by Nora's argument, +that all the world would be against her if she refused to see her +husband's old friend. And then, though the letter was an odious +letter, as she declared a dozen times, she took some little comfort +in the fact that not a word was said in it about the baby. She +thought that if she could take her child with her into any +separation, she could endure it, and her husband would ultimately be +conquered.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I'll see her," she said, as they finished the discussion. "As +he chooses to send her, I suppose I had better see her. But I don't +think he does much to mend matters when he sends the woman whom he +knows I dislike more than any other in all London."</p> + +<p>Exactly at twelve o'clock Lady Milborough's carriage was at the door. +Trevelyan was in the house at the time and heard the knock at the +door. During those two or three days of absolute wretchedness, he +spent most of his hours under the same roof with his wife and +sister-in-law, though he spoke to neither of them. He had had his +doubts as to the reception of Lady Milborough, and was, to tell the +truth, listening with most anxious ear, when her ladyship was +announced. His wife, however, was not so bitterly contumacious as to +refuse admittance to his friend, and he heard the rustle of the +ponderous silk as the old woman was shown up-stairs. When Lady +Milborough reached the drawing-room, Mrs. Trevelyan was alone.</p> + +<p>"I had better see her by myself," she had said to her sister.</p> + +<p>Nora had then left her, with one word of prayer that she would be as +little defiant as possible.</p> + +<p>"That must depend," Emily had said, with a little shake of her head.</p> + +<p>There had been a suggestion that the child should be with her, but +the mother herself had rejected this.</p> + +<p>"It would be stagey," she had said, "and clap-trap. There is nothing +I hate so much as that."</p> + +<p>She was sitting, therefore, quite alone, and as stiff as a man in +armour, when Lady Milborough was shown up to her.</p> + +<p>And Lady Milborough herself was not at all comfortable as she +commenced the interview. She had prepared many wise words to be +spoken, but was not so little ignorant of the character of the woman +with whom she had to deal, as to suppose that the wise words would +get themselves spoken without interruption. She had known from the +first that Mrs. Trevelyan would have much to say for herself, and the +feeling that it would be so became stronger than ever as she entered +the room. The ordinary feelings between the two ladies were cold and +constrained, and then there was silence for a few moments when the +Countess had taken her seat. Mrs. Trevelyan had quite determined that +the enemy should fire the first shot.</p> + +<p>"This is a very sad state of things," said the Countess.</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed, Lady Milborough."</p> + +<p>"The saddest in the world;—and so unnecessary;—is it not?"</p> + +<p>"Very unnecessary, indeed, as I think."</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear, yes. But, of course, we must +<span class="nowrap">remember—"</span></p> + +<p>Then Lady Milborough could not clearly bring to her mind what it was +that she had to remember.</p> + +<p>"The fact is, my dear, that all this kind of thing is too monstrous +to be thought of. Goodness, gracious, me; two young people like you +and Louis, who thoroughly love each other, and who have got a baby, +to think of being separated! Of course it is out of the question."</p> + +<p>"You cannot suppose, Lady Milborough, that I want to be separated +from my husband?"</p> + +<p>"Of course not. How should it be possible? The very idea is too +shocking to be thought of. I declare I haven't slept since Louis was +talking to me about it. But, my dear, you must remember, you know, +that a husband has a right to expect some—some—some—a sort +of—submission from his wife."</p> + +<p>"He has a right to expect obedience, Lady Milborough."</p> + +<p>"Of course; that is all one wants."</p> + +<p>"And I will obey Mr. Trevelyan—in anything reasonable."</p> + +<p>"But, my dear, who is to say what is reasonable? That, you see, is +always the difficulty. You must allow that your husband is the person +who ought to decide that."</p> + +<p>"Has he told you that I have refused to obey him, Lady Milborough?"</p> + +<p>The Countess paused a moment before she replied. "Well, yes; I think +he has," she said. "He asked you to do something about a letter,—a +letter to that Colonel Osborne, who is a man, my dear, really to be +very much afraid of; a man who has done a great deal of harm,—and +you declined. Now in a matter of that kind of course the +<span class="nowrap">husband—"</span></p> + +<p>"Lady Milborough, I must ask you to listen to me. You have listened +to Mr. Trevelyan, and I must ask you to listen to me. I am sorry to +trouble you, but as you have come here about this unpleasant +business, you must forgive me if I insist upon it."</p> + +<p>"Of course I will listen to you, my dear."</p> + +<p>"I have never refused to obey my husband, and I do not refuse now. +The gentleman of whom you have been speaking is an old friend of my +father's, and has become my friend. Nevertheless, had Mr. Trevelyan +given me any plain order about him, I should have obeyed him. A wife +does not feel that her chances of happiness are increased when she +finds that her husband suspects her of being too intimate with +another man. It is a thing very hard to bear. But I would have +endeavoured to bear it, knowing how important it is for both our +sakes, and more especially for our child. I would have made excuses, +and would have endeavoured to think that this horrid feeling on his +part is nothing more than a short delusion."</p> + +<p>"But my dear—"</p> + +<p>"I must ask you to hear me out, Lady Milborough. But when he tells me +first that I am not to meet the man, and so instructs the servants; +then tells me that I am to meet him, and go on just as I was going +before, and then again tells me that I am not to see him, and again +instructs the servants,—and, above all, the cook!—that Colonel +Osborne is not to come into the house, then obedience becomes rather +difficult."</p> + +<p>"Just say now that you will do what he wants, and then all will be +right."</p> + +<p>"I will not say so to you, Lady Milborough. It is not to you that I +ought to say it. But as he has chosen to send you here, I will +explain to you that I have never disobeyed him. When I was free, in +accordance with Mr. Trevelyan's wishes, to have what intercourse I +pleased with Colonel Osborne, I received a note from that gentleman +on a most trivial matter. I answered it as trivially. My husband saw +my letter, closed, and questioned me about it. I told him that the +letter was still there, and that if he chose to be a spy upon my +actions he could open it and read it."</p> + +<p>"My dear, how could you bring yourself to use the word spy to your +husband?"</p> + +<p>"How could he bring himself to accuse me as he did? If he cares for +me let him come and beg my pardon for the insult he has offered me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mrs. Trevelyan,—"</p> + +<p>"Yes; that seems very wrong to you, who have not had to bear it. It +is very easy for a stranger to take a husband's part, and help to put +down a poor woman who has been ill-used. I have done nothing wrong, +nothing to be ashamed of; and I will not say that I have. I never +have spoken a word to Colonel Osborne that all the world might not +hear."</p> + +<p>"Nobody has accused you, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Yes; he has accused me, and you have accused me, and you will make +all the world accuse me. He may put me out of his house if he likes, +but he shall not make me say I have been wrong, when I know I have +been right. He cannot take my child from me."</p> + +<p>"But he will."</p> + +<p>"No," shouted Mrs. Trevelyan, jumping up from her chair, "no; he +shall never do that. I will cling to him so that he cannot separate +us. He will never be so wicked,—such a monster as that. I would go +about the world saying what a monster he had been to me." The passion +of the interview was becoming too great for Lady Milborough's power +of moderating it, and she was beginning to feel herself to be in a +difficulty. "Lady Milborough," continued Mrs. Trevelyan, "tell him +from me that I will bear anything but that. That I will not bear."</p> + +<p>"Dear Mrs. Trevelyan, do not let us talk about it."</p> + +<p>"Who wants to talk about it? Why do you come here and threaten me +with a thing so horrible? I do not believe you. He would not dare to +separate me and my—child."</p> + +<p>"But you have only to say that you will submit yourself to him."</p> + +<p>"I have submitted myself to him, and I will submit no further. What +does he want? Why does he send you here? He does not know what he +wants. He has made himself miserable by an absurd idea, and he wants +everybody to tell him that he has been right. He has been very wrong; +and if he desires to be wise now, he will come back to his home, and +say nothing further about it. He will gain nothing by sending +messengers here."</p> + +<p>Lady Milborough, who had undertaken a most disagreeable task from the +purest motives of old friendship, did not like being called a +messenger; but the woman before her was so strong in her words, so +eager, and so passionate, that she did not know how to resent the +injury. And there was coming over her an idea, of which she herself +was hardly conscious, that after all, perhaps, the husband was not in +the right. She had come there with the general idea that wives, and +especially young wives, should be submissive. She had naturally taken +the husband's part; and having a preconceived dislike to Colonel +Osborne, she had been willing enough to think that precautionary +measures were necessary in reference to so eminent, and notorious, +and experienced a Lothario. She had never altogether loved Mrs. +Trevelyan, and had always been a little in dread of her. But she had +thought that the authority with which she would be invested on this +occasion, the manifest right on her side, and the undeniable truth of +her grand argument, that a wife should obey, would carry her, if not +easily, still successfully through all difficulties. It was probably +the case that Lady Milborough when preparing for her visit, had +anticipated a triumph. But when she had been closeted for an hour +with Mrs. Trevelyan, she found that she was not triumphant. She was +told that she was a messenger, and an unwelcome messenger; and she +began to feel that she did not know how she was to take herself away.</p> + +<p>"I am sure I have done everything for the best," she said, getting up +from her chair.</p> + +<p>"The best will be to send him back, and make him feel the truth."</p> + +<p>"The best for you, my dear, will be to consider well what should be +the duty of a wife."</p> + +<p>"I have considered, Lady Milborough. It cannot be a wife's duty to +acknowledge that she has been wrong in such a matter as this."</p> + +<p>Then Lady Milborough made her curtsey and got herself away in some +manner that was sufficiently awkward, and Mrs. Trevelyan curtseyed +also as she rang the bell; and, though she was sore and wretched, +and, in truth, sadly frightened, she was not awkward. In that +encounter, so far as it had gone, she had been the victor.</p> + +<p>As soon as she was alone and the carriage had been driven well away +from the door, Mrs. Trevelyan left the drawing-room and went up to +the nursery. As she entered she clothed her face with her sweetest +smile. "How is his own mother's dearest, dearest, darling duck?" she +said, putting out her arms and taking the boy from the nurse. The +child was at this time about ten months old, and was a strong, +hearty, happy infant, always laughing when he was awake and always +sleeping when he did not laugh, because his little limbs were free +from pain and his little stomach was not annoyed by internal +troubles. He kicked, and crowed, and sputtered, when his mother took +him, and put up his little fingers to clutch her hair, and was to her +as a young god upon the earth. Nothing in the world had ever been +created so beautiful, so joyous, so satisfactory, so divine! And they +told her that this apple of her eye was to be taken away from her! +No;—that must be impossible. "I will take him into my own room, +nurse, for a little while—you have had him all the morning," she +said; as though the "having baby" was a privilege over which there +might almost be a quarrel. Then she took her boy away with her, and +when she was alone with him, went through such a service in +baby-worship as most mothers will understand. Divide these two! No; +nobody should do that. Sooner than that, she, the mother, would +consent to be no more than a servant in her husband's house. Was not +her baby all the world to her?</p> + +<p>On the evening of that day the husband and wife had an interview +together in the library, which, unfortunately, was as unsatisfactory +as Lady Milborough's visit. The cause of the failure of them all lay +probably in this,—that there was no decided point which, if +conceded, would have brought about a reconciliation. Trevelyan asked +for general submission, which he regarded as his right, and which in +the existing circumstances he thought it necessary to claim, and +though Mrs. Trevelyan did not refuse to be submissive she would make +no promise on the subject. But the truth was that each desired that +the other should acknowledge a fault, and that neither of them would +make that acknowledgment. Emily Trevelyan felt acutely that she had +been ill-used, not only by her husband's suspicion, but by the manner +in which he had talked of his suspicion to others,—to Lady +Milborough and the cook, and she was quite convinced that she was +right herself, because he had been so vacillating in his conduct +about Colonel Osborne. But Trevelyan was equally sure that justice +was on his side. Emily must have known his real wishes about Colonel +Osborne; but when she had found that he had rescinded his verbal +orders about the admission of the man to the house,—which he had +done to save himself and her from slander and gossip,—she had taken +advantage of this and had thrown herself more entirely than ever into +the intimacy of which he disapproved! When they met, each was so sore +that no approach to terms was made by them.</p> + +<p>"If I am to be treated in that way, I would rather not live with +you," said the wife. "It is impossible to live with a husband who is +jealous."</p> + +<p>"All I ask of you is that you shall promise me to have no further +communication with this man."</p> + +<p>"I will make no promise that implies my own disgrace."</p> + +<p>"Then we must part; and if that be so, this house will be given up. +You may live where you please,—in the country, not in London; but I +shall take steps that Colonel Osborne does not see you."</p> + +<p>"I will not remain in the room with you to be insulted thus," said +Mrs. Trevelyan. And she did not remain, but left the chamber, +slamming the door after her as she went.</p> + +<p>"It will be better that she should go," said Trevelyan, when he found +himself alone. And so it came to pass that that blessing of a rich +marriage, which had as it were fallen upon them at the Mandarins from +out of heaven, had become, after an interval of but two short years, +anything but an unmixed blessing.</p> + + +<p><a name="c12" id="c12"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XII.</h3> +<h4>MISS STANBURY'S GENEROSITY.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>On one Wednesday morning early in June, great preparations were being +made at the brick house in the Close at Exeter for an event which can +hardly be said to have required any preparation at all. Mrs. Stanbury +and her elder daughter were coming into Exeter from Nuncombe Putney +to visit Dorothy. The reader may perhaps remember that when Miss +Stanbury's invitation was sent to her niece, she was pleased to +promise that such visits should be permitted on a Wednesday morning. +Such a visit was now to be made, and old Miss Stanbury was quite +moved by the occasion. "I shall not see them, you know, Martha," she +had said, on the afternoon of the preceding day.</p> + +<p>"I suppose not, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. Why should I? It would do no good."</p> + +<p>"It is not for me to say, ma'am, of course."</p> + +<p>"No, Martha, it is not. And I am sure that I am right. It's no good +going back and undoing in ten minutes what twenty years have done. +She's a poor harmless creature, I believe."</p> + +<p>"The most harmless in the world, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"But she was as bad as poison to me when she was young, and what's +the good of trying to change it now? If I was to tell her that I +loved her, I should only be lying."</p> + +<p>"Then, ma'am, I would not say it."</p> + +<p>"And I don't mean. But you'll take in some wine and cake, you know."</p> + +<p>"I don't think they'll care for wine and cake."</p> + +<p>"Will you do as I tell you? What matters whether they care for it or +not? They need not take it. It will look better for Miss Dorothy. If +Dorothy is to remain here I shall choose that she should be +respected." And so the question of the cake and wine had been decided +overnight. But when the morning came Miss Stanbury was still in a +twitter. Half-past ten had been the hour fixed for the visit, in +consequence of there being a train in from Lessboro', due at the +Exeter station at ten. As Miss Stanbury breakfasted always at +half-past eight, there was no need of hurry on account of the +expected visit. But, nevertheless, she was in a fuss all the morning; +and spoke of the coming period as one in which she must necessarily +put herself into solitary confinement.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps your mamma will be cold," she said, "and will expect a +fire."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear, no, Aunt Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"It could be lighted of course. It is a pity they should come just so +as to prevent you from going to morning service; is it not?"</p> + +<p>"I could go with you, aunt, and be back very nearly in time. They +won't mind waiting a quarter of an hour."</p> + +<p>"What; and have them here all alone! I wouldn't think of such a +thing. I shall go up-stairs. You had better come to me when they are +gone. Don't hurry them. I don't want you to hurry them at all; and if +you require anything, Martha will wait upon you. I have told the +girls to keep out of the way. They are so giddy, there's no knowing +what they might be after. Besides,—they've got their work to mind."</p> + +<p>All this was very terrible to poor Dorothy, who had not as yet quite +recovered from the original fear with which her aunt had inspired +her,—so terrible that she was almost sorry that her mother and +sister were coming to her. When the knock was heard at the door, +precisely as the cathedral clock was striking half-past ten,—to +secure which punctuality, and thereby not to offend the owner of the +mansion, Mrs. Stanbury and Priscilla had been walking about the Close +for the last ten minutes,—Miss Stanbury was still in the parlour.</p> + +<p>"There they are!" she exclaimed, jumping up. "They haven't given a +body much time to run away, have they, my dear? Half a minute, +Martha,—just half a minute!" Then she gathered up her things as +though she had been ill-treated in being driven to make so sudden a +retreat, and Martha, as soon as the last hem of her mistress's dress +had become invisible on the stairs, opened the front door for the +visitors.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say you like it?" said Priscilla, when they had been +there about a quarter of an hour.</p> + +<p>"H—u—sh," whispered Mrs. Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose she's listening at the door," said Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, she's not," said Dorothy. "There can't be a truer, honester +woman, than Aunt Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"But is she kind to you, Dolly?" asked the mother.</p> + +<p>"Very kind; too kind. Only I don't understand her quite, and then she +gets angry with me. I know she thinks I'm a fool, and that's the +worst of it."</p> + +<p>"Then, if I were you, I would come home," said Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"She'll never forgive you if you do," said Mrs. Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"And who need care about her forgiveness?" said Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"I don't mean to go home yet, at any rate," said Dorothy. Then there +was a knock at the door, and Martha entered with the cake and wine. +"Miss Stanbury's compliments, ladies, and she hopes you'll take a +glass of sherry." Whereupon she filled out the glasses and carried +them round.</p> + +<p>"Pray give my compliments and thanks to my sister Stanbury," said +Dorothy's mother. But Priscilla put down the glass of wine without +touching it, and looked her sternest at the maid.</p> + +<p>Altogether, the visit was not very successful, and poor Dorothy +almost felt that if she chose to remain in the Close she must lose +her mother and sister, and that without really making a friend of her +aunt. There had as yet been no quarrel,—nothing that had been +plainly recognised as disagreeable; but there had not as yet come to +be any sympathy, or assured signs of comfortable love. Miss Stanbury +had declared more than once that it would do, but had not succeeded +in showing in what the success consisted. When she was told that the +two ladies were gone, she desired that Dorothy might be sent to her, +and immediately began to make anxious inquiries.</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear, and what do they think of it?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, aunt, that they think very much."</p> + +<p>"And what do they say about it?"</p> + +<p>"They didn't say very much, aunt. I was very glad to see mamma and +Priscilla. Perhaps I ought to tell you that mamma gave me back the +money I sent her."</p> + +<p>"What did she do that for?" asked Miss Stanbury very sharply.</p> + +<p>"Because she says that Hugh sends her now what she wants." Miss +Stanbury, when she heard this, looked very sour. "I thought it best +to tell you, you know."</p> + +<p>"It will never come to any good, got in that way,—never."</p> + +<p>"But, Aunt Stanbury, isn't it good of him to send it?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I suppose it's better than drinking, and smoking, and +gambling. But I dare say he gets enough for that too. When a man, +born and bred like a gentleman, condescends to let out his talents +and education for such purposes, I dare say they are willing enough +to pay him. The devil always does pay high wages. But that only makes +it so much the worse. One almost comes to doubt whether any one ought +to learn to write at all, when it is used for such vile purposes. +I've said what I've got to say, and I don't mean to say anything +more. What's the use? But it has been hard upon me,—very. It was my +money did it, and I feel I've misused it. It's a disgrace to me which +I don't deserve."</p> + +<p>For a couple of minutes Dorothy remained quite silent, and Miss +Stanbury did not herself say anything further. Nor during that time +did she observe her niece, or she would probably have seen that the +subject was not to be dropped. Dorothy, though she was silent, was +not calm, and was preparing herself for a crusade in her brother's +defence.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Stanbury, he's my brother, you know."</p> + +<p>"Of course he's your brother. I wish he were not."</p> + +<p>"I think him the best brother in the world,—and the best son."</p> + +<p>"Why does he sell himself to write sedition?"</p> + +<p>"He doesn't sell himself to write sedition. I don't see why it should +be sedition, or anything wicked, because it's sold for a penny."</p> + +<p>"If you are going to cram him down my throat, Dorothy, you and I had +better part."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to say anything about him, only you ought—not—to +abuse him—before me." By this time Dorothy was beginning to sob, but +Miss Stanbury's countenance was still very grim and very stern. "He's +coming home to Nuncombe Putney, and I want to—see—see him," +continued Dorothy.</p> + +<p>"Hugh Stanbury coming to Exeter! He won't come here."</p> + +<p>"Then I'd rather go home, Aunt Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"Very well, very well," said Miss Stanbury, and she got up and left +the room.</p> + +<p>Dorothy was in dismay, and began to think that there was nothing for +her to do but to pack up her clothes and prepare for her departure. +She was very sorry for what had occurred, being fully alive to the +importance of the aid not only to herself, but to her mother and +sister, which was afforded by the present arrangement, and she felt +very angry with herself, in that she had already driven her aunt to +quarrel with her. But she had found it to be impossible to hear her +own brother abused without saying a word on his behalf. She did not +see her aunt again till dinner-time, and then there was hardly a word +uttered. Once or twice Dorothy made a little effort to speak, but +these attempts failed utterly. The old woman would hardly reply even +by a monosyllable, but simply muttered something, or shook her head +when she was addressed. Jane, who waited at table, was very demure +and silent, and Martha, who once came into the room during the meal, +merely whispered a word into Miss Stanbury's ear. When the cloth was +removed, and two glasses of port had been poured out by Miss Stanbury +herself, Dorothy felt that she could endure this treatment no longer. +How was it possible that she could drink wine under such +circumstances?</p> + + +<div class="center"><a name="ip1-092" id="ip1-092"></a> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="4px"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/p1-092.jpg"> + <img src="images/p1-092-t.jpg" width="540" + alt="Aunt Stanbury at dinner will not speak." /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <span class="caption">Aunt Stanbury at dinner will not speak.<br /> + Click to <a href="images/p1-092.jpg">ENLARGE</a></span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p>"Not for me, Aunt Stanbury," said she, with a deploring tone.</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"I couldn't drink it to-day."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you say so before it was poured out? And why not to-day? +Come, drink it. Do as I bid you." And she stood over her niece, as a +tragedy queen in a play with a bowl of poison. Dorothy took it and +sipped it from mere force of obedience. "You make as many bones about +a glass of port wine as though it were senna and salts," said Miss +Stanbury. "Now I've got something to say to you." By this time the +servant was gone, and the two were seated alone together in the +parlour. Dorothy, who had not as yet swallowed above half her wine, +at once put the glass down. There was an importance in her aunt's +tone which frightened her, and made her feel that some evil was +coming. And yet, as she had made up her mind that she must return +home, there was no further evil that she need dread. "You didn't +write any of those horrid articles?" said Miss Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"No, aunt; I didn't write them. I shouldn't know how."</p> + +<p>"And I hope you'll never learn. They say women are to vote, and +become doctors, and if so, there's no knowing what devil's tricks +they mayn't do. But it isn't your fault about that filthy newspaper. +How he can let himself down to write stuff that is to be printed on +straw is what I can't understand."</p> + +<p>"I don't see how it can make a difference as he writes it."</p> + +<p>"It would make a great deal of difference to me. And I'm told that +what they call ink comes off on your fingers like lamp-black. I never +touched one, thank God; but they tell me so. All the same; it isn't +your fault."</p> + +<p>"I've nothing to do with it, Aunt Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"Of course you've not. And as he is your brother it wouldn't be +natural that you should like to throw him off. And, my dear, I like +you for taking his part. Only you needn't have been so fierce with an +old woman."</p> + +<p>"Indeed—indeed I didn't mean to be—fierce, Aunt Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"I never was taken up so short in my life. But we won't mind that. +There; he shall come and see you. I suppose he won't insist on +leaving any of his nastiness about."</p> + +<p>"But is he to come here, Aunt Stanbury?"</p> + +<p>"He may if he pleases."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Aunt Stanbury!"</p> + +<p>"When he was here last he generally had a pipe in his mouth, and I +dare say he never puts it down at all now. Those things grow upon +young people so fast. But if he could leave it on the door-step just +while he's here I should be obliged to him."</p> + +<p>"But, dear aunt, couldn't I see him in the street?"</p> + +<p>"Out in the street! No, my dear. All the world is not to know that +he's your brother; and he is dressed in such a rapscallion manner +that the people would think you were talking to a house-breaker." +Dorothy's face became again red as she heard this, and the angry +words were very nearly spoken. "The last time I saw him," continued +Miss Stanbury, "he had on a short, rough jacket, with enormous +buttons, and one of those flipperty-flopperty things on his head, +that the butcher-boys wear. And, oh, the smell of tobacco! As he had +been up in London I suppose he thought Exeter was no better than a +village, and he might do just as he pleased. But he knew that if I'm +particular about anything, it is about a gentleman's hat in the +streets. And he wanted me—me!—to walk with him across to Mrs. +MacHugh's! We should have been hooted about the Close like a pair of +mad dogs;—and so I told him."</p> + +<p>"All the young men seem to dress like that now, Aunt Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"No, they don't. Mr. Gibson doesn't dress like that."</p> + +<p>"But he's a clergyman, Aunt Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I'm an old fool. I dare say I am, and of course that's what +you mean. At any rate I'm too old to change, and I don't mean to try. +I like to see a difference between a gentleman and a house-breaker. +For the matter of that I'm told that there is a difference, and that +the house-breakers all look like gentlemen now. It may be proper to +make us all stand on our heads, with our legs sticking up in the air; +but I for one don't like being topsy-turvey, and I won't try it. When +is he to reach Exeter?"</p> + +<p>"He is coming on Tuesday next, by the last train."</p> + +<p>"Then you can't see him that night. That's out of the question. No +doubt he'll sleep at the Nag's Head, as that's the lowest radical +public-house in the city. Martha shall try to find him. She knows +more about his doings than I do. If he chooses to come here the +following morning before he goes down to Nuncombe Putney, well and +good. I shall wait up till Martha comes back from the train on +Tuesday night, and hear." Dorothy was of course full of gratitude and +thanks; but yet she felt almost disappointed by the result of her +aunt's clemency on the matter. She had desired to take her brother's +part, and it had seemed to her as though she had done so in a very +lukewarm manner. She had listened to an immense number of accusations +against him, and had been unable to reply to them because she had +been conquered by the promise of a visit. And now it was out of the +question that she should speak of going. Her aunt had given way to +her, and of course had conquered her.</p> + +<p>Late on the Tuesday evening, after ten o'clock, Hugh Stanbury was +walking round the Close with his aunt's old servant. He had not put +up at that dreadfully radical establishment of which Miss Stanbury +was so much afraid, but had taken a bed-room at the Railway Inn. From +there he had walked up to the Close with Martha, and now was having a +few last words with her before he would allow her to return to the +house.</p> + +<p>"I suppose she'd as soon see the devil as see me," said Hugh.</p> + +<p>"If you speak in that way, Mr. Hugh, I won't listen to you."</p> + +<p>"And yet I did everything I could to please her; and I don't think +any boy ever loved an old woman better than I did her."</p> + +<p>"That was while she used to send you cakes, and ham, and jam to +school, Mr. Hugh."</p> + +<p>"Of course it was, and while she sent me flannel waistcoats to +Oxford. But when I didn't care any longer for cakes or flannel then +she got tired of me. It is much better as it is, if she'll only be +good to Dorothy."</p> + +<p>"She never was bad to anybody, Mr. Hugh. But I don't think an old +lady like her ever takes to a young woman as she does to a young man, +if only he'll let her have a little more of her own way than you +would. It's my belief that you might have had it all for your own +some day, if you'd done as you ought."</p> + +<p>"That's nonsense, Martha. She means to leave it all to the Burgesses. +I've heard her say so."</p> + +<p>"Say so; yes. People don't always do what they say. If you'd managed +rightly you might have it all;—and so you might now."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what, old girl; I shan't try. Live for the next twenty +years under her apron strings, that I may have the chance at the end +of it of cutting some poor devil out of his money! Do you know the +meaning of making a score off your own bat, Martha?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't; and if it's anything you're like to do, I don't think I +should be the better for learning,—by all accounts. And now if you +please, I'll go in."</p> + +<p>"Good night, Martha. My love to them both, and say I'll be there +to-morrow exactly at half-past nine. You'd better take it. It won't +turn to slate-stone. It hasn't come from the old gentleman."</p> + +<p>"I don't want anything of that kind, Mr. Hugh;—indeed I don't."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense. If you don't take it you'll offend me. I believe you think +I'm not much better than a schoolboy still."</p> + +<p>"I don't think you're half so good, Mr. Hugh," said the old servant, +sticking the sovereign which Hugh had given her in under her glove as +she spoke.</p> + +<p>On the next morning that other visit was made at the brick house, and +Miss Stanbury was again in a fuss. On this occasion, however, she was +in a much better humour than before, and was full of little jokes as +to the nature of the visitation. Of course, she was not to see her +nephew herself, and no message was to be delivered from her, and none +was to be given to her from him. But an accurate report was to be +made to her as to his appearance, and Dorothy was to be enabled to +answer a variety of questions respecting him after he was gone. "Of +course, I don't want to know anything about his money," Miss Stanbury +said, "only I should like to know how much these people can afford to +pay for their penny trash." On this occasion she had left the room +and gone up-stairs before the knock came at the door, but she +managed, by peeping over the balcony, to catch a glimpse of the +"flipperty-flopperty" hat which her nephew certainly had with him on +this occasion.</p> + +<p>Hugh Stanbury had great news for his sister. The cottage in which +Mrs. Stanbury lived at Nuncombe Putney, was the tiniest little +dwelling in which a lady and her two daughters ever sheltered +themselves. There was, indeed, a sitting-room, two bed-rooms, and a +kitchen; but they were all so diminutive in size that the cottage was +little more than a cabin. But there was a house in the village, not +large indeed, but eminently respectable, three stories high, covered +with ivy, having a garden behind it, and generally called the Clock +House, because there had once been a clock upon it. This house had +been lately vacated, and Hugh informed his sister that he was +thinking of taking it for his mother's accommodation. Now, the late +occupants of the Clock House, at Nuncombe Putney, had been people +with five or six hundred a year. Had other matters been in +accordance, the house would almost have entitled them to consider +themselves as county people. A gardener had always been kept +there,—and a cow!</p> + +<p>"The Clock House for mamma!"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes. Don't say a word about it as yet to Aunt Stanbury, as +she'll think that I've sold myself altogether to the old gentleman."</p> + +<p>"But, Hugh, how can mamma live there?"</p> + +<p>"The fact is, Dorothy, there is a secret. I can't tell you quite yet. +Of course, you'll know it, and everybody will know it, if the thing +comes about. But as you won't talk, I will tell you what most +concerns ourselves."</p> + +<p>"And am I to go back?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not,—if you will take my advice. Stick to your aunt. You +don't want to smoke pipes, and wear Tom-and-Jerry hats, and write for +the penny newspapers."</p> + +<p>Now Hugh Stanbury's secret was this;—that Louis Trevelyan's wife and +sister-in-law were to leave the house in Curzon Street, and come and +live at Nuncombe Putney, with Mrs. Stanbury and Priscilla. Such, at +least, was the plan to be carried out, if Hugh Stanbury should be +successful in his present negotiations.</p> + + +<p><a name="c13" id="c13"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIII.</h3> +<h4>THE HONOURABLE MR. GLASCOCK.<br /> </h4> + + +<p><img class="left" src="images/ch13a.jpg" width="310" alt="Illustration" /> +By the end of July Mrs. Trevelyan with her sister was established in +the Clock House, at Nuncombe Putney, under the protection of Hugh's +mother; but before the reader is made acquainted with any of the +circumstances of their life there, a few words must be said of an +occurrence which took place before those two ladies left Curzon +Street.</p> + +<p>As to the quarrel between Trevelyan and his wife things went from bad +to worse. Lady Milborough continued to interfere, writing letters to +Emily which were full of good sense, but which, as Emily said +herself, never really touched the point of dispute. "Am I, who am +altogether unconscious of having done anything amiss, to confess that +I have been in the wrong? If it were about a small matter, I would +not mind, for the sake of peace. But when it concerns my conduct in +reference to another man I would rather die first." That had been +Mrs. Trevelyan's line of thought and argument in the matter; but then +old Lady Milborough in her letters spoke only of the duty of +obedience as promised at the altar. "But I didn't promise to tell a +lie," said Mrs. Trevelyan. And there were interviews between Lady +Milborough and Trevelyan, and interviews between Lady Milborough and +Nora Rowley. The poor dear old dowager was exceedingly busy and full +of groans, prescribing Naples, prescribing a course of extra prayers, +prescribing a general course of letting by-gones be by-gones,—to +which, however, Trevelyan would by no means assent without some +assurance, which he might regard as a guarantee,—prescribing +retirement to a small town in the west of France if Naples would not +suffice; but she could effect nothing.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Trevelyan, indeed, did a thing which was sure of itself to +render any steps taken for a reconciliation ineffectual. In the midst +of all this turmoil,—while she and her husband were still living in +the same house, but apart because of their absurd quarrel respecting +Colonel Osborne, she wrote another letter to that gentleman. The +argument by which she justified this to herself, and to her sister +after it was done, was the real propriety of her own conduct +throughout her whole intimacy with Colonel Osborne. "But that is just +what Louis doesn't want you to do," Nora had said, filled with anger +and dismay. "Then let Louis give me an order to that effect, and +behave to me like a husband, and I will obey him," Emily had +answered. And she had gone on to plead that in her present condition +she was under no orders from her husband. She was left to judge for +herself, and,—judging for herself,—she knew, as she said, that it +was best that she should write to Colonel Osborne. Unfortunately +there was no ground for hoping that Colonel Osborne was ignorant of +this insane jealousy on the part of her husband. It was better, +therefore, she said, that she should write to him,—whom on the +occasion she took care to name to her sister as "papa's old +friend,"—and explain to him what she would wish him to do, and what +not to do. Colonel Osborne answered the letter very quickly, throwing +much more of demonstrative affection than he should have done into +his "Dear Emily," and his "Dearest Friend." Of course Mrs. Trevelyan +had burned this answer, and of course Mr. Trevelyan had been told of +the correspondence. His wife, indeed, had been especially careful +that there should be nothing secret about the matter,—that it should +be so known in the house that Mr. Trevelyan should be sure to hear of +it. And he had heard of it, and been driven almost mad by it. He had +flown off to Lady Milborough, and had reduced his old friend to +despair by declaring that, after all, he began to fear that his wife +was—was—was—infatuated by that +<span class="nowrap">d——</span> scoundrel. Lady Milborough +forgave the language, but protested that he was wrong in his +suspicion. "To continue to correspond with him after what I have said +to her!" exclaimed Trevelyan. "Take her to Naples at once,"—said +Lady Milborough;—"at once!" "And have him after me?" said Trevelyan. +Lady Milborough had no answer ready, and not having thought of this +looked very blank. "I should find it harder to deal with her there +even than here," continued Trevelyan. Then it was that Lady +Milborough spoke of the small town in the west of France, urging as +her reason that such a man as Colonel Osborne would certainly not +follow them there; but Trevelyan had become indignant at this, +declaring that if his wife's good name could be preserved in no other +manner than that, it would not be worth preserving at all. Then Lady +Milborough had begun to cry, and had continued crying for a very long +time. She was very unhappy,—as unhappy as her nature would allow her +to be. She would have made almost any sacrifice to bring the two +young people together;—would have willingly given her time, her +money, her labour in the cause;—would probably herself have gone to +the little town in the west of France, had her going been of any +service. But, nevertheless, after her own fashion, she extracted no +small enjoyment out of the circumstances of this miserable quarrel. +The Lady Milboroughs of the day hate the Colonel Osbornes from the +very bottoms of their warm hearts and pure souls; but they respect +the Colonel Osbornes almost as much as they hate them, and find it to +be an inestimable privilege to be brought into some contact with +these roaring lions.</p> + +<p>But there arose to dear Lady Milborough a great trouble out of this +quarrel, irrespective of the absolute horror of the separation of a +young husband from his young wife. And the excess of her trouble on +this head was great proof of the real goodness of her heart. For, in +this matter, the welfare of Trevelyan himself was not concerned;—but +rather that of the Rowley family. Now the Rowleys had not given Lady +Milborough any special reason for loving them. When she had first +heard that her dear young friend Louis was going to marry a girl from +the Mandarins, she had been almost in despair. It was her opinion +that had he properly understood his own position, he would have +promoted his welfare by falling in love with the daughter of some +English country gentleman,—or some English peer, to which honour, +with his advantages, Lady Milborough thought that he might have +aspired. Nevertheless, when the girl from the Mandarins had been +brought home as Mrs. Trevelyan, Lady Milborough had received her with +open arms,—had received even the sister-in-law with arms partly +open. Had either of them shown any tendency to regard her as a +mother, she would have showered motherly cares upon them. For Lady +Milborough was like an old hen, in her capacity for taking many under +her wings. The two sisters had hardly done more than bear with +her,—Nora, indeed, bearing with her more graciously than Mrs. +Trevelyan; and in return, even for this, the old dowager was full of +motherly regard. Now she knew well that Mr. Glascock was over head +and ears in love with Nora Rowley. It only wanted the slightest +management and the easiest discretion to bring him on his knees, with +an offer of his hand. And, then, how much that hand contained!—how +much, indeed, as compared with that other hand, which was to be given +in return, and which was,—to speak the truth,—completely empty! Mr. +Glascock was the heir to a peer, was the heir to a rich peer, was the +heir to a very, very old peer. He was in Parliament. The world spoke +well of him. He was not, so to say, by any means an old man himself. +He was good-tempered, reasonable, easily led, and yet by no means +despicable. On all subjects connected with land, he held an opinion +that was very much respected, and was supposed to be a thoroughly +good specimen of an upper-class Englishman. Here was a suitor! But it +was not to be supposed that such a man as Mr. Glascock would be so +violently in love as to propose to a girl whose nearest known friend +and female relation was misbehaving herself.</p> + +<p>Only they who have closely watched the natural uneasiness of human +hens can understand how great was Lady Milborough's anxiety on this +occasion. Marriage to her was a thing always delightful to +contemplate. Though she had never been sordidly a match-maker, the +course of the world around her had taught her to regard men as fish +to be caught, and girls as the anglers who ought to catch them. Or, +rather, could her mind have been accurately analysed, it would have +been found that the girl was regarded as half-angler and half-bait. +Any girl that angled visibly with her own hook, with a manifestly +expressed desire to catch a fish, was odious to her. And she was very +gentle-hearted in regard to the fishes, thinking that every fish in +the river should have the hook and bait presented to him in the +mildest, pleasantest form. But still, when the trout was well in the +basket, her joy was great; and then came across her unlaborious mind +some half-formed idea that a great ordinance of nature was being +accomplished in the teeth of difficulties. For,—as she well +knew,—there is a difficulty in the catching of fish.</p> + +<p>Lady Milborough, in her kind anxiety on Nora's behalf,—that the fish +should be landed before Nora might be swept away in her sister's +ruin,—hardly knew what step she might safely take. Mrs. Trevelyan +would not see her again,—having already declared that any further +interview would be painful and useless. She had spoken to Trevelyan, +but Trevelyan had declared that he could do nothing. What was there +that he could have done? He could not, as he said, overlook the gross +improprieties of his wife's conduct, because his wife's sister had, +or might possibly have, a lover. And then as to speaking to Mr. +Glascock himself,—nobody knew better than Lady Milborough how very +apt fish are to be frightened.</p> + +<p>But at last Lady Milborough did speak to Mr. Glascock,—making no +allusion whatever to the hook prepared for himself, but saying a word +or two as to the affairs of that other fish, whose circumstances, as +he floundered about in the bucket of matrimony, were not as happy as +they might have been. The care, the discretion, nay, the wisdom with +which she did this were most excellent. She had become aware that Mr. +Glascock had already heard of the unfortunate affair in Curzon +Street. Indeed, every one who knew the Trevelyans had heard of it, +and a great many who did not know them. No harm, therefore, could be +done by mentioning the circumstance. Lady Milborough did mention it, +explaining that the only person really in fault was that odious +destroyer of the peace of families, Colonel Osborne, of whom Lady +Milborough, on that occasion, said some very severe things indeed. +Poor dear Mrs. Trevelyan was foolish, obstinate, and +self-reliant;—but as innocent as the babe unborn. That things would +come right before long no one who knew the affair,—and she knew it +from beginning to end,—could for a moment doubt. The real victim +would be that sweetest of all girls, Nora Rowley. Mr. Glascock +innocently asked why Nora Rowley should be a victim. "Don't you +understand, Mr. Glascock, how the most remote connection with a thing +of that kind tarnishes a young woman's standing in the world?" Mr. +Glascock was almost angry with the well-pleased Countess as he +declared that he could not see that Miss Rowley's standing was at all +tarnished; and old Lady Milborough, when he got up and left her, felt +that she had done a good morning's work. If Nora could have known it +all, Nora ought to have been very grateful, for Mr. Glascock got into +a cab in Eccleston Square and had himself driven direct to Curzon +Street. He himself believed that he was at that moment only doing the +thing which he had for some time past resolved that he would do; but +we perhaps may be justified in thinking that the actual resolution +was first fixed by the discretion of Lady Milborough's communication. +At any rate he arrived in Curzon Street with his mind fully resolved, +and had spent the minutes in the cab considering how he had better +perform the business in hand.</p> + +<p>He was at once shown into the drawing-room, where he found the two +sisters, and Mrs. Trevelyan, as soon as she saw him, understood the +purpose of his coming. There was an air of determination about him, a +manifest intention of doing something, an absence of that vagueness +which almost always flavours a morning visit. This was so strongly +marked that Mrs. Trevelyan felt that she would have been almost +justified in getting up and declaring that, as this visit was paid to +her sister, she would retire. But any such declaration on her part +was unnecessary, as Mr. Glascock had not been in the room three +minutes before he asked her to go. By some clever device of his own, +he got her into the back room and whispered to her that he wanted to +say a few words in private to her sister.</p> + +<p>"Oh, certainly," said Mrs. Trevelyan, smiling.</p> + +<p>"I dare say you may guess what they are," said he. "I don't know what +chance I may have."</p> + +<p>"I can tell you nothing about that," she replied, "as I know nothing. +But you have my good wishes."</p> + +<p>And then she went.</p> + +<p>It may be presumed that gradually some idea of Mr. Glascock's +intention had made its way into Nora's mind by the time that she +found herself alone with that gentleman. Why else had he brought into +the room with him that manifest air of a purpose? Why else had he +taken the very strong step of sending the lady of the house out of +her own drawing-room? Nora, beginning to understand this, put herself +into an attitude of defence. She had never told herself that she +would refuse Mr. Glascock. She had never acknowledged to herself that +there was another man whom she liked better than she liked Mr. +Glascock. But had she ever encouraged any wish for such an interview, +her feelings at this moment would have been very different from what +they were. As it was, she would have given much to postpone it, so +that she might have asked herself questions, and have discovered +whether she could reconcile herself to do that which, no doubt, all +her friends would commend her for doing. Of course, it was clear +enough to the mind of the girl that she had her fortune to make, and +that her beauty and youth were the capital on which she had to found +it. She had not lived so far from all taint of corruption as to feel +any actual horror at the idea of a girl giving herself to a man,—not +because the man had already, by his own capacities in that direction, +forced her heart from her,—but because he was one likely to be at +all points a good husband. Had all this affair concerned any other +girl, any friend of her own, and had she known all the circumstances +of the case, she would have had no hesitation in recommending that +other girl to marry Mr. Glascock. A girl thrown out upon the world +without a shilling must make her hay while the sun shines. But, +nevertheless, there was something within her bosom which made her +long for a better thing than this. She had dreamed, if she had not +thought, of being able to worship a man; but she could hardly worship +Mr. Glascock. She had dreamed, if she had not thought, of leaning +upon a man all through life with her whole weight, as though that man +had been specially made to be her staff, her prop, her support, her +wall of comfort and protection. She knew that if she were to marry +Mr. Glascock and become Lady Peterborough, in due course she must +stand a good deal by her own strength, and live without that +comfortable leaning. Nevertheless, when she found herself alone with +the man, she by no means knew whether she would refuse him or not. +But she knew that she must pluck up courage for an important moment, +and she collected herself, braced her muscles, as it were, for a +fight, and threw her mind into an attitude of contest.</p> + +<p>Mr. Glascock, as soon as the door was shut behind Mrs. Trevelyan's +back, took a chair and placed it close beside the head of the sofa on +which Nora was sitting. "Miss Rowley," he said, "you and I have known +each other now for some months, and I hope you have learned to regard +me as a friend."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, indeed," said Nora, with some spirit.</p> + +<p>"It has seemed to me that we have met as friends, and I can most +truly say for myself, that I have taken the greatest possible +pleasure in your acquaintance. It is not only that I admire you very +much,"—he looked straight before him as he said this, and moved +about the point of the stick which he was holding in both his +hands,—"it is not only that,—perhaps not chiefly that, though I do +admire you very much; but the truth is, that I like everything about +you."</p> + +<p>Nora smiled, but she said nothing. It was better, she thought, to let +him tell his story; but his mode of telling it was not without its +efficacy. It was not the simple praise which made its way with her +but a certain tone in the words which seemed to convince her that +they were true. If he had really found her, or fancied her to be what +he said, there was a manliness in his telling her so in the plainest +words that pleased her much.</p> + +<p>"I know," continued he, "that this is a very bald way of telling—of +pleading—my cause; but I don't know whether a bald way may not be +the best, if it can only make itself understood to be true. Of +course, Miss Rowley, you know what I mean. As I said before, you have +all those things which not only make me love you, but which make me +like you also. If you think that you can love me, say so; and, as +long as I live, I will do my best to make you happy as my wife."</p> + +<p>There was a clearness of expression in this, and a downright +surrender of himself, which so flattered her and so fluttered her +that she was almost reduced to the giving of herself up because she +could not reply to such an appeal in language less courteous than +that of agreement. After a moment or two she found herself remaining +silent, with a growing feeling that silence would be taken as +conveying consent. There floated quickly across her brain an idea of +the hardness of a woman's lot, in that she should be called upon to +decide her future fate for life in half a minute. He had had weeks to +think of this,—weeks in which it would have been almost unmaidenly +in her so to think of it as to have made up her mind to accept the +man. Had she so made up her mind, and had he not come to her, where +would she have been then? But he had come to her. There he was, still +poking about with his stick, waiting for her, and she must answer +him. And he was the eldest son of a peer,—an enormous match for her, +very proper in all respects; such a man, that if she should accept +him, everybody around her would regard her fortune in life as +miraculously successful. He was not such a man that any one would +point at her and say,—"There; see another of them who has sold +herself for money and a title!" Mr. Glascock was not an Apollo, not +an admirable Crichton; but he was a man whom any girl might have +learned to love. Now he had asked her to be his wife, and it was +necessary that she should answer him. He sat there waiting for her +very patiently, still poking about the point of his stick.</p> + +<p>Did she really love him? Though she was so pressed by consideration +of time, she did find a moment in which to ask herself the question. +With a quick turn of an eye she glanced at him, to see what he was +like. Up to this moment, though she knew him well, she could have +given no details of his personal appearance. He was a better-looking +man than Hugh Stanbury,—so she told herself with a passing thought; +but he lacked—he lacked; what was it that he lacked? Was it youth, +or spirit, or strength; or was it some outward sign of an inward gift +of mind? Was it that he was heavy while Hugh was light? Was it that +she could find no fire in his eye, while Hugh's eyes were full of +flashing? Or was it that for her, especially for her, Hugh was the +appointed staff and appropriate wall of protection? Be all that as it +might, she knew at the moment that she did love, not this man, but +that other who was writing articles for the Daily Record. She must +refuse the offer that was so brilliant, and give up the idea of +reigning as queen at Monkhams.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Glascock," she said, "I ought to answer you more quickly."</p> + +<p>"No, dearest; not more quickly than suits you. Nothing ever in this +world can be more important both to you and to me. If you want more +time to think of it, take more time."</p> + +<p>"No, Mr. Glascock; I do not. I don't know why I should have paused. +Is not the truth best?"</p> + +<p>"Yes,—certainly the truth is best."</p> + +<p>"I do not—love you. Pray, pray understand me."</p> + +<p>"I understand it too well, Miss Rowley." The stick was still going, +and the eyes more intently fixed than ever on something opposite.</p> + +<p>"I do like you; I like you very much. And I am so grateful! I cannot +understand why such a man as you should want to make me your wife."</p> + +<p>"Because I love you better than all the others; simply that. That +reason, and that only, justifies a man in wanting to marry a girl." +What a good fellow he was, and how flattering were his words! Did he +not deserve what he wanted, even though it could not be given without +a sacrifice? But yet she did not love him. As she looked at him again +she could not there recognise her staff. As she looked at him she was +more than ever convinced that that other staff ought to be her staff. +"May I come again,—after a month, say?" he asked, when there had +been another short period of silence.</p> + +<p>"No, no. Why should you trouble yourself? I am not worth it."</p> + +<p>"It is for me to judge of that, Miss Rowley."</p> + +<p>"All the same, I know that I am not worth it. And I could not tell +you to do that."</p> + +<p>"Then I will wait, and come again without your telling me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Glascock, I did not mean that; indeed I did not. Pray do not +think that. Take what I say as final. I like you more than I can say; +and I feel a gratitude to you that I cannot express,—which I shall +never forget. I have never known any one who has seemed to be so good +as you. But— It is just what I said before." And then she fairly +burst into tears.</p> + +<p>"Miss Rowley," he said, very slowly, "pray do not think that I want +to ask any question which it might embarrass you to answer. But my +happiness is so greatly at stake; and, if you will allow me to say +so, your happiness, too, is so greatly concerned, that it is most +important that we should not come to a conclusion too quickly. If I +thought that your heart were vacant I would wait patiently. I have +been thinking of you as my possible wife for weeks past,—for months +past. Of course you have not had such thoughts about me." As he said +this she almost loved him for his considerate goodness. "It has +sometimes seemed to me odd that girls should love men in such a +hurry. If your heart be free, I will wait. And if you esteem me, you +can see, and try whether you cannot learn to love me."</p> + +<p>"I do esteem you."</p> + +<p>"It depends on that question, then?" he said, slowly.</p> + +<p>She sat silent for fully a minute, with her hands clasped; and then +she answered him in a whisper. "I do not know," she said.</p> + +<p>He also was silent for a while before he spoke again. He ceased to +poke with his stick, and got up from his chair, and stood a little +apart from her, not looking at her even yet.</p> + +<p>"I see," he said at last. "I understand. Well, Miss Rowley, I quite +perceive that I cannot press my suit any further now. But I shall not +despair altogether. I know this, that if I might possibly succeed, I +should be a very happy man. Good-bye, Miss Rowley."</p> + +<p>She took his offered hand and pressed it so warmly, that had he not +been manly and big-hearted, he would have taken such pressure as a +sign that she wished him to ask her again. But such was his nature.</p> + +<p>"God bless you," he said, "and make you happy, whatever you may +choose to do."</p> + +<p>Then he left her, and she heard him walk down the stairs with heavy +slow steps, and she thought that she could perceive from the sound +that he was sad at heart, but that he was resolved not to show his +sadness outwardly.</p> + +<p>When she was alone she began to think in earnest of what she had +done. If the reader were told that she regretted the decision which +she had been forced to make so rapidly, a wrong impression would be +given of the condition of her thoughts. But there came upon her +suddenly a strange capacity for counting up and making a mental +inventory of all that might have been hers. She knew,—and where is +the girl so placed that does not know?—that it is a great thing to +be an English peeress. Now, as she stood there thinking of it all, +she was Nora Rowley without a shilling in the world, and without a +prospect of a shilling. She had often heard her mother speak fearful +words of future possible days, when colonial governing should no +longer be within the capacity of Sir Marmaduke. She had been taught +from a very early age that all the material prosperity of her life +must depend on matrimony. She could never be comfortably disposed of +in the world, unless some fitting man who possessed those things of +which she was so bare, should wish to make her his wife. Now there +had come a man so thoroughly fitting, so marvellously endowed, that +no worldly blessing would have been wanting. Mr. Glascock had more +than once spoken to her of the glories of Monkhams. She thought of +Monkhams now more than she had ever thought of the place before. It +would have been a great privilege to be the mistress of an old +time-honoured mansion, to call oaks and elms her own, to know that +acres of gardens were submitted to her caprices, to look at herds of +cows and oxen, and be aware that they lowed on her own pastures. And +to have been the mother of a future peer of England, to have the +nursing, and sweet custody and very making of a future +senator,—would not that have been much? And the man himself who +would have been her husband was such a one that any woman might have +trusted herself to him with perfect confidence. Now that he was gone +she almost fancied that she did love him. Then she thought of Hugh +Stanbury, sitting as he had described himself, in a little dark +closet at the office of the "D. R.," in a very old inky +shooting-coat, with a tarnished square-cut cloth cap upon his head, +with a short pipe in his mouth, writing at midnight for the next +morning's impression, this or that article according to the order of +his master, "the tallow-chandler;"—for the editor of the Daily +Record was a gentleman whose father happened to be a grocer in the +City, and Hugh had been accustomed thus to describe the family trade. +And she might certainly have had the peer, and the acres of garden, +and the big house, and the senatorial honours; whereas the +tallow-chandler's journeyman had never been so out-spoken. She told +herself from moment to moment that she had done right; that she would +do the same a dozen times, if a dozen times the experiment could be +repeated; but still, still, there was the remembrance of all that she +had lost. How would her mother look at her, her anxious, +heavily-laden mother, when the story should be told of all that had +been offered to her and all that had been refused?</p> + + +<div class="center"><a name="ip1-107" id="ip1-107"></a> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="4px"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/p1-107.jpg"> + <img src="images/p1-107-t.jpg" height="500" + alt="To have been the mother + of a future peer!" /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <span class="caption">To have been the mother of a future peer!<br /> + Click to <a href="images/p1-107.jpg">ENLARGE</a></span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p>As she was thinking of this Mrs. Trevelyan came into the room. Nora +felt that though she might dread to meet her mother, she could be +bold enough on such an occasion before her sister. Emily had not done +so well with her own affairs, as to enable her to preach with +advantage about marriage.</p> + +<p>"He has gone?" said Mrs. Trevelyan, as she opened the door.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he has gone."</p> + +<p>"Well? Do not pretend, Nora, that you will not tell me."</p> + +<p>"There is nothing worth the telling, Emily."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean? I am sure he has proposed. He told me in so many +words that it was his intention."</p> + +<p>"Whatever has happened, dear, you may be quite sure that I shall +never be Mrs. Glascock."</p> + +<p>"Then you have refused him,—because of Hugh Stanbury!"</p> + +<p>"I have refused him, Emily, because I did not love him. Pray let that +be enough."</p> + +<p>Then she walked out of the room with something of stateliness in her +gait,—as might become a girl who had had it in her power to be the +future Lady Peterborough; but as soon as she reached the sacredness +of her own chamber, she gave way to an agony of tears. It would, +indeed, be much to be a Lady Peterborough. And she had, in truth, +refused it all because of Hugh Stanbury! Was Hugh Stanbury worth so +great a sacrifice?</p> + + +<p><a name="c14" id="c14"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIV.</h3> +<h4>THE CLOCK HOUSE AT NUNCOMBE PUTNEY.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>It was not till a fortnight had passed after the transaction recorded +in the last chapter, that Mrs. Trevelyan and Nora Rowley first heard +the proposition that they should go to live at Nuncombe Putney. From +bad to worse the quarrel between the husband and the wife had gone +on, till Trevelyan had at last told his friend Lady Milborough that +he had made up his mind that they must live apart. "She is so +self-willed,—and perhaps I am the same," he had said, "that it is +impossible that we should live together." Lady Milborough had +implored and called to witness all testimonies, profane and sacred, +against such a step,—had almost gone down on her knees. Go to +Naples,—why not Naples? Or to the quiet town in the west of France, +which was so dull that a wicked roaring lion, fond of cities and +gambling, and eating and drinking, could not live in such a place! +Oh, why not go to the quiet town in the west of France? Was not +anything better than this flying in the face of God and man? Perhaps +Trevelyan did not himself like the idea of the quiet dull French +town. Perhaps he thought that the flying in the face of God and man +was all done by his wife, not by him; and that it was right that his +wife should feel the consequences. After many such entreaties, many +such arguments, it was at last decided that the house in Curzon +Street should be given up, and that he and his wife live apart.</p> + +<p>"And what about Nora Rowley?" asked Lady Milborough, who had become +aware by this time of Nora's insane folly in having refused Mr. +Glascock.</p> + +<p>"She will go with her sister, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"And who will maintain her? Dear, dear, dear! It does seem as though +some young people were bent upon cutting their own throats, and all +their family's."</p> + +<p>Poor Lady Milborough just at this time went as near to disliking the +Rowleys as was compatible with her nature. It was not possible to her +to hate anybody. She thought that she hated the Colonel Osbornes; but +even that was a mistake. She was very angry, however, with both Mrs. +Trevelyan and her sister, and was disposed to speak of them as though +they had been born to create trouble and vexation.</p> + +<p>Trevelyan had not given any direct answer to that question about Nora +Rowley's maintenance, but he was quite prepared to bear all necessary +expense in that direction, at any rate till Sir Marmaduke should have +arrived. At first there had been an idea that the two sisters should +go to the house of their aunt, Mrs. Outhouse. Mrs. Outhouse was the +wife,—as the reader may perhaps remember,—of a clergyman living in +the east of London. St. Diddulph's-in-the-East was very much in the +east indeed. It was a parish outside the City, lying near the river, +very populous, very poor, very low in character, and very +uncomfortable. There was a rectory-house, queerly situated at the end +of a little blind lane, with a gate of its own, and a so-called +garden about twenty yards square. But the rectory of St. Diddulph's +cannot be said to have been a comfortable abode. The neighbourhood +was certainly not alluring. Of visiting society within a distance of +three or four miles there was none but what was afforded by the +families of other East-end clergymen. And then Mr. Outhouse himself +was a somewhat singular man. He was very religious, devoted to his +work, most kind to the poor; but he was unfortunately a +strongly-biased man, and at the same time very obstinate withal. He +had never allied himself very cordially with his wife's brother, Sir +Marmaduke, allowing himself to be carried away by a prejudice that +people living at the West-end, who frequented clubs, and were +connected in any way with fashion, could not be appropriate +companions for himself. The very title which Sir Marmaduke had +acquired was repulsive to him, and had induced him to tell his wife +more than once that Sir this or Sir that could not be fitting +associates for a poor East-end clergyman. Then his wife's niece had +married a man of fashion,—a man supposed at St. Diddulph's to be +very closely allied to fashion; and Mr. Outhouse had never been +induced even to dine in the house in Curzon Street. When, therefore, +he heard that Mr. and Mrs. Trevelyan were to be separated within two +years of their marriage, it could not be expected that he should be +very eager to lend to the two sisters the use of his rectory.</p> + +<p>There had been interviews between Mr. Outhouse and Trevelyan, and +between Mrs. Outhouse and her niece; and then there was an interview +between Mr. Outhouse and Emily, in which it was decided that Mrs. +Trevelyan would not go to the parsonage of St. Diddulph's. She had +been very outspoken to her uncle, declaring that she by no means +intended to carry herself as a disgraced woman. Mr. Outhouse had +quoted St. Paul to her; "Wives, obey your husbands." Then she had got +up and had spoken very angrily. "I look for support from you," she +said, "as the man who is the nearest to me, till my father shall +come." "But I cannot support you in what is wrong," said the +clergyman. Then Mrs. Trevelyan had left the room, and would not see +her uncle again.</p> + +<p>She carried things altogether with a high hand at this time. When old +Mr. Bideawhile called upon her, her husband's ancient family lawyer, +she told that gentleman that if it was her husband's will that they +should live apart, it must be so. She could not force him to remain +with her. She could not compel him to keep up the house in Curzon +Street. She had certain rights, she believed. She spoke then, she +said, of pecuniary rights,—not of those other rights which her +husband was determined, and was no doubt able, to ignore. She did not +really know what those pecuniary rights might be, nor was she careful +to learn their exact extent. She would thank Mr. Bideawhile to see +that things were properly arranged. But of this her husband, and Mr. +Bideawhile, might be quite sure;—she would take nothing as a favour. +She would not go to her uncle's house. She declined to tell Mr. +Bideawhile why she had so decided; but she had decided. She was ready +to listen to any suggestion that her husband might make as to her +residence, but she must claim to have some choice in the matter. As +to her sister, of course she intended to give Nora a home as long as +such a home might be wanted. It would be very sad for Nora, but in +existing circumstances such an arrangement would be expedient. She +would not go into details as to expense. Her husband was driving her +away from him, and it was for him to say what proportion of his +income he would choose to give for her maintenance,—for hers and for +that of their child. She was not desirous of anything beyond the +means of decent living, but of course she must for the present find a +home for her sister as well as for herself. When speaking of her baby +she had striven hard so to speak that Mr. Bideawhile should find no +trace of doubt in the tones of her voice. And yet she had been full +of doubt,—full of fear. As Mr. Bideawhile had uttered nothing +antagonistic to her wishes in this matter,—had seemed to agree that +wherever the mother went thither the child would go also,—Mrs. +Trevelyan had considered herself to be successful in this interview.</p> + +<p>The idea of a residence at Nuncombe Putney had occurred first to +Trevelyan himself, and he had spoken of it to Hugh Stanbury. There +had been some difficulty in this, because he had snubbed Stanbury +grievously when his friend had attempted to do some work of gentle +interference between him and his wife; and when he began the +conversation, he took the trouble of stating, in the first instance, +that the separation was a thing fixed,—so that nothing might be +urged on that subject. "It is to be. You will understand that," he +said; "and if you think that your mother would agree to the +arrangement, it would be satisfactory to me, and might, I think, be +made pleasant to her. Of course, your mother would be made to +understand that the only fault with which my wife is charged is that +of indomitable disobedience to my wishes."</p> + +<p>"Incompatibility of temper," suggested Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"You may call it that if you please;—though I must say for myself +that I do not think that I have displayed any temper to which a woman +has a right to object." Then he had gone on to explain what he was +prepared to do about money. He would pay, through Stanbury's hands, +so much for maintenance and so much for house rent, on the +understanding that the money was not to go into his wife's hands. "I +shall prefer," he said, "to make myself, on her behalf, what +disbursements may be necessary. I will take care that she receives a +proper sum quarterly through Mr. Bideawhile for her own clothes,—and +for those of our poor boy." Then Stanbury had told him of the Clock +House, and there had been an agreement made between them;—an +agreement which was then, of course, subject to the approval of the +ladies at Nuncombe Putney. When the suggestion was made to Mrs. +Trevelyan,—with a proposition that the Clock House should be taken +for one year, and that for that year, at least, her boy should remain +with her,—she assented to it. She did so with all the calmness that +she was able to assume; but, in truth, almost everything seemed to +have been gained, when she found that she was not to be separated +from her baby. "I have no objection to living in Devonshire if Mr. +Trevelyan wishes it," she said, in her most stately manner; "and +certainly no objection to living with Mr. Stanbury's mother." Then +Mr. Bideawhile explained to her that Nuncombe Putney was not a large +town,—was, in fact, a very small and a very remote village. "That +will make no difference whatsoever as far as I am concerned," she +answered; "and as for my sister, she must put up with it till my +father and my mother are here. I believe the scenery at Nuncombe +Putney is very pretty." "Lovely!" said Mr. Bideawhile, who had a +general idea that Devonshire is supposed to be a picturesque county. +"With such a life before me as I must lead," continued Mrs. +Trevelyan, "an ugly neighbourhood, one that would itself have had no +interest for a stranger, would certainly have been an additional +sorrow." So it had been settled, and by the end of July, Mrs. +Trevelyan, with her sister and baby, was established at the Clock +House, under the protection of Mrs. Stanbury. Mrs. Trevelyan had +brought down her own maid and her own nurse, and had found that the +arrangements made by her husband had, in truth, been liberal. The +house in Curzon Street had been given up, the furniture had been sent +to a warehouse, and Mr. Trevelyan had gone into lodgings. "There +never were two young people so insane since the world began," said +Lady Milborough to her old friend, Mrs. Fairfax, when the thing was +done.</p> + +<p>"They will be together again before next April," Mrs. Fairfax had +replied. But Mrs. Fairfax was a jolly dame who made the best of +everything. Lady Milborough raised her hands in despair, and shook +her head. "I don't suppose, though, that Mr. Glascock will go to +Devonshire after his lady love," said Mrs. Fairfax. Lady Milborough +again raised her hands, and again shook her head.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Stanbury had given an easy assent when her son proposed to her +this new mode of life, but Priscilla had had her doubts. Like all +women, she thought that when a man was to be separated from his wife, +the woman must be in the wrong. And though it must be doubtless +comfortable to go from the cottage to the Clock House, it would, she +said, with much prudence, be very uncomfortable to go back from the +Clock House to the cottage. Hugh replied very +cavalierly,—generously, that is, rashly, and somewhat +impetuously,—that he would guarantee them against any such +degradation.</p> + +<p>"We don't want to be a burden upon you, my dear," said the mother.</p> + +<p>"You would be a great burden on me," he replied, "if you were living +uncomfortably while I am able to make you comfortable."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Stanbury was soon won over by Mrs. Trevelyan, by Nora, and +especially by the baby; and even Priscilla, after a week or two, +began to feel that she liked their company. Priscilla was a young +woman who read a great deal, and even had some gifts of understanding +what she read. She borrowed books from the clergyman, and paid a +penny a week to the landlady of the Stag and Antlers for the hire +during half a day of the weekly newspaper. But now there came a box +of books from Exeter, and a daily paper from London, and,—to improve +all this,—both the new comers were able to talk with her about the +things she read. She soon declared to her mother that she liked Miss +Rowley much the best of the two. Mrs. Trevelyan was too fond of +having her own way. She began to understand, she would say to her +mother, that a man might find it difficult to live with Mrs. +Trevelyan. "She hardly ever yields about anything," said Priscilla. +As Miss Priscilla Stanbury was also very fond of having her own way, +it was not surprising that she should object to that quality in this +lady, who had come to live under the same roof with her.</p> + +<p>The country about Nuncombe Putney is perhaps as pretty as any in +England. It is beyond the river Teign, between that and Dartmoor, and +is so lovely in all its variations of rivers, rivulets, broken +ground, hills and dales, old broken, battered, time-worn timber, +green knolls, rich pastures, and heathy common, that the wonder is +that English lovers of scenery know so little of it. At the Stag and +Antlers old Mrs. Crocket, than whom no old woman in the public line +was ever more generous, more peppery, or more kind, kept two clean +bed-rooms, and could cook a leg of Dartmoor mutton and make an apple +pie against any woman in Devonshire. "Drat your fish!" she would say, +when some self-indulgent and exacting traveller would wish for more +than these accustomed viands. "Cock you up with dainties! If you +can't eat your victuals without fish, you must go to Exeter. And then +you'll get it stinking mayhap." Now Priscilla Stanbury and Mrs. +Crocket were great friends, and there had been times of deep want, in +which Mrs. Crocket's friendship had been very serviceable to the +ladies at the cottage. The three young women had been to the inn one +morning to ask after a conveyance from Nuncombe Putney to Princetown, +and had found that a four-wheeled open carriage with an old horse and +a very young driver could be hired there. "We have never dreamed of +such a thing," Priscilla Stanbury had said, "and the only time I was +at Princetown I walked there and back." So they had called at the +Stag and Antlers, and Mrs. Crocket had told them her mind upon +several matters.</p> + +<p>"What a dear old woman!" said Nora, as they came away, having made +their bargain for the open carriage.</p> + +<p>"I think she takes quite enough upon herself, you know," said Mrs. +Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"She is a dear old woman," said Priscilla, not attending at all to +the last words that had been spoken. "She is one of the best friends +I have in the world. If I were to say the best out of my own family, +perhaps I should not be wrong."</p> + +<p>"But she uses such very odd language for a woman," said Mrs. +Trevelyan. Now Mrs. Crocket had certainly "dratted" and "darned" the +boy, who wouldn't come as fast as she had wished, and had laughed at +Mrs. Trevelyan very contemptuously, when that lady had suggested that +the urchin, who was at last brought forth, might not be a safe +charioteer down some of the hills.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I'm used to it," said Priscilla. "At any rate I know I +like it. And I like her."</p> + +<p>"I dare say she's a good sort of woman," said Mrs. Trevelyan, +<span class="nowrap">"only—"</span></p> + +<p>"I am not saying anything about her being a good woman now," said +Priscilla, interrupting the other with some vehemence, "but only that +she is my friend."</p> + +<p>"I liked her of all things," said Nora. "Has she lived here always?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; all her life. The house belonged to her father and to her +grandfather before her, and I think she says she has never slept out +of it a dozen times in her life. Her husband is dead, and her +daughters are married away, and she has the great grief and trouble +of a ne'er-do-well son. He's away now, and she's all alone." Then +after a pause, she continued; "I dare say it seems odd to you, Mrs. +Trevelyan, that we should speak of the innkeeper as a dear friend; +but you must remember that we have been poor among the poorest—and +are so indeed now. We only came into our present house to receive +you. That is where we used to live," and she pointed to the tiny +cottage, which now that it was dismantled and desolate, looked to be +doubly poor. "There have been times when we should have gone to bed +very hungry if it had not been for Mrs. Crocket."</p> + +<p>Later in the day Mrs. Trevelyan, finding Priscilla alone, had +apologized for what she had said about the old woman. "I was very +thoughtless and forgetful, but I hope you will not be angry with me. +I will be ever so fond of her if you will forgive me."</p> + +<p>"Very well," said Priscilla, smiling; "on those conditions I will +forgive you." And from that time there sprang up something like a +feeling of friendship between Priscilla and Mrs. Trevelyan. +Nevertheless Priscilla was still of opinion that the Clock House +arrangement was dangerous, and should never have been made; and Mrs. +Stanbury, always timid of her own nature, began to fear that it must +be so, as soon as she was removed from the influence of her son. She +did not see much even of the few neighbours who lived around her, but +she fancied that people looked at her in church as though she had +done that which she ought not to have done, in taking herself to a +big and comfortable house for the sake of lending her protection to a +lady who was separated from her husband. It was not that she believed +that Mrs. Trevelyan had been wrong; but that, knowing herself to be +weak, she fancied that she and her daughter would be enveloped in the +danger and suspicion which could not but attach themselves to the +lady's condition, instead of raising the lady out of the cloud,—as +would have been the case had she herself been strong. Mrs. Trevelyan, +who was sharpsighted and clear-witted, soon saw that it was so, and +spoke to Priscilla on the subject before she had been a fortnight in +the house. "I am afraid your mother does not like our being here," +she said.</p> + +<p>"How am I to answer that?" Priscilla replied.</p> + +<p>"Just tell the truth."</p> + +<p>"The truth is so uncivil. At first I did not like it. I disliked it +very much."</p> + +<p>"Why did you give way?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't give way. Hugh talked my mother over. Mamma does what I +tell her, except when Hugh tells her something else. I was afraid, +because, down here, knowing nothing of the world, I didn't wish that +we, little people, should be mixed up in the quarrels and +disagreements of those who are so much bigger."</p> + +<p>"I don't know who it is that is big in this matter."</p> + +<p>"You are big,—at any rate by comparison. But now it must go on. The +house has been taken, and my fears are over as regards you. What you +observe in mamma is only the effect, not yet quite worn out, of what +I said before you came. You may be quite sure of this,—that we +neither of us believe a word against you. Your position is a very +unfortunate one; but if it can be remedied by your staying here with +us, pray stay with us."</p> + +<p>"It cannot be remedied," said Emily; "but we could not be anywhere +more comfortable than we are here."</p> + + +<p><a name="c15" id="c15"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XV.</h3> +<h4>WHAT THEY SAID ABOUT IT IN THE CLOSE.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>When Miss Stanbury, in the Close at Exeter, was first told of the +arrangement that had been made at Nuncombe Putney, she said some very +hard words as to the thing that had been done. She was quite sure +that Mrs. Trevelyan was no better than she should be. Ladies who were +separated from their husbands never were any better than they should +be. And what was to be thought of any woman, who, when separated from +her husband, would put herself under the protection of such a Paladin +as Hugh Stanbury? She heard the tidings of course from Dorothy, and +spoke her mind even to Dorothy plainly enough; but it was to Martha +that she expressed herself with her fullest vehemence.</p> + +<p>"We always knew," she said, "that my brother had married an +addle-pated, silly woman, one of the most unsuited to be the mistress +of a clergyman's house that ever a man set eyes on; but I didn't +think she'd allow herself to be led into such a stupid thing as +this."</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose the lady has done anything amiss,—any more than +combing her husband's hair, and the like of that," said Martha.</p> + +<p>"Don't tell me! Why, by their own story, she has got a lover."</p> + +<p>"But he ain't to come after her down here, I suppose. And as for +lovers, ma'am, I'm told that the most of 'em have 'em up in London. +But it don't mean much, only just idle talking and gallivanting."</p> + +<p>"When women can't keep themselves from idle talking with strange +gentlemen, they are very far gone on the road to the devil. That's my +notion. And that was everybody's notion a few years ago. But now, +what with divorce bills, and women's rights, and penny papers, and +false hair, and married women being just like giggling girls, and +giggling girls knowing just as much as married women, when a woman +has been married a year or two she begins to think whether she mayn't +have more fun for her money by living apart from her husband."</p> + +<p>"Miss Dorothy says—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, bother what Miss Dorothy says! Miss Dorothy only knows what it +has suited that scamp, her brother, to tell her. I understand this +woman has come away because of a lover; and if that's so, my +sister-in-law is very wrong to receive her. The temptation of the +Clock House has been too much for her. It's not my doing; that's +all."</p> + +<p>That evening Miss Stanbury and Dorothy went out to tea at the house +of Mrs. MacHugh, and there the matter was very much discussed. The +family of the Trevelyans was known by name in these parts, and the +fact of Mrs. Trevelyan having been sent to live in a Devonshire +village, with Devonshire ladies who had a relation in Exeter so well +esteemed as Miss Stanbury of the Close, were circumstances of +themselves sufficient to ensure a considerable amount of prestige at +the city tea-table for the tidings of this unfortunate family +quarrel. Some reticence was of course necessary because of the +presence of Miss Stanbury and of Dorothy. To Miss Stanbury herself +Mrs. MacHugh and Mrs. Crumbie, of Cronstadt House, did not scruple to +express themselves very plainly, and to whisper a question as to what +was to be done should the lover make his appearance at Nuncombe +Putney; but they who spoke of the matter before Dorothy, were at +first more charitable, or, at least, more forbearing. Mr. Gibson, who +was one of the minor canons, and the two Miss Frenches from +Heavitree, who had the reputation of hunting unmarried clergymen in +couples, seemed to have heard all about it. When Mrs. MacHugh and +Miss Stanbury, with Mr. and Mrs. Crumbie, had seated themselves at +their whist-table, the younger people were able to express their +opinions without danger of interruption or of rebuke. It was known to +all Exeter by this time, that Dorothy Stanbury's mother had gone to +the Clock House, and that she had done so in order that Mrs. +Trevelyan might have a home. But it was not yet known whether anybody +had called upon them. There was Mrs. Merton, the wife of the present +parson of Nuncombe, who had known the Stanburys for the last twenty +years; and there was Mrs. Ellison of Lessboro', who lived only four +miles from Nuncombe, and who kept a pony-carriage. It would be a +great thing to know how these ladies had behaved in so difficult and +embarrassing a position. Mrs. Trevelyan and her sister had now been +at Nuncombe Putney for more than a fortnight, and something in that +matter of calling must have been done,—or have been left undone. In +answer to an ingeniously-framed question asked by Camilla French, +Dorothy at once set the matter at rest. "Mrs. Merton," said Camilla +French, "must find it a great thing to have two new ladies come to +the village, especially now that she has lost you, Miss Stanbury?"</p> + +<p>"Mamma tells me," said Dorothy, "that Mrs. Trevelyan and Miss Rowley +do not mean to know anybody. They have given it out quite plainly, so +that there should be no mistake."</p> + +<p>"Dear, dear," said Camilla French.</p> + +<p>"I dare say it's for the best," said Arabella French, who was the +elder, and who looked very meek and soft. Miss French almost always +looked meek and soft.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid it will make it very dull for your mother,—not seeing +her old friends," said Mr. Gibson.</p> + +<p>"Mamma won't feel that at all," said Dorothy.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Stanbury, I suppose, will see her own friends at her own house +just the same," said Camilla.</p> + +<p>"There would be great difficulty in that, when there is a lady who is +to remain unknown," said Arabella. "Don't you think so, Mr. Gibson?" +Mr. Gibson replied that perhaps there might be a difficulty, but he +wasn't sure. The difficulty, he thought, might be got over if the +ladies did not always occupy the same room.</p> + +<p>"You have never seen Mrs. Trevelyan, have you, Miss Stanbury?" asked +Camilla.</p> + +<p>"Never."</p> + +<p>"She is not an old family friend, then,—or anything of that sort?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear, no."</p> + +<p>"Because," said Arabella, "it is so odd how different people get +together sometimes." Then Dorothy explained that Mr. Trevelyan and +her brother Hugh had long been friends.</p> + +<p>"Oh!—of Mr. Trevelyan," said Camilla. "Then it is he that has sent +his wife to Nuncombe, not she that has come there?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose there has been some agreement," said Dorothy.</p> + +<p>"Just so; just so," said Arabella, the meek. "I should like to see +her. They say that she is very beautiful; don't they?"</p> + +<p>"My brother says that she is handsome."</p> + +<p>"Exceedingly lovely, I'm told," said Camilla. "I should like to see +her,—shouldn't you, Mr. Gibson?"</p> + +<p>"I always like to see a pretty woman," said Mr. Gibson, with a polite +bow, which the sisters shared between them.</p> + +<p>"I suppose she'll go to church," said Camilla.</p> + +<p>"Very likely not," said Arabella. "Ladies of that sort very often +don't go to church. I dare say you'll find that she'll never stir out +of the place at all, and that not a soul in Nuncombe will ever see +her except the gardener. It is such a thing for a woman to be +separated from her husband! Don't you think so, Mr. Gibson?"</p> + +<p>"Of course it is," said he, with a shake of his head, which was +intended to imply that the censure of the church must of course +attend any sundering of those whom the church had bound together; but +which implied also by the absence from it of any intense clerical +severity, that as the separated wife was allowed to live with so very +respectable a lady as Mrs. Stanbury, there must probably be some +mitigating circumstances attending this special separation.</p> + +<p>"I wonder what he is like?" said Camilla, after a pause.</p> + +<p>"Who?" asked Arabella.</p> + +<p>"The gentleman," said Camilla.</p> + +<p>"What gentleman?" demanded Arabella.</p> + +<p>"I don't mean Mr. Trevelyan," said Camilla.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe there really is,—eh,—is there?" said Mr. Gibson, +very timidly.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear, yes," said Arabella.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid there's something of the kind," said Camilla. "I've heard +that there is, and I've heard his name." Then she whispered very +closely into the ear of Mr. Gibson the words, "Colonel Osborne," as +though her lips were by far too pure to mention aloud any sound so +full of iniquity.</p> + +<p>"Indeed!" said Mr. Gibson.</p> + +<p>"But he's quite an old man," said Dorothy, "and knew her father +intimately before she was born. And, as far as I can understand, her +husband does not suspect her in the least. And it's only because +there's a misunderstanding between them, and not at all because of +the gentleman."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" exclaimed Camilla.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" exclaimed Arabella.</p> + +<p>"That would make a difference," said Mr. Gibson.</p> + +<p>"But for a married woman to have her name mentioned at all with a +gentleman,—it is so bad; is it not, Mr. Gibson?" And then Arabella +also had her whisper into the clergyman's ear,—very closely. "I'm +afraid there's not a doubt about the Colonel. I'm afraid not. I am +indeed."</p> + +<p>"Two by honours and the odd, and it's my deal," said Miss Stanbury, +briskly, and the sharp click with which she put the markers down upon +the table was heard all through the room. "I don't want anybody to +tell me," she said, "that when a young woman is parted from her +husband, the chances are ten to one that she has been very foolish."</p> + +<p>"But what's a woman to do, if her husband beats her?" said Mrs. +Crumbie.</p> + +<p>"Beat him again," said Mrs. MacHugh.</p> + +<p>"And the husband will be sure to have the worst of it," said Mr. +Crumbie. "Well, I declare, if you haven't turned up an honour again, +Miss Stanbury!"</p> + +<p>"It was your wife that cut it to me, Mr. Crumbie." Then they were +again at once immersed in the play, and the name neither of Trevelyan +nor Osborne was heard till Miss Stanbury was marking her double under +the candlestick; but during all pauses in the game the conversation +went back to the same topic, and when the rubber was over they who +had been playing it lost themselves for ten minutes in the +allurements of the interesting subject. It was so singular a +coincidence that the lady should have gone to Nuncombe Putney of all +villages in England, and to the house of Mrs. Stanbury of all ladies +in England. And then was she innocent, or was she guilty; and if +guilty, in what degree? That she had been allowed to bring her baby +with her was considered to be a great point in her favour. Mr. +Crumbie's opinion was that it was "only a few words." Mrs. Crumbie +was afraid that she had been a little light. Mrs. MacHugh said that +there was never fire without smoke. And Miss Stanbury, as she took +her departure, declared that the young women of the present day +didn't know what they were after. "They think that the world should +be all frolic and dancing, and they have no more idea of doing their +duty and earning their bread than a boy home for the holidays has of +doing lessons."</p> + +<p>Then, as she went home with Dorothy across the Close, she spoke a +word which she intended to be very serious. "I don't mean to say +anything against your mother for what she has done as yet. Somebody +must take the woman in, and perhaps it was natural. But if that +Colonel What's-his-name makes his way down to Nuncombe Putney, your +mother must send her packing, if she has any respect either for +herself or for Priscilla."</p> + + +<p><a name="c16" id="c16"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVI.</h3> +<h4>DARTMOOR.<br /> </h4> + + +<p><img class="left" src="images/ch16a.jpg" width="310" alt="Illustration" /> +The well-weighed decision of Miss Stanbury respecting the +Stanbury-Trevelyan arrangement at Nuncombe Putney had been +communicated to Dorothy as the two walked home at night across the +Close from Mrs. MacHugh's house, and it was accepted by Dorothy as +being wise and proper. It amounted to this. If Mrs. Trevelyan should +behave herself with propriety in her retirement at the Clock House, +no further blame in the matter should be attributed to Mrs. Stanbury +for receiving her,—at any rate in Dorothy's hearing. The existing +scheme, whether wise or foolish, should be regarded as an accepted +scheme. But if Mrs. Trevelyan should be indiscreet,—if, for +instance, Colonel Osborne should show himself at Nuncombe +Putney,—then, for the sake of the family, Miss Stanbury would speak +out, and would speak out very loudly. All this Dorothy understood, +and she could perceive that her aunt had strong suspicion that there +would be indiscretion.</p> + +<p>"I never knew one like her," said Miss Stanbury, "who, when she'd got +away from one man, didn't want to have another dangling after her."</p> + +<p>A week had hardly passed after the party at Mrs. MacHugh's, and Mrs. +Trevelyan had hardly been three weeks at Nuncombe Putney, before the +tidings which Miss Stanbury almost expected reached her ears.</p> + +<p>"The Colonel's been at the Clock House, ma'am," said Martha.</p> + +<p>Now, it was quite understood in the Close by this time that "the +Colonel" meant Colonel Osborne.</p> + +<p>"No!"</p> + +<p>"I'm told he has though, ma'am, for sure and certain."</p> + +<p>"Who says so?"</p> + +<p>"Giles Hickbody was down at Lessboro', and see'd him hisself,—a +portly, middle-aged man,—not one of your young scampish-like +lovers."</p> + +<p>"That's the man."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes. He went over to Nuncombe Putney, as sure as +anything;—hired Mrs. Clegg's chaise and pair, and asked for Mrs. +Trevelyan's house as open as anything. When Giles asked in the yard, +they told him as how that was the married lady's young man."</p> + +<p>"I'd like to be at his tail,—so I would,—with a mop-handle," said +Miss Stanbury, whose hatred for those sins by which the comfort and +respectability of the world are destroyed, was not only sincere, but +intense. "Well; and what then?"</p> + +<p>"He came back and slept at Mrs. Clegg's that night,—at least, that +was what he said he should do."</p> + +<p>Miss Stanbury, however, was not so precipitate or uncharitable as to +act strongly upon information such as this. Before she even said a +word to Dorothy, she made further inquiry. She made very minute +inquiry, writing even to her very old and intimate friend Mrs. +Ellison, of Lessboro',—writing to that lady a most cautious and +guarded letter. At last it became a fact proved to her mind that +Colonel Osborne had been at the Clock House, had been received there, +and had remained there for hours,—had been allowed access to Mrs. +Trevelyan, and had slept the night at the inn at Lessboro'. The thing +was so terrible to Miss Stanbury's mind, that even false hair, Dr. +Colenso, and penny newspapers did not account for it.</p> + +<p>"I shall begin to believe that the Evil One has been allowed to come +among us in person because of our sins," she said to Martha;—and she +meant it.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, Mrs. Trevelyan, as may be remembered, had hired Mrs. +Crocket's open carriage, and the three young women, Mrs. Trevelyan, +Nora, and Priscilla, made a little excursion to Princetown, somewhat +after the fashion of a picnic. At Princetown, in the middle of +Dartmoor, about nine miles from Nuncombe Putney, is the prison +establishment at which are kept convicts undergoing penal servitude. +It is regarded by all the country round with great interest, chiefly +because the prisoners now and again escape, and then there comes a +period of interesting excitement until the escaped felon shall have +been again taken. How can you tell where he may be, or whether it may +not suit him to find his rest in your own cupboard, or under your own +bed? And then, as escape without notice will of course be the felon's +object, to attain that he will probably cut your throat, and the +throat of everybody belonging to you. All which considerations give +an interest to Princetown, and excite in the hearts of the Devonians +of these parts a strong affection for the Dartmoor prison. Of those +who visit Princetown comparatively few effect an entrance within the +walls of the gaol. They look at the gloomy place with a mysterious +interest, feeling something akin to envy for the prisoners who have +enjoyed the privilege of solving the mysteries of prison life, and +who know how men feel when they have their hair cut short, and are +free from moral responsibility for their own conduct, and are moved +about in gangs, and treated like wild beasts.</p> + +<p>But the journey to Princetown, from whatever side it is approached, +has the charm of wild and beautiful scenery. The spot itself is ugly +enough; but you can go not thither without breathing the sweetest, +freshest air, and encountering that delightful sense of romance which +moorland scenery always produces. The idea of our three friends was +to see the Moor rather than the prison, to learn something of the +country around, and to enjoy the excitement of eating a sandwich +sitting on a hillock, in exchange for the ordinary comforts of a good +dinner with chairs and tables. A bottle of sherry and water and a +paper of sandwiches contained their whole banquet; for ladies, though +they like good things at picnics, and, indeed, at other times, almost +as well as men like them, very seldom prepare dainties for themselves +alone. Men are wiser and more thoughtful, and are careful to have the +good things, even if they are to be enjoyed without companionship.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Crocket's boy, though he was only about three feet high, was a +miracle of skill and discretion. He used the machine, as the patent +drag is called, in going down the hills with the utmost care. He +never forced the beast beyond a walk if there was the slightest rise +in the ground; and as there was always a rise, the journey was slow. +But the three ladies enjoyed it thoroughly, and Mrs. Trevelyan was in +better spirits than she herself had thought to be possible for her in +her present condition. Most of us have recognised the fact that a +dram of spirits will create,—that a so-called nip of brandy will +create hilarity, or, at least, alacrity, and that a glass of sherry +will often "pick up" and set in order the prostrate animal and mental +faculties of the drinker. But we are not sufficiently alive to the +fact that copious draughts of fresh air,—of air fresh and +unaccustomed,—will have precisely the same effect. We do know that +now and again it is very essential to "change the air;" but we +generally consider that to do that with any chance of advantage, it +is necessary to go far afield; and we think also that such change of +the air is only needful when sickness of the body has come upon us, +or when it threatens to come. We are seldom aware that we may imbibe +long potations of pleasure and healthy excitement without perhaps +going out of our own county; that such potations are within a day's +journey of most of us; and that they are to be had for half-a-crown a +head, all expenses told. Mrs. Trevelyan probably did not know that +the cloud was lifted off her mind, and the load of her sorrow made +light to her, by the special vigour of the air of the Moor; but she +did know that she was enjoying herself, and that the world was +pleasanter to her than it had been for months past.</p> + +<p>When they had sat upon their hillocks, and eaten their +sandwiches,—regretting that the basket of provisions had not been +bigger,—and had drunk their sherry and water out of the little horn +mug which Mrs. Crocket had lent them, Nora started off across the +moorland alone. The horse had been left to be fed in Princetown, and +they had walked back to a bush under which they had rashly left their +basket of provender concealed. It happened, however, that on that day +there was no escaped felon about to watch what they had done, and the +food and the drink had been found secure. Nora had gone off, and as +her sister and Priscilla sat leaning against their hillocks with +their backs to the road, she could be seen standing now on one little +eminence and now on another, thinking, doubtless, as she stood on the +one how good it would be to be Lady Peterborough, and, as she stood +on the other, how much better to be Mrs. Hugh Stanbury. Only,—before +she could be Mrs. Hugh Stanbury it would be necessary that Mr. Hugh +Stanbury should share her opinion,—and necessary also that he should +be able to maintain a wife. "I should never do to be a very poor +man's wife," she said to herself; and remembered as she said it, that +in reference to the prospect of her being Lady Peterborough, the man +who was to be Lord Peterborough was at any rate ready to make her his +wife, and on that side there were none of those difficulties about +house, and money, and position which stood in the way of the Hugh +Stanbury side of the question. She was not, she thought, fit to be +the wife of a very poor man; but she conceived of herself that she +would do very well as a future Lady Peterborough in the drawing-rooms +of Monkhams. She was so far vain as to fancy that she could look, and +speak, and move, and have her being after the fashion which is +approved for the Lady Peterboroughs of the world. It was not clear to +her that Nature had not expressly intended her to be a Lady +Peterborough; whereas, as far as she could see, Nature had not +intended her to be a Mrs. Hugh Stanbury, with a precarious income of +perhaps ten guineas a week when journalism was doing well. So she +moved on to another little eminence to think of it there. It was +clear to her that if she should accept Mr. Glascock she would sell +herself, and not give herself away; and she had told herself scores +of times before this, that a young woman should give herself away, +and not sell herself;—should either give herself away, or keep +herself to herself as circumstances might go. She had been quite sure +that she would never sell herself. But this was a lesson which she +had taught herself when she was very young, before she had come to +understand the world and its hard necessities. Nothing, she now told +herself, could be worse than to hang like a mill-stone round the neck +of a poor man. It might be a very good thing to give herself away for +love,—but it would not be a good thing to be the means of ruining +the man she loved, even if that man were willing to be so ruined. And +then she thought that she could also love that other man a +little,—could love him sufficiently for comfortable domestic +purposes. And it would undoubtedly be very pleasant to have all the +troubles of her life settled for her. If she were Mrs. Glascock, +known to the world as the future Lady Peterborough, would it not be +within her power to bring her sister and her sister's husband again +together? The tribute of the Monkhams' authority and influence to her +sister's side of the question would be most salutary. She tried to +make herself believe that in this way she would be doing a good deed. +Upon the whole, she thought that if Mr. Glascock should give her +another chance she would accept him. And he had distinctly promised +that he would give her another chance. It might be that this +unfortunate quarrel in the Trevelyan family would deter him. People +do not wish to ally themselves with family quarrels. But if the +chance came in her way she would accept it. She had made up her mind +to that, when she turned round from off the last knoll on which she +had stood, to return to her sister and Priscilla Stanbury.</p> + + +<div class="center"><a name="ip1-125" id="ip1-125"></a> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="4px"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/p1-125.jpg"> + <img src="images/p1-125-t.jpg" width="540" + alt="Nora tries to make herself believe." /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <span class="caption">Nora tries to make herself believe.<br /> + Click to <a href="images/p1-125.jpg">ENLARGE</a></span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p>They two had sat still under the shade of a thorn bush, looking at +Nora as she was wandering about, and talking together more freely +than they had ever done before on the circumstances that had brought +them together. "How pretty she looks," Priscilla had said, as Nora +was standing with her figure clearly marked by the light.</p> + +<p>"Yes; she is very pretty, and has been much admired. This terrible +affair of mine is a cruel blow to her."</p> + +<p>"You mean that it is bad for her to come and live here—without +society."</p> + +<p>"Not exactly that,—though of course it would be better for her to go +out. And I don't know how a girl is ever to get settled in the world +unless she goes out. But it is always an injury to be connected in +any way with a woman who is separated from her husband. It must be +bad for you."</p> + +<p>"It won't hurt me," said Priscilla. "Nothing of that kind can hurt +me."</p> + +<p>"I mean that people say such ill-natured things."</p> + +<p>"I stand alone, and can take care of myself," said Priscilla. "I defy +the evil tongues of all the world to hurt me. My personal cares are +limited to an old gown and bread and cheese. I like a pair of gloves +to go to church with, but that is only the remnant of a prejudice. +The world has so very little to give me, that I am pretty nearly sure +that it will take nothing away."</p> + +<p>"And you are contented?"</p> + +<p>"Well, no; I can't say that I am contented. I hardly think that +anybody ought to be contented. Should my mother die and Dorothy +remain with my aunt, or get married, I should be utterly alone in the +world. Providence, or whatever you call it, has made me a lady after +a fashion, so that I can't live with the ploughmen's wives, and at +the same time has so used me in other respects, that I can't live +with anybody else."</p> + +<p>"Why should not you get married, as well as Dorothy?"</p> + +<p>"Who would have me? And if I had a husband I should want a good +one,—a man with a head on his shoulders, and a heart. Even if I were +young and good-looking, or rich, I doubt whether I could please +myself. As it is I am as likely to be taken bodily to heaven, as to +become any man's wife."</p> + +<p>"I suppose most women think so of themselves at some time, and yet +they are married."</p> + +<p>"I am not fit to marry. I am often cross, and I like my own way, and +I have a distaste for men. I never in my life saw a man whom I wished +even to make my intimate friend. I should think any man an idiot who +began to make soft speeches to me, and I should tell him so."</p> + +<p>"Ah; you might find it different when he went on with it."</p> + +<p>"But I think," said Priscilla, "that when a woman is married there is +nothing to which she should not submit on behalf of her husband."</p> + +<p>"You mean that for me."</p> + +<p>"Of course I mean it for you. How should I not be thinking of you, +living as you are under the same roof with us? And I am thinking of +Louey." Louey was the baby. "What are you to do when after a year or +two his father shall send for him to have him under his own care?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing shall separate me from my child," said Mrs. Trevelyan +eagerly.</p> + +<p>"That is easily said; but I suppose the power of doing as he pleased +would be with him."</p> + +<p>"Why should it be with him? I do not at all know that it would be +with him. I have not left his house. It is he that has turned me +out."</p> + +<p>"There can, I think, be very little doubt what you should do," said +Priscilla, after a pause, during which she had got up from her seat +under the thorn bush.</p> + +<p>"What should I do?" asked Mrs. Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"Go back to him."</p> + +<p>"I will to-morrow if he will write and ask me. Nay; how could I help +myself? I am his creature, and must go or come as he bids me. I am +here only because he has sent me."</p> + +<p>"You should write and ask him to take you."</p> + +<p>"Ask him to forgive me because he has ill-treated me?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind about that," said Priscilla, standing over her companion, +who was still lying under the bush. "All that is twopenny-halfpenny +pride, which should be thrown to the winds. The more right you have +been hitherto the better you can afford to go on being right. What is +it that we all live upon but self-esteem? When we want praise it is +only because praise enables us to think well of ourselves. Every one +to himself is the centre and pivot of all the world."</p> + +<p>"It's a very poor world that goes round upon my pivot," said Mrs. +Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"I don't know how this quarrel came up," exclaimed Priscilla, "and I +don't care to know. But it seems a trumpery quarrel,—as to who +should beg each other's pardon first, and all that kind of thing. +Sheer and simple nonsense! Ask him to let it all be forgotten. I +suppose he loves you?"</p> + +<p>"How can I know? He did once."</p> + +<p>"And you love him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. I love him certainly."</p> + +<p>"I don't see how you can have a doubt. Here is Jack with the +carriage, and if we don't mind he'll pass us by without seeing us."</p> + +<p>Then Mrs. Trevelyan got up, and when they had succeeded in diverting +Jack's attention for a moment from the horse, they called to Nora, +who was still moving about from one knoll to another, and who showed +no desire to abandon the contemplations in which she had been +engaged.</p> + +<p>It had been mid-day before they left home in the morning, and they +were due to be at home in time for tea,—which is an epoch in the day +generally allowed to be more elastic than some others. When Mrs. +Stanbury lived in the cottage her hour for tea had been six; this had +been stretched to half-past seven when she received Mrs. Trevelyan at +the Clock House; and it was half-past eight before Jack landed them +at their door. It was manifest to them all as they entered the house +that there was an air of mystery in the face of the girl who had +opened the door for them. She did not speak, however, till they were +all within the passage. Then she uttered a few words very solemnly. +"There be a gentleman come," she said.</p> + +<p>"A gentleman!" said Mrs. Trevelyan, thinking in the first moment of +her husband, and in the second of Colonel Osborne.</p> + +<p>"He be for you, miss," said the girl, bobbing her head at Nora.</p> + +<p>Upon hearing this Nora sank speechless into the chair which stood in +the passage.</p> + + +<p><a name="c17" id="c17"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVII.</h3> +<h4>A GENTLEMAN COMES TO NUNCOMBE PUTNEY.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>It soon became known to them all as they remained clustered in the +hall that Mr. Glascock was in the house. Mrs. Stanbury came out to +them and informed them that he had been at Nuncombe Putney for the +last five hours, and that he had asked for Mrs. Trevelyan when he +called. It became evident as the affairs of the evening went on, that +Mrs. Stanbury had for a few minutes been thrown into a terrible state +of amazement, thinking that "the Colonel" had appeared. The strange +gentleman, however, having obtained admittance, explained who he was, +saying that he was very desirous of seeing Mrs. Trevelyan,—and Miss +Rowley. It may be presumed that a glimmer of light did make its way +into Mrs. Stanbury's mind on the subject; but up to the moment at +which the three travellers arrived, she had been in doubt on the +subject. Mr. Glascock had declared that he would take a walk, and in +the course of the afternoon had expressed high approval of Mrs. +Crocket's culinary skill. When Mrs. Crocket heard that she had +entertained the son of a lord, she was very loud in her praise of the +manner in which he had eaten two mutton chops and called for a third. +He had thought it no disgrace to apply himself to the second half of +an apple pie, and had professed himself to be an ardent admirer of +Devonshire cream. "It's them counter-skippers as turns up their +little noses at the victuals as is set before them," said Mrs. +Crocket.</p> + +<p>After his dinner Mr. Glascock had returned to the Clock House, and +had been sitting there for an hour with Mrs. Stanbury, not much to +her delight or to his, when the carriage was driven up to the door.</p> + +<p>"He is to go back to Lessboro' to-night," said Mrs. Stanbury in a +whisper.</p> + +<p>"Of course you must see him before he goes," said Mrs. Trevelyan to +her sister. There had, as was natural, been very much said between +the two sisters about Mr. Glascock. Nora had abstained from asserting +in any decided way that she disliked the man, and had always +absolutely refused to allow Hugh Stanbury's name to be mixed up with +the question. Whatever might be her own thoughts about Hugh Stanbury +she had kept them even from her sister. When her sister had told her +that she had refused Mr. Glascock because of Hugh, she had shown +herself to be indignant, and had since that said one or two fine +things as to her capacity to refuse a brilliant offer simply because +the man who had made it was indifferent to her. Mrs. Trevelyan had +learned from her that her suitor had declared his intention to +persevere; and here was perseverance with a vengeance! "Of course you +must see him,—at once," said Mrs. Trevelyan. Nora for a few seconds +had remained silent, and then had run up to her room. Her sister +followed her instantly.</p> + +<p>"What is the meaning of it all?" said Priscilla to her mother.</p> + +<p>"I suppose he is in love with Miss Rowley," said Mrs. Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"But who is he?"</p> + +<p>Then Mrs. Stanbury told all that she knew. She had seen from his card +that he was an Honourable Mr. Glascock. She had collected from what +he had said that he was an old friend of the two ladies. Her +conviction was strong in Mr. Glascock's favour,—thinking, as she +expressed herself, that everything was right and proper,—but she +could hardly explain why she thought so.</p> + +<p>"I do wish that they had never come," said Priscilla, who could not +rid herself of an idea that there must be danger in having to do with +women who had men running after them.</p> + +<p>"Of course I'll see him," said Nora to her sister. "I have not +refused to see him. Why do you scold me?"</p> + +<p>"I have not scolded you, Nora; but I do want you to think how +immensely important this is."</p> + +<p>"Of course it is important."</p> + +<p>"And so much the more so because of my misfortunes! Think how good he +must be, how strong must be his attachment, when he comes down here +after you in this way."</p> + +<p>"But I have to think of my own feelings."</p> + +<p>"You know you like him. You have told me so. And only fancy what +mamma will feel! Such a position! And the man so excellent! Everybody +says that he hasn't a fault in any way."</p> + +<p>"I hate people without faults."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Nora, Nora, that is foolish! There, there; you must go down. +Pray,—pray do not let any absurd fancy stand in your way, and +destroy everything. It will never come again, Nora. And, only think; +it is all now your own, if you will only whisper one word."</p> + +<p>"Ah!—one word,—and that a falsehood!"</p> + +<p>"No,—no. Say you will try to love him, and that will be enough. And +you do love him?"</p> + +<p>"Do I?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, you do. It is only the opposition of your nature that makes you +fight against him. Will you go now?"</p> + +<p>"Let me be for two minutes by myself," said Nora, "and then I'll come +down. Tell him that I'm coming." Mrs. Trevelyan stooped over her, +kissed her, and then left her.</p> + +<p>Nora, as soon as she was alone, stood upright in the middle of the +room and held her hands up to her forehead. She had been far from +thinking, when she was considering the matter easily among the +hillocks, that the necessity for an absolute decision would come upon +her so instantaneously. She had told herself only this morning that +it would be wise to accept the man, if he should ever ask a second +time;—and he had come already. He had been waiting for her in the +village while she had been thinking whether he would ever come across +her path again. She thought that it would have been easier for her +now to have gone down with a "yes" in her mouth, if her sister had +not pressed her so hard to say that "yes." The very pressure from her +sister seemed to imply that such pressure ought to be resisted. Why +should there have been pressure, unless there were reasons against +her marrying him? And yet, if she chose to take him, who would have a +right to complain of her? Hugh Stanbury had never spoken to her a +word that would justify her in even supposing that he would consider +himself to be ill-used. All others of her friends would certainly +rejoice, would applaud her, pat her on the back, cover her with +caresses, and tell her that she had been born under a happy star. And +she did like the man. Nay;—she thought she loved him. She withdrew +her hands from her brow, assured herself that her lot in life was +cast, and with hurrying fingers attempted to smooth her hair and to +arrange her ribbons before the glass. She would go to the encounter +boldly and accept him honestly. It was her duty to do so. What might +she not do for brothers and sisters as the wife of Lord Peterborough +of Monkhams? She saw that that arrangement before the glass could be +of no service, and she stepped quickly to the door. If he did not +like her as she was, he need not ask her. Her mind was made up, and +she would do it. But as she went down the stairs to the room in which +she knew that he was waiting for her, there came over her a cold +feeling of self-accusation,—almost of disgrace. "I do not care," she +said. "I know that I'm right." She opened the door quickly, that +there might be no further doubt, and found that she was alone with +him.</p> + +<p>"Miss Rowley," he said, "I am afraid you will think that I am +persecuting you."</p> + +<p>"I have no right to think that," she answered.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you why I have come. My dear father, who has always been +my best friend, is very ill. He is at Naples, and I must go to him. +He is very old, you know,—over eighty; and will never live to come +back to England. From what I hear, I think it probable that I may +remain with him till everything is over."</p> + +<p>"I did not know that he was so old as that."</p> + +<p>"They say that he can hardly live above a month or two. He will never +see my wife,—if I can have a wife; but I should like to tell him, if +it were +possible,—that,—<span class="nowrap">that—"</span></p> + +<p>"I understand you, Mr. Glascock."</p> + +<p>"I told you that I should come to you again, and as I may possibly +linger at Naples all the winter, I could not go without seeing you. +Miss Rowley, may I hope that you can love me?"</p> + +<p>She did not answer him a word, but stood looking away from him with +her hands clasped together. Had he asked her whether she would be his +wife, it is possible that the answer which she had prepared would +have been spoken. But he had put the question in another form. Did +she love him? If she could only bring herself to say that she could +love him, she might be lady of Monkhams before the next summer had +come round.</p> + +<p>"Nora," he said, "do you think that you can love me?"</p> + +<p>"No," she said, and there was something almost of fierceness in the +tone of her voice as she answered him.</p> + +<p>"And must that be your final answer to me?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Glascock, what can I say?" she replied. "I will tell you the +honest truth:—I will tell you everything. I came into this room +determined to accept you. But you are so good, and so kind, and so +upright, that I cannot tell you a falsehood. I do not love you. I +ought not to take what you offer me. If I did, it would be because +you are rich, and a lord; and not because I love you. I love some one +else. There;—pray, pray do not tell of me; but I do." Then she flung +away from him and hid her face in a corner of the sofa out of the +light.</p> + +<p>Her lover stood silent, not knowing how to go on with the +conversation, not knowing how to bring it to an end. After what she +had now said to him it was impossible that he should press her +further. It was almost impossible that he should wish to do so. When +a lady is frank enough to declare that her heart is not her own to +give, a man can hardly wish to make further prayer for the gift. "If +so," he said, "of course I have nothing to hope."</p> + +<p>She was sobbing, and could not answer him. She was half repentant, +partly proud of what she had done,—half repentant in that she had +lost what had seemed to her to be so good, and full of remorse in +that she had so unnecessarily told her secret.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps," said he, "I ought to assure you that what you have told me +shall never be repeated by my lips."</p> + +<p>She thanked him for this by a motion of her head and hand, not by +words;—and then he was gone. How he managed to bid adieu to Mrs. +Stanbury and her sister, or whether he saw them as he left the house, +she never knew. In her corner of the sofa, weeping in the dark, +partly proud and partly repentant, she remained till her sister came +to her. "Emily," she said, jumping up, "say nothing about it; not a +word. It is of no use. The thing is done and over, and let it +altogether be forgotten."</p> + +<p>"It is done and over, certainly," said Mrs. Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"Exactly;—and I suppose a girl may do what she likes with herself in +that way. If I choose to decline to take anything that is pleasant, +and nice, and comfortable, nobody has a right to scold me. And I +won't be scolded."</p> + +<p>"But, my child, who is scolding you?"</p> + +<p>"You mean to scold me. But it is of no use. The man has gone, and +there is an end of it. Nothing that you can say or I can think will +bring him back again. I don't want anybody to tell me that it would +be better to be Lady Peterborough, with everything that the world has +to give, than to live here without a soul to speak to, and to have to +go back to those horrible islands next year. You can't think that I +am very comfortable."</p> + +<p>"But what did you say to him, Nora?"</p> + +<p>"What did I say to him? What could I say to him? Why didn't he ask me +to be his wife without saying anything about love? He asked me if I +loved him. Of course I don't love him. I would have said I did, but +it stuck in my throat. I am willing enough, I believe, to sell myself +to the devil, but I don't know how to do it. Never mind. It's done, +and now I'll go to bed."</p> + +<p>She did go to bed, and Mrs. Trevelyan explained to the two ladies as +much as was necessary of what had occurred. When Mrs. Stanbury came +to understand that the gentleman who had been closeted with her +would, probably, in a few months be a lord himself, that he was a +very rich man, a member of Parliament, and one of those who are +decidedly born with gold spoons in their mouths, and understood also +that Nora Rowley had refused him, she was lost in amazement. Mr. +Glascock was about forty years of age, and appeared to Nora Rowley, +who was nearly twenty years his junior, to be almost an old man. But +to Mrs. Stanbury, who was over sixty, Mr. Glascock seemed to be quite +in the flower of his age. The bald place at the top of his head +simply showed that he had passed his boyhood, and the grey hairs at +the back of his whiskers were no more than outward signs of manly +discretion. She could not understand why any girl should refuse such +an offer, unless the man were himself bad in morals, or in temper. +But Mrs. Trevelyan had told her while Nora and Mr. Glascock were +closeted together, that he was believed by them all to be good and +gentle. Nevertheless she felt a considerable increase of respect for +a young lady who had refused the eldest son of a lord. Priscilla, +when she heard what had occurred, expressed to her mother a moderated +approval. According to her views a girl would much more often be +right to refuse an offer of marriage than to accept it, let him who +made the offer be who he might. And the fact of the man having been +sent away with a refusal somewhat softened Priscilla's anger at his +coming there at all.</p> + +<p>"I suppose he is a goose," said she to her mother, "and I hope there +won't be any more of this kind running after them while they are with +us."</p> + +<p>Nora, when she was alone, wept till her heart was almost broken. It +was done, and the man was gone, and the thing was over. She had quite +sufficient knowledge of the world to realise perfectly the difference +between such a position as that which had been offered to her, and +the position which in all probability she would now be called upon to +fill. She had had her chance, and Fortune had placed great things at +her disposal. It must be said of her also that the great things which +Fortune had offered to her were treasures very valuable in her eyes. +Whether it be right and wise to covet or to despise wealth and rank, +there was no doubt but that she coveted them. She had been instructed +to believe in them, and she did believe in them. In some mysterious +manner of which she herself knew nothing, taught by some preceptor +the nobility of whose lessons she had not recognised though she had +accepted them, she had learned other things also,—to revere truth +and love, and to be ambitious as regarded herself of conferring the +gift of her whole heart upon some one whom she could worship as a +hero. She had spoken the simple truth when she had told her sister +that she had been willing to sell herself to the devil, but that she +had failed in her attempt to execute the contract. But now as she lay +weeping on her bed, tearing herself with remorse, picturing to +herself in the most vivid colours all that she had thrown away, +telling herself of all that she might have done and all that she +might have been, had she not allowed the insane folly of a moment to +get the better of her, she received little or no comfort from the +reflection that she had been true to her better instincts. She had +told the man that she had refused him because she loved Hugh +Stanbury;—at least, as far as she could remember what had passed, +she had so told him. And how mean it was of her to allow herself to +be actuated by an insane passion for a man who had never spoken to +her of love, and how silly of her afterwards to confess it! Of what +service could such a passion be to her life? Even were it returned, +she could not marry such a one as Hugh Stanbury. She knew enough of +herself to be quite sure that were he to ask her to do so to-morrow, +she would refuse him. Better go and be scorched, and bored to death, +and buried at the Mandarins, than attempt to regulate a poor +household which, as soon as she made one of its number, would be on +the sure road to ruin!</p> + +<p>For a moment there came upon her, not a thought, hardly an +idea,—something of a waking dream that she would write to Mr. +Glascock and withdraw all that she had said. Were she to do so he +would probably despise her, and tell her that he despised her;—but +there might be a chance. It was possible that such a declaration +would bring him back to her;—and did it not bring him back to her +she would only be where she was, a poor lost, shipwrecked creature, +who had flung herself upon the rocks and thrown away her only chance +of a prosperous voyage across the ocean of life; her only chance, for +she was not like other girls, who at any rate remain on the scene of +action, and may refit their spars and still win their way. For there +were to be no more seasons in London, no more living in Curzon +Street, no renewed power of entering the ball-rooms and crowded +staircases in which high-born wealthy lovers can be conquered. A +great prospect had been given to her, and she had flung it aside! +That letter of retractation was, however, quite out of the question. +The reader must not suppose that she had ever thought that she could +write it. She thought of nothing but of coming misery and remorse. In +her wretchedness she fancied that she had absolutely disclosed to the +man who loved her the name of him whom she had been mad enough to say +that she loved. But what did it matter? Let it be as it might, she +was destroyed.</p> + +<p>The next morning she came down to breakfast pale as a ghost; and they +who saw her knew at once that she had done that which had made her a +wretched woman.</p> + + +<p><a name="c18" id="c18"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XVIII.</h3> +<h4>THE STANBURY CORRESPONDENCE.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Half an hour after the proper time, when the others had finished +their tea and bread and butter, Nora Rowley came down among them pale +as a ghost. Her sister had gone to her while she was dressing, but +she had declared that she would prefer to be alone. She would be down +directly, she had said, and had completed her toilet without even the +assistance of her maid. She drank her cup of tea and pretended to eat +her toast; and then sat herself down, very wretchedly, to think of it +all again. It had been all within her grasp,—all of which she had +ever dreamed! And now it was gone! Each of her three companions +strove from time to time to draw her into conversation, but she +seemed to be resolute in her refusal. At first, till her utter +prostration had become a fact plainly recognised by them all, she +made some little attempt at an answer when a direct question was +asked of her; but after a while she only shook her head, and was +silent, giving way to absolute despair.</p> + +<p>Late in the evening she went out into the garden, and Priscilla +followed her. It was now the end of July, and the summer was in its +glory. The ladies, during the day, would remain in the drawing-room +with the windows open and the blinds down, and would sit in the +evening reading and working, or perhaps pretending to read and work, +under the shade of a cedar which stood upon the lawn. No retirement +could possibly be more secluded than was that of the garden of the +Clock House. No stranger could see into it, or hear sounds from out +of it. Though it was not extensive, it was so well furnished with +those charming garden shrubs which, in congenial soils, become large +trees, that one party of wanderers might seem to be lost from another +amidst its walls. On this evening Mrs. Stanbury and Mrs. Trevelyan +had gone out as usual, but Priscilla had remained with Nora Rowley. +After a while Nora also got up and went through the window all alone. +Priscilla, having waited for a few minutes, followed her; and caught +her in a long green walk that led round the bottom of the orchard.</p> + +<p>"What makes you so wretched?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Why do you say I am wretched?"</p> + +<p>"Because it's so visible. How is one to go on living with you all day +and not notice it?"</p> + +<p>"I wish you wouldn't notice it. I don't think it kind of you to +notice it. If I wanted to talk of it, I would say so."</p> + +<p>"It is better generally to speak of a trouble than to keep it to +oneself," said Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"All the same, I would prefer not to speak of mine," said Nora.</p> + +<p>Then they parted, one going one way and one the other, and Priscilla +was certainly angry at the reception which had been given to the +sympathy which she had proffered. The next day passed almost without +a word spoken between the two. Mrs. Stanbury had not ventured as yet +to mention to her guest the subject of the rejected lover, and had +not even said much on the subject to Mrs. Trevelyan. Between the two +sisters there had been, of course, some discussion on the matter. It +was impossible that it should be allowed to pass without it; but such +discussions always resulted in an assertion on the part of Nora that +she would not be scolded. Mrs. Trevelyan was very tender with her, +and made no attempt to scold her,—tried, at last, simply to console +her; but Nora was so continually at work scolding herself, that every +word spoken to her on the subject of Mr. Glascock's visit seemed to +her to carry with it a rebuke.</p> + +<p>But on the second day she herself accosted Priscilla Stanbury. "Come +into the garden," she said, when they two were for a moment alone +together; "I want to speak to you." Priscilla, without answering, +folded up her work and put on her hat. "Come down to the green walk," +said Nora. "I was savage to you last night, and I want to beg your +pardon."</p> + +<p>"You were savage," said Priscilla, smiling, "and you shall have my +pardon. Who would not pardon you any offence, if you asked it?"</p> + +<p>"I am so miserable!" she said.</p> + +<p>"But why?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I can't tell. And it is of no use talking about it +now, for it is all over. But I ought not to have been cross to you, +and I am very sorry."</p> + +<p>"That does not signify a straw; only so far, that when I have been +cross, and have begged a person's pardon,—which I don't do as often +as I ought,—I always feel that it begets kindness. If I could help +you in your trouble I would."</p> + +<p>"You can't fetch him back again."</p> + +<p>"You mean Mr. Glascock. Shall I go and try?"</p> + +<p>Nora smiled and shook her head. "I wonder what he would say if you +asked him. But if he came I should do the same thing."</p> + +<p>"I do not in the least know what you have done, my dear. I only see +that you mope about, and are more down in the mouth than any one +ought to be, unless some great trouble has come."</p> + +<p>"A great trouble has come."</p> + +<p>"I suppose you have had your choice,—either to accept your lover or +to reject him."</p> + +<p>"No; I have not had my choice."</p> + +<p>"It seems to me that no one has dictated to you; or, at least, that +you have obeyed no dictation."</p> + +<p>"Of course, I can't explain it to you. It is impossible that I +should."</p> + +<p>"If you mean that you regret what you have done because you have been +false to the man, I can sympathise with you. No one has ever a right +to be false, and if you are repenting a falsehood, I will willingly +help you to eat your ashes and to wear your sackcloth. But if you are +repenting a <span class="nowrap">truth—"</span></p> + +<p>"I am."</p> + +<p>"Then you must eat your ashes by yourself, for me; and I do not think +that you will ever be able to digest them."</p> + +<p>"I do not want anybody to help me," said Nora proudly.</p> + +<p>"Nobody can help you, if I understand the matter rightly. You have +got to get the better of your own covetousness and evil desires, and +you are in the fair way to get the better of them if you have already +refused to be this man's wife because you could not bring yourself to +commit the sin of marrying him when you did not love him. I suppose +that is about the truth of it; and indeed, indeed, I do sympathise +with you. If you have done that, though it is no more than the +plainest duty, I will love you for it. One finds so few people that +will do any duty that taxes their self-indulgence."</p> + +<p>"But he did not ask me to marry him."</p> + +<p>"Then I do not understand anything about it."</p> + +<p>"He asked me to love him."</p> + +<p>"But he meant you to be his wife?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes;—he meant that of course."</p> + +<p>"And what did you say?" asked Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"That I didn't love him," replied Nora.</p> + +<p>"And that was the truth?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—it was the truth."</p> + +<p>"And what do you regret?—that you didn't tell him a lie?"</p> + +<p>"No;—not that," said Nora slowly.</p> + +<p>"What then? You cannot regret that you have not basely deceived a man +who has treated you with a loving generosity?" They walked on silent +for a few yards, and then Priscilla repeated her question. "You +cannot mean that you are sorry that you did not persuade yourself to +do evil?"</p> + +<p>"I don't want to go back to the islands, and to lose myself there, +and to be nobody;—that is what I mean. And I might have been so +much! Could one step from the very highest rung of the ladder to the +very lowest and not feel it?"</p> + +<p>"But you have gone up the ladder,—if you only knew it," said +Priscilla. "There was a choice given to you between the foulest mire +of the clay of the world, and the sun-light of the very God. You have +chosen the sun-light, and you are crying after the clay! I cannot +pity you; but I can esteem you, and love you, and believe in you. And +I do. You'll get yourself right at last, and there's my hand on it, +if you'll take it." Nora took the hand that was offered to her, held +it in her own for some seconds, and then walked back to the house and +up to her own room in silence.</p> + +<p>The post used to come into Nuncombe Putney at about eight in the +morning, carried thither by a wooden-legged man who rode a donkey. +There is a general understanding that the wooden-legged men in +country parishes should be employed as postmen, owing to the great +steadiness of demeanour which a wooden leg is generally found to +produce. It may be that such men are slower in their operations than +would be biped postmen; but as all private employers of labour demand +labourers with two legs, it is well that the lame and halt should +find a refuge in the less exacting service of the government. The +one-legged man who rode his donkey into Nuncombe Putney would reach +his post-office not above half an hour after his proper time; but he +was very slow in stumping round the village, and seldom reached the +Clock House much before ten. On a certain morning two or three days +after the conversation just recorded it was past ten when he brought +two letters to the door, one for Mrs. Trevelyan, and one for Mrs. +Stanbury. The ladies had finished their breakfast, and were seated +together at an open window. As was usual, the letters were given into +Priscilla's hands, and the newspaper which accompanied them into +those of Mrs. Trevelyan, its undoubted owner. When her letter was +handed to her, she looked at the address closely and then walked away +with it into her own room.</p> + +<p>"I think it's from Louis," said Nora, as soon as the door was closed. +"If so, he is telling her to come back."</p> + +<p>"Mamma, this is for you," said Priscilla. "It is from Aunt Stanbury. +I know her handwriting."</p> + +<p>"From your aunt? What can she be writing about? There is something +wrong with Dorothy." Mrs. Stanbury held the letter but did not open +it. "You had better read it, my dear. If she is ill, pray let her +come home."</p> + +<p>But the letter spoke of nothing amiss as regarded Dorothy, and did +not indeed even mention Dorothy's name. Luckily Priscilla read the +letter in silence, for it was an angry letter. "What is it, +Priscilla? Why don't you tell me? Is anything wrong?" said Mrs. +Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"Nothing is wrong, mamma,—except that my aunt is a silly woman."</p> + +<p>"Goodness me! what is it?"</p> + +<p>"It is a family matter," said Nora smiling, "and I will go."</p> + +<p>"What can it be?" demanded Mrs. Stanbury again as soon as Nora had +left the room.</p> + +<p>"You shall hear what it can be. I will read it you," said Priscilla. +"It seems to me that of all the women that ever lived my Aunt +Stanbury is the most prejudiced, the most unjust, and the most given +to evil thinking of her neighbours. This is what she has thought fit +to write to you, mamma." Then Priscilla read her aunt's letter, which +was as <span class="nowrap">follows:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">The Close, Exeter, July 31, 186—.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear Sister +Stanbury</span>,</p> + +<p>I am informed that the lady who is living with you because +she could not continue to live under the same roof with +her lawful husband, has received a visit at your house +from a gentleman who was named as her lover before she +left her own. I am given to understand that it was because +of this gentleman's visits to her in London, and because +she would not give up seeing him, that her husband would +not live with her any longer.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>"But the man has never been here at all," said Mrs. Stanbury, in +dismay.</p> + +<p>"Of course he has not been here. But let me go on."<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p>I have got nothing to do with your visitors, [continued +the letter] and I should not interfere but for the credit +of the family. There ought to be somebody to explain to +you that much of the abominable disgrace of the whole +proceeding will rest upon you, if you permit such goings +on in your house. I suppose it is your house. At any rate +you are regarded as the mistress of the establishment, and +it is for you to tell the lady that she must go elsewhere. +I do hope that you have done so, or at least that you will +do so now. It is intolerable that the widow of my +brother,—a clergyman,—should harbour a lady who is +separated from her husband and who receives visits from a +gentleman who is reputed to be her lover. I wonder much +that your eldest daughter should countenance such a +proceeding.</p> + +<p class="ind10">Yours truly,</p> + +<p class="ind12"><span class="smallcaps">Jemima +Stanbury</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>Mrs. Stanbury, when the letter had been read to her, held up both her +hands in despair. "Dear, dear," she exclaimed. "Oh, dear!"</p> + +<p>"She had such pleasure in writing it," said Priscilla, "that one +ought hardly to begrudge it her." The blackest spot in the character +of Priscilla Stanbury was her hatred for her aunt in Exeter. She knew +that her aunt had high qualities, and yet she hated her aunt. She was +well aware that her aunt was regarded as a shining light by very many +good people in the county, and yet she hated her aunt. She could not +but acknowledge that her aunt had been generous to her brother, and +was now very generous to her sister, and yet she hated her aunt. It +was now a triumph to her that her aunt had fallen into so terrible a +quagmire, and she was by no means disposed to let the sinning old +woman easily out of it.</p> + +<p>"It is as pretty a specimen," she said, "as I ever knew of malice and +eaves-dropping combined."</p> + +<p>"Don't use such hard words, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Look at her words to us," said Priscilla. "What business has she to +talk to you about the credit of the family and abominable disgrace? +You have held your head up in poverty, while she has been rolling in +money."</p> + +<p>"She has been very good to Hugh,—and now to Dorothy."</p> + +<p>"If I were Dorothy I would have none of her goodness. She likes some +one to trample on,—some one of the name to patronise. She shan't +trample on you and me, mamma."</p> + +<p>Then there was a discussion as to what should be done; or rather a +discourse in which Priscilla explained what she thought fit to do. +Nothing, she decided, should be said to Mrs. Trevelyan on the +subject; but an answer should be sent to Aunt Stanbury. Priscilla +herself would write this answer, and herself would sign it. There was +some difference of opinion on this point, as Mrs. Stanbury thought +that if she might be allowed to put her name to it, even though +Priscilla should write it, the wording of it would be made, in some +degree, mild,—to suit her own character. But her daughter was +imperative, and she gave way.</p> + +<p>"It shall be mild enough in words," said Priscilla, "and very short."</p> + +<p>Then she wrote her letter as follows:—<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">Nuncombe Putney, August 1, 186—.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear Aunt Stanbury</span>,</p> + +<p>You have found a mare's nest. The gentleman you speak of +has never been here at all, and the people who bring you +news have probably hoaxed you. I don't think that mamma +has ever disgraced the family, and you can have no reason +for thinking that she ever will. You should, at any rate, +be sure of what you are saying before you make such cruel +accusations.</p> + +<p class="ind10">Yours truly,</p> + +<p class="ind12"><span class="smallcaps">Priscilla Stanbury</span>.</p> + +<p class="noindent">P.S.—Another gentleman +did call here,—not to see Mrs. +Trevelyan; but I suppose mamma's house need not be closed +against all visitors.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>Poor Dorothy had passed evil hours from the moment in which her aunt +had so far certified herself as to Colonel Osborne's visit to +Nuncombe as to make her feel it to be incumbent on her to interfere. +After much consideration Miss Stanbury had told her niece the +dreadful news, and had told also what she intended to do. Dorothy, +who was in truth horrified at the iniquity of the fact which was +related, and who never dreamed of doubting the truth of her aunt's +information, hardly knew how to interpose. "I am sure mamma won't let +there be anything wrong," she had said.</p> + +<p>"And you don't call this wrong?" said Miss Stanbury, in a tone of +indignation.</p> + +<p>"But perhaps mamma will tell them to go."</p> + +<p>"I hope she will. I hope she has. But he was allowed to be there for +hours. And now three days have passed and there is no sign of +anything being done. He came and went and may come again when he +pleases." Still Dorothy pleaded. "I shall do my duty," said Miss +Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"I am quite sure mamma will do nothing wrong," said Dorothy. But the +letter was written and sent, and the answer to the letter reached the +house in the Close in due time.</p> + +<p>When Miss Stanbury had read and re-read the very short reply which +her niece had written, she became at first pale with dismay, and then +red with renewed vigour and obstinacy. She had made herself, as she +thought, quite certain of her facts before she had acted on her +information. There was some equivocation, some most unworthy deceit +in Priscilla's letter. Or could it be possible that she herself had +been mistaken? Another gentleman had been there;—not, however, with +the object of seeing Mrs. Trevelyan! So said Priscilla. But she had +made herself sure that the man in question was a man from London, a +middle-aged man from London, who had specially asked for Mrs. +Trevelyan, and who had at once been known to Mrs. Clegg, at the +Lessboro' inn, to be Mrs. Trevelyan's lover. Miss Stanbury was very +unhappy, and at last sent for Giles Hickbody. Giles Hickbody had +never pretended to know the name. He had seen the man and had +described him, "Quite a swell, ma'am; and a Lon'oner, and one as'd be +up to anything; but not a young 'un; no, not just a young 'un, +zartainly." He was cross-examined again now, and said that all he +knew about the man's name was that there was a handle to it. This was +ended by Miss Stanbury sending him down to Lessboro' to learn the +very name of the gentleman, and by his coming back with that of the +Honourable George Glascock written on a piece of paper. "They says +now as he was arter the other young 'ooman," said Giles Hickbody. +Then was the confusion of Miss Stanbury complete.</p> + +<p>It was late when Giles returned from Lessboro', and nothing could be +done that night. It was too late to write a letter for the next +morning's post. Miss Stanbury, who was as proud of her own +discrimination as she was just and true, felt that a day of +humiliation had indeed come for her. She hated Priscilla almost as +vigorously as Priscilla hated her. To Priscilla she would not write +to own her fault; but it was incumbent on her to confess it to Mrs. +Stanbury. It was incumbent on her also to confess it to Dorothy. All +that night she did not sleep, and the next morning she went about +abashed, wretched, hardly mistress of her own maids. She must confess +it also to Martha, and Martha would be very stern to her. Martha had +pooh-poohed the whole story of the lover, seeming to think that there +could be no reasonable objection to a lover past fifty.</p> + +<p>"Dorothy," she said at last, about noon, "I have been over hasty +about your mother and this man. I am sorry for it, and +must—beg—everybody's—pardon."</p> + +<p>"I knew mamma would do nothing wrong," said Dorothy.</p> + +<p>"To do wrong is human, and she, I suppose, is not more free than +others; but in this matter I was misinformed. I shall write and beg +her pardon; and now I beg your pardon."</p> + +<p>"Not mine, Aunt Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"Yes, yours and your mother's, and the lady's also,—for against her +has the fault been most grievous. I shall write to your mother and +express my contrition." She put off the evil hour of writing as long +as she could, but before dinner the painful letter had been written, +and carried by herself to the post. It was as +<span class="nowrap">follows:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">The Close, August 3, 186—.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear Sister +Stanbury</span>,</p> + +<p>I have now learned that the information was false on which +my former letter was based. I am heartily sorry for any +annoyance I may have given you. I can only inform you that +my intentions were good and upright. Nevertheless, I +humbly beg your pardon.</p> + +<p class="ind10">Yours truly,</p> + +<p class="ind12"><span class="smallcaps">Jemima Stanbury</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>Mrs. Stanbury, when she received this, was inclined to let the matter +drop. That her sister-in-law should express such abject contrition +was to her such a lowering of the great ones of the earth, that the +apology conveyed to her more pain than pleasure. She could not hinder +herself from sympathising with all that her sister-in-law had felt +when she had found herself called upon to humiliate herself. But it +was not so with Priscilla. Mrs. Stanbury did not observe that her +daughter's name was scrupulously avoided in the apology; but +Priscilla observed it. She would not let the matter drop, without an +attempt at the last word. She therefore wrote back again as +<span class="nowrap">follows;—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">Nuncombe Putney, August 4, 186—.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear Aunt +Stanbury</span>,</p> + +<p>I am glad you have satisfied yourself about the gentleman +who has so much disquieted you. I do not know that the +whole affair would be worth a moment's consideration, were +it not that mamma and I, living as we do so secluded a +life, are peculiarly apt to feel any attack upon our good +name,—which is pretty nearly all that is left to us. If +ever there were women who should be free from attack, at +any rate from those of their own family, we are such +women. We never interfere with you, or with anybody; and I +think you might abstain from harassing us by accusations.</p> + +<p>Pray do not write to mamma in such a strain again, unless +you are quite sure of your ground.</p> + +<p class="ind10">Yours truly,</p> + +<p class="ind12"><span class="smallcaps">Priscilla +Stanbury</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>"Impudent!" said Miss Stanbury to Martha, when she had read the +letter. "Ill-conditioned, impudent vixen!"</p> + +<p>"She was provoked, miss," said Martha.</p> + +<p>"Well; yes; yes;—and I suppose it is right that you should tell me +of it. I dare say it is part of what I ought to bear for being an old +fool, and too cautious about my own flesh and blood. I will bear it. +There. I was wrong, and I will say that I have been justly punished. +There,—there!"</p> + +<p>How very much would Miss Stanbury's tone have been changed had she +known that at that very moment Colonel Osborne was eating his +breakfast at Mrs. Crocket's inn, in Nuncombe Putney!</p> + + +<p><a name="c19" id="c19"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XIX.</h3> +<h4>BOZZLE, THE EX-POLICEMAN.<br /> </h4> + + +<p><img class="left" src="images/ch19a.jpg" width="310" alt="Illustration" /> +When Mr. Trevelyan had gone through the miserable task of breaking up +his establishment in Curzon Street, and had seen all his furniture +packed, including his books, his pictures, and his pet Italian +ornaments, it was necessary that he should go and live somewhere. He +was very wretched at this time,—so wretched that life was a burden +to him. He was a man who loved his wife;—to whom his child was very +dear; and he was one too to whom the ordinary comforts of domestic +life were attractive and necessary. There are men to whom release +from the constraint imposed by family ties will be, at any rate for a +time, felt as a release. But he was not such a man. There was no +delight to him in being able to dine at his club, and being free to +go whither he pleased in the evening. As it was, it pleased him to go +no whither in the evenings; and his mornings were equally blank to +him. He went so often to Mr. Bideawhile, that the poor old lawyer +became quite tired of the Trevelyan family quarrel. Even Lady +Milborough, with all her power of sympathising, began to feel that +she would almost prefer on any morning that her dear young friend, +Louis Trevelyan, should not be announced. Nevertheless, she always +saw him when he came, and administered comfort according to her +light. Of course he would have his wife back before long. That was +the only consolation she was able to offer; and she offered it so +often that he began gradually to feel that something might be done +towards bringing about so desirable an event. After what had occurred +they could not live again in Curzon Street,—nor even in London for +awhile; but Naples was open to them. Lady Milborough said so much to +him of the advantages which always came in such circumstances from +going to Naples, that he began to regard such a trip as almost the +natural conclusion of his adventure. But then there came that very +difficult question;—what step should be first taken? Lady Milborough +proposed that he should go boldly down to Nuncombe Putney, and make +the arrangement. "She will only be too glad to jump into your arms," +said Lady Milborough. Trevelyan thought that if he went to Nuncombe +Putney, his wife might perhaps jump into his arms; but what would +come after that? How would he stand then in reference to his +authority? Would she own that she had been wrong? Would she promise +to behave better in future? He did not believe that she was yet +sufficiently broken in spirit to make any such promise. And he told +himself again and again that it would be absurd in him to allow her +to return to him without such subjection, after all that he had gone +through in defence of his marital rights. If he were to write to her +a long letter, argumentative, affectionate, exhaustive, it might be +better. He was inclined to believe of himself that he was good at +writing long, affectionate, argumentative, and exhaustive letters. +But he would not do even this as yet. He had broken up his house, and +scattered all his domestic gods to the winds, because she had behaved +badly to him; and the thing done was too important to allow of +redress being found so easily.</p> + +<p>So he lived on a wretched life in London. He could hardly endure to +show himself at his club, fearing that every one would be talking of +him as the man who was separated from his wife,—perhaps as the man +of whose wife Colonel Osborne was the dear friend. No doubt for a day +or two there had been much of such conversation; but it had died away +from the club long before his consciousness had become callous. At +first he had gone into a lodging in Mayfair; but this had been but +for a day or two. After that he had taken a set of furnished chambers +in Lincoln's Inn, immediately under those in which Stanbury lived; +and thus it came to pass that he and Stanbury were very much thrown +together. As Trevelyan would always talk of his wife this was rather +a bore; but our friend bore with it, and would even continue to +instruct the world through the columns of the D. R. while Trevelyan +was descanting on the peculiar cruelty of his own position.</p> + +<p>"I wish to be just, and even generous; and I do love her with all my +heart," he said one afternoon, when Hugh was very hard at work.</p> + +<p>"'It is all very well for gentlemen to call themselves reformers,'" +Hugh was writing, "'but have these gentlemen ever realised to +themselves the meaning of that word? We think that they have never +done so as long as—' Of course you love her," said Hugh, with his +eyes still on the paper, still leaning on his pen, but finding by the +cessation of sound that Trevelyan had paused, and therefore knowing +that it was necessary that he should speak.</p> + +<p>"As much as ever," said Trevelyan, with energy.</p> + +<p>"'As long as they follow such a leader, in such a cause, into +whichever lobby he may choose to take them—' Exactly so,—exactly," +said Stanbury; "just as much as ever."</p> + +<p>"You are not listening to a word," said Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"I haven't missed a single expression you have used," said Stanbury. +"But a fellow has to do two things at a time when he's on the daily +press."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon for interrupting you," said Trevelyan, angrily, +getting up, taking his hat, and stalking off to the house of Lady +Milborough. In this way he became rather a bore to his friends. He +could not divest his mind of the injury which had accrued to him from +his wife's conduct, nor could he help talking of the grief with which +his mind was laden. And he was troubled with sore suspicions, which, +as far as they concerned his wife, had certainly not been merited. It +had seemed to him that she had persisted in her intimacy with Colonel +Osborne in a manner that was not compatible with that wife-like +indifference which he regarded as her duty. Why had she written to +him and received letters from him when her husband had plainly told +her that any such communication was objectionable? She had done so, +and as far as Trevelyan could remember her words, had plainly +declared that she would continue to do so. He had sent her away into +the most remote retirement he could find for her; but the post was +open to her. He had heard much of Mrs. Stanbury, and of Priscilla, +from his friend Hugh, and thoroughly believed that his wife was in +respectable hands. But what was to prevent Colonel Osborne from going +after her, if he chose to do so? And if he did so choose, Mrs. +Stanbury could not prevent their meeting. He was racked with +jealousy, and yet he did not cease to declare to himself that he knew +his wife too well to believe that she would sin. He could not rid +himself of his jealousy, but he tried with all his might to make the +man whom he hated the object of it, rather than the woman whom he +loved.</p> + +<p>He hated Colonel Osborne with all his heart. It was a regret to him +that the days of duelling were over, so that he could not shoot the +man. And yet, had duelling been possible to him, Colonel Osborne had +done nothing that would have justified him in calling his enemy out, +or would even have enabled him to do so with any chance of inducing +his enemy to fight. Circumstances, he thought, were cruel to him +beyond compare, in that he should have been made to suffer so great +torment without having any of the satisfaction of revenge. Even Lady +Milborough, with all her horror as to the Colonel, could not tell him +that the Colonel was amenable to any punishment. He was advised that +he must take his wife away and live at Naples because of this +man,—that he must banish himself entirely if he chose to repossess +himself of his wife and child;—and yet nothing could be done to the +unprincipled rascal by whom all his wrongs and sufferings were +occasioned! Thinking it very possible that Colonel Osborne would +follow his wife, he had a watch set upon the Colonel. He had found a +retired policeman,—a most discreet man, as he was assured,—who, for +a consideration, undertook the management of interesting jobs of this +kind. The man was one Bozzle, who had not lived without a certain +reputation in the police courts. In these days of his madness, +therefore, he took Mr. Bozzle into his pay; and after a while he got +a letter from Bozzle with the Exeter post-mark. Colonel Osborne had +left London with a ticket for Lessboro'. Bozzle also had taken a +place by the same train for that small town. The letter was written +in the railway carriage, and, as Bozzle explained, would be posted by +him as he passed through Exeter. A further communication should be +made by the next day's post, in a letter which Mr. Bozzle proposed to +address to Z. A., Post-office, Waterloo Place.</p> + +<p>On receiving this first letter, Trevelyan was in an agony of doubt, +as well as misery. What should he do? Should he go to Lady +Milborough, or to Stanbury; or should he at once follow Colonel +Osborne and Mr. Bozzle to Lessboro'? It ended in his resolving at +last to wait for the letter which was to be addressed to Z. A. But he +spent an interval of horrible suspense, and of insane rage. Let the +laws say what they might, he would have the man's blood, if he found +that the man had even attempted to wrong him. Then, at last, the +second letter reached him. Colonel Osborne and Mr. Bozzle had each of +them spent the day in the neighbourhood of Lessboro', not exactly in +each other's company, but very near to each other. "The Colonel" had +ordered a gig, on the day after his arrival at Lessboro', for the +village of Cockchaffington; and, for all Mr. Bozzle knew, the Colonel +had gone to Cockchaffington. Mr. Bozzle was ultimately inclined to +think that the Colonel had really spent his day in going to +Cockchaffington. Mr. Bozzle himself, knowing the wiles of such men as +Colonel Osborne, and thinking at first that that journey to +Cockchaffington might only be a deep ruse, had walked over to +Nuncombe Putney. There he had had a pint of beer and some bread and +cheese at Mrs. Crocket's house, and had asked various questions, to +which he did not receive very satisfactory answers. But he inspected +the Clock House very minutely, and came to a decided opinion as to +the point at which it would be attacked, if burglary were the object +of the assailants. And he observed the iron gates, and the steps, and +the shape of the trees, and the old pigeon-house-looking fabric in +which the clock used to be placed. There was no knowing when +information might be wanted, or what information might not be of use. +But he made himself tolerably sure that Colonel Osborne did not visit +Nuncombe Putney on that day; and then he walked back to Lessboro'. +Having done this, he applied himself to the little memorandum book in +which he kept the records of these interesting duties, and entered a +claim against his employer for a conveyance to Nuncombe Putney and +back, including driver and ostler; and then he wrote his letter. +After that he had a hot supper, with three glasses of brandy and +water, and went to bed with a thorough conviction that he had earned +his bread on that day.</p> + +<p>The letter to Z. A. did not give all these particulars, but it did +explain that Colonel Osborne had gone off, apparently, to +Cockchaffington, and that he,—Bozzle,—had himself visited Nuncombe +Putney. "The hawk hasn't been nigh the dovecot as yet," said Mr. +Bozzle in his letter, meaning to be both mysterious and facetious.</p> + +<p>It would be difficult to say whether the wit or the mystery disgusted +Trevelyan the most. He had felt that he was defiling himself with +dirt when he first went to Mr. Bozzle. He knew that he was having +recourse to means that were base and low,—which could not be other +than base or low, let the circumstances be what they might. But Mr. +Bozzle's conversation had not been quite so bad as Mr. Bozzle's +letters; as it may have been that Mr. Bozzle's successful activity +was more insupportable than his futile attempts. But, nevertheless, +something must be done. It could not be that Colonel Osborne should +have gone down to the close neighbourhood of Nuncombe Putney without +the intention of seeing the lady whom his obtrusive pertinacity had +driven to that seclusion. It was terrible to Trevelyan that Colonel +Osborne should be there, and not the less terrible because such a one +as Mr. Bozzle was watching the Colonel on his behalf. Should he go to +Nuncombe Putney himself? And if so, when he got to Nuncombe Putney +what should he do there? At last, in his suspense and his grief, he +resolved that he would tell the whole to Hugh Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean," said Hugh, "that you have put a policeman on his +track?"</p> + +<p>"The man was a policeman once."</p> + +<p>"What we call a private detective. I can't say I think you were +right."</p> + +<p>"But you see that it was necessary," said Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"I can't say that it was necessary. To speak out, I can't understand +that a wife should be worth watching who requires watching."</p> + +<p>"Is a man to do nothing then? And even now it is not my wife whom I +doubt."</p> + +<p>"As for Colonel Osborne, if he chooses to go to Lessboro', why +shouldn't he? Nothing that you can do, or that Bozzle can do, can +prevent him. He has a perfect right to go to Lessboro'."</p> + +<p>"But he has not a right to go to my wife."</p> + +<p>"And if your wife refuses to see him; or having seen him,—for a man +may force his way in anywhere with a little trouble,—if she sends +him away with a flea in his ear, as I believe she +<span class="nowrap">would—"</span></p> + +<p>"She is so frightfully indiscreet."</p> + +<p>"I don't see what Bozzle can do."</p> + +<p>"He has found out at any rate that Osborne is there," said Trevelyan. +"I am not more fond of dealing with such fellows than you are +yourself. But I think it is my duty to know what is going on. What +ought I to do now?"</p> + +<p>"I should do nothing,—except dismiss Bozzle."</p> + +<p>"You know that that is nonsense, Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"Whatever I did I should dismiss Bozzle." Stanbury was now quite in +earnest, and, as he repeated his suggestion for the dismissal of the +policeman, pushed his writing things away from him. "If you ask my +opinion, you know, I must tell you what I think. I should get rid of +Bozzle as a beginning. If you will only think of it, how can your +wife come back to you if she learns that you have set a detective to +watch her?"</p> + +<p>"But I haven't set the man to watch her."</p> + +<p>"Colonel Osborne is nothing to you, except as he is concerned with +her. This man is now down in her neighbourhood; and, if she learns +that, how can she help feeling it as a deep insult? Of course the man +watches her as a cat watches a mouse."</p> + +<p>"But what am I to do? I can't write to the man and tell him to come +away. Osborne is down there, and I must do something. Will you go +down to Nuncombe Putney yourself, and let me know the truth?"</p> + +<p>After much debating of the subject, Hugh Stanbury said that he would +himself go down to Nuncombe Putney alone. There were difficulties +about the D. R.; but he would go to the office of the newspaper and +overcome them. How far the presence of Nora Rowley at his mother's +house may have assisted in bringing him to undertake the journey, +perhaps need not be accurately stated. He acknowledged to himself +that the claims of friendship were strong upon him; and that as he +had loudly disapproved of the Bozzle arrangement, he ought to lend a +hand to some other scheme of action. Moreover, having professed his +conviction that no improper visiting could possibly take place under +his mother's roof, he felt bound to shew that he was not afraid to +trust to that conviction himself. He declared that he would be ready +to proceed to Nuncombe Putney to-morrow;—but only on condition that +he might have plenary power to dismiss Bozzle.</p> + +<p>"There can be no reason why you should take any notice of the man," +said Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"How can I help noticing him when I find him prowling about the +place? Of course I shall know who he is."</p> + +<p>"I don't see that you need know anything about him."</p> + +<p>"My dear Trevelyan, you cannot have two ambassadors engaged in the +same service without communication with each other. And any +communication with Mr. Bozzle, except that of sending him back to +London, I will not have." The controversy was ended by the writing of +a letter from Trevelyan to Bozzle, which was confided to Stanbury, in +which the ex-policeman was thanked for his activity and requested to +return to London for the present. "As we are now aware that Colonel +Osborne is in the neighbourhood," said the letter, "my friend Mr. +Stanbury will know what to do."</p> + +<p>As soon as this was settled, Stanbury went to the office of the D. R. +and made arrangement as to his work for three days. Jones could do +the article on the Irish Church upon a pinch like this, although he +had not given much study to the subject as yet; and Puddlethwaite, +who was great in City matters, would try his hand on the present +state of society in Rome, a subject on which it was essential that +the D. R. should express itself at once. Having settled these little +troubles Stanbury returned to his friend, and in the evening they +dined together at a tavern.</p> + +<p>"And now, Trevelyan, let me know fairly what it is that you wish," +said Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"I wish to have my wife back again."</p> + +<p>"Simply that. If she will agree to come back, you will make no +difficulty."</p> + +<p>"No; not quite simply that. I shall desire that she shall be guided +by my wishes as to any intimacies she may form."</p> + +<p>"That is all very well; but is she to give any undertaking? Do you +intend to exact any promise from her? It is my opinion that she will +be willing enough to come back, and that when she is with you there +will be no further cause for quarrelling. But I don't think she will +bind herself by any exacted promise; and certainly not through a +third person."</p> + +<p>"Then say nothing about it. Let her write a letter to me proposing to +come,—and she shall come."</p> + +<p>"Very well. So far I understand. And now what about Colonel Osborne? +You don't want me to quarrel with him I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"I should like to keep that for myself," said Trevelyan, grimly.</p> + +<p>"If you will take my advice you will not trouble yourself about him," +said Stanbury. "But as far as I am concerned, I am not to meddle or +make with him? Of course," continued Stanbury, after a pause, "if I +find that he is intruding himself in my mother's house, I shall tell +him that he must not come there."</p> + +<p>"But if you find him installed in your mother's house as a +visitor,—how then?"</p> + +<p>"I do not regard that as possible."</p> + +<p>"I don't mean living there," said Trevelyan, "but coming backwards +and forwards;—going on in habits of intimacy with,—with—?" His +voice trembled so as he asked these questions, that he could not +pronounce the word which was to complete them.</p> + +<p>"With Mrs. Trevelyan, you mean."</p> + +<p>"Yes; with my wife. I don't say that it is so; but it may be so. You +will be bound to tell me the truth."</p> + +<p>"I will certainly tell you the truth."</p> + +<p>"And the whole truth."</p> + +<p>"Yes; the whole truth."</p> + +<p>"Should it be so I will never see her again,—never. And as for +him;—but never mind." Then there was another short period of +silence, during which Stanbury smoked his pipe and sipped his whisky +toddy. "You must see," continued Trevelyan, "that it is absolutely +necessary that I should do something. It is all very well for you to +say that you do not like detectives. Neither do I like them. But what +was I to do? When you condemn me you hardly realise the difficulties +of my position."</p> + +<p>"It is the deuce of a nuisance certainly," said Stanbury, through the +cloud of smoke,—thinking now not at all of Mrs. Trevelyan, but of +Mrs. Trevelyan's sister.</p> + +<p>"It makes a man almost feel that he had better not marry at all," +said Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"I don't see that. Of course there may come troubles. The tiles may +fall on your head, you know, as you walk through the streets. As far +as I can see, women go straight enough nineteen times out of twenty. +But they don't like being,—what I call looked after."</p> + +<p>"And did I look after my wife more than I ought?"</p> + +<p>"I don't mean that; but if I were married,—which I never shall be, +for I shall never attain to the respectability of a fixed income,—I +fancy I shouldn't look after my wife at all. It seems to me that +women hate to be told about their duties."</p> + +<p>"But if you saw your wife, quite innocently, falling into an improper +intimacy,—taking up with people she ought not to know,—doing that +in ignorance, which could not but compromise yourself;—wouldn't you +speak a word then?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! I might just say, in an off-hand way, that Jones was a rascal, +or a liar, or a fool, or anything of that sort. But I would never +caution her against Jones. By George, I believe a woman can stand +anything better than that."</p> + +<p>"You have never tried it, my friend."</p> + +<p>"And I don't suppose I ever shall. As for me, I believe Aunt Stanbury +was right when she said that I was a radical vagabond. I dare say I +shall never try the thing myself, and therefore it's very easy to +have a theory. But I must be off. Good night, old fellow. I'll do the +best I can; and, at any rate, I'll let you know the truth."</p> + +<p>There had been a question during the day as to whether Stanbury +should let his sister know by letter that he was expected; but it had +been decided that he should appear at Nuncombe without any previous +notification of his arrival. Trevelyan had thought that this was very +necessary, and when Stanbury had urged that such a measure seemed to +imply suspicion, he had declared that in no other way could the truth +be obtained. He, Trevelyan, simply wanted to know the facts as they +were occurring. It was a fact that Colonel Osborne was down in the +neighbourhood of Nuncombe Putney. That, at least, had been +ascertained. It might very possibly be the case that he would be +refused admittance to the Clock House,—that all the ladies there +would combine to keep him out. But,—so Trevelyan urged,—the truth +on this point was desired. It was essentially necessary to his +happiness that he should know what was being done.</p> + +<p>"Your mother and sister," said he, "cannot be afraid of your coming +suddenly among them."</p> + +<p>Stanbury, so urged, had found it necessary to yield, but yet he had +felt that he himself was almost acting like a detective policeman, in +purposely falling down upon them without a word of announcement. Had +chance circumstances made it necessary that he should go in such a +manner he would have thought nothing of it. It would simply have been +a pleasant joke to him.</p> + +<p>As he went down by the train on the following day, he almost felt +ashamed of the part which he had been called upon to perform.</p> + + +<p><a name="c20" id="c20"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XX.</h3> +<h4>SHEWING HOW COLONEL OSBORNE<br />WENT TO COCKCHAFFINGTON.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Together with Miss Stanbury's first letter to her sister-in-law a +letter had also been delivered to Mrs. Trevelyan. Nora Rowley, as her +sister had left the room with this in her hand, had expressed her +opinion that it had come from Trevelyan; but it had in truth been +written by Colonel Osborne. And when that second letter from Miss +Stanbury had been received at the Clock House,—that in which she in +plain terms begged pardon for the accusation conveyed in her first +letter,—Colonel Osborne had started on his deceitful little journey +to Cockchaffington, and Mr. Bozzle, the ex-policeman who had him in +hand, had already asked his way to Nuncombe Putney.</p> + +<p>When Colonel Osborne learned that Louis Trevelyan had broken up his +establishment in Curzon Street, and had sent his wife away into a +barbarous retirement in Dartmoor,—for such was the nature of the +information on the subject which was spread among Trevelyan's friends +in London;—and when he was made aware also that all this was done on +his account,—because he was so closely intimate with Trevelyan's +wife, and because Trevelyan's wife was, and persisted in continuing +to be, so closely intimate with him,—his vanity was gratified. +Although it might be true,—and no doubt was true,—that he said much +to his friends and to himself of the deep sorrow which he felt that +such a trouble should befall his old friend and his old friend's +daughter; nevertheless, as he curled his grey whiskers before the +glass, and made the most of such remnant of hair as was left on the +top of his head, as he looked to the padding of his coat, and +completed a study of the wrinkles beneath his eyes, so that in +conversation they might be as little apparent as possible, he felt +more of pleasure than of pain in regard to the whole affair. It was +very sad that it should be so, but it was human. Had it been in his +power to set the whole matter right by a word, he would probably have +spoken that word; but as this was not possible, as Trevelyan had in +his opinion made a gross fool of himself, as Emily Trevelyan was very +nice, and not the less nice in that she certainly was fond of +himself, as great tyranny had been used towards her, and as he +himself had still the plea of old family friendship to protect his +conscience,—to protect his conscience unless he went so far as to +make that plea an additional sting to his conscience,—he thought +that, as a man, he must follow up the matter. Here was a young, and +fashionable, and very pretty woman banished to the wilds of Dartmoor +for his sake. And, as far as he could understand, she would not have +been so banished had she consented to say that she would give up her +acquaintance with him. In such circumstances as these was it possible +that he should do nothing? Various ideas ran through his head. He +began to think that if Trevelyan were out of the way, he +might,—might perhaps be almost tempted to make this woman his wife. +She was so nice that he almost thought that he might be rash enough +for that, although he knew well the satisfaction of being a bachelor; +but as the thought suggested itself to him, he was well aware that he +was thinking of a thing quite distant from him. The reader is not to +suppose that Colonel Osborne meditated any making-away with the +husband. Our Colonel was certainly not the man for a murder. Nor did +he even think of running away with his friend's daughter. Though he +told himself that he could dispose of his wrinkles satisfactorily, +still he knew himself and his powers sufficiently to be aware that he +was no longer fit to be the hero of such a romance as that. He +acknowledged to himself that there was much labour to be gone through +in running away with another man's wife; and that the results, in +respect to personal comfort, are not always happy. But what if Mrs. +Trevelyan were to divorce herself from her husband on the score of +her husband's cruelty? Various horrors were related as to the man's +treatment of his wife. By some it was said that she was in the prison +on Dartmoor,—or, if not actually in the prison, an arrangement which +the prison discipline might perhaps make difficult,—that she was in +the custody of one of the prison warders who possessed a prim cottage +and a grim wife, just outside the prison walls. Colonel Osborne did +not himself believe even so much as this, but he did believe that +Mrs. Trevelyan had been banished to some inhospitable region, to some +dreary comfortless abode, of which, as the wife of a man of fortune, +she would have great ground to complain. So thinking, he did not +probably declare to himself that a divorce should be obtained, and +that, in such event, he would marry the lady,—but ideas came across +his mind in that direction. Trevelyan was a cruel Bluebeard; +Emily,—as he was studious to call Mrs. Trevelyan,—was a dear +injured saint. And as for himself, though he acknowledged to himself +that the lumbago pinched him now and again, so that he could not rise +from his chair with all the alacrity of youth, yet, when he walked +along Pall Mall with his coat properly buttoned, he could not but +observe that a great many young women looked at him with admiring +eyes.</p> + +<p>It was thus with no settled scheme that the Colonel went to work, and +made inquiries, and ascertained Mrs. Trevelyan's address in +Devonshire. When he learned it, he thought that he had done much; +though, in truth, there had been no secrecy in the matter. Scores of +people knew Mrs. Trevelyan's address besides the newsvendor who +supplied her paper, from whose boy Colonel Osborne's servant obtained +the information. But when the information had been obtained, it was +expedient that it should be used; and therefore Colonel Osborne wrote +the following <span class="nowrap">letter:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">Acrobats Club, July 31, 186—.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear +Emily</span>,<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>Twice the Colonel wrote Dearest Emily, and twice he tore the sheet on +which the words were written. He longed to be ardent, but still it +was so necessary to be prudent! He was not quite sure of the lady. +Women sometimes tell their husbands, even when they have quarrelled +with them. And, although ardent expressions in writing to pretty +women are pleasant to male writers, it is not pleasant for a +gentleman to be asked what on earth he means by that sort of thing at +his time of life. The Colonel gave half an hour to the consideration, +and then began the letter, Dear Emily. If prudence be the soul of +valour, may it not be considered also the very mainspring, or, +perhaps, the pivot of love?<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear Emily</span>,</p> + +<p>I need hardly tell you with what dismay I have heard of +all that has taken place in Curzon Street. I fear that you +must have suffered much, and that you are suffering now. +It is an inexpressible relief to me to hear that you have +your child with you, and Nora. But, nevertheless, to have +your home taken away from you, to be sent out of London, +to be banished from all society! And for what? The manner +in which the minds of some men work is quite +incomprehensible.</p> + +<p>As for myself, I feel that I have lost the company of a +friend, whom indeed I can very ill spare. I have a +thousand things to say to you, and among them one or two +which I feel that I must say,—that I ought to say. As it +happens, an old schoolfellow of mine is Vicar of +Cockchaffington, a village which I find by the map is very +near to Nuncombe Putney. I saw him in town last spring, +and he then asked me to pay him a visit. There is +something in his church which people go to see, and though +I don't understand churches much, I shall go and see it. I +shall run down on Wednesday, and shall sleep at the inn at +Lessboro'. I see that Lessboro' is a market town, and I +suppose there is an inn. I shall go over to my friend on +the Thursday, but shall return to Lessboro'. Though a man +be ever so eager to see a church door-way, he need not +sleep at the parsonage. On the following day, I will get +over to Nuncombe Putney, and I hope that you will see me. +Considering my long friendship with you, and my great +attachment to your father and mother, I do not think that +the strictest martinet would tell you that you need +hesitate in the matter.</p> + +<p>I have seen Mr. Trevelyan twice at the club, but he has +not spoken to me. Under such circumstances I could not of +course speak to him. Indeed, I may say that my feelings +towards him just at present are of such a nature as to +preclude me from doing so with any appearance of +cordiality.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="ind2">Dear Emily,</span><br /> +<span class="ind4">Believe me now, as always, +your affectionate friend,</span></p> + +<p class="ind12"><span class="smallcaps">Frederic Osborne</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>When he read that letter over to himself a second time he felt quite +sure that he had not committed himself. Even if his friend were to +send the letter to her husband, it could not do him any harm. He was +aware that he might have dilated more on the old friendship between +himself and Sir Marmaduke, but he experienced a certain distaste to +the mention of things appertaining to years long past. It did not +quite suit him in his present frame of mind to speak of his regard in +those quasi-paternal terms which he would have used had it satisfied +him to represent himself simply as her father's friend. His language +therefore had been a little doubtful, so that the lady might, if she +were so minded, look upon him in that tender light in which her +husband had certainly chosen to regard him.</p> + +<p>When the letter was handed to Mrs. Trevelyan, she at once took it +with her up to her own room, so that she might be alone when she read +it. The handwriting was quite familiar to her, and she did not choose +that even her sister should see it. She had told herself twenty times +over that, while living at Nuncombe Putney, she was not living under +the guardianship of Mrs. Stanbury. She would consent to live under +the guardianship of no one, as her husband did not choose to remain +with her and protect her. She had done no wrong, and she would submit +to no other authority, than that of her legal lord and master. Nor, +according to her views of her own position, was it in his power to +depute that authority to others. He had caused the separation, and +now she must be the sole judge of her own actions. In itself, a +correspondence between her and her father's old friend was in no +degree criminal or even faulty. There was no reason, moral, social, +or religious, why an old man, over fifty, who had known her all her +life, should not write to her. But yet she could not say aloud before +Mrs. Stanbury, and Priscilla, and her sister, that she had received a +letter from Colonel Osborne. She felt that the colour had come to her +cheek, and that she could not even walk out of the room as though the +letter had been a matter of indifference to her.</p> + +<p>And would it have been a matter of indifference had there been nobody +there to see her? Mrs. Trevelyan was certainly not in love with +Colonel Osborne. She was not more so now than she had been when her +father's friend, purposely dressed for the occasion, had kissed her +in the vestry of the church in which she was married, and had given +her a blessing, which was then intended to be semi-paternal,—as from +an old man to a young woman. She was not in love with him,—never +would be, never could be in love with him. Reader, you may believe in +her so far as that. But where is the woman, who, when she is +neglected, thrown over, and suspected by the man that she loves, will +not feel the desire of some sympathy, some solicitude, some show of +regard from another man? This woman's life, too, had not hitherto +been of such a nature that the tranquillity of the Clock House at +Nuncombe Putney afforded to her all that she desired. She had been +there now a month, and was almost sick from the want of excitement. +And she was full of wrath against her husband. Why had he sent her +there to break her heart in a disgraceful retirement, when she had +never wronged him? From morning to night she had no employment, no +amusement, nothing to satisfy her cravings. Why was she to be doomed +to such an existence? She had declared that as long as she could have +her boy with her, she would be happy. She was allowed to have her +boy; but she was anything but happy. When she received Colonel +Osborne's letter,—while she held it in her hand still unopened, she +never for a moment thought that that could make her happy. But there +was in it something of excitement. And she painted the man to herself +in brighter colours now than she had ever given to him in her former +portraits. He cared for her. He was gracious to her. He appreciated +her talents, her beauty, and her conduct. He knew that she deserved a +treatment very different from that accorded to her by her husband. +Why should she reject the sympathy of her father's oldest friend, +because her husband was madly jealous about an old man? Her husband +had chosen to send her away, and to leave her, so that she must act +on her own judgment. Acting on her own judgment, she read Colonel +Osborne's letter from first to last. She knew that he was wrong to +speak of coming to Nuncombe Putney; but yet she thought that she +would see him. She had a dim perception that she was standing on the +edge of a precipice, on broken ground which might fall under her +without a moment's warning, and yet she would not retreat from the +danger. Though Colonel Osborne was wrong, very wrong in coming to see +her, yet she liked him for coming. Though she would be half afraid to +tell her news to Mrs. Stanbury, and more than half afraid to tell +Priscilla, yet she liked the excitement of the fear. Nora would scold +her; but Nora's scolding she thought she could answer. And then it +was not the fact that Colonel Osborne was coming down to Devonshire +to see her. He was coming as far as Lessboro' to see his friend at +Cockchaffington. And when at Lessboro', was it likely that he should +leave the neighbourhood without seeing the daughter of his old ally? +And why should he do so? Was he to be unnatural in his conduct, +uncivil and unfriendly, because Mr. Trevelyan had been foolish, +suspicious, and insane?</p> + +<p>So arguing with herself, she answered Colonel Osborne's letter before +she had spoken on the subject to any one in the house,—and this was +her <span class="nowrap">answer:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My dear +Colonel Osborne</span>,</p> + +<p>I must leave it to your own judgment to decide whether you +will come to Nuncombe Putney or not. There are reasons +which would seem to make it expedient that you should stay +away,—even though circumstances are bringing you into the +immediate neighbourhood. But of these reasons I will leave +you to be the judge. I will never let it be said that I +myself have had cause to dread the visit of any old +friend. Nevertheless, if you stay away, I shall understand +why you do so.</p> + +<p>Personally, I shall be glad to see you,—as I have always +been. It seems odd to me that I cannot write in warmer +tones to my father's and mother's oldest friend. Of +course, you will understand that though I shall readily +see you if you call, I cannot ask you to stay. In the +first place, I am not now living in my own house. I am +staying with Mrs. Stanbury, and the place is called the +Clock House.</p> + +<p class="ind8">Yours very sincerely,</p> + +<p class="ind12"><span class="smallcaps">Emily Trevelyan</span>.</p> + +<p class="noindent">The Clock House, Nuncombe Putney, Monday.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>Soon after she had written it, Nora came into her room, and at once +asked concerning the letter which she had seen delivered to her +sister that morning.</p> + +<p>"It was from Colonel Osborne," said Mrs. Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"From Colonel Osborne! How very wrong!"</p> + +<p>"I don't see that it is wrong at all. Because Louis is foolish and +mad, that cannot make another man wrong for doing the most ordinary +thing in the world."</p> + +<p>"I had hoped it had been from Louis," said Nora.</p> + +<p>"Oh dear, no. He is by no means so considerate. I do not suppose I +shall hear from him, till he chooses to give some fresh order about +myself or my child. He will hardly trouble himself to write to me, +unless he takes up some new freak to show me that he is my master."</p> + +<p>"And what does Colonel Osborne say?"</p> + +<p>"He is coming here."</p> + +<p>"Coming here?" almost shouted Nora.</p> + +<p>"Yes; absolutely here. Does it sound to you as if Lucifer himself +were about to show his face? The fact is, he happens to have a friend +in the neighbourhood whom he has long promised to visit; and as he +must be at Lessboro', he does not choose to go away without the +compliment of a call. It will be as much to you as to me."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to see him in the least," said Nora.</p> + +<p>"There is his letter. As you seem to be so suspicious, you had better +read it."</p> + +<p>Then Nora read it.</p> + +<p>"And there is a copy of my answer," said Mrs. Trevelyan. "I shall +keep both, because I know so well what ill-natured things people will +say."</p> + +<p>"Dear Emily, do not send it," said Nora.</p> + +<p>"Indeed I shall. I will not be frightened by bugbears. And I will not +be driven to confess to any man on earth that I am afraid to see him. +Why should I be afraid of Colonel Osborne? I will not submit to +acknowledge that there can be any danger in Colonel Osborne. Were I +to do so I should be repeating the insult against myself. If my +husband wished to guide me in such matters, why did he not stay with +me?"</p> + +<p>Then she went out into the village and posted the letter. Nora +meanwhile was thinking whether she would call in the assistance of +Priscilla Stanbury; but she did not like to take any such a step in +opposition to her sister.</p> + + +<p><a name="c21" id="c21"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXI.</h3> +<h4>SHEWING HOW COLONEL OSBORNE<br />WENT TO NUNCOMBE PUTNEY.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Colonel Osborne was expected at Nuncombe Putney on the Friday, and it +was Thursday evening before either Mrs. Stanbury or Priscilla was +told of his coming. Emily had argued the matter with Nora, declaring +that she would make the communication herself, and that she would +make it when she pleased and how she pleased. "If Mrs. Stanbury +thinks," said she, "that I am going to be treated as a prisoner, or +that I will not judge myself as to whom I may see, or whom I may not +see, she is very much mistaken." Nora felt that were she to give +information to those ladies in opposition to her sister's wishes, she +would express suspicion on her own part by doing so; and she was +silent. On that same Thursday Priscilla had written her last defiant +letter to her aunt,—that letter in which she had cautioned her aunt +to make no further accusations without being sure of her facts. To +Priscilla's imagination that coming of Lucifer in person, of which +Mrs. Trevelyan had spoken, would hardly have been worse than the +coming of Colonel Osborne. When, therefore, Mrs. Trevelyan declared +the fact on the Thursday evening, vainly endeavouring to speak of the +threatened visit in an ordinary voice, and as of an ordinary +circumstance, it was as though a thunderbolt had fallen upon them.</p> + +<p>"Colonel Osborne coming here!" said Priscilla, mindful of the +Stanbury correspondence,—mindful of the evil tongues of the world.</p> + +<p>"And why not?" demanded Mrs. Trevelyan, who had heard nothing of the +Stanbury correspondence.</p> + +<p>"Oh dear, oh dear!" ejaculated Mrs. Stanbury, who, of course, was +aware of all that had passed between the Clock House and the house in +the Close, though the letters had been written by her daughter.</p> + +<p>Nora was determined to stand up for her sister, whatever might be the +circumstances of the case. "I wish Colonel Osborne were not coming," +said she, "because it makes a foolish fuss; but I cannot understand +how anybody can suppose it to be wrong that Emily should see papa's +very oldest friend in the world."</p> + +<p>"But why is he coming?" demanded Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"Because he wants to see an acquaintance at Cockchaffington," said +Mrs. Trevelyan; "and there is a wonderful church-door there."</p> + +<p>"A church-fiddlestick!" said Priscilla.</p> + +<p>The matter was debated throughout all the evening. At one time there +was a great quarrel between the ladies, and then there was a +reconciliation. The point on which Mrs. Trevelyan stood with the +greatest firmness was this,—that it did not become her, as a married +woman whose conduct had always been good and who was more careful as +to that than she was even of her name, to be ashamed to meet any man. +"Why should I not see Colonel Osborne, or Colonel anybody else who +might call here with the same justification for calling which his old +friendship gives him?" Priscilla endeavoured to explain to her that +her husband's known wishes ought to hinder her from doing so. "My +husband should have remained with me to express his wishes," Mrs. +Trevelyan replied.</p> + +<p>Neither could Mrs. Stanbury nor could Priscilla bring herself to say +that the man should not be admitted into the house. In the course of +the debate, in the heat of her anger, Mrs. Trevelyan declared that +were any such threat held out to her, she would leave the house and +see Colonel Osborne in the street, or at the inn.</p> + +<p>"No, Emily; no," said Nora.</p> + +<p>"But I will. I will not submit to be treated as a guilty woman, or as +a prisoner. They may say what they like; but I won't be shut up."</p> + +<p>"No one has tried to shut you up," said Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"You are afraid of that old woman at Exeter," said Mrs. Trevelyan; +for by this time the facts of the Stanbury correspondence had all +been elicited in general conversation; "and yet you know how +uncharitable and malicious she is."</p> + +<p>"We are not afraid of her," said Priscilla. "We are afraid of nothing +but of doing wrong."</p> + +<p>"And will it be wrong to let an old gentleman come into the house," +said Nora, "who is nearly sixty, and who has known us ever since we +were born?"</p> + +<p>"If he is nearly sixty, Priscilla," said Mrs. Stanbury, "that does +seem to make a difference." Mrs. Stanbury herself was only just +sixty, and she felt herself to be quite an old woman.</p> + +<p>"They may be devils at eighty," said Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"Colonel Osborne is not a devil at all," said Nora.</p> + +<p>"But mamma is so foolish," said Priscilla. "The man's age does not +matter in the least."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, my dear," said Mrs. Stanbury, very humbly.</p> + +<p>At that time the quarrel was raging, but afterwards came the +reconciliation. Had it not been for the Stanbury correspondence the +fact of Colonel Osborne's threatened visit would have been admitted +as a thing necessary—as a disagreeable necessity; but how was the +visit to be admitted and passed over in the teeth of that +correspondence? Priscilla felt very keenly the peculiar cruelty of +her position. Of course Aunt Stanbury would hear of the visit. +Indeed, any secrecy in the matter was not compatible with Priscilla's +ideas of honesty. Her aunt had apologised humbly for having said that +Colonel Osborne had been at Nuncombe. That apology, doubtless, had +been due. Colonel Osborne had not been at Nuncombe when the +accusation had been made, and the accusation had been unjust and +false. But his coming had been spoken of by Priscilla in her own +letters as an occurrence which was quite out of the question. Her +anger against her aunt had been for saying that the man had come, not +for objecting to such a visit. And now the man was coming, and Aunt +Stanbury would know all about it. How great, how terrible, how +crushing would be Aunt Stanbury's triumph!</p> + +<p>"I must write and tell her," said Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"I am sure I shall not object," said Mrs. Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"And Hugh must be told," said Mrs. Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"You may tell all the world, if you like," said Mrs. Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>In this way it was settled among them that Colonel Osborne was to be +received. On the next morning, Friday morning, Colonel Osborne, +doubtless having heard something of Mrs. Crocket from his friend at +Cockchaffington, was up early, and had himself driven over to +Nuncombe Putney before breakfast. The ever-watchful Bozzle was, of +course, at his heels,—or rather, not at his heels on the first two +miles of the journey; for Bozzle, with painful zeal, had made himself +aware of all the facts, and had started on the Nuncombe Putney road +half an hour before the Colonel's fly was in motion. And when the fly +passed him he was lying discreetly hidden behind an old oak. The +driver, however, had caught a glimpse of him as he was topping a +hill, and having seen him about on the previous day, and perceiving +that he was dressed in a decent coat and trousers, and that, +nevertheless, he was not a gentleman, began to suspect that he +was—somebody. There was a great deal said afterwards about Bozzle in +Mrs. Clegg's yard at Lessboro'; but the Lessboro' mind was never able +to satisfy itself altogether respecting Bozzle and his mission. As to +Colonel Osborne and his mission, the Lessboro' mind did satisfy +itself with much certainty. The horse was hardly taken from out of +Colonel Osborne's fly in Mrs. Crocket's yard when Bozzle stepped into +the village by a path which he had already discovered, and soon +busied himself among the tombs in the churchyard. Now, one corner of +the churchyard was immediately opposite to the iron gate leading into +the Clock House. "Drat 'un," said the wooden-legged postman, still +sitting on his donkey, to Mrs. Crocket's ostler, "if there be'ant the +chap as was here yesterday when I was a starting, and I zeed 'un in +Lezbro' street thick very morning." "He be'ant arter no good, that +'un," said the ostler. After that a close watch was kept upon the +watcher.</p> + + +<div class="center"><a name="ip1-167" id="ip1-167"></a> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="4px"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/p1-167.jpg"> + <img src="images/p1-167-t.jpg" width="540" + alt="The wooden-legged postman of Nuncombe Putney." /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <span class="caption">The wooden-legged postman + of Nuncombe Putney.<br /> + Click to <a href="images/p1-167.jpg">ENLARGE</a></span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p>In the meantime, Colonel Osborne had ordered his breakfast at the +Stag and Antlers, and had asked questions as to the position of the +Clock House. He was altogether ignorant of Mr. Bozzle, although Mr. +Bozzle had been on his track now for two days and two nights. He had +determined, as he came on to Nuncombe Putney, that he would not be +shame-faced about his visit to Mrs. Trevelyan. It is possible that he +was not so keen in the matter as he had been when he planned his +journey in London; and, it may be, that he really tried to make +himself believe that he had come all the way to the confines of +Dartmoor to see the porch of Cockchaffington Church. The session in +London was over, and it was necessary for such a man as Colonel +Osborne that he should do something with himself before he went down +to the Scotch grouse. He had long desired to see something of the +most picturesque county in England; and now, as he sat eating his +breakfast in Mrs. Crocket's parlour, he almost looked upon his dear +Emily as a subsidiary attraction. "Oh, that's the Clock House," he +said to Mrs. Crocket. "No, I have not the pleasure of knowing Mrs. +Stanbury; very respectable lady, so I have heard; widow of a +clergyman; ah, yes; son up in London; I know him;—always writing +books is he? Very clever, I dare say. But there's a lady,—indeed two +ladies,—whom I do know. Mrs. Trevelyan is there, I think,—and Miss +Rowley."</p> + +<p>"You be'ant Muster Trevelyan, be you?" said Mrs. Crocket, looking at +him very hard.</p> + +<p>"No, I'm not Mr. Trevelyan."</p> + +<p>"Nor yet 'the Colonel' they doo be talking about?"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes, I am a colonel. I don't know why anybody should talk +about me. I'll just step out now, however, and see my friends."</p> + +<p>"It's madam's lover," said Mrs. Crocket to herself, "as sure as eggs +is eggs." As she said so, Colonel Osborne boldly walked across the +village and pulled the bell at the iron gate, while Bozzle, crouching +among the tombs, saw the handle in his hand. "There he is," said +Priscilla. Everybody in the Clock House had known that the fly, which +they had seen, had brought "the Colonel" into Nuncombe Putney. +Everybody had known that he had breakfasted at the Stag and Antlers. +And everybody now knew that he was at the gate ringing the bell. +"Into the drawing-room," said Mrs. Stanbury, with a fearful, +tremulous whisper, to the girl who went across the little garden in +front to open the iron gate. The girl felt as though Apollyon were +there, and as though she were called upon to admit Apollyon. Mrs. +Stanbury having uttered her whisper, hurried away up-stairs. +Priscilla held her ground in the parlour, determined to be near the +scene of action if there might be need. And it must be acknowledged +that she peeped from behind the curtain, anxious to catch a glimpse +of the terrible man, whose coming to Nuncombe Putney she regarded as +so severe a misfortune.</p> + +<p>The plan of the campaign had all been arranged. Mrs. Trevelyan and +Nora together received Colonel Osborne in the drawing-room. It was +understood that Nora was to remain there during the whole visit. "It +is horrible to think that such a precaution should be necessary," +Mrs. Trevelyan had said, "but perhaps it may be best. There is no +knowing what the malice of people may not invent."</p> + +<p>"My dear girls," said the Colonel, "I am delighted to see you," and +he gave a hand to each.</p> + +<p>"We are not very cheerful here," said Mrs. Trevelyan, "as you may +imagine."</p> + +<p>"But the scenery is beautiful," said Nora, "and the people we are +living with are kind and nice."</p> + +<p>"I am very glad of that," said the Colonel. Then there was a pause, +and it seemed, for a moment or two, that none of them knew how to +begin a general conversation. Colonel Osborne was quite sure, by this +time, that he had come down to Devonshire with the express object of +seeing the door of the church at Cockchaffington, and Mrs. Trevelyan +was beginning to think that he certainly had not come to see her. +"Have you heard from your father since you have been here?" asked the +Colonel.</p> + +<p>Then there was an explanation about Sir Marmaduke and Lady Rowley. +Mr. Trevelyan's name was not mentioned; but Mrs. Trevelyan stated +that she had explained to her mother all the painful circumstances of +her present life. Sir Marmaduke, as Colonel Osborne was aware, was +expected to be in England in the spring, and Lady Rowley would, of +course, come with him. Nora thought that they might probably now come +before that time; but Mrs. Trevelyan declared that it was out of the +question that they should do so. She was sure that her father could +not leave the islands except when he did so in obedience to official +orders. The expense of doing so would be ruinous to him. And what +good would he do? In this way there was a great deal of family +conversation, in which Colonel Osborne was able to take a part; but +not a word was said about Mr. Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>Nor did "the Colonel" find an opportunity of expressing a spark of +that sentiment, for the purpose of expressing which he had made this +journey to Devonshire. It is not pleasant to make love in the +presence of a third person, even when that love is all fair and above +board; but it is quite impracticable to do so to a married lady, when +that married lady's sister is present. No more futile visit than this +of Colonel Osborne's to the Clock House was ever made. And yet, +though not a word was spoken to which Mr. Trevelyan himself could +have taken the slightest exception, the visit, futile as it was, +could not but do an enormous deal of harm. Mrs. Crocket had already +guessed that the fine gentleman down from London was the lover of the +married lady at the Clock House, who was separated from her husband. +The wooden-legged postman and the ostler were not long in connecting +the man among the tombstones with the visitor to the house. +Trevelyan, as we are aware, already knew that Colonel Osborne was in +the neighbourhood. And poor Priscilla Stanbury was now exposed to the +terrible necessity of owning the truth to her aunt. "The Colonel," +when he had sat an hour with his young friends, took his leave; and, +as he walked back to Mrs. Crocket's, and ordered that his fly might +be got ready for him, his mind was heavy with the disagreeable +feeling that he had made an ass of himself. The whole affair had been +a failure; and though he might be able to pass off the porch at +Cockchaffington among his friends, he could not but be aware himself +that he had spent his time, his trouble, and his money for nothing. +He became aware, as he returned to Lessboro', that had he intended to +make any pleasant use whatever of his position in reference to Mrs. +Trevelyan, the tone of his letter and his whole mode of proceeding +should have been less patriarchal. And he should have contrived a +meeting without the presence of Nora Rowley.</p> + +<p>As soon as he had left them, Mrs. Trevelyan went to her own room, and +Nora at once rejoined Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"Is he gone?" asked Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes;—he has gone."</p> + +<p>"What would I have given that he had never come!"</p> + +<p>"And yet," said Nora, "what harm has he done? I wish he had not come, +because, of course, people will talk! But nothing was more natural +than that he should come over to see us when he was so near us."</p> + +<p>"Nora!"</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"You don't believe all that? In the neighbourhood! I believe he came +on purpose to see your sister, and I think that it was a dastardly +and most ungentleman-like thing to do."</p> + +<p>"I am quite sure you are wrong, then,—altogether wrong," said Nora.</p> + +<p>"Very well. We must have our own opinions. I am glad you can be so +charitable. But he should not have come here,—to this house, even +though imperative business had brought him into the very village. But +men in their vanity never think of the injury they may do to a +woman's name. Now I must go and write to my aunt. I am not going to +have it said hereafter that I deceived her. And then I shall write to +Hugh. Oh dear; oh dear!"</p> + +<p>"I am afraid we are a great trouble to you."</p> + +<p>"I will not deceive you, because I like you. This is a great trouble +to me. I have meant to be so prudent, and with all my prudence I have +not been able to keep clear of rocks. And I have been so indignant +with Aunt Stanbury! Now I must go and eat humble-pie."</p> + +<p>Then she eat humble-pie,—after the following +<span class="nowrap">fashion:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear Aunt Stanbury</span>,</p> + +<p>After what has passed between us, I think it right to tell +you that Colonel Osborne has been at Nuncombe Putney, and +that he called at the Clock House this morning. We did not +see him. But Mrs. Trevelyan and Miss Rowley, together, did +see him. He remained here perhaps an hour.</p> + +<p>I should not have thought it necessary to mention this to +you, the matter being one in which you are not concerned, +were it not for our former correspondence. When I last +wrote, I had no idea that he was coming,—nor had mamma. +And when you first wrote, he was not even expected by Mrs. +Trevelyan. The man you wrote about was another +gentleman;—as I told you before. All this is most +disagreeable and tiresome;—and would be quite +nonsensical, but that circumstances seem to make it +necessary.</p> + +<p>As for Colonel Osborne, I wish he had not been here; but +his coming would do no harm,—only that it will be talked +about.</p> + +<p>I think you will understand how it is that I feel myself +constrained to write to you. I do hope that you will spare +mamma, who is disturbed and harassed when she gets angry +letters. If you have anything to say to myself, I don't +mind it.</p> + +<p class="ind8">Yours truly,</p> + +<p class="ind12"><span class="smallcaps">Priscilla +Stanbury</span>.</p> + +<p class="noindent">The Clock House, Friday, August 5.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>She wrote also to her brother Hugh; but Hugh himself reached Nuncombe +Putney before the letter reached him.</p> + +<p>Mr. Bozzle watched the Colonel out of the house, and watched him out +of the village. When the Colonel was fairly started, Mr. Bozzle +walked back to Lessboro'.</p> + + +<p><a name="c22" id="c22"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXII.</h3> +<h4>SHEWING HOW MISS STANBURY BEHAVED<br />TO HER TWO NIECES.<br /> </h4> + + +<p><img class="left" src="images/ch22a.jpg" width="310" alt="Illustration" /> +The triumph of Miss Stanbury when she received her niece's letter was +certainly very great,—so great that in its first flush she could not +restrain herself from exhibiting it to Dorothy. "Well,—well,—what +do you think, Dolly?"</p> + +<p>"About what, aunt? I don't know who the letter is from."</p> + +<p>"Nobody writes to me now so constant as your sister Priscilla. The +letter is from Priscilla. Colonel Osborne has been at the Clock +House, after all. I knew that he would be there. I knew it! I knew +it!"</p> + +<p>Dorothy, when she heard this, was dumbfounded. She had rested her +defence of her mother and sister on the impossibility of any such +visit being admitted. According to her lights the coming of Colonel +Osborne, after all that had been said, would be like the coming of +Lucifer himself. The Colonel was, to her imagination, a horrible +roaring lion. She had no idea that the erratic manœuvres of +such a beast might be milder and more innocent than the wooing of any +turtle-dove. She would have asked whether the roaring lion had gone +away again, and, if so, whether he had taken his prey with him, were +it not that she was too much frightened at the moment to ask any +question. That her mother and sister should have been wilfully +concerned in such iniquity was quite incredible to her, but yet she +did not know how to defend them. "But are you quite sure of it, Aunt +Stanbury? May there not be another mistake?"</p> + +<p>"No mistake this time, I think, my dear. Any way, Priscilla says that +he is there." Now in this there was a mistake. Priscilla had said +nothing of the kind.</p> + +<p>"You don't mean that he is staying at the Clock House, Aunt +Stanbury?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know where he is now. I'm not his keeper. And, I'm glad to +say, I'm not the lady's keeper either. Ah, me! It's a bad business. +You can't touch pitch and not be defiled, my dear. If your mother +wanted the Clock House, I would sooner have taken it for her myself +than that all this should have happened,—for the family's sake."</p> + +<p>But Miss Stanbury, when she was alone, and when she had read her +niece's three letters again and again, began to understand something +of Priscilla's honesty, and began also to perceive that there might +have been a great difficulty respecting the Colonel, for which +neither her niece nor her sister-in-law could fairly be held to be +responsible. It was perhaps the plainest characteristic of all the +Stanburys that they were never wilfully dishonest. Ignorant, +prejudiced, and passionate they might be. In her anger Miss Stanbury, +of Exeter, could be almost malicious; and her niece at Nuncombe +Putney was very like her aunt. Each could say most cruel things, most +unjust things, when actuated by a mistaken consciousness of perfect +right on her own side. But neither of them could lie,—even by +silence. Let an error be brought home to either of them,—so as to be +acknowledged at home,—and the error would be assuredly confessed +aloud. And, indeed, with differences in the shades, Hugh and Dorothy +were of the same nature. They were possessed of sweeter tempers than +their aunt and sister, but they were filled with the same eager +readiness to believe themselves to be right,—and to own themselves +to others to be wrong, when they had been constrained to make such +confession to themselves. The chances of life, and something probably +of inner nature, had made Dorothy mild and obedient; whereas, in +regard to Hugh, the circumstances of his life and disposition had +made him obstinate and self-reliant. But in all was to be found the +same belief in self,—which amounted almost to conceit,—the same +warmth of affection, and the same love of justice.</p> + +<p>When Miss Stanbury had again perused the correspondence, and had come +to see, dimly, how things had gone at Nuncombe Putney,—when the +conviction came upon her mind that Priscilla had entertained a horror +as to the coming of this Colonel equal to that which she herself had +felt,—when her imagination painted to her all that her niece had +suffered, her heart was softened somewhat. She had declared to +Dorothy that pitch, if touched, would certainly defile; and she had, +at first, intended to send the same opinion, couched in very forcible +words, to her correspondents at the Clock House. They should not +continue to go astray for want of being told that they were going +astray. It must be acknowledged, too, that there was a certain amount +of ignoble wrath in the bosom of Miss Stanbury because her +sister-in-law had taken the Clock House. She had never been told, and +had not even condescended to ask Dorothy, whether the house was taken +and paid for by her nephew on behalf of his mother, or whether it was +paid for by Mr. Trevelyan on behalf of his wife. In the latter case, +Mrs. Stanbury would, she thought, be little more than an upper +servant, or keeper,—as she expressed it to herself. Such an +arrangement appeared to her to be quite disgraceful in a Stanbury; +but yet she believed that such must be the existing arrangement, as +she could not bring herself to conceive that Hugh Stanbury could keep +such an establishment over his mother's head out of money earned by +writing for a penny newspaper. There would be a triumph of democracy +in this which would vanquish her altogether. She had, therefore, been +anxious enough to trample on Priscilla and upon all the affairs of +the Clock House; but yet she had been unable to ignore the nobility +of Priscilla's truth, and having acknowledged it to herself she found +herself compelled to acknowledge it aloud. She sat down to think in +silence, and it was not till she had fortified herself by her first +draught of beer, and till she had finished her first portion of bread +and cheese, that she spoke. "I have written to your sister herself, +this time," she said. "I don't know that I ever wrote a line to her +before in my life."</p> + +<p>"Poor Priscilla!" Dorothy did not mean to be severe on her aunt, +either in regard to the letters which had not been written, or to the +one letter which now had been written. But Dorothy pitied her sister, +whom she felt to be in trouble.</p> + +<p>"Well; I don't know about her being so poor. Priscilla, I'll be +bound, thinks as well of herself as any of us do."</p> + +<p>"She'd cut her fingers off before she'd mean to do wrong," said +Dorothy.</p> + +<p>"But what does that come to? What's the good of that? It isn't +meaning to do right that will save us. For aught I know, the Radicals +may mean to do right. Mr. Beales means to do right—perhaps."</p> + +<p>"But, aunt,—if everybody did the best they could?"</p> + +<p>"Tush, my dear! you are getting beyond your depth. There are such +things still, thank God! as spiritual pastors and masters. Entrust +yourself to them. Do what they think right." Now if aught were known +in Exeter of Miss Stanbury, this was known,—that if any clergyman +volunteered to give to her, unasked and uninvited, counsel, either +ghostly or bodily, that clergyman would be sent from her presence +with a wigging which he would not soon forget. The thing had been +tried more than once, and the wigging had been complete. There was no +more attentive listener in church than Miss Stanbury; and she would, +now and again, appeal to a clergyman on some knotty point. But for +the ordinary authority of spiritual pastors and masters she shewed +more of abstract reverence than of practical obedience.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure Priscilla does the best she can," said Dorothy, going back +to the old subject.</p> + +<p>"Ah,—well,—yes. What I want to say about Priscilla is this. It is a +thousand pities she is so obstinate, so pig-headed, so certain that +she can manage everything for herself better than anybody else can +for her." Miss Stanbury was striving to say something good of her +niece, but found the task to be difficult and distasteful to her.</p> + +<p>"She has managed for mamma ever so many years; and since she took it +we have hardly ever been in debt," said Dorothy.</p> + +<p>"She'll do all that, I don't doubt. I don't suppose she cares much +for ribbons and false hair for herself."</p> + +<p>"Who? Priscilla! The idea of Priscilla with false hair!"</p> + +<p>"I dare say not;—I dare say not. I do not think she'd spend her +mother's money on things of that kind."</p> + +<p>"Aunt Stanbury, you don't know her."</p> + +<p>"Ah; very well. Perhaps I don't. But, come, my dear, you are very +hard upon me, and very anxious to take your sister's part. And what +is it all about? I've just written to her as civil a letter as one +woman ever wrote to another. And if I had chosen, I could +have,—could have,—h—m—m." Miss Stanbury, as she hesitated for +words in which to complete her sentence, revelled in the strength of +the vituperation which she could have poured upon her niece's head, +had she chosen to write her last letter about Colonel Osborne in her +severe strain.</p> + +<p>"If you have written kindly to her, I am so much obliged to you," +said Dorothy.</p> + +<p>"The truth is, Priscilla has meant to be right. Meaning won't go for +much when the account is taken, unless the meaning comes from a +proper source. But the poor girl has done as well as she has known +how. I believe it is Hugh's fault more than anybody else's." This +accusation was not pleasant to Dorothy, but she was too intent just +now on Priscilla's case to defend her brother. "That man never ought +to have been there; and that woman never ought to have been there. +There cannot be a doubt about that. If Priscilla were sitting there +opposite to me, she would own as much. I am sure she would." Miss +Stanbury was quite right if she meant to assert that Priscilla had +owned as much to herself. "And because I think so, I am willing to +forgive her part in the matter. To me, personally, she has always +been rude,—most uncourteous,—and,—and,—and unlike a younger woman +to an older one, and an aunt, and all that. I suppose it is because +she hates me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, Aunt Stanbury!"</p> + +<p>"My dear, I suppose it is. Why else should she treat me in such a +way? But I do believe of her that she would rather eat an honest, dry +crust, than dishonest cake and ale."</p> + +<p>"She would rather starve than pick up a crumb that was dishonest," +said Dorothy, fairly bursting out into tears.</p> + +<p>"I believe it. I do believe it. There; what more can I say? Clock +House, indeed! What matter what house you live in, so that you can +pay the rent of it honestly?"</p> + +<p>"But the rent is paid—honestly," said Dorothy, amidst her sobs.</p> + +<p>"It's paid, I don't doubt. I dare say the woman's husband and your +brother see to that among them. Oh, that my boy, Hugh, as he used to +be, should have brought us all to this! But there's no knowing what +they won't do among them. Reform, indeed! Murder, sacrilege, +adultery, treason, atheism;—that's what Reform means; besides every +kind of nastiness under the sun." In which latter category Miss +Stanbury intended especially to include bad printer's ink, and paper +made of straw.</p> + +<p>The reader may as well see the letter which was as civil a letter as +ever one woman wrote to another, so that the collection of the +Stanbury correspondence may be made perfect.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">The Close, August 6, 186—.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My Dear Niece</span>,</p> + +<p>Your letter has not astonished me nearly as much as you +expected it would. I am an older woman than you, and, +though you will not believe it, I have seen more of the +world. I knew that the gentleman would come after the +lady. Such gentlemen always do go after their ladies. As +for yourself, I can see all that you have done, and pretty +nearly hear all that you have said, as plain as a +pike-staff. I do you the credit of believing that the plan +is none of your making. I know who made the plan, and a +very bad plan it is.</p> + +<p>As to my former letters and the other man, I understand +all about it. You were very angry that I should accuse you +of having this man at the house; and you were right to be +angry. I respect you for having been angry. But what does +all that say as to his coming,—now that he has come?</p> + +<p>If you will consent to take an old woman's advice, get rid +of the whole boiling of them. I say it in firm love and +friendship, for I <span class="nowrap">am,—</span></p> + +<p class="ind8">Your affectionate aunt,</p> + +<p class="ind12"><span class="smallcaps">Jemima Stanbury</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>The special vaunted courtesy of this letter consisted, no doubt, in +the expression of respect which it contained, and in that declaration +of affection with which it terminated. The epithet was one which Miss +Stanbury would by no means use promiscuously in writing to her +nearest relatives. She had not intended to use it when she commenced +her letter to Priscilla. But the respect of which she had spoken had +glowed, and had warmed itself into something of temporary love; and +feeling at the moment that she was an affectionate aunt, Miss +Stanbury had so put herself down in her letter. Having done such a +deed she felt that Dorothy, though Dorothy knew nothing about it, +ought in her gratitude to listen patiently to anything that she might +now choose to say against Priscilla.</p> + +<p>But Dorothy was in truth very miserable, and in her misery wrote a +long letter that afternoon to her mother,—which, however, it will +not be necessary to place entire among the Stanbury records,—begging +that she might be informed as to the true circumstances of the case. +She did not say a word of censure in regard either to her mother or +sister; but she expressed an opinion in the mildest words which she +could use, that if anything had happened which had compromised their +names since their residence at the Clock House, she, Dorothy, had +better go home and join them. The meaning of which was that it would +not become her to remain in the house in the Close, if the house in +the Close would be disgraced by her presence. Poor Dorothy had taught +herself to think that the iniquity of roaring lions spread itself +very widely.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon she made some such proposition to her aunt in +ambiguous terms. "Go home!" said Miss Stanbury. "Now?"</p> + +<p>"If you think it best, Aunt Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"And put yourself in the middle of all this iniquity and abomination! +I don't suppose you want to know the woman?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed!"</p> + +<p>"Or the man?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Aunt Stanbury!"</p> + +<p>"It's my belief that no decent gentleman in Exeter would look at you +again if you were to go and live among them at Nuncombe Putney while +all this is going on. No, no. Let one of you be saved out of it, at +least."</p> + +<p>Aunt Stanbury had more than once made use of expressions which +brought the faintest touch of gentle pink up to her niece's cheeks. +We must do Dorothy the justice of saying that she had never dreamed +of being looked at by any gentleman, whether decent or indecent. Her +life at Nuncombe Putney had been of such a nature, that though she +knew that other girls were looked at, and even made love to, and that +they got married and had children, no dim vision of such a career for +herself had ever presented itself to her eyes. She had known very +well that her mother and sister and herself were people +apart,—ladies, and yet so extremely poor, that they could only +maintain their rank by the most rigid seclusion. To live, and work +unseen, was what the world had ordained for her. Then her call to +Exeter had come upon her, and she had conceived that she was +henceforth to be the humble companion of a very imperious old aunt. +Her aunt, indeed, was imperious, but did not seem to require humility +in her companion. All the good things that were eaten and drunk were +divided between them with the strictest impartiality. Dorothy's +cushion and hassock in the church and in the cathedral were the same +as her aunt's. Her bed-room was made very comfortable for her. Her +aunt never gave her any orders before company, and always spoke of +her before the servants as one whom they were to obey and respect. +Gradually Dorothy came to understand the meaning of this;—but her +aunt would sometimes say things about young men which she did not +quite understand. Could it be that her aunt supposed that any young +man would come and wish to marry her,—her, Dorothy Stanbury? She +herself had not quite so strong an aversion to men in general as that +which Priscilla felt, but she had not as yet found that any of those +whom she had seen at Exeter were peculiarly agreeable to her. Before +she went to bed that night her aunt said a word to her which startled +her more than she had ever been startled before. On that evening Miss +Stanbury had a few friends to drink tea with her. There were Mr. and +Mrs. Crumbie, and Mrs. MacHugh of course, and the Cheritons from +Alphington, and the Miss Apjohns from Helion Villa, and old Mr. Powel +all the way from Haldon, and two of the Wrights from their house in +the Northernhay, and Mr. Gibson;—but the Miss Frenches from +Heavitree were not there. "Why don't you have the Miss Frenches, +aunt?" Dorothy had asked.</p> + +<p>"Bother the Miss Frenches! I'm not bound to have them every time. +There's Camilla has been and got herself a band-box on the back of +her head a great deal bigger than the place inside where her brains +ought to be." But the band-box at the back of Camilla French's head +was not the sole cause of the omission of the two sisters from the +list of Miss Stanbury's visitors on this occasion.</p> + +<p>The party went off very much as usual. There were two whist tables, +for Miss Stanbury could not bear to cut out. At other houses than her +own, when there was cutting out, it was quite understood that Miss +Stanbury was to be allowed to keep her place. "I'll go away, and sit +out there by myself, if you like," she would say. But she was never +thus banished; and at her own house she usually contrived that there +should be no system of banishment. She would play dummy whist, +preferring it to the four-handed game; and, when hard driven, and +with a meet opponent, would not even despise double-dummy. It was +told of her and of Mrs. MacHugh that they had played double-dummy for +a whole evening together; and they who were given to calumny had +declared that the candles on that evening had been lighted very +early. On the present occasion a great many sixpenny points were +scored, and much tea and cake were consumed. Mr. Gibson never played +whist,—nor did Dorothy. That young John Wright and Mary Cheriton +should do nothing but talk to each other was a thing of course, as +they were to be married in a month or two. Then there was Ida +Cheriton, who could not very well be left at home; and Mr. Gibson +made himself pleasant to Dorothy and Ida Cheriton, instead of making +himself pleasant to the two Miss Frenches. Gentlemen in provincial +towns quite understand that, from the nature of social circumstances +in the provinces, they should always be ready to be pleasant at least +to a pair at a time. At a few minutes before twelve they were all +gone, and then came the shock.</p> + +<p>"Dolly, my dear, what do you think of Mr. Gibson?"</p> + +<p>"Think of him, Aunt Stanbury?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; think of him;—think of him. I suppose you know how to think?"</p> + +<p>"He seems to me always to preach very drawling sermons."</p> + +<p>"Oh, bother his sermons! I don't care anything about his sermons now. +He is a very good clergyman, and the Dean thinks very much about +him."</p> + +<p>"I am glad of that, Aunt Stanbury."</p> + +<p>Then came the shock. "Don't you think it would be a very good thing +if you were to become Mrs. Gibson?"</p> + +<p>It may be presumed that Miss Stanbury had assured herself that she +could not make progress with Dorothy by "beating about the bush." +There was an inaptitude in her niece to comprehend the advantages of +the situations, which made some direct explanation absolutely +necessary. Dorothy stood half-smiling, half-crying, when she heard +the proposition, her cheeks suffused with that pink colour, and with +both her hands extended with surprise.</p> + +<p>"I've been thinking about it ever since you've been here," said Miss +Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"I think he likes Miss French," said Dorothy, in a whisper.</p> + +<p>"Which of them? I don't believe he likes them at all. Maybe, if they +go on long enough, they may be able to toss up for him. But I don't +think it of him. Of course they're after him, but he'll be too wise +for them. And he's more of a fool than I take him to be if he don't +prefer you to them." Dorothy remained quite silent. To such an +address as this it was impossible that she should reply a word. It +was incredible to her that any man should prefer herself to either of +the young women in question; but she was too much confounded for the +expression even of her humility. "At any rate you're wholesome, and +pleasant and modest," said Miss Stanbury.</p> + +<p>Dorothy did not quite like being told that she was wholesome; but, +nevertheless, she was thankful to her aunt.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what it is," continued Miss Stanbury; "I hate all +mysteries, especially with those I love. I've saved two thousand +pounds, which I've put you down for in my will. Now, if you and he +can make it up together, I'll give you the money at once. There's no +knowing how often an old woman may alter her will; but when you've +got a thing, you've got it. Mr. Gibson would know the meaning of a +bird in the hand as well as anybody. Now those girls at Heavitree +will never have above a few hundreds each, and not that while their +mother lives." Dorothy made one little attempt at squeezing her +aunt's hand, wishing to thank her aunt for this affectionate +generosity; but she had hardly accomplished the squeeze, when she +desisted, feeling strangely averse to any acknowledgment of such a +boon as that which had been offered to her. "And now, good night, my +dear. If I did not think you a very sensible young woman, I should +not trust you by saying all this." Then they parted, and Dorothy soon +found herself alone in her bedroom.</p> + +<p>To have a husband of her own, a perfect gentleman too, and a +clergyman;—and to go to him with a fortune! She believed that two +thousand pounds represented nearly a hundred a year. It was a large +fortune in those parts,—according to her understanding of ladies' +fortunes. And that she, the humblest of the humble, should be +selected for so honourable a position! She had never quite known, +quite understood as yet, whether she had made good her footing in her +aunt's house in a manner pleasant to her aunt. More than once or +twice she had spoken even of going back to her mother, and things had +been said which had almost made her think that her aunt had been +angry with her. But now, after a month or two of joint residence, her +aunt was offering to her—two thousand pounds and a husband!</p> + +<p>But was it within her aunt's power to offer to her the husband? Mr. +Gibson had always been very civil to her. She had spoken more to Mr. +Gibson than to any other man in Exeter. But it had never occurred to +her for a moment that Mr. Gibson had any special liking for her. Was +it probable that he would ever entertain any feeling of that kind for +her? It certainly had occurred to her before now that Mr. Gibson was +sometimes bored by the Miss Frenches;—but then gentlemen do get +bored by ladies.</p> + +<p>And at last she asked herself another question,—had she any special +liking for Mr. Gibson? As far as she understood such matters +everything was blank there. Thinking of that other question, she went +to sleep.</p> + + +<p><a name="c23" id="c23"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXIII.</h3> +<h4>COLONEL OSBORNE AND MR. BOZZLE<br />RETURN TO LONDON.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Hugh Stanbury went down on the Saturday, by the early express to +Exeter, on his road to Lessboro'. He took his ticket through to +Lessboro', not purposing to stay at Exeter; but, from the exigencies +of the various trains, it was necessary that he should remain for +half an hour at the Exeter Station. This took place on the Saturday, +and Colonel Osborne's visit to the Clock House had been made on the +Friday. Colonel Osborne had returned to Lessboro', had slept again at +Mrs. Clegg's house, and returned to London on the Saturday. It so +happened that he also was obliged to spend half an hour at the Exeter +Station, and that his half-hour, and Hugh Stanbury's half-hour, were +one and the same. They met, therefore, as a matter of course, upon +the platform. Stanbury was the first to see the other, and he found +that he must determine on the spur of the moment what he would say, +and what he would do. He had received no direct commission from +Trevelyan as to his meeting with Colonel Osborne. Trevelyan had +declared that, as to the matter of quarrelling, he meant to retain +the privilege of doing that for himself; but Stanbury had quite +understood that this was only the vague expression of an angry man. +The Colonel had taken a glass of sherry, and had lighted a cigar, and +was quite comfortable,—having thrown aside, for a time, that +consciousness of the futility of his journey which had perplexed +him,—when Stanbury accosted him.</p> + +<p>"What! Mr. Stanbury,—how do you do? Fine day, isn't it? Are you +going up or down?"</p> + +<p>"I'm going to see my own people at Nuncombe Putney, a village beyond +Lessboro'," said Hugh.</p> + +<p>"Ah;—indeed." Colonel Osborne of course perceived at once that as +this man was going to the house at which he had just been visiting, +it would be better that he should himself explain what he had done. +If he were to allow this mention of Nuncombe Putney to pass without +saying that he himself had been there, he would be convicted of at +least some purpose of secrecy in what he had been doing. "Very +strange," said he; "I was at Nuncombe Putney myself yesterday."</p> + +<p>"I know you were," said Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"And how did you know it?" There had been a tone of anger in +Stanbury's voice which Colonel Osborne had at once appreciated, and +which made him assume a similar tone. As they spoke there was a man +standing in a corner close by the bookstall, with his eye upon them, +and that man was Bozzle, the ex-policeman,—who was doing his duty +with sedulous activity by seeing "the Colonel" back to London. Now +Bozzle did not know Hugh Stanbury, and was angry with himself that he +should be so ignorant. It is the pride of a detective ex-policeman to +know everybody that comes in his way.</p> + +<p>"Well, I had been so informed. My friend Trevelyan knew that you were +there,—or that you were going there."</p> + +<p>"I don't care who knew that I was going there," said the Colonel.</p> + +<p>"I won't pretend to understand how that may be, Colonel Osborne; but +I think you must be aware, after what took place in Curzon Street, +that it would have been better that you should not have attempted to +see Mrs. Trevelyan. Whether you have seen her I do not know."</p> + +<p>"What business is it of yours, Mr. Stanbury, whether I have seen that +lady or not?"</p> + +<p>"Unhappily for me, her husband has made it my business."</p> + +<p>"Very unhappily for you, I should say."</p> + +<p>"And the lady is staying at my mother's house."</p> + +<p>"I presume the lady is not a prisoner in your mother's house, and +that your mother's hospitality is not so restricted but that her +guest may see an old friend under her roof." This Colonel Osborne +said with an assumed look of almost righteous indignation, which was +not at all lost upon Bozzle. They had returned back towards the +bookstall, and Bozzle, with his eyes fixed on a copy of the "D. R." +which he had just bought, was straining his ears to the utmost to +catch what was being said.</p> + +<p>"You best know whether you have seen her or not."</p> + +<p>"I have seen her."</p> + +<p>"Then I shall take leave to tell you, Colonel Osborne, that you have +acted in a most unfriendly way, and have done that which must tend to +keep an affectionate husband apart from his wife."</p> + +<p>"Sir, I don't at all understand this kind of thing addressed to me. +The father of the lady you are speaking of has been my most intimate +friend for thirty years." After all, the Colonel was a mean man when +he could take pride in his youth, and defend himself on the score of +his age, in one and the same proceeding.</p> + +<p>"I have nothing further to say," replied Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"You have said too much already, Mr. Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"I think not, Colonel Osborne. You have, I fear, done an incredible +deal of mischief by going to Nuncombe Putney; and, after all that you +have heard on the subject, you must have known that it would be +mischievous. I cannot understand how you can force yourself about a +man's wife against the man's expressed wish."</p> + +<p>"Sir, I didn't force myself upon anybody. Sir, I went down to see an +old friend,—and a remarkable piece of antiquity. And, when another +old friend was in the neighbourhood, close by,—one of the oldest +friends I have in the world,—wasn't I to go and see her? God bless +my soul! What business is it of yours? I never heard such impudence +in my life!" Let the charitable reader suppose that Colonel Osborne +did not know that he was lying,—that he really thought, when he +spoke, that he had gone down to Lessboro' to see the remarkable piece +of antiquity.</p> + +<p>"Good morning," said Hugh Stanbury, turning on his heels and walking +away. Colonel Osborne shook himself, inflated his cheeks, and blew +forth the breath out of his mouth, put his thumbs up to the armholes +of his waistcoat, and walked about the platform as though he thought +it to be incumbent on him to show that he was somebody,—somebody +that ought not to be insulted,—somebody, perhaps, whom a very pretty +woman might prefer to her own husband, in spite of a small difference +in age. He was angry, but not quite so much angry as proud. And he +was safe, too. He thought that he was safe. When he should come to +account for himself and his actions to his old friend, Sir Marmaduke, +he felt that he would be able to show that he had been, in all +respects, true to friendship. Sir Marmaduke had unfortunately given +his daughter to a jealous, disagreeable fellow, and the fault all lay +in that. As for Hugh Stanbury,—he would simply despise Hugh +Stanbury, and have done with it.</p> + +<p>Mr. Bozzle, though he had worked hard in the cause, had heard but a +word or two. Eaves-droppers seldom do hear more than that. A porter +had already told him who was Hugh Stanbury,—that he was Mr. Hugh +Stanbury, and that his aunt lived at Exeter. And Bozzle, knowing that +the lady about whom he was concerned was living with a Mrs. Stanbury +at the house he had been watching, put two and two together with his +natural cleverness. "God bless my soul! what business is it of +yours?" Those words were nearly all that Bozzle had been able to +hear; but even those sufficiently indicated a quarrel. "The lady" was +living with Mrs. Stanbury, having been so placed by her husband; and +young Stanbury was taking the lady's part! Bozzle began to fear that +the husband had not confided in him with that perfect faith which he +felt to be essentially necessary to the adequate performance of the +duties of his great profession. A sudden thought, however, struck +him. Something might be done on the journey up to London. He at once +made his way back to the ticket-window and exchanged his +ticket,—second-class for first-class. It was a noble deed, the +expense falling all upon his own pocket; for, in the natural course +of things, he would have charged his employers with the full +first-class fare. He had seen Colonel Osborne seat himself in a +carriage, and within two minutes he was occupying the opposite place. +The Colonel was aware that he had noticed the man's face lately, but +did not know where.</p> + +<p>"Very fine summer weather, sir," said Bozzle.</p> + +<p>"Very fine," said the Colonel, burying himself behind a newspaper.</p> + +<p>"They is getting up their wheat nicely in these parts, sir."</p> + +<p>The answer to this was no more than a grunt. But Bozzle was not +offended. Not to be offended is the special duty of all policemen, in +and out of office; and the journey from Exeter to London was long, +and was all before him.</p> + +<p>"A very nice little secluded village is Nuncombe Putney," said +Bozzle, as the train was leaving the Salisbury Station.</p> + +<p>At Salisbury two ladies had left the carriage, no one else had got +in, and Bozzle was alone with the Colonel.</p> + +<p>"I dare say," said the Colonel, who by this time had relinquished his +shield, and who had begun to compose himself for sleep, or to pretend +to compose himself, as soon as he heard Bozzle's voice. He had been +looking at Bozzle, and though he had not discovered the man's trade, +had told himself that his companion was a thing of dangers,—a thing +to be avoided, by one engaged, as had been he himself, on a special +and secret mission.</p> + +<p>"Saw you there,—calling at the Clock House," said Bozzle.</p> + +<p>"Very likely," said the Colonel, throwing his head well back into the +corner, shutting his eyes, and uttering a slight preliminary snore.</p> + +<p>"Very nice family of ladies at the Clock House," said Bozzle. The +Colonel answered him by a more developed snore. "Particularly Mrs. +<span class="nowrap">T——"</span> said Bozzle.</p> + +<p>The Colonel could not stand this. He was so closely implicated with +Mrs. Trevelyan at the present moment that he could not omit to notice +an address so made to him. "What the devil is that to you, sir?" said +he, jumping up and confronting Bozzle in his wrath.</p> + +<p>But policemen have always this advantage in their difficulties, that +they know to a fraction what the wrath of men is worth, and what it +can do. Sometimes it can dismiss a policeman, and sometimes break his +head. Sometimes it can give him a long and troublesome job, and +sometimes it may be wrath to the death. But in nineteen out of twenty +cases it is not a fearful thing, and the policeman knows well when he +need not fear it. On the present occasion Bozzle was not at all +afraid of Colonel Osborne's wrath.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, not much, indeed, if you come to that. Only you was +there, sir."</p> + +<p>"Of course I was there," said the Colonel.</p> + +<p>"And a very nice young gentleman is Mr. Stanbury," said Bozzle.</p> + +<p>To this Colonel Osborne made no reply, but again had resort to his +newspaper in the most formal manner.</p> + +<p>"He's going down to his family, no doubt," continued Bozzle.</p> + +<p>"He may be going to the devil for what I know," said the Colonel, who +could not restrain himself.</p> + +<p>"I suppose they're all friends of Mrs. T.'s?" asked Bozzle.</p> + +<p>"Sir," said the Colonel, "I believe that you're a spy."</p> + +<p>"No, Colonel, no; no, no; I'm no spy. I wouldn't demean myself to be +such. A spy is a man as has no profession, and nothing to justify his +looking into things. Things must be looked into, Colonel; or how's a +man to know where he is? or how's a lady to know where she is? But as +for spies, except in the way of evidence, I don't think nothing of +'em." Soon after this two more passengers entered the train, and +nothing more was said between Bozzle and the Colonel.</p> + +<p>The Colonel, as soon as he reached London, went home to his lodgings, +and then to his club, and did his best to enjoy himself. On the +following Monday he intended to start for Scotland. But he could not +quite enjoy himself,—because of Bozzle. He felt that he was being +watched; and there is nothing that any man hates so much as that, +especially when a lady is concerned. Colonel Osborne knew that his +visit to Nuncombe Putney had been very innocent; but he did not like +the feeling that even his innocence had been made the subject of +observation.</p> + +<p>Bozzle went away at once to Trevelyan, whom he found at his chambers. +He himself had had no very deep-laid scheme in his addresses to +Colonel Osborne. He had begun to think that very little would come of +the affair,—especially after Hugh Stanbury had appeared upon the +scene,—and had felt that there was nothing to be lost by presenting +himself before the eyes of the Colonel. It was necessary that he +should make a report to his employer, and the report might be made a +little more full after a few words with the man whom he had been +"looking into." "Well, Mr. Trewillian," he said, seating himself on a +chair close against the wall, and holding his hat between the +knees,—"I've seen the parties, and know pretty much all about it."</p> + +<p>"All I want to know, Mr. Bozzle, is, whether Colonel Osborne has been +at the Clock House?"</p> + +<p>"He has been there, Mr. Trewillian. There is no earthly doubt about +that. From hour to hour I can tell you pretty nearly where he's been +since he left London." Then Bozzle took out his memorandum-book.</p> + +<p>"I don't care about all that," said Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"I dare say not, sir; but it may be wanted all the same. Any +gentleman acting in our way can't be too particular,—can't have too +many facts. The smallest little,—tiddly things,"—and Bozzle as he +said this seemed to enjoy immensely the flavour of his own +epithet,—"the smallest little 'tiddly' things do so often turn up +trumps when you get your evidence into court."</p> + +<p>"I'm not going to get any evidence into court."</p> + +<p>"Maybe not, sir. A gentleman and lady is always best out of court as +long as things can hang on any way;—but sometimes things won't hang +on no way."</p> + +<p>Trevelyan, who was conscious that the employment of Bozzle was +discreditable, and whose affairs in Devonshire were now in the hands +of, at any rate, a more honourable ally, was at present mainly +anxious to get rid of the ex-policeman. "I have no doubt you've been +very careful, Mr. Bozzle," said he.</p> + +<p>"There isn't no one in the business could be more so, Mr. +Trewillian."</p> + +<p>"And you have found out what it was necessary that I should know. +Colonel Osborne did go to the Clock House?"</p> + +<p>"Was let in at the front door on Friday the 5th, by Sarah French, the +housemaid, at 10.37 a.m., and was let out again by the same young +woman at 11.41 a.m. Perhaps you'd like to have a copy of the entry, +Mr. Trewillian?"</p> + +<p>"No, no, no."</p> + +<p>"It doesn't matter. Of course it'll be with me when it's wanted. Who +was with him, exactly, at that time, I can't say. There is things, +Mr. Trewillian, one can't see. But I don't think as he saw neither +Mrs. Stanbury, nor Miss Stanbury,—not to speak to. I did just have +one word, promiscuous, with Sarah French, after he was gone. Whether +the other young lady was with 'em or not, and if so for how long, +I—can't—say. There is things, Mr. Trewillian, which one can't see."</p> + +<p>How Trevelyan hated the man as he went on with his odious +details,—details not one of which possessed the slightest +importance. "It's all right, I dare say, Mr. Bozzle. And now about +the account."</p> + +<p>"Quite so, Mr. Trewillian. But there was one question;—just one +question."</p> + +<p>"What question?" said Trevelyan, almost angrily.</p> + +<p>"And there's another thing I must tell you, too, Mr. Trewillian. I +come back to town in the same carriage with the Colonel. I thought it +better."</p> + +<p>"You did not tell him who you were?"</p> + +<p>"No, Mr. Trewillian; I didn't tell him that. I don't think he'd say +if you was to ask him that I told him much of anything. No, Mr. +Trewillian, I didn't tell him nothing. I don't often tell folks much +till the time comes. But I thought it better, and I did have a word +or two with the gent,—just a word or two. He's not so very downy, +isn't the Colonel;—for one that's been at it so long, Mr. +Trewillian."</p> + +<p>"I dare say not. But if you could just let me have the account, Mr. +<span class="nowrap">Bozzle,—"</span></p> + +<p>"The account? Oh, yes;—that is necessary; ain't it? These sort of +inquiries do come a little expensive, Mr. Trewillian; because time +goes for so much; and when one has to be down on a thing, sharp, you +know, and sure, so that counsel on the other side can't part you from +it, though he shakes you like a dog does a rat,—and one has to get +oneself up ready for all that, you know, Mr. Trewillian,—as I was +saying, one can't count one's shillings when one has such a job as +this in hand. Clench your nail;—that's what I say; be it even so. +Clench your nail;—that's what you've got to do."</p> + +<p>"I dare say we shan't quarrel about the money, Mr. Bozzle."</p> + +<p>"Oh dear no. I find I never has any words about the money. But +there's that one question. There's a young Mr. Stanbury has gone +down, as knows all about it. What's he up to?"</p> + +<p>"He's my particular friend," said Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"Oh—h. He do know all about it, then?"</p> + +<p>"We needn't talk about that, if you please, Mr. Bozzle."</p> + +<p>"Because there was words between him and the Colonel upon the +platform;—and very angry words. The young man went at the Colonel +quite open-mouthed,—savage-like. It's not the way such things should +be done, Mr. Trewillian; and though of course it's not for me to +speak;—she's your lady,—still, when you has got a thing of this +kind in hand, one head is better than a dozen. As for myself, Mr. +Trewillian, I never wouldn't look at a case,—not if I knew +it,—unless I was to have it all to myself. But of course there was +no bargain, and so I says nothing."</p> + +<p>After considerable delay the bill was made out on the spot, Mr. +Bozzle copying down the figures painfully from his memorandum-book, +with his head much inclined on one side. Trevelyan asked him, almost +in despair, to name the one sum; but this Bozzle declined to do, +saying that right was right. He had a scale of pilfering of his own, +to which he had easily reconciled his conscience; and beyond that he +prided himself on the honesty of his accounts. At last the bill was +made out, was paid, and Bozzle was gone. Trevelyan, when he was +alone, threw himself back on a sofa, and almost wept in despair. To +what a depth of degradation had he not been reduced!</p> + + +<p><a name="c24" id="c24"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXIV.</h3> +<h4>NIDDON PARK.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>As Hugh Stanbury went over to Lessboro', and from thence to Nuncombe +Putney, he thought more of himself and Nora Rowley than he did of Mr. +and Mrs. Trevelyan. As to Mrs. Trevelyan and Colonel Osborne, he felt +that he knew everything that it was necessary that he should know. +The man had been there, and had seen Mrs. Trevelyan. Of that there +could be no doubt. That Colonel Osborne had been wickedly indifferent +to the evil consequences of such a visit, and that all the women +concerned had been most foolish in permitting him to make it, was his +present conviction. But he did not for a moment doubt that the visit +had in itself been of all things the most innocent. Trevelyan had +sworn that if his wife received the man at Nuncombe Putney, he would +never see her again. She had seen him, and this oath would be +remembered, and there would be increased difficulties. But these +difficulties, whatever they might be, must be overcome. When he had +told himself this, then he allowed his mind to settle itself on Nora +Rowley.</p> + +<p>Hitherto he had known Miss Rowley only as a fashionable girl living +with the wife of an intimate friend of his own in London. He had +never been staying in the same house with her. Circumstances had +never given to him the opportunity of assuming the manner of an +intimate friend, justifying him in giving advice, and authorising him +to assume that semi-paternal tone which is by far the easiest +preliminary to love-making. When a man can tell a young lady what she +ought to read, what she ought to do, and whom she ought to know, +nothing can be easier than to assure her that, of all her duties, her +first duty is to prefer himself to all the world. And any young lady +who has consented to receive lessons from such a teacher, will +generally be willing to receive this special lesson among others. But +Stanbury had hitherto had no such opportunities. In London Miss +Rowley had been a fashionable young lady, living in Mayfair, and he +had been,—well, anything but a fashionable young man. Nevertheless, +he had seen her often, had sat by her very frequently, was quite sure +that he loved her dearly, and had, perhaps, some self-flattering idea +in his mind that had he stuck to his honourable profession as a +barrister, and were he possessed of some comfortable little fortune +of his own, he might, perhaps, have been able, after due siege +operations, to make this charming young woman his own. Things were +quite changed now. For the present, Miss Rowley certainly could not +be regarded as a fashionable London young lady. The house in which he +would see her was, in some sort, his own. He would be sleeping under +the same roof with her, and would have all the advantages which such +a position could give him. He would have no difficulty now in asking, +if he should choose to ask; and he thought that she might be somewhat +softer, somewhat more likely to yield at Nuncombe Putney, than she +would have been in London. She was at Nuncombe in weak circumstances, +to a certain degree friendless; with none of the excitement of +society around her, with no elder sons buzzing about her and filling +her mind, if not her heart, with the glories of luxurious +primogeniture. Hugh Stanbury certainly did not dream that any special +elder son had as yet been so attracted as to have made a journey to +Nuncombe Putney on Nora's behalf. But should he on this +account,—because she would be, as it were, without means of defence +from his attack,—should he therefore take advantage of her weakness? +She would, of course, go back to her London life after some short +absence, and would again, if free, have her chance among the favoured +ones of the earth. What had he to offer to her? He had taken the +Clock House for his mother, and it would be quite as much as he could +do, when Mrs. Trevelyan should have left the village, to keep up that +establishment and maintain himself in London,—quite as much as he +could do, even though the favours of the "D. R." should flow upon him +with their fullest tides. In such circumstances, would it be +honourable in him to ask a girl to love him because he found her +defenceless in his mother's house?</p> + +<p>"If there bain't another for Nuncombe," said Mrs. Clegg's Ostler to +Mrs. Clegg's Boots, as Stanbury was driven off in a gig.</p> + +<p>"That be young Stanbury, a-going of whome."</p> + +<p>"They be all a-going for the Clock House. Since the old 'ooman took +to thick there house, there be folk a-comin' and a-goin' every day +loike."</p> + +<p>"It's along of the madam that they keeps there, Dick," said the +Boots.</p> + +<p>"I didn't care if there'd be madams allays. They're the best as is +going for trade anyhow," said the ostler. What the ostler said was +true. When there comes to be a feeling that a woman's character is in +any way tarnished, there comes another feeling that everybody on the +one side may charge double, and that everybody on the other side must +pay double, for everything. Hugh Stanbury could not understand why he +was charged a shilling a mile, instead of ninepence, for the gig to +Nuncombe Putney. He got no satisfactory answer, and had to pay the +shilling. The truth was, that gigs to Nuncombe Putney had gone up, +since a lady, separated from her husband, with a colonel running +after her, had been taken in at the Clock House.</p> + +<p>"Here's Hugh!" said Priscilla, hurrying to the front door. And Mrs. +Stanbury hurried after her. Her son Hugh was the apple of her eye, +the best son that ever lived, generous, noble, a thorough +man,—almost a god!</p> + +<p>"Dear, dear, oh dear! Who'd have expected it? God bless you, my boy! +Why didn't you write? Priscilla, what is there in the house that he +can eat?"</p> + +<p>"Plenty of bread and cheese," said Priscilla, laughing, with her hand +inside her brother's arm. For though Priscilla hated all other men, +she did not hate her brother Hugh. "If you wanted things nice to eat +directly you got here, you ought to have written."</p> + +<p>"I shall want my dinner, like any other Christian,—in due time," +said Hugh. "And how is Mrs. Trevelyan,—and how is Miss Rowley?"</p> + +<p>He soon found himself in company with those two ladies, and +experienced some immediate difficulty in explaining the cause of his +sudden coming. But this was soon put aside by Mrs. Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"When did you see my husband?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I saw him yesterday. He was quite well."</p> + +<p>"Colonel Osborne has been here," she said.</p> + +<p>"I know that he has been here. I met him at the station at Exeter. +Perhaps I should not say so, but I wish he had remained away."</p> + +<p>"We all wish it," said Priscilla.</p> + +<p>Then Nora spoke. "But what could we do, Mr. Stanbury? It seemed so +natural that he should call when he was in the neighbourhood. We have +known him so long; and how could we refuse to see him?"</p> + +<p>"I will not let any one think that I'm afraid to see any man on +earth," said Mrs. Trevelyan. "If he had ever in his life said a word +that he should not have said, a word that would have been an insult, +of course it would have been different. But the notion of it is +preposterous. Why should I not have seen him?"</p> + +<p>"I think he was wrong to come," said Hugh.</p> + +<p>"Of course he was wrong;—wickedly wrong," said Priscilla.</p> + +<p>Stanbury, finding that the subject was openly discussed between them, +declared plainly the mission that had brought him to Nuncombe. +"Trevelyan heard that he was coming, and asked me to let him know the +truth."</p> + +<p>"Now you can tell him the truth," said Mrs. Trevelyan, with something +of indignation in her tone, as though she thought that Stanbury had +taken upon himself a task of which he ought to be ashamed.</p> + +<p>"But Colonel Osborne came specially to pay a visit to +Cockchaffington," said Nora, "and not to see us. Louis ought to know +that."</p> + +<p>"Nora, how can you demean yourself to care about such trash?" said +Mrs. Trevelyan. "Who cares why he came here? His visit to me was a +thing of course. If Mr. Trevelyan disapproves of it, let him say so, +and not send secret messengers."</p> + +<p>"Am I a secret messenger?" said Hugh Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"There has been a man here, inquiring of the servants," said +Priscilla. So that odious Bozzle had made his foul mission known to +them! Stanbury, however, thought it best to say nothing of +Bozzle,—not to acknowledge that he had ever heard of Bozzle. "I am +sure Mrs. Trevelyan does not mean you," said Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"I do not know what I mean," said Mrs. Trevelyan. "I am so harassed +and fevered by these suspicions that I am driven nearly mad." Then +she left the room for a minute and returned with two letters. "There, +Mr. Stanbury; I got that note from Colonel Osborne, and wrote to him +that reply. You know all about it now. Can you say that I was wrong +to see him?"</p> + +<p>"I am sure that he was wrong to come," said Hugh.</p> + +<p>"Wickedly wrong," said Priscilla, again.</p> + +<p>"You can keep the letters, and show them to my husband," said Mrs. +Trevelyan; "then he will know all about it." But Stanbury declined to +keep the letters.</p> + +<p>He was to remain the Sunday at Nuncombe Putney and return to London +on the Monday. There was, therefore, but one day on which he could +say what he had to say to Nora Rowley. When he came down to breakfast +on the Sunday morning he had almost made up his mind that he had +nothing to say to her. As for Nora, she was in a state of mind much +less near to any fixed purpose. She had told herself that she loved +this man,—had indeed done so in the clearest way, by acknowledging +the fact of her love to another suitor, by pleading to that other +suitor the fact of her love as an insuperable reason why he should be +rejected. There was no longer any doubt about it to her. When +Priscilla had declared that Hugh Stanbury was at the door, her heart +had gone into her mouth. Involuntarily she had pressed her hands to +her sides, and had held her breath. Why had he come there? Had he +come there for her? Oh! if he had come there for her, and if she +might dare to forget all the future, how sweet,—sweetest of all +things in heaven or earth,—might be an August evening with him among +the lanes! But she, too, had endeavoured to be very prudent. She had +told herself that she was quite unfit to be the wife of a poor +man,—that she would be only a burden round his neck, and not an aid +to him. And in so telling herself, she had told herself also that she +had been a fool not to accept Mr. Glascock. She should have dragged +out from her heart the image of this man who had never even whispered +a word of love in her ears, and should have constrained herself to +receive with affection a man in loving whom there ought to be no +difficulty. But when she had been repeating those lessons to herself, +Hugh Stanbury had not been in the house. Now he was there;—and what +must be her answer if he should whisper that word of love? She had an +idea that it would be treason in her to disown the love she felt, if +questioned concerning her heart by the man to whom it had been given.</p> + +<p>They all went to church on the Sunday morning, and up to that time +Nora had not been a moment alone with the man. It had been decided +that they should dine early, and then ramble out, when the evening +would be less hot than the day had been, to a spot called Niddon +Park. This was nearly three miles from Nuncombe, and was a beautiful +wild slope of ground, full of ancient, blighted, blasted, but still +half-living oaks,—oaks that still brought forth leaves,—overlooking +a bend of the river Teign. Park, in the usual sense of the word, +there was none, nor did they who lived round Nuncombe Putney know +whether Niddon Park had ever been enclosed. But of all the spots in +that lovely neighbourhood, Priscilla Stanbury swore that it was the +loveliest; and, as it had never yet been seen by Mrs. Trevelyan or +her sister, it was determined that they would walk there on this +August afternoon. There were four of them,—and, as was natural, they +fell into parties of two and two. But Priscilla walked with Nora, and +Hugh Stanbury walked with his friend's wife. Nora was talkative, but +demure in her manner, and speaking now and again as though she were +giving words and not thoughts. She felt that there was something to +hide, and was suffering from disappointment that their party should +not have been otherwise divided. Had Hugh spoken to her and asked her +to be his wife, she could not have accepted him, because she knew +that they were both poor, and that she was not fit to keep a poor +man's house. She had declared to herself most plainly that that must +be her course;—but yet she was disappointed, and talked on with the +knowledge that she had something to conceal.</p> + + +<div class="center"><a name="ip1-192" id="ip1-192"></a> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="4px"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/p1-192.jpg"> + <img src="images/p1-192-t.jpg" height="500" + alt="Niddon Park." /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <span class="caption">Niddon Park.<br /> + Click to <a href="images/p1-192.jpg">ENLARGE</a></span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p>When they were seated beneath an old riven, withered oak, looking +down upon the river, they were still divided in the same way. In +seating herself she had been very anxious not to disarrange that +arrangement,—almost equally anxious not to seem to adhere to it with +any special purpose. She was very careful that there should be +nothing seen in her manner that was in any way special,—but in the +meantime she was suffering an agony of trouble. He did not care for +her in the least. She was becoming sure of that. She had given all +her love to a man who had none to give her in return. As she thought +of this she almost longed for the offer of that which she knew she +could not have accepted had it been offered to her. But she talked on +about the scenery, about the weather,—descanting on the pleasure of +living where such loveliness was within reach. Then there came a +pause for a moment. "Nora," said Priscilla, "I do not know what you +are thinking about, but it is not of the beauty of Niddon Park." Then +there came a faint sound as of an hysterical sob, and then a gurgle +in the throat, and then a pretence at laughter.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe I am thinking of anything at all," said Nora.</p> + +<p>After which Hugh insisted on descending to the bank of the river, +but, as the necessity of re-climbing the slope was quite manifest, +none of the girls would go with him. "Come, Miss Rowley," said he, +"will you not show them that a lady can go up and down a hill as well +as a man?"</p> + +<p>"I had rather not go up and down the hill," said she.</p> + +<p>Then he understood that she was angry with him; and in some sort +surmised the cause of her anger. Not that he believed that she loved +him; but it seemed possible to him that she resented the absence of +his attention. He went down, and scrambled out on the rocks into the +bed of the river, while the girls above looked down upon him, +watching the leaps that he made. Priscilla and Mrs. Trevelyan called +to him, bidding him beware; but Nora called not at all. He was +whistling as he made his jumps, but still he heard their voices, and +knew that he did not hear Nora's voice. He poised himself on the edge +of a rock in the middle of the stream, and looked up the river and +down the river, turning himself carefully on his narrow foothold; but +he was thinking only of Nora. Could there be anything nobler than to +struggle on with her, if she only would be willing? But then she was +young; and should she yield to such a request from him, she would not +know what she was yielding. He turned again, jumping from rock to +rock till he reached the bank, and then made his way again up to the +withered oak.</p> + +<p>"You would not have repented it if you had come down with me," he +said to Nora.</p> + +<p>"I am not so sure of that," she answered.</p> + +<p>When they started to return she stepped on gallantly with Priscilla; +but Priscilla was stopped by some chance, having some word to say to +her brother, having some other word to say to Mrs. Trevelyan. Could +it be that her austerity had been softened, and that in kindness she +contrived that Nora should be left some yards behind them with her +brother? Whether it were kindness, or an unkind error, so it was. +Nora, when she perceived what destiny was doing for her, would not +interfere with destiny. If he chose to speak to her she would hear +him and would answer him. She knew very well what answer she would +give him. She had her answer quite ready at her fingers' ends. There +was no doubt about her answer.</p> + +<p>They had walked half a mile together and he had spoken of nothing but +the scenery. She had endeavoured to appear to be excited. Oh, yes, +the scenery of Devonshire was delightful. She hardly wanted anything +more to make her happy. If only this misery respecting her sister +could be set right!</p> + +<p>"And you, you yourself," said he, "do you mean that there is nothing +you want in leaving London?"</p> + +<p>"Not much, indeed."</p> + +<p>"It sometimes seemed to me that that kind of life was,—was very +pleasant to you."</p> + +<p>"What kind of life, Mr. Stanbury?"</p> + +<p>"The life that you were living,—going out, being admired, and having +the rich and dainty all around you."</p> + +<p>"I don't dislike people because they are rich," she said.</p> + +<p>"No; nor do I; and I despise those who affect to dislike them. But +all cannot be rich."</p> + +<p>"Nor all dainty, as you choose to call them."</p> + +<p>"But they who have once been dainty,—as I call them,—never like to +divest themselves of their daintiness. You have been one of the +dainty, Miss Rowley."</p> + +<p>"Have I?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly; I doubt whether you would be happy if you thought that +your daintiness had departed from you."</p> + +<p>"I hope, Mr. Stanbury, that nothing nice and pleasant has departed +from me. If I have ever been dainty, dainty I hope I may remain. I +will never, at any rate, give it up of my own accord." Why she said +this, she could never explain to herself. She had certainly not +intended to rebuff him when she had been saying it. But he spoke not +a word to her further as they walked home, either of her mode of life +or of his own.</p> + + +<p><a name="c25" id="c25"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXV.</h3> +<h4>HUGH STANBURY SMOKES HIS PIPE.<br /> </h4> + + +<p><img class="left" src="images/ch25a.jpg" width="310" alt="Illustration" /> +Nora Rowley, when she went to bed, after her walk to Niddon Park in +company with Hugh Stanbury, was full of wrath against him. But she +could not own her anger to herself, nor could she even confess to +herself,—though she was breaking her heart,—that there really +existed for her the slightest cause of grief. But why had he been so +stern to her? Why had he gone out of his way to be uncivil to her? He +had called her "dainty," meaning to imply by the epithet that she was +one of the butterflies of the day, caring for nothing but sunshine +and an opportunity of fluttering her silly wings. She had understood +well what he meant. Of course he was right to be cold to her if his +heart was cold, but he need not have insulted her by his +ill-concealed rebukes. Had he been kind to her, he might have rebuked +her as much as he liked. She quite appreciated the delightful +intimacy of a loving word of counsel from the man she loved,—how +nice it is, as it were, to play at marriage, and to hear beforehand +something of the pleasant weight of gentle marital authority. But +there had been nothing of that in his manner to her. He had told her +that she was dainty,—and had so told it her, as she thought, that +she might learn thereby, that under no circumstances would he have +any other tale to tell her. If he had no other tale, why had he not +been silent? Did he think that she was subject to his rebuke merely +because she lived under his mother's roof? She would soon shew him +that her residence at the Clock House gave him no such authority over +her. Then, amidst her wrath and despair, she cried herself asleep.</p> + +<p>While she was sobbing in bed, he was sitting, with a short, black +pipe stuck into his mouth, on the corner of the churchyard wall +opposite. Before he had left the house he and Priscilla had spoken +together for some minutes about Mrs. Trevelyan. "Of course she was +wrong to see him," said Priscilla. "I hesitate to wound her by so +saying, because she has been ill-used,—though I did tell her so, +when she asked me. She could have lost nothing by declining his +visit."</p> + +<p>"The worst of it is that Trevelyan swears that he will never receive +her again if she received him."</p> + +<p>"He must unswear it," said Priscilla, "that is all. It is out of the +question that a man should take a girl from her home, and make her +his wife, and then throw her off for so little of an offence as this. +She might compel him by law to take her back."</p> + +<p>"What would she get by that?"</p> + +<p>"Little enough," said Priscilla; "and it was little enough she got by +marrying him. She would have had bread, and meat, and raiment without +being married, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"But it was a love-match."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—and now she is at Nuncombe Putney, and he is roaming about in +London. He has to pay ever so much a year for his love-match, and she +is crushed into nothing by it. How long will she have to remain here, +Hugh?"</p> + +<p>"How can I say? I suppose there is no reason against her remaining as +far as you are concerned?"</p> + +<p>"For me personally, none. Were she much worse than I think she is, I +should not care in the least for myself, if I thought that we were +doing her good,—helping to bring her back. She can't hurt me. I am +so fixed, and dry, and established, that nothing anybody says will +affect me. But mamma doesn't like it."</p> + +<p>"What is it she dislikes?"</p> + +<p>"The idea that she is harbouring a married woman, of whom people say, +at least, that she has a lover."</p> + +<p>"Is she to be turned out because people are slanderers?"</p> + +<p>"Why should mamma suffer because this woman, who is a stranger to +her, has been imprudent? If she were your wife, +<span class="nowrap">Hugh—"</span></p> + +<p>"God forbid!"</p> + +<p>"If we were in any way bound to her, of course we would do our duty. +But if it makes mamma unhappy I am sure you will not press it. I +think Mrs. Merton has spoken to her. And then Aunt Stanbury has +written such letters!"</p> + +<p>"Who cares for Aunt Jemima?"</p> + +<p>"Everybody cares for her,—except you and I. And now this man who has +been here asking the servant questions has upset her greatly. Even +your coming has done so, knowing, as she does, that you have come, +not to see us, but to make inquiries about Mrs. Trevelyan. She is so +annoyed by it, that she does not sleep."</p> + +<p>"Do you wish her to be taken away at once?" asked Hugh, almost in an +angry tone.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. That would be impossible. We have agreed to take her, +and must bear with it. And I would not have her moved from this, if I +thought that if she stayed awhile it might be arranged that she might +return from us direct to her husband."</p> + +<p>"I shall try that, of course;—now."</p> + +<p>"But if he will not have her;—if he be so obstinate, so foolish, and +so wicked, do not leave her here longer than you can help." Then Hugh +explained that Sir Marmaduke and Lady Rowley were to be in England in +the spring, and that it would be very desirable that the poor woman +should not be sent abroad to look for a home before that. "If it must +be so, it must," said Priscilla. "But eight months is a long time."</p> + +<p>Hugh went out to smoke his pipe on the church-wall in a moody, +unhappy state of mind. He had hoped to have done so well in regard to +Mrs. Trevelyan! Till he had met Colonel Osborne, he felt sure, almost +sure, that she would have refused to see that pernicious troubler of +the peace of families. In this he found that he had been +disappointed; but he had not expected that Priscilla would have been +so much opposed to the arrangement which he had made about the house, +and then he had been buoyed up by the anticipation of some delight in +meeting Nora Rowley. There was, at any rate, the excitement of seeing +her to keep his spirits from flagging. He had seen her, and had had +the opportunity of which he had so long been thinking. He had seen +her, and had had every possible advantage on his side. What could any +man desire better than the privilege of walking home with the girl he +loved through country lanes of a summer evening? They had been an +hour together,—or might have been, had he chosen to prolong the +interview. But the words which had been spoken between them had had +not the slightest interest,—unless it were that they had tended to +make the interval between him and her wider than ever. He had asked +her,—he thought that he had asked,—whether it would grieve her to +abandon that delicate, dainty mode of life to which she had been +accustomed; and she had replied, that she would never abandon it of +her own accord. Of course she had intended him to take her at her +word.</p> + +<p>He blew forth quick clouds of heavy smoke, as he attempted to make +himself believe that this was all for the best. What would such a one +as he was do with a wife? Or, seeing as he did see, that marriage +itself was quite out of the question, how could it be good either for +him or her that they should be tied together by a long engagement? +Such a future would not at all suit the purpose of his life. In his +life absolute freedom would be needed;—freedom from unnecessary +ties, freedom from unnecessary burdens. His income was most +precarious, and he certainly would not make it less so by submission +to any closer literary thraldom. And he believed himself to be a +Bohemian,—too much of a Bohemian to enjoy a domestic fireside with +children and slippers. To be free to go where he liked, and when he +liked; to think as he pleased; to be driven nowhere by conventional +rules; to use his days, Sundays as well as Mondays, as he pleased to +use them; to turn Republican, if his mind should take him that +way,—or Quaker, or Mormon, or Red Indian, if he wished it, and in so +turning to do no damage to any one but himself;—that was the life +which he had planned for himself. His Aunt Stanbury had not read his +character altogether wrongly, as he thought, when she had once +declared that decency and godliness were both distasteful to him. +Would it not be destruction to such a one as he was, to fall into an +interminable engagement with any girl, let her be ever so sweet?</p> + +<p>But yet, he felt as he sat there, filling pipe after pipe, smoking +away till past midnight, that though he could not bear the idea of +trammels, though he was totally unfit for matrimony, either present +or in prospect,—he felt that he had within his breast a double +identity, and that that other division of himself would be utterly +crushed if it were driven to divest itself of the idea of love. +Whence was to come his poetry, the romance of his life, the springs +of clear water in which his ignoble thoughts were to be dipped till +they should become pure, if love was to be banished altogether from +the list of delights that were possible to him? And then he began to +speculate on love,—that love of which poets wrote, and of which he +found that some sparkle was necessary to give light to his life. Was +it not the one particle of divine breath given to man, of which he +had heard since he was a boy? And how was this love to be come at, +and was it to be a thing of reality, or merely an idea? Was it a +pleasure to be attained, or a mystery that charmed by the +difficulties of the distance,—a distance that never could be so +passed that the thing should really be reached? Was love to be ever a +delight, vague as is that feeling of unattainable beauty which +far-off mountains give, when you know that you can never place +yourself amidst their unseen valleys? And if love could be +reached,—the love of which the poets sing, and of which his own +heart was ever singing,—what were to be its pleasures? To press a +hand, to kiss a lip, to clasp a waist, to hear even the low voice of +the vanquished, confessing loved one as she hides her blushing cheek +upon your shoulder,—what is it all but to have reached the once +mysterious valley of your far-off mountain, and to have found that it +is as other valleys,—rocks and stones, with a little grass, and a +thin stream of running water? But beyond that pressure of the hand, +and that kissing of the lips,—beyond that short-lived pressure of +the plumage which is common to birds and men,—what could love do +beyond that? There were children with dirty faces, and household +bills, and a wife who must, perhaps, always darn the stockings,—and +be sometimes cross. Was love to lead only to this,—a dull life, with +a woman who had lost the beauty from her cheeks, and the gloss from +her hair, and the music from her voice, and the fire from her eye, +and the grace from her step, and whose waist an arm should no longer +be able to span? Did the love of the poets lead to that, and that +only? Then, through the cloud of smoke, there came upon him some dim +idea of self-abnegation,—that the mysterious valley among the +mountains, the far-off prospect of which was so charming to +him,—which made the poetry of his life, was, in fact, the capacity +of caring more for other human beings than for himself. The beauty of +it all was not so much in the thing loved as in the loving. "Were she +a cripple, hunchbacked, eyeless," he said to himself, "it might be +the same. Only she must be a woman." Then he blew off a great cloud +of smoke, and went into bed lost amidst poetry, philosophy, love, and +tobacco.</p> + +<p>It had been arranged over-night that he was to start the next morning +at half-past seven, and Priscilla had promised to give him his +breakfast before he went. Priscilla, of course, kept her word. She +was one of those women who would take a grim pleasure in coming down +to make the tea at any possible hour,—at five, at four, if it were +needed,—and who would never want to go to bed again when the +ceremony was performed. But when Nora made her appearance,—Nora, who +had been called dainty,—both Priscilla and Hugh were surprised. They +could not say why she was there,—nor could Nora tell herself. She +had not forgiven him. She had no thought of being gentle and loving +to him. She declared to herself that she had no wish of saying +good-bye to him once again. But yet she was in the room, waiting for +him, when he came down to his breakfast. She had been unable to +sleep, and had reasoned with herself as to the absurdity of lying in +bed awake, when she preferred to be up and out of the house. It was +true that she had not been out of her bed at seven any morning since +she had been at Nuncombe Putney; but that was no reason why she +should not be more active on this special morning. There was a noise +in the house, and she never could sleep when there was a noise. She +was quite sure that she was not going down because she wished to see +Hugh Stanbury, but she was equally sure that it would be a disgrace +to her to be deterred from going down, simply because the man was +there. So she descended to the parlour, and was standing near the +open window when Stanbury bustled into the room, some quarter of an +hour after the proper time. Priscilla was there also, guessing +something of the truth, and speculating whether these two young +people, should they love each other, would be the better or the worse +for such love. There must be marriages,—if only that the world might +go on in accordance with the Creator's purpose. But, as far as +Priscilla could see, blessed were they who were not called upon to +assist in the scheme. To her eyes all days seemed to be days of +wrath, and all times, times of tribulation. And it was all mere +vanity and vexation of spirit. To go on and bear it till one was +dead,—helping others to bear it, if such help might be of +avail,—that was her theory of life. To make it pleasant by eating, +and drinking, and dancing, or even by falling in love, was, to her +mind, a vain crunching of ashes between the teeth. Not to have ill +things said of her and of hers, not to be disgraced, not to be +rendered incapable of some human effort, not to have actually to +starve,—such was the extent of her ambition in this world. And for +the next,—she felt so assured of the goodness of God that she could +not bring herself to doubt of happiness in a world that was to be +eternal. Her doubt was this, whether it was really the next world +which would be eternal. Of eternity she did not doubt;—but might +there not be many worlds? These things, however, she kept almost +entirely to herself. "You down!" Priscilla had said.</p> + +<p>"Well, yes; I could not sleep when I heard you all moving. And the +morning is so fine, and I thought that perhaps you would go out and +walk after your brother has gone." Priscilla promised that she would +walk, and then the tea was made.</p> + +<p>"Your sister and I are going out for an early walk," said Nora, when +she was greeted by Stanbury. Priscilla said nothing, but thought she +understood it all.</p> + +<p>"I wish I were going with you," said Hugh. Nora, remembering how very +little he had made of his opportunity on the evening before, did not +believe him.</p> + +<p>The eggs and fried bacon were eaten in a hurry, and very little was +said. Then there came the moment for parting. The brother and sister +kissed each other, and Hugh took Nora by the hand. "I hope you make +yourself happy here," he said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes;—if it were only for myself I should want nothing."</p> + +<p>"I will do the best I can with Trevelyan."</p> + +<p>"The best will be to make him, and every one, understand that the +fault is altogether his, and not Emily's."</p> + +<p>"The best will be to make each think that there has been no real +fault," said Hugh.</p> + +<p>"There should be no talking of faults," said Priscilla. "Let the +husband take his wife back,—as he is bound to do."</p> + +<p>These words occupied hardly a minute in the saying, but during that +minute Hugh Stanbury held Nora by the hand. He held it fast. She +would not attempt to withdraw it, but neither would she return his +pressure by the muscle of a single finger. What right had he to press +her hand; or to make any sign of love, any pretence of loving, when +he had gone out of his way to tell her that she was not good enough +for him? Then he started, and Nora and Priscilla put on their hats +and left the house.</p> + +<p>"Let us go to Niddon Park," said Nora.</p> + +<p>"To Niddon Park again?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; it is so beautiful! And I should like to see it by the morning +light. There is plenty of time."</p> + +<p>So they walked to Niddon Park in the morning, as they had done on the +preceding evening. Their conversation at first regarded Trevelyan and +his wife, and the old trouble; but Nora could not keep herself from +speaking of Hugh Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"He would not have come," she said, "unless Louis had sent him."</p> + +<p>"He would not have come now, I think."</p> + +<p>"Of course not;—why should he?—before Parliament was hardly over, +too? But he won't remain in town now,—will he?"</p> + +<p>"He says somebody must remain,—and I think he will be in London till +near Christmas."</p> + +<p>"How disagreeable! But I suppose he doesn't care. It's all the same +to a man like him. They don't shut the clubs up, I dare say. Will he +come here at Christmas?"</p> + +<p>"Either then or for the New Year;—just for a day or two."</p> + +<p>"We shall be gone then, I suppose?" said Nora.</p> + +<p>"That must depend on Mr. Trevelyan," said Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"What a life for two women to lead;—to depend upon the caprice of a +man who must be mad! Do you think that Mr. Trevelyan will care for +what your brother says to him?"</p> + +<p>"I do not know Mr. Trevelyan."</p> + +<p>"He is very fond of your brother, and I suppose men friends do listen +to each other. They never seem to listen to women. Don't you think +that, after all, they despise women? They look on them as dainty, +foolish things."</p> + +<p>"Sometimes women despise men," said Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"Not very often;—do they? And then women are so dependent on men. A +woman can get nothing without a man."</p> + +<p>"I manage to get on somehow," said Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"No, you don't, Miss Stanbury,—if you think of it. You want mutton. +And who kills the sheep?"</p> + +<p>"But who cooks it?"</p> + +<p>"But the men-cooks are the best," said Nora; "and the men-tailors, +and the men to wait at table, and the men-poets, and the +men-painters, and the men-nurses. All the things that women do, men +do better."</p> + +<p>"There are two things they can't do," said Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"What are they?"</p> + +<p>"They can't suckle babies, and they can't forget themselves."</p> + +<p>"About the babies, of course not. As for forgetting themselves,—I am +not quite so sure that I can forget myself.—That is just where your +brother went down last night."</p> + +<p>They had at this moment reached the top of the steep slope below +which the river ran brawling among the rocks, and Nora seated herself +exactly where she had sat on the previous evening.</p> + +<p>"I have been down scores of times," said Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"Let us go now."</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't go when Hugh asked you yesterday."</p> + +<p>"I didn't care then. But do come now,—if you don't mind the climb." +Then they went down the slope and reached the spot from whence Hugh +Stanbury had jumped from rock to rock across the stream. "You have +never been out there, have you?" said Nora.</p> + +<p>"On the rocks? Oh, dear, no! I should be sure to fall."</p> + +<p>"But he went; just like a goat."</p> + +<p>"That's one of the things that men can do, I suppose," said +Priscilla. "But I don't see any great glory in being like a goat."</p> + +<p>"I do. I should like to be able to go, and I think I'll try. It is so +mean to be dainty and weak."</p> + +<p>"I don't think it at all dainty to keep dry feet."</p> + +<p>"But he didn't get his feet wet," said Nora. "Or if he did, he didn't +mind. I can see at once that I should be giddy and tumble down if I +tried it."</p> + +<p>"Of course you would."</p> + +<p>"But he didn't tumble down."</p> + +<p>"He has been doing it all his life," said Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"He can't do it up in London. When I think of myself, Miss Stanbury, +I am so ashamed. There is nothing that I can do. I couldn't write an +article for a newspaper."</p> + +<p>"I think I could. But I fear no one would read it."</p> + +<p>"They read his," said Nora, "or else he wouldn't be paid for writing +them." Then they climbed back again up the hill, and during the +climbing there were no words spoken. The slope was not much of a +hill,—was no more than the fall from the low ground of the valley to +the course which the river had cut for itself; but it was steep while +it lasted; and both the young women were forced to pause for a minute +before they could proceed upon their journey. As they walked home +Priscilla spoke of the scenery, and of the country, and of the nature +of the life which she and her mother and sister had passed at +Nuncombe Putney. Nora said but little till they were just entering +the village, and then she went back to the subject of her thoughts. +"I would sooner," said she, "write for a newspaper than do anything +else in the world."</p> + +<p>"Why so?"</p> + +<p>"Because it is so noble to teach people everything! And then a man +who writes for a newspaper must know so many things himself! I +believe there are women who do it, but very few. One or two have done +it, I know."</p> + +<p>"Go and tell that to Aunt Stanbury, and hear what she will say about +such women."</p> + +<p>"I suppose she is very,—prejudiced."</p> + +<p>"Yes; she is; but she is a clever woman. I am inclined to think women +had better not write for newspapers."</p> + +<p>"And why not?" Nora asked.</p> + +<p>"My reasons would take me a week to explain, and I doubt whether I +have them very clear in my own head. In the first place there is that +difficulty about the babies. Most of them must get married you know."</p> + +<p>"But not all," said Nora.</p> + +<p>"No; thank God; not all."</p> + +<p>"And if you are not married you might write for a newspaper. At any +rate, if I were you, I should be very proud of my brother."</p> + +<p>"Aunt Stanbury is not at all proud of her nephew," said Priscilla, as +they entered the house.</p> + + +<p><a name="c26" id="c26"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXVI.</h3> +<h4>A THIRD PARTY IS SO OBJECTIONABLE.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Hugh Stanbury went in search of Trevelyan immediately on his return +to London, and found his friend at his rooms in Lincoln's Inn.</p> + +<p>"I have executed my commission," said Hugh, endeavouring to speak of +what he had done in a cheery voice.</p> + +<p>"I am much obliged to you, Stanbury; very much;—but I do not know +that I need trouble you to tell me anything about it."</p> + +<p>"And why not?"</p> + +<p>"I have learned it all from that—man."</p> + +<p>"What man?"</p> + +<p>"From Bozzle. He has come back, and has been with me, and has learned +everything."</p> + +<p>"Look here, Trevelyan;—when you asked me to go down to Devonshire, +you promised me that there should be nothing more about Bozzle. I +expect you to put that rascal, and all that he has told you, out of +your head altogether. You are bound to do so for my sake, and you +will be very wise to do so for your own."</p> + +<p>"I was obliged to see him when he came."</p> + +<p>"Yes, and to pay him, I do not doubt. But that is all done, and +should be forgotten."</p> + +<p>"I can't forget it. Is it true or untrue that he found that man down +there? Is it true or untrue that my wife received Colonel Osborne at +your mother's house? Is it true or untrue that Colonel Osborne went +down there with the express object of seeing her? Is it true or +untrue that they had corresponded? It is nonsense to bid me to forget +all this. You might as well ask me to forget that I had desired her +neither to write to him, nor to see him."</p> + +<p>"If I understand the matter," said Trevelyan, "you are incorrect in +one of your assertions."</p> + +<p>"In which?"</p> + +<p>"You must excuse me if I am wrong, Trevelyan; but I don't think you +ever did tell your wife not to see this man, or not to write to him?"</p> + +<p>"I never told her! I don't understand what you mean."</p> + +<p>"Not in so many words. It is my belief that she has endeavoured to +obey implicitly every clear instruction that you have given her."</p> + +<p>"You are wrong;—absolutely and altogether wrong. Heaven and earth! +Do you mean to tell me now, after all that has taken place, that she +did not know my wishes?"</p> + +<p>"I have not said that. But you have chosen to place her in such a +position, that though your word would go for much with her, she +cannot bring herself to respect your wishes."</p> + +<p>"And you call that being dutiful and affectionate!"</p> + +<p>"I call it human and reasonable; and I think that it is compatible +with duty and affection. Have you consulted her wishes?"</p> + +<p>"Always!"</p> + +<p>"Consult them now then, and bid her come back to you."</p> + +<p>"No;—never! As far as I can see, I will never do so. The moment she +is away from me this man goes to her, and she receives him. She must +have known that she was wrong,—and you must know it."</p> + +<p>"I do not think that she is half so wrong as you yourself," said +Stanbury. To this Trevelyan made no answer, and they both remained +silent some minutes. Stanbury had a communication to make before he +went, but it was one which he wished to delay as long as there was a +chance that his friend's heart might be softened;—one which he need +not make if Trevelyan would consent to receive his wife back to his +house. There was the day's paper lying on the table, and Stanbury had +taken it up and was reading it,—or pretending to read it.</p> + +<p>"I will tell you what I propose to do," said Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"Well."</p> + +<p>"It is best both for her and for me that we should be apart."</p> + +<p>"I cannot understand how you can be so mad as to say so."</p> + +<p>"You don't understand what I feel. Heaven and earth! To have a man +coming and going—. But, never mind. You do not see it, and nothing +will make you see it. And there is no reason why you should."</p> + +<p>"I certainly do not see it. I do not believe that your wife cares +more for Colonel Osborne, except as an old friend of her father's, +than she does for the fellow that sweeps the crossing. It is a matter +in which I am bound to tell you what I think."</p> + +<p>"Very well. Now, if you have freed your mind, I will tell you my +purpose. I am bound to do so, because your people are concerned in +it. I shall go abroad."</p> + +<p>"And leave her in England?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly. She will be safer here than she can be abroad,—unless +she should choose to go back with her father to the islands."</p> + +<p>"And take the boy?"</p> + +<p>"No;—I could not permit that. What I intend is this. I will give her +£800 a year, as long as I have reason to believe that she has no +communication whatever, either by word of mouth or by letter, with +that man. If she does, I will put the case immediately into the hands +of my lawyer, with instructions to him to ascertain from counsel what +severest steps I can take."</p> + +<p>"How I hate that word severe, when applied to a woman."</p> + +<p>"I dare say you do,—when applied to another man's wife. But there +will be no severity in my first proposition. As for the child,—if I +approve of the place in which she lives, as I do at present,—he +shall remain with her for nine months in the year till he is six +years old. Then he must come to me. And he shall come to me +altogether if she sees or hears from that man. I believe that £800 a +year will enable her to live with all comfort under your mother's +roof."</p> + +<p>"As to that," said Stanbury, slowly, "I suppose I had better tell you +at once, that the Nuncombe Putney arrangement cannot be considered as +permanent."</p> + +<p>"Why not?"</p> + +<p>"Because my mother is timid and nervous, and altogether unused to the +world."</p> + +<p>"That unfortunate woman is to be sent away,—even from Nuncombe +Putney!"</p> + +<p>"Understand me, Trevelyan."</p> + +<p>"I understand you. I understand you most thoroughly. Nor do I wonder +at it in the least. Do not suppose that I am angry with your mother, +or with you, or with your sister. I have no right to expect that they +should keep her after that man has made his way into their house. I +can well conceive that no honest, high-minded lady would do so."</p> + +<p>"It is not that at all."</p> + +<p>"But it is that. How can you tell me that it isn't? And yet you would +have me believe that I am not disgraced!" As he said this Trevelyan +got up, and walked about the room, tearing his hair with his hands. +He was in truth a wretched man, from whose mind all expectation of +happiness was banished, who regarded his own position as one of +incurable ignominy, looking upon himself as one who had been made +unfit for society by no fault of his own. What was he to do with the +wretched woman who could be kept from the evil of her pernicious +vanity by no gentle custody, whom no most distant retirement would +make safe from the effects of her own ignorance, folly, and +obstinacy? "When is she to go?" he asked in a low, sepulchral +tone,—as though these new tidings that had come upon him had been +fatal—laden with doom, and finally subversive of all chance even of +tranquillity.</p> + +<p>"When you and she may please."</p> + +<p>"That is all very well;—but let me know the truth. I would not have +your mother's house—contaminated; but may she remain there for a +week?"</p> + +<p>Stanbury jumped from his seat with an oath. "I tell you what it is, +Trevelyan;—if you speak of your wife in that way, I will not listen +to you. It is unmanly and untrue to say that her presence +can—contaminate any house."</p> + +<p>"That is very fine. It may be chivalrous in you to tell me on her +behalf that I am a liar,—and that I am not a man."</p> + +<p>"You drive me to it."</p> + +<p>"But what am I to think when you are forced to declare that this +unfortunate woman can not be allowed to remain at your mother's +house,—a house which has been especially taken with reference to a +shelter for her? She has been received,—with the idea that she would +be discreet. She has been indiscreet, past belief, and she is to be +turned out,—most deservedly. Heaven and earth! Where shall I find a +roof for her head?" Trevelyan as he said this was walking about the +room with his hands stretched up towards the ceiling; and as his +friend was attempting to make him comprehend that there was no +intention on the part of any one to banish Mrs. Trevelyan from the +Clock House, at least for some months to come,—not even till after +Christmas unless some satisfactory arrangement could be sooner +made,—the door of the room was opened by the boy, who called himself +a clerk, and who acted as Trevelyan's servant in the chambers, and a +third person was shown into the room. That third person was Mr. +Bozzle. As no name was given, Stanbury did not at first know Mr. +Bozzle, but he had not had his eye on Mr. Bozzle for half a minute +before he recognised the ex-policeman by the outward attributes and +signs of his profession. "Oh, is that you, Mr. Bozzle?" said +Trevelyan, as soon as the great man had made his bow of salutation. +"Well;—what is it?"</p> + + +<div class="center"><a name="ip1-205" id="ip1-205"></a> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="4px"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/p1-205.jpg"> + <img src="images/p1-205-t.jpg" width="540" + alt="That third person was Mr. Bozzle." /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <span class="caption">That third person was Mr. Bozzle.<br /> + Click to <a href="images/p1-205.jpg">ENLARGE</a></span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p>"Mr. Hugh Stanbury, I think," said Bozzle, making another bow to the +young barrister.</p> + +<p>"That's my name," said Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"Exactly so, Mr. S. The identity is one as I could prove on oath in +any court in England. You was on the railway platform at Exeter on +Saturday when we was waiting for the 12 express 'buss;—wasn't you +now, Mr. S.?"</p> + +<p>"What's that to you?"</p> + +<p>"Well;—as it do happen, it is something to me. And, Mr. S., if you +was asked that question in hany court in England or before even one +of the metropolitan bekes, you wouldn't deny it."</p> + +<p>"Why the devil should I deny it? What's all this about, Trevelyan?"</p> + +<p>"Of course you can't deny it, Mr. S. When I'm down on a fact, I am +down on it. Nothing else wouldn't do in my profession."</p> + +<p>"Have you anything to say to me, Mr. Bozzle?" asked Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"Well;—I have; just a word."</p> + +<p>"About your journey to Devonshire?"</p> + +<p>"Well;—in a way it is about my journey to Devonshire. It's all along +of the same job, Mr. Trewillian."</p> + +<p>"You can speak before my friend here," said Trevelyan. Bozzle had +taken a great dislike to Hugh Stanbury, regarding the barrister with +a correct instinct as one who was engaged for the time in the same +service with himself, and who was his rival in that service. When +thus instigated to make as it were a party of three in this delicate +and most confidential matter, and to take his rival into his +confidence, he shook his head slowly and looked Trevelyan hard in the +face,—"Mr. Stanbury is my particular friend," said Trevelyan, "and +knows well the circumstances of this unfortunate affair. You can say +anything before him."</p> + +<p>Bozzle shook his head again. "I'd rayther not, Mr. Trewillian," said +he. "Indeed I'd rayther not. It's something very particular."</p> + +<p>"If you take my advice," said Stanbury, "you will not hear him +yourself."</p> + +<p>"That's your advice, Mr. S.?" asked Mr. Bozzle.</p> + +<p>"Yes;—that's my advice. I'd never have anything to do with such a +fellow as you as long as I could help it."</p> + +<p>"I dare say not, Mr. S.; I dare say not. We're hexpensive, and we're +haccurate;—neither of which is much in your line, Mr. S., if I +understand about it rightly."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Bozzle, if you've got anything to tell, tell it," said Trevelyan +angrily.</p> + +<p>"A third party is so objectionable," pleaded Bozzle.</p> + +<p>"Never mind. That is my affair."</p> + +<p>"It is your affair, Mr. Trewillian. There's not a doubt of that. The +lady is your wife."</p> + +<p>"Damnation!" shouted Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"But the credit, sir," said Bozzle. "The credit is mine. And here is +Mr. S. has been down a interfering with me, and doing no 'varsal +good, as I'll undertake to prove by evidence before the affair is +over."</p> + +<p>"The affair is over," said Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"That's as you think, Mr. S. That's where your information goes to, +Mr. S. Mine goes a little beyond that, Mr. S. I've means as you can +know nothing about, Mr. S. I've irons in the fire, what you're as +ignorant on as the babe as isn't born."</p> + +<p>"No doubt you have, Mr. Bozzle," said Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"I has. And now if it be that I must speak before a third party, Mr. +Trewillian, I'm ready. It ain't that I'm no ways ashamed. I've done +my duty, and knows how to do it. And let a counsel be ever so sharp, +I never yet was so 'posed but what I could stand up and hold my own. +The Colonel, Mr. Trewillian, got,—a letter,—from your lady,—this +morning."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it," said Stanbury, sharply.</p> + +<p>"Very likely not, Mr. S. It ain't in my power to say anything +whatever about you believing or not believing. But Mr. T.'s lady has +wrote the letter; and the Colonel,—he has received it. You don't +look after these things, Mr. S. You don't know the ways of 'em. But +it's my business. The lady has wrote the letter, and the +Colonel,—why, he has received it." Trevelyan had become white with +rage when Bozzle first mentioned this continued correspondence +between his wife and Colonel Osborne. It never occurred to him to +doubt the correctness of the policeman's information, and he regarded +Stanbury's assertion of incredulity as being simply of a piece with +his general obstinacy in the matter. At this moment he began to +regret that he had called in the assistance of his friend, and that +he had not left the affair altogether in the hands of that much more +satisfactory, but still more painful, agent, Mr. Bozzle. He had again +seated himself, and for a moment or two remained silent on his chair. +"It ain't my fault, Mr. Trewillian," continued Bozzle, "if this +little matter oughtn't never to have been mentioned before a third +party."</p> + +<p>"It is of no moment," said Trevelyan, in a low voice. "What does it +signify who knows it now?"</p> + +<p>"Do not believe it, Trevelyan," said Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"Very well, Mr. S. Very well. Just as you like. Don't believe it. +Only it's true, and it's my business to find them things out. It's my +business, and I finds 'em out. Mr. Trewillian can do as he likes +about it. If it's right, why, then it is right. It ain't for me to +say nothing about that. But there's the fact. The lady, she has wrote +another letter; and the Colonel,—why, he has received it. There +ain't nothing wrong about the post-office. If I was to say what was +inside of that billydou,—why, then I should be proving what I didn't +know; and when it came to standing up in court, I shouldn't be able +to hold my own. But as for the letter, the lady wrote it, and the +Colonel,—he received it."</p> + +<p>"That will do, Mr. Bozzle," said Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"Shall I call again, Mr. Trewillian?"</p> + +<p>"No;—yes. I'll send to you, when I want you. You shall hear from +me."</p> + +<p>"I suppose I'd better be keeping my eyes open about the Colonel's +place, Mr. Trewillian?"</p> + +<p>"For God's sake, Trevelyan, do not have anything more to do with this +man!"</p> + +<p>"That's all very well for you, Mr. S.," said Bozzle. "The lady ain't +your wife."</p> + +<p>"Can you imagine anything more disgraceful than all this?" said +Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"Nothing; nothing; nothing!" answered Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"And I'm to keep stirring, and be on the move?" again suggested +Bozzle, who prudently required to be fortified by instructions before +he devoted his time and talents even to so agreeable a pursuit as +that in which he had been engaged.</p> + +<p>"You shall hear from me," said Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"Very well;—very well. I wish you good-day, Mr. Trewillian. Mr. S., +yours most obedient. There was one other point, Mr. Trewillian."</p> + +<p>"What point?" asked Trevelyan, angrily.</p> + +<p>"If the lady was to join the Colonel—"</p> + +<p>"That will do, Mr. Bozzle," said Trevelyan, again jumping up from his +chair. "That will do." So saying, he opened the door, and Bozzle, +with a bow, took his departure. "What on earth am I to do? How am I +to save her?" said the wretched husband, appealing to his friend.</p> + +<p>Stanbury endeavoured with all his eloquence to prove that this latter +piece of information from the spy must be incorrect. If such a letter +had been written by Mrs. Trevelyan to Colonel Osborne, it must have +been done while he, Stanbury, was staying at the Clock House. This +seemed to him to be impossible; but he could hardly explain why it +should be impossible. She had written to the man before, and had +received him when he came to Nuncombe Putney. Why was it even +improbable that she should have written to him again? Nevertheless, +Stanbury felt sure that she had sent no such letter. "I think I +understand her feelings and her mind," said he; "and if so, any such +correspondence would be incompatible with her previous conduct." +Trevelyan only smiled at this,—or pretended to smile. He would not +discuss the question; but believed implicitly what Bozzle had told +him in spite of all Stanbury's arguments. "I can say nothing +further," said Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"No, my dear fellow. There is nothing further to be said, except +this, that I will have my unfortunate wife removed from the decent +protection of your mother's roof with the least possible delay. I +feel that I owe Mrs. Stanbury the deepest apology for having sent +such an inmate to trouble her repose."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense!"</p> + +<p>"That is what I feel."</p> + +<p>"And I say that it is nonsense. If you had never sent that wretched +blackguard down to fabricate lies at Nuncombe Putney, my mother's +repose would have been all right. As it is, Mrs. Trevelyan can remain +where she is till after Christmas. There is not the least necessity +for removing her at once. I only meant to say that the arrangement +should not be regarded as altogether permanent. I must go to my work +now. Good-bye."</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, Stanbury."</p> + +<p>Stanbury paused at the door, and then once more turned round. "I +suppose it is of no use my saying anything further; but I wish you to +understand fully that I regard your wife as a woman much ill-used, +and I think you are punishing her, and yourself, too, with a cruel +severity for an indiscretion of the very slightest kind."</p> + + +<p><a name="c27" id="c27"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXVII.</h3> +<h4>MR. TREVELYAN'S LETTER TO HIS WIFE.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Trevelyan, when he was left alone, sat for above a couple of hours +contemplating the misery of his position, and endeavouring to teach +himself by thinking what ought to be his future conduct. It never +occurred to him during these thoughts that it would be well that he +should at once take back his wife, either as a matter of duty, or of +welfare, for himself or for her. He had taught himself to believe +that she had disgraced him; and, though this feeling of disgrace made +him so wretched that he wished that he were dead, he would allow +himself to make no attempt at questioning the correctness of his +conviction. Though he were to be shipwrecked for ever, even that +seemed to be preferable to supposing that he had been wrong. +Nevertheless, he loved his wife dearly, and, in the white heat of his +anger endeavoured to be merciful to her. When Stanbury accused him of +severity, he would not condescend to defend himself; but he told +himself then of his great mercy. Was he not as fond of his own boy as +any other father, and had he not allowed her to take the child +because he had felt that a mother's love was more imperious, more +craving in its nature, than the love of a father? Had that been +severe? And had he not resolved to allow her every comfort which her +unfortunate position,—the self-imposed misfortune of her +position,—would allow her to enjoy? She had come to him without a +shilling; and yet, bad as her treatment of him had been, he was +willing to give enough not only to support her, but her sister also, +with every comfort. Severe! No; that, at least, was an undeserved +accusation. He had been anything but severe. Foolish he might have +been, in taking a wife from a home in which she had been unable to +learn the discretion of a matron; too trusting he had been, and too +generous,—but certainly not severe. But, of course, as he said to +himself, a young man like Stanbury would take the part of a woman +with whose sister he was in love. Then he turned his thoughts upon +Bozzle, and there came over him a crushing feeling of ignominy, +shame, moral dirt, and utter degradation, as he reconsidered his +dealings with that ingenious gentleman. He was paying a rogue to +watch the steps of a man whom he hated, to pry into the home secrets, +to read the letters, to bribe the servants, to record the movements +of this rival, this successful rival, in his wife's affections! It +was a filthy thing,—and yet what could he do? Gentlemen of old, his +own grandfather, or his father, would have taken such a fellow as +Colonel Osborne by the throat and have caned him, and afterwards +would have shot him, or have stood to be shot. All that was changed +now,—but it was not his fault that it was changed. He was willing +enough to risk his life, could any opportunity of risking it in this +cause be obtained for him. But were he to cudgel Colonel Osborne, he +would be simply arrested, and he would then be told that he had +disgraced himself foully by striking a man old enough to be his +father!</p> + +<p>How was he to have avoided the employment of some such man as Bozzle? +He had also employed a gentleman, his friend, Stanbury; and what was +the result? The facts were not altered. Even Stanbury did not attempt +to deny that there had been a correspondence, and that there had been +a visit. But Stanbury was so blind to all impropriety, or pretended +such blindness, that he defended that which all the world agreed in +condemning. Of what use had Stanbury been to him? He had wanted +facts, not advice. Stanbury had found out no facts for him; but +Bozzle, either by fair means or foul, did get at the truth. He did +not doubt but that Bozzle was right about that letter written only +yesterday, and received on that very morning. His wife, who had +probably been complaining of her wrongs to Stanbury, must have +retired from that conversation to her chamber, and immediately have +written this letter to her lover! With such a woman as that what can +be done in these days otherwise than by the aid of such a one as +Bozzle? He could not confine his wife in a dungeon. He could not save +himself from the disgrace of her misconduct, by any rigours of +surveillance on his own part. As wives are managed now-a-days, he +could not forbid to her the use of the post-office,—could not hinder +her from seeing this hypocritical scoundrel, who carried on his +wickedness under the false guise of family friendship. He had given +her every chance to amend her conduct: but, if she were resolved on +disobedience, he had no means of enforcing obedience. The facts, +however, it was necessary that he should know.</p> + +<p>And now, what should he do? How should he go to work to make her +understand that she could not write even a letter without his knowing +it; and that if she did either write to the man or see him he would +immediately take the child from her, and provide for her only in such +fashion as the law should demand from him? For himself, and for his +own life, he thought that he had determined what he would do. It was +impossible that he should continue to live in London. He was ashamed +to enter a club. He had hardly a friend to whom it was not an agony +to speak. They who knew him, knew also of his disgrace, and no longer +asked him to their houses. For days past he had eaten alone, and sat +alone, and walked alone. All study was impossible to him. No pursuit +was open to him. He spent his time in thinking of his wife, and of +the disgrace which she had brought upon him. Such a life as this, he +knew, was unmanly and shameful, and it was absolutely necessary for +him that he should in some way change it. He would go out of England, +and would travel,—if only he could so dispose of his wife that she +might be safe from any possible communication with Colonel Osborne. +If that could be effected, nothing that money could do should be +spared for her. If that could not be effected he would remain at +home,—and crush her.</p> + +<p>That night before he went to bed he wrote a letter to his wife, which +was as <span class="nowrap">follows;—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear Emily</span>,</p> + +<p>I have learned, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that you +have corresponded with Colonel Osborne since you have been +at Nuncombe Putney, and also that you have seen him there. +This has been done in direct opposition to my expressed +wishes, and I feel myself compelled to tell you that such +conduct is disgraceful to you, and disgracing to me. I am +quite at a loss to understand how you can reconcile to +yourself so flagrant a disobedience of my instructions, +and so perverse a disregard to the opinion of the world at +large.</p> + +<p>But I do not write now for the sake of finding fault with +you. It is too late for me to have any hope that I can do +so with good effect, either as regards your credit or my +happiness. Nevertheless, it is my duty to protect both you +and myself from further shame; and I wish to tell you what +are my intentions with that view. In the first place, I +warn you that I keep a watch on you. The doing so is very +painful to me, but it is absolutely necessary. You cannot +see Colonel Osborne, or write to him, without my knowing +it. I pledge you my word that in either case,—that is, if +you correspond with him or see him,—I will at once take +our boy away from you. I will not allow him to remain, +even with a mother, who shall so misconduct herself. +Should Colonel Osborne address a letter to you, I desire +that you will put it under an envelope addressed to me.</p> + +<p>If you obey my commands on this head I will leave our boy +with you nine months out of every year till he shall be +six years old. Such, at least, is my present idea, though +I will not positively bind myself to adhere to it. And I +will allow you £800 per year for your own maintenance and +that of your sister. I am greatly grieved to find from my +friend Mr. Stanbury that your conduct in reference to +Colonel Osborne has been such as to make it necessary that +you should leave Mrs. Stanbury's house. I do not wonder +that it should be so. I shall immediately seek for a +future home for you, and when I have found one that is +suitable, I will have you conveyed to it.</p> + +<p>I must now further explain my purposes,—and I must beg +you to remember that I am driven to do so by your direct +disobedience to my expressed wishes. Should there be any +further communication between you and Colonel Osborne, not +only will I take your child away from you, but I will also +limit the allowance to be made to you to a bare +sustenance. In such case, I shall put the matter into the +hands of a lawyer, and shall probably feel myself driven +to take steps towards freeing myself from a connection +which will be disgraceful to my name.</p> + +<p>For myself, I shall live abroad during the greater part of +the year. London has become to me uninhabitable, and all +English pleasures are distasteful.</p> + +<p class="ind8">Yours affectionately,</p> + +<p class="ind12"><span class="smallcaps">Louis +Trevelyan</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>When he had finished this he read it twice, and believed that he had +written, if not an affectionate, at any rate a considerate letter. He +had no bounds to the pity which he felt for himself in reference to +the injury which was being done to him, and he thought that the +offers which he was making, both in respect to his child and the +money, were such as to entitle him to his wife's warmest gratitude. +He hardly recognised the force of the language which he used when he +told her that her conduct was disgraceful, and that she had disgraced +his name. He was quite unable to look at the whole question between +him and his wife from her point of view. He conceived it possible +that such a woman as his wife should be told that her conduct would +be watched, and that she should be threatened with the Divorce Court, +with an effect that should, upon the whole, be salutary. There be +men, and not bad men either, and men neither uneducated, or +unintelligent, or irrational in ordinary matters, who seem to be +absolutely unfitted by nature to have the custody or guardianship of +others. A woman in the hands of such a man can hardly save herself or +him from endless trouble. It may be that between such a one and his +wife, events shall flow on so evenly that no ruling, no constraint is +necessary,—that even the giving of advice is never called for by the +circumstances of the day. If the man be happily forced to labour +daily for his living till he be weary, and the wife be laden with +many ordinary cares, the routine of life may run on without +storms;—but for such a one, if he be without work, the management of +a wife will be a task full of peril. The lesson may be learned at +last; he may after years come to perceive how much and how little of +guidance the partner of his life requires at his hands; and he may be +taught how that guidance should be given;—but in the learning of the +lesson there will be sorrow and gnashing of teeth. It was so now with +this man. He loved his wife. To a certain extent he still trusted +her. He did not believe that she would be faithless to him after the +fashion of women who are faithless altogether. But he was jealous of +authority, fearful of slights, self-conscious, afraid of the world, +and utterly ignorant of the nature of a woman's mind.</p> + +<p>He carried the letter with him in his pocket throughout the next +morning, and in the course of the day he called upon Lady Milborough. +Though he was obstinately bent on acting in accordance with his own +views, yet he was morbidly desirous of discussing the grievousness of +his position with his friends. He went to Lady Milborough, asking for +her advice, but desirous simply of being encouraged by her to do that +which he was resolved to do on his own judgment.</p> + +<p>"Down,—after her,—to Nuncombe Putney!" said Lady Milborough, +holding up both her hands.</p> + +<p>"Yes; he has been there. And she has been weak enough to see him."</p> + +<p>"My dear Louis, take her to Naples at once,—at once."</p> + +<p>"It is too late for that now, Lady Milborough."</p> + +<p>"Too late! Oh, no. She has been foolish, indiscreet, +disobedient,—what you will of that kind. But, Louis, don't send her +away; don't send your young wife away from you. Those whom God has +joined together, let no man put asunder."</p> + +<p>"I cannot consent to live with a wife with whom neither my wishes nor +my word have the slightest effect. I may believe of her what I +please, but, think what the world will believe! I cannot disgrace +myself by living with a woman who persists in holding intercourse +with a man whom the world speaks of as her lover."</p> + +<p>"Take her to Naples," said Lady Milborough, with all the energy of +which she was capable.</p> + +<p>"I can take her nowhere, nor will I see her, till she has given proof +that her whole conduct towards me has been altered. I have written a +letter to her, and I have brought it. Will you excuse me if I ask you +to take the trouble to read it?"</p> + +<p>Then he handed Lady Milborough the letter, which she read very +slowly, and with much care.</p> + +<p>"I don't think I would—would—would—"</p> + +<p>"Would what?" demanded Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"Don't you think that what you say is a little,—just a little prone +to make,—to make the breach perhaps wider?"</p> + +<p>"No, Lady Milborough. In the first place, how can it be wider?"</p> + +<p>"You might take her back, you know; and then if you could only get to +Naples!"</p> + +<p>"How can I take her back while she is corresponding with this man?"</p> + +<p>"She wouldn't correspond with him at Naples."</p> + +<p>Trevelyan shook his head and became cross. His old friend would not +at all do as old friends are expected to do when called upon for +advice.</p> + +<p>"I think," said he, "that what I have proposed is both just and +generous."</p> + +<p>"But, Louis, why should there be any separation?"</p> + +<p>"She has forced it upon me. She is headstrong, and will not be +ruled."</p> + +<p>"But this about disgracing you. Do you think that you must say that?"</p> + +<p>"I think I must, because it is true. If I do not tell her the truth, +who is there that will do so? It may be bitter now, but I think that +it is for her welfare."</p> + +<p>"Dear, dear, dear!"</p> + +<p>"I want nothing for myself, Lady Milborough."</p> + +<p>"I am sure of that, Louis."</p> + +<p>"My whole happiness was in my home. No man cared less for going out +than I did. My child and my wife were everything to me. I don't +suppose that I was ever seen at a club in the evening once throughout +a season. And she might have had anything that she liked,—anything! +It is hard, Lady Milborough; is it not?"</p> + +<p>Lady Milborough, who had seen the angry brow, did not dare to suggest +Naples again. But yet, if any word might be spoken to prevent this +utter wreck of a home, how good a thing it would be! He had got up to +leave her, but she stopped him by holding his hand. "For better, for +worse, Louis; remember that."</p> + +<p>"Why has she forgotten it?"</p> + +<p>"She is flesh of your flesh, bone of your bone. And for the boy's +sake! Think of your boy, Louis. Do not send that letter. Sleep on it, +Louis, and think of it."</p> + +<p>"I have slept on it."</p> + +<p>"There is no promise in it of forgiveness after a while. It is +written as though you intended that she should never come back to +you."</p> + +<p>"That shall be as she behaves herself."</p> + +<p>"But tell her so. Let there be some one bright spot in what you say +to her, on which her mind may fix itself. If she be not altogether +hardened, that letter will drive her to despair."</p> + +<p>But Trevelyan would not give up the letter, nor indicate by a word +that he would reconsider the question of its propriety. He escaped as +soon as he could from Lady Milborough's room, and almost declared as +he did so, that he would never enter her doors again. She had utterly +failed to see the matter in the proper light. When she talked of +Naples she must surely have been unable to comprehend the extent of +the ill-usage to which he, the husband, had been subjected. How was +it possible that he should live under the same roof with a wife who +claimed to herself the right of receiving visitors of whom he +disapproved,—a visitor,—a gentleman,—one whom the world called her +lover? He gnashed his teeth and clenched his fist as he thought of +his old friend's ignorance of the very first law in a married man's +code of laws.</p> + +<p>But yet when he was out in the streets he did not post his letter at +once; but thought of it throughout the whole day, trying to prove the +weight of every phrase that he had used. Once or twice his heart +almost relented. Once he had the letter in his hand, that he might +tear it. But he did not tear it. He put it back into his pocket, and +thought again of his grievance. Surely it was his first duty in such +an emergency to be firm!</p> + +<p>It was certainly a wretched life that he was leading. In the evening +he went all alone to an eating-house for his dinner, and then, +sitting with a miserable glass of sherry before him, he again read +and re-read the epistle which he had written. Every harsh word that +it contained was, in some sort, pleasant to his ear. She had hit him +hard, and should he not hit her again? And then, was it not his +bounden duty to let her know the truth? Yes; it was his duty to be +firm.</p> + +<p>So he went out and posted the letter.</p> + + +<p><a name="c28" id="c28"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h3> +<h4>GREAT TRIBULATION.<br /> </h4> + + +<p><img class="left" src="images/ch28a.jpg" width="310" alt="Illustration" /> +Trevelyan's letter to his wife fell like a thunderbolt among them at +Nuncombe Putney. Mrs. Trevelyan was altogether unable to keep it to +herself;—indeed she made no attempt at doing so. Her husband had +told her that she was to be banished from the Clock House because her +present hostess was unable to endure her misconduct, and of course +she demanded the reasons of the charge that was thus brought against +her. When she first read the letter, which she did in the presence of +her sister, she towered in her passion.</p> + +<p>"Disgraced him! I have never disgraced him. It is he that has +disgraced me. Correspondence! Yes;—he shall see it all. Unjust, +ignorant, foolish man! He does not remember that the last +instructions he really gave me, were to bid me see Colonel Osborne. +Take my boy away! Yes. Of course, I am a woman and must suffer. I +will write to Colonel Osborne, and will tell him the truth, and will +send my letter to Louis. He shall know how he has ill-treated me! I +will not take a penny of his money;—not a penny. Maintain you! I +believe he thinks that we are beggars. Leave this house because of my +conduct! What can Mrs. Stanbury have said? What can any of them have +said? I will demand to be told. Free himself from the connection! Oh, +Nora, Nora! that it should come to this!—that I should be thus +threatened, who have been as innocent as a baby! If it were not for +my child, I think that I should destroy myself!"</p> + +<p>Nora said what she could to comfort her sister, insisting chiefly on +the promise that the child should not be taken away. There was no +doubt as to the husband's power in the mind of either of them; and +though, as regarded herself, Mrs. Trevelyan would have defied her +husband, let his power be what it might, yet she acknowledged to +herself that she was in some degree restrained by the fear that she +would find herself deprived of her only comfort.</p> + +<p>"We must just go where he bids us,—till papa comes," said Nora.</p> + +<p>"And when papa is here, what help will there be then? He will not let +me go back to the islands,—with my boy. For myself I might die, or +get out of his way anywhere. I can see that. Priscilla Stanbury is +right when she says that no woman should trust herself to any man. +Disgraced! That I should live to be told by my husband that I had +disgraced him,—by a lover!"</p> + +<p>There was some sort of agreement made between the two sisters as to +the manner in which Priscilla should be interrogated respecting the +sentence of banishment which had been passed. They both agreed that +it would be useless to make inquiry of Mrs. Stanbury. If anything had +really been said to justify the statement made in Mr. Trevelyan's +letter, it must have come from Priscilla, and have reached Trevelyan +through Priscilla's brother. They, both of them, had sufficiently +learned the ways of the house to be sure that Mrs. Stanbury had not +been the person active in the matter. They went down, therefore, +together, and found Priscilla seated at her desk in the parlour. Mrs. +Stanbury was also in the room, and it had been presumed between the +sisters that the interrogations should be made in that lady's +absence; but Mrs. Trevelyan was too hot in the matter for restraint, +and she at once opened out her budget of grievance.</p> + +<p>"I have a letter from my husband," she said,—and then paused. But +Priscilla, seeing from the fire in her eyes that she was much moved, +made no reply, but turned to listen to what might further be said. "I +do not know why I should trouble you with his suspicions," continued +Mrs. Trevelyan, "or read to you what he says about—Colonel Osborne." +As she spoke she was holding her husband's letter open in her hands. +"There is nothing in it that you do not know. He says I have +corresponded with him. So I have;—and he shall see the +correspondence. He says that Colonel Osborne visited me. He did come +to see me and Nora."</p> + +<p>"As any other old man might have done," said Nora.</p> + +<p>"It was not likely that I should openly confess myself to be afraid +to see my father's old friend. But the truth is, my husband does not +know what a woman is."</p> + +<p>She had begun by declaring that she would not trouble her friend with +any statement of her husband's complaints against her; but now she +had made her way to the subject, and could hardly refrain herself. +Priscilla understood this, and thought that it would be wise to +interrupt her by a word that might bring her back to her original +purpose. "Is there anything," said she, "which we can do to help +you?"</p> + +<p>"To help me? No;—God only can help me. But Louis informs me that I +am to be turned out of this house, because you demand that we should +go."</p> + +<p>"Who says that?" exclaimed Mrs. Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"My husband. Listen; this is what he says:—'I am greatly grieved to +hear from my friend Mr. Stanbury that your conduct in reference to +Colonel Osborne has been such as to make it necessary that you should +leave Mrs. Stanbury's house.' Is that true? Is that true?" In her +general mode of carrying herself, and of enduring the troubles of her +life, Mrs. Trevelyan was a strong woman; but now her grief was too +much for her, and she burst out into tears. "I am the most +unfortunate woman that ever was born!" she sobbed out through her +tears.</p> + +<p>"I never said that you were to go," said Mrs. Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"But your son has told Mr. Trevelyan that we must go," said Nora, who +felt that her sense of injury against Hugh Stanbury was greatly +increased by what had taken place. To her mind he was the person most +important in the matter. Why had he desired that they should be sent +away from the Clock House? She was very angry with him, and declared +to herself that she hated him with all her heart. For this man she +had sent away that other lover,—a lover who had really loved her! +And she had even confessed that it was so!</p> + +<p>"There is a misunderstanding about this," said Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"It must be with your brother, then," said Nora.</p> + +<p>"I think not," said Priscilla. "I think that it has been with Mr. +Trevelyan." Then she went on to explain, with much difficulty, but +still with a slow distinctness that was peculiar to her, what had +really taken place. "We have endeavoured," she said, "to show +you,—my mother and I,—that we have not misjudged you; but it is +certainly true that I told my brother that I did not think the +arrangement a good one,—quite as a permanence." It was very +difficult, and her cheeks were red as she spoke, and her lips +faltered. It was an exquisite pain to her to have to give the pain +which her words would convey; but there was no help for it,—as she +said to herself more than once at the time,—there was nothing to be +done but to tell the truth.</p> + +<p>"I never said so," blurted out Mrs. Stanbury, with her usual +weakness.</p> + +<p>"No, mother. It was my saying. In discussing what was best for us +all, with Hugh, I told him,—what I have just now explained."</p> + +<p>"Then of course we must go," said Mrs. Trevelyan, who had gulped down +her sobs and was resolved to be firm,—to give way to no more tears, +to bear all without sign of womanly weakness.</p> + +<p>"You will stay with us till your father comes," said Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"Of course you will," said Mrs. Stanbury,—"you and Nora. We have got +to be such friends, now."</p> + +<p>"No," said Mrs. Trevelyan. "As to friendship for me, it is out of the +question. We must pack up, Nora, and go somewhere. Heaven knows +where!"</p> + +<p>Nora was now sobbing. "Why your brother—should want to turn us +out,—after he has sent us +<span class="nowrap">here—!"</span></p> + +<p>"My brother wants nothing of the kind," said Priscilla. "Your sister +has no better friend than my brother."</p> + +<p>"It will be better, Nora, to discuss the matter no further," said +Mrs. Trevelyan. "We must go away,—somewhere; and the sooner the +better. To be an unwelcome guest is always bad; but to be unwelcome +for such a reason as this is terrible."</p> + +<p>"There is no reason," said Mrs. Stanbury; "indeed there is none."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Trevelyan will understand us better when she is less excited," +said Priscilla. "I am not surprised that she should be indignant now. +I can only say again that we hope you will stay with us till Sir +Marmaduke Rowley shall be in England."</p> + +<p>"That is not what your brother means," said Nora.</p> + +<p>"Nor is it what I mean," said Mrs. Trevelyan. "Nora, we had better go +to our own room. I suppose I must write to my husband; indeed, of +course I must, that I may send him—the correspondence. I fear I +cannot walk out into the street, Mrs. Stanbury, and make you quit of +me, till I hear from him. And if I were to go to an inn at once, +people would speak evil of me;—and I have no money."</p> + +<p>"My dear, how can you think of such a thing!" said Mrs. Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"But you may be quite sure that we shall be gone within three +days,—or four at the furthest. Indeed, I will pledge myself not to +remain longer than that,—even though I should have to go to the +poor-house. Neither I nor my sister will stay in any family,—to +contaminate it. Come, Nora." And so speaking she sailed out of the +room, and her sister followed her.</p> + +<p>"Why did you say anything about it? Oh dear, oh dear! why did you +speak to Hugh? See what you have done!"</p> + +<p>"I am sorry that I did speak," replied Priscilla slowly.</p> + +<p>"Sorry! Of course you are sorry; but what good is that?"</p> + +<p>"But, mother, I do not think that I was wrong. I feel sure that the +real fault in all this is with Mr. Trevelyan, as it has been all +through. He should not have written to her as he has done."</p> + +<p>"I suppose Hugh did tell him."</p> + +<p>"No doubt;—and I told Hugh; but not after the fashion in which he +has told her. I blame myself mostly for this,—that we ever consented +to come to this house. We had no business here. Who is to pay the +rent?"</p> + +<p>"Hugh insisted upon taking it."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—and he will pay the rent; and we shall be a drag upon him, as +though he had been fool enough to have a wife and a family of his +own. And what good have we done? We had not strength enough to say +that that wicked man should not see her when he came;—for he is a +wicked man."</p> + +<p>"If we had done that she would have been as bad then as she is now."</p> + +<p>"Mother, we had no business to meddle either with her badness or her +goodness. What had we to do with the wife of such a one as Mr. +Trevelyan, or with any woman who was separated from her husband?"</p> + +<p>"It was Hugh who thought we should be of service to them."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—and I do not blame him. He is in a position to be of service +to people. He can do work and earn money, and has a right to think +and to speak. We have a right to think only for ourselves, and we +should not have yielded to him. How are we to get back again out of +this house to our cottage?"</p> + +<p>"They are pulling the cottage down, Priscilla."</p> + +<p>"To some other cottage, mother. Do you not feel while we are living +here that we are pretending to be what we are not? After all, Aunt +Stanbury was right, though it was not her business to meddle with us. +We should never have come here. That poor woman now regards us as her +bitter enemies."</p> + +<p>"I meant to do for the best," said Mrs. Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"The fault was mine, mother."</p> + +<p>"But you meant it for the best, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Meaning for the best is trash. I don't know that I did mean it for +the best. While we were at the cottage we paid our way and were +honest. What is it people say of us now?"</p> + +<p>"They can't say any harm."</p> + +<p>"They say that we are paid by the husband to keep his wife, and paid +again by the lover to betray the husband."</p> + +<p>"Priscilla!"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—it is shocking enough. But that comes of people going out of +their proper course. We were too humble and low to have a right to +take any part in such a matter. How true it is that while one +crouches on the ground, one can never fall."</p> + +<p>The matter was discussed in the Clock House all day, between Mrs. +Stanbury and Priscilla, and between Mrs. Trevelyan and Nora, in their +rooms and in the garden; but nothing could come of such discussions. +No change could be made till further instructions should have been +received from the angry husband; nor could any kind of argument be +even invented by Priscilla which might be efficacious in inducing the +two ladies to remain at the Clock House, even should Mr. Trevelyan +allow them to do so. They all felt the intolerable injustice, as it +appeared to them,—of their subjection to the caprice of an +unreasonable and ill-conditioned man; but to all of them it seemed +plain enough that in this matter the husband must exercise his own +will,—at any rate till Sir Marmaduke should be in England. There +were many difficulties throughout the day. Mrs. Trevelyan would not +go down to dinner, sending word that she was ill, and that she would, +if she were allowed, have some tea in her own room. And Nora said +that she would remain with her sister. Priscilla went to them more +than once; and late in the evening they all met in the parlour. But +any conversation seemed to be impossible; and Mrs. Trevelyan, as she +went up to her room at night, again declared that she would rid the +house of her presence as soon as possible.</p> + +<p>One thing, however, was done on that melancholy day. Mrs. Trevelyan +wrote to her husband, and enclosed Colonel Osborne's letter to +herself, and a copy of her reply. The reader will hardly require to +be told that no such further letter had been written by her as that +of which Bozzle had given information to her husband. Men whose +business it is to detect hidden and secret things, are very apt to +detect things which have never been done. What excuse can a detective +make even to himself for his own existence if he can detect nothing? +Mr. Bozzle was an active-minded man, who gloried in detecting, and +who, in the special spirit of his trade, had taught himself to +believe that all around him were things secret and hidden, which +would be within his power of unravelling if only the slightest clue +were put in his hand. He lived by the crookednesses of people, and +therefore was convinced that straight doings in the world were quite +exceptional. Things dark and dishonest, fights fought and races run +that they might be lost, plants and crosses, women false to their +husbands, sons false to their fathers, daughters to their mothers, +servants to their masters, affairs always secret, dark, foul, and +fraudulent, were to him the normal condition of life. It was to be +presumed that Mrs. Trevelyan should continue to correspond with her +lover,—that old Mrs. Stanbury should betray her trust by conniving +at the lover's visit,—that everybody concerned should be steeped to +the hips in lies and iniquity. When, therefore, he found at Colonel +Osborne's rooms that the Colonel had received a letter with the +Lessboro' post-mark, addressed in the handwriting of a woman, he did +not scruple to declare that Colonel Osborne had received, on that +morning, a letter from Mr. Trevelyan's "lady." But in sending to her +husband what she called with so much bitterness, "the +correspondence," Mrs. Trevelyan had to enclose simply the copy of one +sheet note from herself.</p> + +<p>But she now wrote again to Colonel Osborne, and enclosed to her +husband, not a copy of what she had written, but the note itself. It +was as <span class="nowrap">follows:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">Nuncombe Putney, Wednesday, August 10.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My dear Colonel +Osborne</span>,</p> + +<p>My husband has desired me not to see you, or to write to +you, or to hear from you again. I must therefore beg you +to enable me to obey him,—at any rate till papa comes to +England.</p> + +<p class="ind10">Yours truly,</p> + +<p class="ind12"><span class="smallcaps">Emily Trevelyan</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>And then she wrote to her husband, and in the writing of this letter +there was much doubt, much labour, and many changes. We will give it +as it was written when +<span class="nowrap">completed:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p>I have received your letter, and will obey your commands +to the best of my power. In order that you may not be +displeased by any further unavoidable correspondence +between me and Colonel Osborne, I have written to him a +note, which I now send to you. I send it that you may +forward it. If you do not choose to do so, I cannot be +answerable either for his seeing me, or for his writing to +me again.</p> + +<p>I send also copies of all the correspondence I have had +with Colonel Osborne since you turned me out of your +house. When he came to call on me, Nora remained with me +while he was here. I blush while I write this;—not for +myself, but that I should be so suspected as to make such +a statement necessary.</p> + +<p>You say that I have disgraced you and myself. I have done +neither. I am disgraced;—but it is you that have +disgraced me. I have never spoken a word or done a thing, +as regards you, of which I have cause to be ashamed.</p> + +<p>I have told Mrs. Stanbury that I and Nora will leave her +house as soon as we can be made to know where we are to +go. I beg that this may be decided instantly, as else we +must walk out into the street without a shelter. After +what has been said, I cannot remain here.</p> + +<p>My sister bids me say that she will relieve you of all +burden respecting herself as soon as possible. She will +probably be able to find a home with my aunt, Mrs. +Outhouse, till papa comes to England. As for myself, I can +only say that till he comes, I shall do exactly what you +order.</p> + +<p class="ind12"><span class="smallcaps">Emily Trevelyan</span>.</p> + +<p class="noindent">Nuncombe Putney, August 10.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p><a name="c29" id="c29"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXIX.</h3> +<h4>MR. AND MRS. OUTHOUSE.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Both Mr. Outhouse and his wife were especially timid in taking upon +themselves the cares of other people. Not on that account is it to be +supposed that they were bad or selfish. They were both given much to +charity, and bestowed both in time and money more than is ordinarily +considered necessary, even from persons in their position. But what +they gave, they gave away from their own quiet hearth. Had money been +wanting to the daughters of his wife's brother, Mr. Outhouse would +have opened such small coffer as he had with a free hand. But he +would have much preferred that his benevolence should be used in a +way that would bring upon him no further responsibility and no +questionings from people whom he did not know and could not +understand.</p> + +<p>The Rev. Oliphant Outhouse had been Rector of St. +Diddulph's-in-the-East for the last fifteen years, having married the +sister of Sir Marmaduke Rowley,—then simply Mr. Rowley, with a +colonial appointment in Jamaica of £120 per annum,—twelve years +before his promotion, while he was a curate in one of the populous +borough parishes. He had thus been a London clergyman all his life; +but he knew almost as little of London society as though he had held +a cure in a Westmoreland valley. He had worked hard, but his work had +been altogether among the poor. He had no gift of preaching, and had +acquired neither reputation nor popularity. But he could work;—and +having been transferred because of that capability to the temporary +curacy of St. Diddulph's,—out of one diocese into another,—he had +received the living from the bishop's hands when it became vacant.</p> + +<p>A dreary place was the parsonage of St. Diddulph's-in-the-East for +the abode of a gentleman. Mr. Outhouse had not, in his whole parish, +a parishioner with whom he could consort. The greatest men around him +were the publicans, and the most numerous were men employed in and +around the docks. Dredgers of mud, navvies employed on suburban +canals, excavators, loaders and unloaders of cargo, cattle drivers, +whose driving, however, was done mostly on board ship,—such and such +like were the men who were the fathers of the families of St. +Diddulph's-in-the-East. And there was there, not far removed from the +muddy estuary of a little stream that makes its black way from the +Essex marshes among the houses of the poorest of the poor into the +Thames, a large commercial establishment for turning the carcasses of +horses into manure. Messrs. Flowsem and Blurt were in truth the great +people of St. Diddulph's-in-the-East; but the closeness of their +establishment was not an additional attraction to the parsonage. They +were liberal, however, with their money, and Mr. Outhouse was +disposed to think,—custom perhaps having made the establishment less +objectionable to him than it was at first,—that St. +Diddulph's-in-the-East would be more of a Pandemonium than it now +was, if by any sanitary law Messrs. Flowsem and Blurt were compelled +to close their doors. "Non olet," he would say with a grim smile when +the charitable cheque of the firm would come punctually to hand on +the first Saturday after Christmas.</p> + +<p>But such a house as his would be, as he knew, but a poor residence +for his wife's nieces. Indeed, without positively saying that he was +unwilling to receive them, he had, when he first heard of the +breaking up of the house in Curzon Street, shewn that he would rather +not take upon his shoulders so great a responsibility. He and his +wife had discussed the matter between them, and had come to the +conclusion that they did not know what kind of things might have been +done in Curzon Street. They would think no evil, they said; but the +very idea of a married woman with a lover was dreadful to them. It +might be that their niece was free from blame. They hoped so. And +even though her sin had been of ever so deep a dye, they would take +her in,—if it were indeed necessary. But they hoped that such help +from them might not be needed. They both knew how to give counsel to +a poor woman, how to rebuke a poor man,—how to comfort, encourage, +or to upbraid the poor. Practice had told them how far they might go +with some hope of doing good;—and at what stage of demoralisation no +good from their hands was any longer within the scope of fair +expectation. But all this was among the poor. With what words to +encourage such a one as their niece Mrs. Trevelyan,—to encourage her +or to rebuke her, as her conduct might seem to make necessary,—they +both felt that they were altogether ignorant. To them Mrs. Trevelyan +was a fine lady. To Mr. Outhouse, Sir Marmaduke had ever been a fine +gentleman, given much to worldly things, who cared more for whist and +a glass of wine than for anything else, and who thought that he had a +good excuse for never going to church in England because he was +called upon, as he said, to show himself in the governor's pew always +once on Sundays, and frequently twice, when he was at the seat of his +government. Sir Marmaduke manifestly looked upon church as a thing in +itself notoriously disagreeable. To Mr. Outhouse it afforded the +great events of the week. And Mrs. Outhouse would declare that to +hear her husband preach was the greatest joy of her life. It may be +understood therefore that though the family connection between the +Rowleys and the Outhouses had been kept up with a semblance of +affection, it had never blossomed forth into cordial friendship.</p> + +<p>When therefore the clergyman of St. Diddulph's received a letter from +his niece, Nora, begging him to take her into his parsonage till Sir +Marmaduke should arrive in the course of the spring, and hinting also +a wish that her uncle Oliphant should see Mr. Trevelyan and if +possible arrange that his other niece should also come to the +parsonage, he was very much perturbed in spirit. There was a long +consultation between him and his wife before anything could be +settled, and it may be doubted whether anything would have been +settled, had not Mr. Trevelyan himself made his way to the parsonage, +on the second day of the family conference. Mr. and Mrs. Outhouse had +both seen the necessity of sleeping upon the matter. They had slept +upon it, and the discourse between them on the second day was so +doubtful in its tone that more sleeping would probably have been +necessary had not Mr. Trevelyan appeared and compelled them to a +decision.</p> + +<p>"You must remember that I make no charge against her," said +Trevelyan, after the matter had been discussed for about an hour.</p> + +<p>"Then why should she not come back to you?" said Mr. Outhouse, +timidly.</p> + +<p>"Some day she may,—if she will be obedient. But it cannot be now. +She has set me at defiance; and even yet it is too clear from the +tone of her letter to me that she thinks that she has been right to +do so. How could we live together in amity when she addresses me as a +cruel tyrant?"</p> + +<p>"Why did she go away at first?" asked Mrs. Outhouse.</p> + +<p>"Because she would compromise my name by an intimacy which I did not +approve. But I do not come here to defend myself, Mrs. Outhouse. You +probably think that I have been wrong. You are her friend; and to +you, I will not even say that I have been right. What I want you to +understand is this. She cannot come back to me now. It would not be +for my honour that she should do so."</p> + +<p>"But, sir,—would it not be for your welfare, as a Christian?" asked +Mr. Outhouse.</p> + +<p>"You must not be angry with me, if I say that I will not discuss that +just now. I did not come here to discuss it."</p> + +<p>"It is very sad for our poor niece," said Mrs. Outhouse.</p> + +<p>"It is very sad for me," said Trevelyan, gloomily;—"very sad, +indeed. My home is destroyed; my life is made solitary; I do not even +see my own child. She has her boy with her, and her sister. I have +nobody."</p> + +<p>"I can't understand, for the life of me, why you should not live +together just like any other people," said Mrs. Outhouse, whose +woman's spirit was arising in her bosom. "When people are married, +they must put up with something;—at least, most always." This she +added, lest it might be for a moment imagined that she had had any +cause for complaint with her Mr. Outhouse.</p> + +<p>"Pray excuse me, Mrs. Outhouse; but I cannot discuss that. The +question between us is this,—can you consent to receive your two +nieces till their father's return;—and if so, in what way shall I +defray the expense of their living? You will of course understand +that I willingly undertake the expense not only of my wife's +maintenance and of her sister's also, but that I will cheerfully +allow anything that may be required either for their comfort or +recreation."</p> + +<p>"I cannot take my nieces into my house as lodgers," said Mr. +Outhouse.</p> + +<p>"No, not as lodgers; but of course you can understand that it is for +me to pay for my own wife. I know I owe you an apology for mentioning +it;—but how else could I make my request to you?"</p> + +<p>"If Emily and Nora come here they must come as our guests," said Mrs. +Outhouse.</p> + +<p>"Certainly," said the clergyman. "And if I am told they are in want +of a home they shall find one here till their father comes. But I am +bound to say that as regards the elder I think her home should be +elsewhere."</p> + +<p>"Of course it should," said Mrs. Outhouse. "I don't know anything +about the law, but it seems to me very odd that a young woman should +be turned out in this way. You say she has done nothing?"</p> + +<p>"I will not argue the matter," said Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"That's all very well, Mr. Trevelyan," said the lady, "but she's my +own niece, and if I don't stand up for her I don't know who will. I +never heard such a thing in my life as a wife being sent away after +such a fashion as that. We wouldn't treat a cookmaid so; that we +wouldn't. As for coming here, she shall come if she pleases, but I +shall always say that it's the greatest shame I ever heard of."</p> + +<p>Nothing came of this visit at last. The lady grew in her anger; and +Mr. Trevelyan, in his own defence, was driven to declare that his +wife's obstinate intimacy with Colonel Osborne had almost driven him +out of his senses. Before he left the parsonage he was brought even +to tears by his own narration of his own misery;—whereby Mr. +Outhouse was considerably softened, although Mrs. Outhouse became +more and more stout in the defence of her own sex. But nothing at +last came of it. Trevelyan insisted on paying for his wife, wherever +she might be placed; and when he found that this would not be +permitted to him at the parsonage, he was very anxious to take some +small furnished house in the neighbourhood, in which the two sisters +might live for the next six months under the wings of their uncle and +aunt. But even Mr. Outhouse was moved to pleasantry by this +suggestion, as he explained the nature of the tenements which were +common at St. Diddulph's. Two rooms, front and back, they might have +for about five-and-sixpence a week in a house with three other +families. "But perhaps that is not exactly what you'd like," said Mr. +Outhouse. The interview ended with no result, and Mr. Trevelyan took +his leave, declaring to himself that he was worse off than the foxes, +who have holes in which to lay their heads;—but it must be presumed +that his sufferings in this respect were to be by attorney; as it was +for his wife, and not for himself, that the necessary hole was now +required.</p> + +<p>As soon as he was gone Mrs. Outhouse answered Nora's letter, and +without meaning to be explicit, explained pretty closely what had +taken place. The spare bedroom at the parsonage was ready to receive +either one or both of the sisters till Sir Marmaduke should be in +London, if one or both of them should choose to come. And though +there was no nursery at the parsonage,—for Mr. and Mrs. Outhouse had +been blessed with no children,—still room should be made for the +little boy. But they must come as visitors,—"as our own nieces," +said Mrs. Outhouse. And she went on to say that she would have +nothing to do with the quarrel between Mr. Trevelyan and his wife. +All such quarrels were very bad,—but as to this quarrel she could +take no part either one side or the other. Then she stated that Mr. +Trevelyan had been at the parsonage, but that no arrangement had been +made, because Mr. Trevelyan had insisted on paying for their board +and lodging.</p> + +<p>This letter reached Nuncombe Putney before any reply was received by +Mrs. Trevelyan from her husband. This was on the Saturday morning, +and Mrs. Trevelyan had pledged herself to Mrs. Stanbury that she +would leave the Clock House on the Monday. Of course, there was no +need that she should do so. Both Mrs. Stanbury and Priscilla would +now have willingly consented to their remaining till Sir Marmaduke +should be in England. But Mrs. Trevelyan's high spirit revolted +against this after all that had been said. She thought that she +should hear from her husband on the morrow, but the post on Sunday +brought no letter from Trevelyan. On the Saturday they had finished +packing up,—so certain was Mrs. Trevelyan that some instructions as +to her future destiny would be sent to her by her lord.</p> + +<p>At last they decided on the Sunday that they would both go at once to +St. Diddulph's; or perhaps it would be more correct to say that this +was the decision of the elder sister. Nora would willingly have +yielded to Priscilla's entreaties, and have remained. But Emily +declared that she could not, and would not, stay in the house. She +had a few pounds,—what would suffice for her journey; and as Mr. +Trevelyan had not thought proper to send his orders to her, she would +go without them. Mrs. Outhouse was her aunt, and her nearest relative +in England. Upon whom else could she lean in this time of her great +affliction? A letter, therefore, was written to Mrs. Outhouse, saying +that the whole party, including the boy and nurse, would be at St. +Diddulph's on the Monday evening, and the last cord was put to the +boxes.</p> + +<p>"I suppose that he is very angry," Mrs. Trevelyan said to her sister, +"but I do not feel that I care about that now. He shall have nothing +to complain of in reference to any gaiety on my part. I will see no +one. I will have no—correspondence. But I will not remain here after +what he has said to me, let him be ever so angry. I declare, as I +think of it, it seems to me that no woman was ever so cruelly treated +as I have been." Then she wrote one further line to her husband.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p>Not having received any orders from you, and having +promised Mrs. Stanbury that I would leave this house on +Monday, I go with Nora to my aunt, Mrs. Outhouse, +to-morrow.</p> + +<p class="ind15">E. T.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>On the Sunday evening the four ladies drank tea together, and they +all made an effort to be civil, and even affectionate, to each other. +Mrs. Trevelyan had at last allowed Priscilla to explain how it had +come to pass that she had told her brother that it would be better +both for her mother and for herself that the existing arrangements +should be brought to an end, and there had come to be an agreement +between them that they should all part in amity. But the conversation +on the Sunday evening was very difficult.</p> + +<p>"I am sure we shall always think of you both with the greatest +kindness," said Mrs. Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"As for me," said Priscilla, "your being with us has been a delight +that I cannot describe;—only it has been wrong."</p> + +<p>"I know too well," said Mrs. Trevelyan, "that in our present +circumstances we are unable to carry delight with us anywhere."</p> + +<p>"You hardly understand what our life has been," said Priscilla; "but +the truth is that we had no right to receive you in such a house as +this. It has not been our way of living, and it cannot continue to be +so. It is not wonderful that people should talk of us. Had it been +called your house, it might have been better."</p> + +<p>"And what will you do now?" asked Nora.</p> + +<p>"Get out of this place as soon as we can. It is often hard to go back +to the right path; but it may always be done,—or at least +attempted."</p> + +<p>"It seems to me that I take misery with me wherever I go," said Mrs. +Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"My dear, it has not been your fault," said Mrs. Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"I do not like to blame my brother," said Priscilla, "because he has +done his best to be good to us all;—and the punishment will fall +heaviest upon him, because he must pay for it."</p> + +<p>"He should not be allowed to pay a shilling," said Mrs. Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>Then the morning came, and at seven o'clock the two sisters, with the +nurse and child, started for Lessboro' Station in Mrs. Crocket's open +carriage, the luggage having been sent on in a cart. There were many +tears shed, and any one looking at the party would have thought that +very dear friends were being torn asunder.</p> + +<p>"Mother," said Priscilla, as soon as the parlour door was shut, and +the two were alone together, "we must take care that we never are +brought again into such a mistake as that. They who protect the +injured should be strong themselves."</p> + + +<p><a name="c30" id="c30"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXX.</h3> +<h4>DOROTHY MAKES UP HER MIND.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>It was true that most ill-natured things had been said at Lessboro' +and at Nuncombe Putney about Mrs. Stanbury and the visitors at the +Clock House, and that these ill-natured things had spread themselves +to Exeter. Mrs. Ellison of Lessboro', who was not the most +good-natured woman in the world, had told Mrs. Merton of Nuncombe +that she had been told that the Colonel's visit to the lady had been +made by express arrangement between the Colonel and Mrs. Stanbury. +Mrs. Merton, who was very good-natured, but not the wisest woman in +the world, had declared that any such conduct on the part of Mrs. +Stanbury was quite impossible. "What does it matter which it +is,—Priscilla or her mother?" Mrs. Ellison had said. "These are the +facts. Mrs. Trevelyan has been sent there to be out of the way of +this Colonel; and the Colonel immediately comes down and sees her at +the Clock House. But when people are very poor they do get driven to +do almost anything."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Merton, not being very wise, had conceived it to be her duty to +repeat this to Priscilla; and Mrs. Ellison, not being very +good-natured, had conceived it to be hers to repeat it to Mrs. +MacHugh at Exeter. And then Bozzle's coming had become known.</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mrs. MacHugh, a policeman in mufti down at Nuncombe! I wonder +what our friend in the Close here will think about it! I have always +said, you know, that if she wanted to keep things straight at +Nuncombe, she should have opened her purse-strings."</p> + +<p>From all which it may be understood, that Priscilla Stanbury's desire +to go back to their old way of living had not been without reason.</p> + +<p>It may be imagined that Miss Stanbury of the Close did not receive +with equanimity the reports which reached her. And, of course, when +she discussed the matter either with Martha or with Dorothy, she fell +back upon her own early appreciation of the folly of the Clock House +arrangement. Nevertheless, she had called Mrs. Ellison very bad +names, when she learned from her friend Mrs. MacHugh what reports +were being spread by the lady from Lessboro'.</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Ellison! Yes; we all know Mrs. Ellison. The bitterest tongue in +Devonshire, and the falsest! There are some people at Lessboro' who +would be well pleased if she paid her way there as well as those poor +women do at Nuncombe. I don't think much of what Mrs. Ellison says."</p> + +<p>"But it is bad about the policeman," said Mrs. MacHugh.</p> + +<p>"Of course it's bad. It's all bad. I'm not saying that it's not bad. +I'm glad I've got this other young woman out of it. It's all that +young man's doing. If I had a son of my own, I'd sooner follow him to +the grave than hear him call himself a Radical."</p> + +<p>Then, on a sudden, there came to the Close news that Mrs. Trevelyan +and her sister were gone. On the very Monday on which they went, +Priscilla sent a note on to her sister, in which no special allusion +was made to Aunt Stanbury, but which was no doubt written with the +intention that the news should be communicated.</p> + +<p>"Gone; are they? As it is past wishing that they hadn't come, it's +the best thing they could do now. And who is to pay the rent of the +house, now they have gone?" As this was a point on which Dorothy was +not prepared to trouble herself at present, she made no answer to the +question.</p> + +<p>Dorothy at this time was in a state of very great perturbation on her +own account. The reader may perhaps remember that she had been much +startled by a proposition that had been made to her in reference to +her future life. Her aunt had suggested to her that she should +become—Mrs. Gibson. She had not as yet given any answer to that +proposition, and had indeed found it to be quite impossible to speak +about it at all. But there can be no doubt that the suggestion had +opened out to her altogether new views of life. Up to the moment of +her aunt's speech to her, the idea of her becoming a married woman +had never presented itself to her. In her humility it had not +occurred to her that she should be counted as one among the +candidates for matrimony. Priscilla had taught her to regard +herself,—indeed, they had both so regarded themselves,—as born to +eat and drink, as little as might be, and then to die. Now, when she +was told that she could, if she pleased, become Mrs. Gibson, she was +almost lost in a whirl of new and confused ideas. Since her aunt had +spoken, Mr. Gibson himself had dropped a hint or two which seemed to +her to indicate that he also must be in the secret. There had been a +party, with a supper, at Mrs. Crumbie's, at which both the Miss +Frenches had been present. But Mr. Gibson had taken her, Dorothy +Stanbury, out to supper, leaving both Camilla and Arabella behind him +in the drawing-room! During the quarter of an hour afterwards in +which the ladies were alone while the gentlemen were eating and +drinking, both Camilla and Arabella continued to wreak their +vengeance. They asked questions about Mrs. Trevelyan, and suggested +that Mr. Gibson might be sent over to put things right. But Miss +Stanbury had heard them, and had fallen upon them with a heavy hand.</p> + +<p>"There's a good deal expected of Mr. Gibson, my dears," she said, +"which it seems to me Mr. Gibson is not inclined to perform."</p> + +<p>"It is quite indifferent to us what Mr. Gibson may be inclined to +perform," said Arabella. "I'm sure we shan't interfere with Miss +Dorothy."</p> + +<p>As this was said quite out loud before all the other ladies, Dorothy +was overcome with shame. But her aunt comforted her when they were +again at home.</p> + +<p>"Laws, my dear; what does it matter? When you're Mrs. Gibson, you'll +be proud of it all."</p> + +<p>Was it then really written in the book of the Fates that she, Dorothy +Stanbury, was to become Mrs. Gibson? Poor Dorothy began to feel that +she was called upon to exercise an amount of thought and personal +decision to which she had not been accustomed. Hitherto, in the +things which she had done, or left undone, she had received +instructions which she could obey. Had her mother and Priscilla told +her positively not to go to her aunt's house, she would have remained +at Nuncombe without complaint. Had her aunt since her coming given +her orders as to her mode of life,—enjoined, for instance, +additional church attendances, or desired her to perform menial +services in the house,—she would have obeyed, from custom, without a +word. But when she was told that she was to marry Mr. Gibson, it did +seem to her to be necessary to do something more than obey. Did she +love Mr. Gibson? She tried hard to teach herself to think that she +might learn to love him. He was a nice-looking man enough, with sandy +hair, and a head rather bald, with thin lips, and a narrow nose, who +certainly did preach drawling sermons; but of whom everybody said +that he was a very excellent clergyman. He had a house and an income, +and all Exeter had long since decided that he was a man who would +certainly marry. He was one of those men of whom it may be said that +they have no possible claim to remain unmarried. He was fair game, +and unless he surrendered himself to be bagged before long, would +subject himself to just and loud complaint. The Miss Frenches had +been aware of this, and had thought to make sure of him among them. +It was a little hard upon them that the old maid of the Close, as +they always called Miss Stanbury, should interfere with them when +their booty was almost won. And they felt it to be the harder because +Dorothy Stanbury was, as they thought, so poor a creature. That +Dorothy herself should have any doubt as to accepting Mr. Gibson, was +an idea that never occurred to them. But Dorothy had her doubts. When +she came to think of it, she remembered that she had never as yet +spoken a word to Mr. Gibson, beyond such little trifling remarks as +are made over a tea-table. She might learn to love him, but she did +not think that she loved him as yet.</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose all this will make any difference to Mr. Gibson," +said Miss Stanbury to her niece, on the morning after the receipt of +Priscilla's note stating that the Trevelyans had left Nuncombe.</p> + +<p>Dorothy always blushed when Mr. Gibson's name was mentioned, and she +blushed now. But she did not at all understand her aunt's allusion. +"I don't know what you mean, aunt," she said.</p> + +<p>"Well, you know, my dear, what they say about Mrs. Trevelyan and the +Clock House is not very nice. If Mr. Gibson were to turn round and +say that the connection wasn't pleasant, no one would have a right to +complain."</p> + +<p>The faint customary blush on Dorothy's cheeks which Mr. Gibson's name +had produced now covered her whole face even up to the roots of her +hair. "If he believes bad of mamma, I'm sure, Aunt Stanbury, I don't +want to see him again."</p> + +<p>"That's all very fine, my dear, but a man has to think of himself, +you know."</p> + +<p>"Of course he thinks of himself. Why shouldn't he? I dare say he +thinks of himself more than I do."</p> + +<p>"Dorothy, don't be a fool. A good husband isn't to be caught every +day."</p> + +<p>"Aunt Stanbury, I don't want to catch any man."</p> + +<p>"Dorothy, don't be a fool."</p> + +<p>"I must say it. I don't suppose Mr. Gibson thinks of me the least in +the world."</p> + +<p>"Psha! I tell you he does."</p> + +<p>"But as for mamma and Priscilla, I never could like anybody for a +moment who would be ashamed of them."</p> + +<p>She was most anxious to declare that, as far as she knew herself and +her own wishes at present, she entertained no partiality for Mr. +Gibson,—no feeling which could become partiality even if Mr. Gibson +was to declare himself willing to accept her mother and her sister +with herself. But she did not dare to say so. There was an instinct +within her which made it almost impossible to her to express an +objection to a suitor before the suitor had declared himself to be +one. She could speak out as touching her mother and her sister,—but +as to her own feelings she could express neither assent nor dissent.</p> + +<p>"I should like to have it settled soon," said Miss Stanbury, in a +melancholy voice. Even to this Dorothy could make no reply. What did +soon mean? Perhaps in the course of a year or two. "If it could be +arranged by the end of this week, it would be a great comfort to me." +Dorothy almost fell off her chair, and was stricken altogether dumb. +"I told you, I think, that Brooke Burgess is coming here?"</p> + +<p>"You said he was to come some day."</p> + +<p>"He is to be here on Monday. I haven't seen him for more than twelve +years; and now he's to be here next week? Dear, dear! When I think +sometimes of all the hard words that have been spoken, and the harder +thoughts that have been in people's minds, I often regret that the +money ever came to me at all. I could have done without it, very +well,—very well."</p> + +<p>"But all the unpleasantness is over now, aunt."</p> + +<p>"I don't know about that. Unpleasantness of that kind is apt to +rankle long. But I wasn't going to give up my rights. Nobody but a +coward does that. They talked of going to law and trying the will, +but they wouldn't have got much by that. And then they abused me for +two years. When they had done and got sick of it, I told them they +should have it all back again as soon as I am dead. It won't be long +now. This Burgess is the elder nephew, and he shall have it all."</p> + +<p>"Is not he grateful?"</p> + +<p>"No. Why should he be grateful? I don't do it for special love of +him. I don't want his gratitude; nor anybody's gratitude. Look at +Hugh. I did love him."</p> + +<p>"I am grateful, Aunt Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"Are you, my dear? Then show it by being a good wife to Mr. Gibson, +and a happy wife. I want to get everything settled while Burgess is +here. If he is to have it, why should I keep him out of it whilst I +live? I wonder whether Mr. Gibson would mind coming and living here, +Dolly?"</p> + +<p>The thing was coming so near to her that Dorothy began to feel that +she must, in truth, make up her mind, and let her aunt know also how +it had been made up. She was sensible enough to perceive that if she +did not prepare herself for the occasion she would find herself +hampered by an engagement simply because her aunt had presumed that +it was out of the question that she should not acquiesce. She would +drift into marriage with Mr. Gibson against her will. Her greatest +difficulty was the fact that her aunt clearly had no doubt on the +subject. And as for herself, hitherto her feelings did not, on either +side, go beyond doubts. Assuredly it would be a very good thing for +her to become Mrs. Gibson, if only she could create for herself some +attachment for the man. At the present moment her aunt said nothing +more about Mr. Gibson, having her mind much occupied with the coming +of Mr. Brooke Burgess.</p> + +<p>"I remember him twenty years ago and more; as nice a boy as you would +wish to see. His father was the fourth of the brothers. Dear, dear! +Three of them are gone; and the only one remaining is old Barty, whom +no one ever loved."</p> + +<p>The Burgesses had been great people in Exeter, having been both +bankers and brewers there, but the light of the family had paled; and +though Bartholomew Burgess, of whom Miss Stanbury declared that no +one had ever loved him, still had a share in the bank, it was well +understood in the city that the real wealth in the firm of Cropper +and Burgess belonged to the Cropper family. Indeed the most +considerable portion of the fortune that had been realised by old Mr. +Burgess had come into the possession of Miss Stanbury herself. +Bartholomew Burgess had never forgiven his brother's will, and +between him and Jemima Stanbury the feud was irreconcileable. The +next brother, Tom Burgess, had been a solicitor at Liverpool, and had +done well there. But Miss Stanbury knew nothing of the Tom Burgesses +as she called them. The fourth brother, Harry Burgess, had been a +clergyman, and this Brooke Burgess, Junior, who was now coming to the +Close, had been left with a widowed mother, the eldest of a large +family. It need not now be told at length how there had been +ill-blood also between this clergyman and the heiress. There had been +attempts at friendship, and at one time Miss Stanbury had received +the Rev. Harry Burgess and all his family at the Close;—but the +attempts had not been successful; and though our old friend had never +wavered in her determination to leave the money all back to some one +of the Burgess family, and with this view had made a pilgrimage to +London some twelve years since, and had renewed her acquaintance with +the widow and the children, still there had been no comfortable +relations between her and any of the Burgess family. Old Barty +Burgess, whom she met in the Close, or saw in the High Street every +day of her life, was her great enemy. He had tried his best,—so at +least she was convinced,—to drive her out of the pale of society, +years upon years ago, by saying evil things of her. She had conquered +in that combat. Her victory had been complete, and she had triumphed +after a most signal fashion. But this triumph did not silence Barty's +tongue, nor soften his heart. When she prayed to be forgiven, as she +herself forgave others, she always exempted Barty Burgess from her +prayers. There are things which flesh and blood cannot do. She had +not liked Harry Burgess' widow, nor for the matter of that, Harry +Burgess himself. When she had last seen the children she had not +liked any of them much, and had had her doubts even as to Brooke. But +with that branch of the family she was willing to try again. Brooke +was now coming to the Close, having received, however, an intimation, +that if, during his visit to Exeter, he chose to see his Uncle Barty, +any such intercourse must be kept quite in the background. While he +remained in Miss Stanbury's house he was to remain there as though +there were no such person as Mr. Bartholomew Burgess in Exeter.</p> + +<p>At this time Brooke Burgess was a man just turned thirty, and was a +clerk in the Ecclesiastical Record Office, in Somerset House. No +doubt the peculiar nature and name of the public department to which +he was attached had done something to recommend him to Miss Stanbury. +Ecclesiastical records were things greatly to be reverenced in her +eyes, and she felt that a gentleman who handled them and dealt with +them would probably be sedate, gentlemanlike, and conservative. +Brooke Burgess, when she had last seen him, was just about to enter +upon the duties of the office. Then there had come offence, and she +had in truth known nothing of him from that day to this. The visitor +was to be at Exeter on the following Monday, and very much was done +in preparation of his coming. There was to be a dinner party on that +very day, and dinner parties were not common with Miss Stanbury. She +had, however, explained to Martha that she intended to put her best +foot forward. Martha understood perfectly that Mr. Brooke Burgess was +to be received as the heir of property. Sir Peter Mancrudy, the great +Devonshire chemist, was coming to dinner, and Mr. and Mrs. Powel from +Haldon,—people of great distinction in that part of the +county,—Mrs. MacHugh of course; and, equally of course, Mr. Gibson. +There was a deep discussion between Miss Stanbury and Martha as to +asking two of the Cliffords, and Mr. and Mrs. Noel from +Doddiscombeleigh. Martha had been very much in favour of having +twelve. Miss Stanbury had declared that with twelve she must have two +waiters from the greengrocer's, and that two waiters would overpower +her own domesticities below stairs. Martha had declared that she +didn't care about them any more than if they were puppy dogs. But +Miss Stanbury had been quite firm against twelve. She had consented +to have ten,—for the sake of artistic arrangement at the table; +"They should be pantaloons and petticoats alternate, you know," she +had said to Martha,—and had therefore asked the Cliffords. But the +Cliffords could not come, and then she had declined to make any +further attempt. Indeed, a new idea had struck her. Brooke Burgess, +her guest, should sit at one end of the table, and Mr. Gibson, the +clergyman, at the other. In this way the proper alternation would be +effected. When Martha heard this, Martha quite understood the extent +of the good fortune that was in store for Dorothy. If Mr. Gibson was +to be welcomed in that way, it could only be in preparation of his +becoming one of the family.</p> + +<p>And Dorothy herself became aware that she must make up her mind. It +was not so declared to her, but she came to understand that it was +very probable that something would occur on the coming Monday which +would require her to be ready with her answer on that day. And she +was greatly tormented by feeling that if she could not bring herself +to accept Mr. Gibson,—should Mr. Gibson propose to her, as to which +she continued to tell herself that the chance of such a thing must be +very remote indeed,—but that if he should propose to her, and if she +could not accept him, her aunt ought to know that it would be so +before the moment came. But yet she could not bring herself to speak +to her aunt as though any such proposition were possible.</p> + +<p>It happened that during the week, on the Saturday, Priscilla came +into Exeter. Dorothy met her sister at the railway station, and then +the two walked together two miles and back along the Crediton Road. +Aunt Stanbury had consented to Priscilla coming to the Close, even +though it was not the day appointed for such visits; but the walk had +been preferred, and Dorothy felt that she would be able to ask for +counsel from the only human being to whom she could have brought +herself to confide the fact that a gentleman was expected to ask her +to marry him. But it was not till they had turned upon their walk, +that she was able to open her mouth on the subject even to her +sister. Priscilla had been very full of their own cares at Nuncombe, +and had said much of her determination to leave the Clock House and +to return to the retirement of some small cottage. She had already +written to Hugh to this effect, and during their walk had said much +of her own folly in having consented to so great a change in their +mode of life. At last Dorothy struck in with her story.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Stanbury wants me to make a change too."</p> + +<p>"What change?" asked Priscilla anxiously.</p> + +<p>"It is not my idea, Priscilla, and I don't think that there can be +anything in it. Indeed, I'm sure there isn't. I don't see how it's +possible that there should be."</p> + +<p>"But what is it, Dolly?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose there can't be any harm in my telling you."</p> + +<p>"If it's anything concerning yourself, I should say not. If it +concerns Aunt Stanbury, I dare say she'd rather you held your +tongue."</p> + +<p>"It concerns me most," said Dorothy.</p> + +<p>"She doesn't want you to leave her, does she?"</p> + +<p>"Well; yes; no. By what she said last,—I shouldn't leave her at all +in that way. Only I'm sure it's not possible."</p> + +<p>"I am the worst hand in the world, Dolly, at guessing a riddle."</p> + +<p>"You've heard of that Mr. Gibson, the clergyman;—haven't you?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I have."</p> + +<p>"Well—. Mind, you know, it's only what Aunt Stanbury says. He has +never so much as opened his lips to me himself, except to say, 'How +do you do?' and that kind of thing."</p> + +<p>"Aunt Stanbury wants you to marry him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes!"</p> + +<p>"Well?"</p> + +<p>"Of course it's out of the question," said Dorothy, sadly.</p> + +<p>"I don't see why it should be out of the question," said Priscilla +proudly. "Indeed, if Aunt Stanbury has said much about it, I should +say that Mr. Gibson himself must have spoken to her."</p> + +<p>"Do you think he has?"</p> + +<p>"I do not believe that my aunt would raise false hopes," said +Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"But I haven't any hopes. That is to say, I had never thought about +such a thing."</p> + +<p>"But you think about it now, Dolly?"</p> + +<p>"I should never have dreamed about it, only for Aunt Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"But, dearest, you are dreaming of it now, are you not?"</p> + +<p>"Only because she says that it is to be so. You don't know how +generous she is. She says that if it should be so, she will give me +ever so much money;—two thousand pounds!"</p> + +<p>"Then I am quite sure that she and Mr. Gibson must understand each +other."</p> + +<p>"Of course," said Dorothy, sadly, "if he were to think of such a +thing at all, it would only be because the money would be +convenient."</p> + +<p>"Not at all," said Priscilla, sternly,—with a sternness that was +very comfortable to her listener. "Not at all. Why should not Mr. +Gibson love you as well as any man ever loved any woman? You are +nice-looking,"—Dorothy blushed beneath her hat even at her sister's +praise,—"and good-tempered, and lovable in every way. And I think +you are just fitted to make a good wife. And you must not suppose, +Dolly, that because Mr. Gibson wouldn't perhaps have asked you +without the money, that therefore he is mercenary. It so often +happens that a gentleman can't marry unless the lady has some money!"</p> + +<p>"But he hasn't asked me at all."</p> + +<p>"I suppose he will, dear."</p> + +<p>"I only know what Aunt Stanbury says."</p> + +<p>"You may be sure that he will ask you."</p> + +<p>"And what must I say, Priscilla?"</p> + +<p>"What must you say? Nobody can tell you that, dear, but yourself. Do +you like him?"</p> + +<p>"I don't dislike him."</p> + +<p>"Is that all?"</p> + +<p>"I know him so very little, Priscilla. Everybody says he is very +good;—and then it's a great thing, isn't it, that he should be a +clergyman?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know about that."</p> + +<p>"I think it is. If it were possible that I should ever marry any one, +I should like a clergyman so much the best."</p> + +<p>"Then you do know what to say to him."</p> + +<p>"No, I don't, Priscilla. I don't know at all."</p> + +<p>"Look here, dearest. What my aunt offers to you is a very great step +in life. If you can accept this gentleman I think you would be +happy;—and I think, also, which should be of more importance for +your consideration, that you would make him happy. It is a brighter +prospect, dear Dolly, than to live either with us at Nuncombe, or +even with Aunt Stanbury as her niece."</p> + +<p>"But if I don't love him, Priscilla?"</p> + +<p>"Then give it up, and be as you are, my own own, dearest sister."</p> + +<p>"So I will," said Dorothy, and at that time her mind was made up.</p> + + + +<div class="center"><a name="ip1-238" id="ip1-238"></a> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="4px"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/p1-238.jpg"> + <img src="images/p1-238-t.jpg" height="500" + alt="Dorothy makes up her mind." /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <span class="caption">Dorothy makes up her mind.<br /> + Click to <a href="images/p1-238.jpg">ENLARGE</a></span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p><a name="c31" id="c31"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXI.</h3> +<h4>MR. BROOKE BURGESS.<br /> </h4> + + +<p><img class="left" src="images/ch31a.jpg" width="310" alt="Illustration" /> +The hour at which Mr. Brooke Burgess was to arrive had come round, +and Miss Stanbury was in a twitter, partly of expectation, and +partly, it must be confessed, of fear. Why there should be any fear +she did not herself know, as she had much to give and nothing to +expect. But she was afraid, and was conscious of it, and was out of +temper because she was ashamed of herself. Although it would be +necessary that she should again dress for dinner at six, she had put +on a clean cap at four, and appeared at that early hour in one of her +gowns which was not customarily in use for home purposes at that +early hour. She felt that she was "an old fool" for her pains, and +was consequently cross to poor Dorothy. And there were other reasons +for some display of harshness to her niece. Mr. Gibson had been at +the house that very morning, and Dorothy had given herself airs. At +least, so Miss Stanbury thought. And during the last three or four +days, whenever Mr. Gibson's name had been mentioned, Dorothy had +become silent, glum, and almost obstructive. Miss Stanbury had been +at the trouble of explaining that she was specially anxious to have +that little matter of the engagement settled at once. She knew that +she was going to behave with great generosity;—that she was going to +sacrifice, not her money only, of which she did not think much, but a +considerable portion of her authority, of which she did think a great +deal; and that she was about to behave in a manner which demanded +much gratitude. But it seemed to her that Dorothy was not in the +least grateful. Hugh had proved himself to be "a mass of +ingratitude," as she was in the habit of saying. None of the +Burgesses had ever shown to her any gratitude for promises made to +them, or, indeed, for any substantial favours conferred upon them. +And now Dorothy, to whom a very seventh heaven of happiness had been +opened,—a seventh heaven, as it must be computed in comparison with +her low expectations,—now Dorothy was already shewing how thankless +she could become. Mr. Gibson had not yet declared his passion, but he +had freely admitted to Miss Stanbury that he was prepared to do so. +Priscilla had been quite right in her suggestion that there was a +clear understanding between the clergyman and her aunt.</p> + +<p>"I don't think he is come after all," said Miss Stanbury, looking at +her watch. Had the train arrived at the moment that it was due, had +the expectant visitor jumped out of the railway carriage into a fly, +and had the driver galloped up to the Close, it might have been +possible that the wheels should have been at the door as Miss +Stanbury spoke.</p> + +<p>"It's hardly time yet, aunt."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense; it is time. The train comes in at four. I dare say he +won't come at all."</p> + +<p>"He is sure to come, aunt."</p> + +<p>"I've no doubt you know all about it better than any one else. You +usually do." Then five minutes were passed in silence. "Heaven and +earth! what shall I do with these people that are coming? And I told +them especially that it was to meet this young man! It's the way I am +always treated by everybody that I have about me."</p> + +<p>"The train might be ten minutes late, Aunt Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—and monkeys might chew tobacco. There;—there's the omnibus at +the Cock and Bottle; the omnibus up from the train. Now, of course, +he won't come."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he's walking, Aunt Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"Walking,—with his luggage on his shoulders? Is that your idea of +the way in which a London gentleman goes about? And there are two +flies,—coming up from the train, of course." Miss Stanbury was +obliged to fix the side of her chair very close to the window in +order that she might see that part of the Close in which the vehicles +of which she had spoken were able to pass.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps they are not coming from the train, Aunt Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps a fiddlestick! You have lived here so much longer than I +have done that, of course, you must know all about it." Then there +was an interval of another ten minutes, and even Dorothy was +beginning to think that Mr. Burgess was not coming. "I've given him +up now," said Miss Stanbury. "I think I'll send and put them all +off." Just at that moment there came a knock at the door. But there +was no cab. Dorothy's conjecture had been right. The London gentleman +had walked, and his portmanteau had been carried behind him by a boy. +"How did he get here?" exclaimed Miss Stanbury, as she heard the +strange voice speaking to Martha down-stairs. But Dorothy knew better +than to answer the question.</p> + +<p>"Miss Stanbury, I am very glad to see you," said Mr. Brooke Burgess, +as he entered the room. Miss Stanbury courtesied, and then took him +by both hands. "You wouldn't have known me, I dare say," he +continued. "A black beard and a bald head do make a difference."</p> + +<p>"You are not bald at all," said Miss Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"I am beginning to be thin enough at the top. I am so glad to come to +you, and so much obliged to you for having me! How well I remember +the old room!"</p> + +<p>"This is my niece, Miss Dorothy Stanbury, from Nuncombe Putney." +Dorothy was about to make some formal acknowledgment of the +introduction, when Brooke Burgess came up to her, and shook her hand +heartily. "She lives with me," continued the aunt.</p> + +<p>"And what has become of Hugh?" said Brooke.</p> + +<p>"We never talk of him," said Miss Stanbury gravely.</p> + +<p>"I hope there's nothing wrong? I hear of him very often in London."</p> + +<p>"My aunt and he don't agree;—that's all," said Dorothy.</p> + +<p>"He has given up his profession as a barrister,—in which he might +have lived like a gentleman," said Miss Stanbury, "and has taken to +writing for a—penny newspaper."</p> + +<p>"Everybody does that now, Miss Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"I hope you don't, Mr. Burgess."</p> + +<p>"I! Nobody would print anything that I wrote. I don't write for +anything, certainly."</p> + +<p>"I'm very glad to hear it," said Miss Stanbury.</p> + +<p>Brooke Burgess, or Mr. Brooke, as he came to be called very shortly +by the servants in the house, was a good-looking man, with black +whiskers and black hair, which, as he said, was beginning to be thin +on the top of his head, and pleasant small bright eyes. Dorothy +thought that next to her brother Hugh he was the most good-natured +looking man she had ever seen. He was rather below the middle height, +and somewhat inclined to be stout. But he would boast that he could +still walk his twelve miles in three hours, and would add that as +long as he could do that he would never recognise the necessity of +putting himself on short commons. He had a well-cut nose, not quite +aquiline, but tending that way, a chin with a dimple on it, and as +sweet a mouth as ever declared the excellence of a man's temper. +Dorothy immediately began to compare him with her brother Hugh, who +was to her, of all men, the most godlike. It never occurred to her to +make any comparison between Mr. Gibson and Mr. Burgess. Her brother +Hugh was the most godlike of men; but there was something godlike +also about the new comer. Mr. Gibson, to Dorothy's eyes, was by no +means divine.</p> + +<p>"I used to call you Aunt Stanbury," said Brooke Burgess to the old +lady; "am I to go on doing it now?"</p> + +<p>"You may call me what you like," said Miss Stanbury. "Only,—dear +me;—I never did see anybody so much altered." Before she went up to +dress herself for dinner, Miss Stanbury was quite restored to her +good humour, as Dorothy could perceive.</p> + +<p>The dinner passed off well enough. Mr. Gibson, at the head of the +table, did, indeed, look very much out of his element, as though he +conceived that his position revealed to the outer world those ideas +of his in regard to Dorothy, which ought to have been secret for a +while longer. There are few men who do not feel ashamed of being +paraded before the world as acknowledged suitors, whereas ladies +accept the position with something almost of triumph. The lady +perhaps regards herself as the successful angler, whereas the +gentleman is conscious of some similitude to the unsuccessful fish. +Mr. Gibson, though he was not yet gasping in the basket, had some +presentiment of this feeling, which made his present seat of honour +unpleasant to him. Brooke Burgess, at the other end of the table, was +as gay as a lark. Mrs. MacHugh sat on one side of him, and Miss +Stanbury on the other, and he laughed at the two old ladies, +reminding them of his former doings in Exeter,—how he had hunted +Mrs. MacHugh's cat, and had stolen Aunt Stanbury's best apricot jam, +till everybody began to perceive that he was quite a success. Even +Sir Peter Mancrudy laughed at his jokes, and Mrs. Powel, from the +other side of Sir Peter, stretched her head forward so that she might +become one of the gay party.</p> + +<p>"There isn't a word of it true," said Miss Stanbury. "It's all pure +invention, and a great scandal. I never did such a thing in my life."</p> + +<p>"Didn't you though?" said Brooke Burgess. "I remember it as well as +if it was yesterday, and old Dr. Ball, the prebendary, with the +carbuncles on his nose, saw it too."</p> + +<p>"Dr. Ball had no carbuncles on his nose," said Mrs. MacHugh. "You'll +say next that I have carbuncles on my nose."</p> + +<p>"He had three. I remember each of them quite well, and so does Sir +Peter."</p> + +<p>Then everybody laughed; and Martha, who was in the room, knew that +Brooke Burgess was a complete success.</p> + +<p>In the meantime Mr. Gibson was talking to Dorothy; but Dorothy was +endeavouring to listen to the conversation at the other end of the +table. "I found it very dirty on the roads to-day outside the city," +said Mr. Gibson.</p> + +<p>"Very dirty," said Dorothy, looking round at Mr. Burgess as she +spoke.</p> + +<p>"But the pavement in the High Street was dry enough."</p> + +<p>"Quite dry," said Dorothy. Then there came a peal of laughter from +Mrs. MacHugh and Sir Peter, and Dorothy wondered whether anybody +before had ever made those two steady old people laugh after that +fashion.</p> + +<p>"I should so like to get a drive with you up to the top of Haldon +Hill," said Mr. Gibson. "When the weather gets fine, that is. Mrs. +Powel was talking about it."</p> + +<p>"It would be very nice," said Dorothy.</p> + +<p>"You have never seen the view from Haldon Hill yet?" asked Mr. +Gibson. But to this question Dorothy could make no answer. Miss +Stanbury had lifted one of the table-spoons, as though she was going +to strike Mr. Brooke Burgess with the bowl of it. And this during a +dinner party! From that moment Dorothy turned herself round, and +became one of the listeners to the fun at the other end of the table. +Poor Mr. Gibson soon found himself "nowhere."</p> + +<p>"I never saw a man so much altered in my life," said Mrs. MacHugh, up +in the drawing-room. "I don't remember that he used to be clever."</p> + +<p>"He was a bright boy," said Miss Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"But the Burgesses all used to be such serious, strait-laced people," +said Mrs. MacHugh. "Excellent people," she added, remembering the +source of her friend's wealth; "but none of them like that."</p> + +<p>"I call him a very handsome man," said Mrs. Powel. "I suppose he's +not married yet?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear, no," said Miss Stanbury. "There's time enough for him +yet."</p> + +<p>"He'll find plenty here to set their caps at him," said Mrs. MacHugh.</p> + +<p>"He's a little old for my girls," said Mrs. Powel, laughing. Mrs. +Powel was the happy mother of four daughters, of whom the eldest was +only twelve.</p> + +<p>"There are others who are more forward," said Mrs. MacHugh. "What a +chance it would be for dear Arabella French!"</p> + +<p>"Heaven forbid!" said Miss Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"And then poor Mr. Gibson wouldn't be any longer like the donkey +between two bundles of hay," said Mrs. Powel. Dorothy was quite +determined that she would never marry a man who was like a donkey +between two bundles of hay.</p> + +<p>When the gentlemen came up into the drawing-room, Dorothy was seated +behind the urn and tea-things at a large table, in such a position as +to be approached only at one side. There was one chair at her left +hand, but at her right hand there was no room for a seat,—only room +for some civil gentleman to take away full cups and bring them back +empty. Dorothy was not sufficiently ready-witted to see the danger of +this position till Mr. Gibson had seated himself in the chair. Then +it did seem cruel to her that she should be thus besieged for the +rest of the evening as she had been also at dinner. While the tea was +being consumed Mr. Gibson assisted at the service, asking ladies +whether they would have cake or bread and butter; but when all that +was over Dorothy was still in her prison, and Mr. Gibson was still +the jailer at the gate. She soon perceived that everybody else was +chatting and laughing, and that Brooke Burgess was the centre of a +little circle which had formed itself quite at a distance from her +seat. Once, twice, thrice she meditated an escape, but she had not +the courage to make the attempt. She did not know how to manage it. +She was conscious that her aunt's eye was upon her, and that her aunt +would expect her to listen to Mr. Gibson. At last she gave up all +hope of moving, and was anxious simply that Mr. Gibson should confine +himself to the dirt of the paths and the noble prospect from Haldon +Hill.</p> + +<p>"I think we shall have more rain before we are done with it," he +said. Twice before during the evening he had been very eloquent about +the rain.</p> + +<p>"I dare say we shall," said Dorothy. And then there came the sound of +loud laughter from Sir Peter, and Dorothy could see that he was +poking Brooke Burgess in the ribs. There had never been anything so +gay before since she had been in Exeter, and now she was hemmed up in +that corner, away from it all, by Mr. Gibson!</p> + +<p>"This Mr. Burgess seems to be different from the other Burgesses," +said Mr. Gibson.</p> + +<p>"I think he must be very clever," said Dorothy.</p> + +<p>"Well;—yes; in a sort of a way. What people call a Merry Andrew."</p> + +<p>"I like people who make me laugh and laugh themselves," said Dorothy.</p> + +<p>"I quite agree with you that laughter is a very good thing,—in its +place. I am not at all one of those who would make the world +altogether grave. There are serious things, and there must be serious +moments."</p> + +<p>"Of course," said Dorothy.</p> + +<p>"And I think that serious conversation upon the whole has more +allurements than conversation which when you come to examine it is +found to mean nothing. Don't you?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose everybody should mean something when he talks."</p> + +<p>"Just so. That is exactly my idea," said Mr. Gibson. "On all such +subjects as that I should be so sorry if you and I did not agree. I +really should." Then he paused, and Dorothy was so confounded by what +she conceived to be the dangers of the coming moment that she was +unable even to think what she ought to say. She heard Mrs. MacHugh's +clear, sharp, merry voice, and she heard her aunt's tone of pretended +anger, and she heard Sir Peter's continued laughter, and Brooke +Burgess as he continued the telling of some story; but her own +trouble was too great to allow of her attending to what was going on +at the other end of the room. "There is nothing as to which I am so +anxious as that you and I should agree about serious things," said +Mr. Gibson.</p> + +<p>"I suppose we do agree about going to church," said Dorothy. She knew +that she could have made no speech more stupid, more senseless, more +inefficacious;—but what was she to say in answer to such an +assurance?</p> + +<p>"I hope so," said Mr. Gibson; "and I think so. Your aunt is a most +excellent woman, and her opinion has very great weight with me on all +subjects,—even as to matters of church discipline and doctrine, in +which, as a clergyman, I am of course presumed to be more at home. +But your aunt is a woman among a thousand."</p> + +<p>"Of course I think she is very good."</p> + +<p>"And she is so right about this young man and her property. Don't you +think so?"</p> + +<p>"Quite right, Mr. Gibson."</p> + +<p>"Because you know, to you, of course, being her near relative, and +the one she has singled out as the recipient of her kindness, it +might have been cause for some discontent."</p> + +<p>"Discontent to me, Mr. Gibson!"</p> + +<p>"I am quite sure your feelings are what they ought to be. And for +myself, if I ever were,—that is to say, supposing I could be in any +way interested—. But perhaps it is premature to make any suggestion +on that head at present."</p> + +<p>"I don't at all understand what you mean, Mr. Gibson."</p> + +<p>"I thought that perhaps I might take this opportunity of +expressing—. But, after all, the levity of the moment is hardly in +accordance with the sentiments which I should wish to express."</p> + +<p>"I think that I ought to go to my aunt now, Mr. Gibson, as perhaps +she might want something." Then she did push back her chair, and +stand upon her legs,—and Mr. Gibson, after pausing for a moment, +allowed her to escape. Soon after that the visitors went, and Brooke +Burgess was left in the drawing-room with Miss Stanbury and Dorothy.</p> + +<p>"How well I recollect all the people," said Brooke; "Sir Peter, and +old Mrs. MacHugh, and Mrs. Powel, who then used to be called the +beautiful Miss Noel. And I remember every bit of furniture in the +room."</p> + +<p>"Nothing changed except the old woman, Brooke," said Miss Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, you are the least changed of all,—except that you +don't seem to be so terrible as you were then."</p> + +<p>"Was I very terrible, Brooke?"</p> + +<p>"My mother had told me, I fancy, that I was never to make a noise, +and be sure not to break any of the china. You were always very +good-natured, and when you gave me a silver watch I could hardly +believe the extent of my own bliss."</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't care about a watch from an old woman now, Brooke?"</p> + +<p>"You try me. But what rakes you are here! It's past eleven o'clock, +and I must go and have a smoke."</p> + +<p>"Have a what?" said Miss Stanbury, with a startled air.</p> + +<p>"A smoke. You needn't be frightened; I don't mean in the house."</p> + +<p>"No;—I hope you don't mean that."</p> + +<p>"But I may take a turn round the Close with a pipe;—mayn't I?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose all young men do smoke now," said Miss Stanbury, +sorrowfully.</p> + +<p>"Every one of them; and they tell me that the young women mean to +take to it before long."</p> + +<p>"If I saw a young woman smoking, I should blush for my sex; and +though she were the nearest and dearest that I had, I would never +speak to her;—never. Dorothy, I don't think Mr. Gibson smokes."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I don't know, aunt."</p> + +<p>"I hope he doesn't. I do hope that he does not. I cannot understand +what pleasure it is that men take in making chimneys of themselves, +and going about smelling so that no one can bear to come near them."</p> + +<p>Brooke merely laughed at this, and went his way, and smoked his pipe +out in the Close, while Martha sat up to let him in when he had +finished it. Then Dorothy escaped at once to her room, fearful of +being questioned by her aunt about Mr. Gibson. She had, she thought +now, quite made up her mind. There was nothing in Mr. Gibson that she +liked. She was by no means so sure as she had been when she was +talking to her sister, that she would prefer a clergyman to any one +else. She had formed no strong ideas on the subject of love-making, +but she did think that any man who really cared for her, would find +some other way of expressing his love than that which Mr. Gibson had +adopted. And then Mr. Gibson had spoken to her about her aunt's money +in a way that was distasteful to her. She thought that she was quite +sure that if he should ask her, she would not accept him.</p> + +<p>She was nearly undressed, nearly safe for the night, when there came +a knock at the door, and her aunt entered the room. "He has come in," +said Miss Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"I suppose he has had his pipe, then."</p> + +<p>"I wish he didn't smoke. I do wish he didn't smoke. But I suppose an +old woman like me is only making herself a fool to care about such +things. If they all do it I can't prevent them. He seems to be a very +nice young man—in other things; does he not, Dolly?"</p> + +<p>"Very nice indeed, Aunt Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"And he has done very well in his office. And as for his saying that +he must smoke, I like that a great deal better than doing it on the +sly."</p> + +<p>"I don't think Mr. Burgess would do anything on the sly, aunt."</p> + +<p>"No, no; I don't think he would. Dear me; he's not at all like what I +fancied."</p> + +<p>"Everybody seemed to like him very much."</p> + +<p>"Didn't they? I never saw Sir Peter so much taken. And there was +quite a flirtation between him and Mrs. MacHugh. And now, my dear, +tell me about Mr. Gibson."</p> + +<p>"There is nothing to tell, Aunt Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"Isn't there? From what I saw going on, I thought there would be +something to tell. He was talking to you the whole evening."</p> + +<p>"As it happened he was sitting next to me,—of course."</p> + +<p>"Indeed he was sitting next to you;—so much so that I thought +everything would be settled."</p> + +<p>"If I tell you something, Aunt Stanbury, you mustn't be angry with +me."</p> + +<p>"Tell me what? What is it you have to tell me?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think I shall ever care for Mr. Gibson;—not in that way."</p> + +<p>"Why not, Dorothy?"</p> + +<p>"I'm sure he doesn't care for me. And I don't think he means it."</p> + +<p>"I tell you he does mean it. Mean it! Why, I tell you it has all been +settled between us. Since I first spoke to you I have explained to +him exactly what I intend to do. He knows that he can give up his +house and come and live here. I am sure he must have said something +about it to you to-night."</p> + +<p>"Not a word, Aunt Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"Then he will."</p> + +<p>"Dear aunt, I do so wish you would prevent it. I don't like him. I +don't indeed."</p> + +<p>"Not like him!"</p> + +<p>"No;—I don't care for him a bit, and I never shall. I can't help it, +Aunt Stanbury. I thought I would try, but I find it would be +impossible. You can't want me to marry a man if I don't love him."</p> + +<p>"I never heard of such a thing in my life. Not love him! And why +shouldn't you love him? He's a gentleman. Everybody respects him. +He'll have plenty to make you comfortable all your life! And then why +didn't you tell me before?"</p> + +<p>"I didn't know, Aunt Stanbury. I thought that +<span class="nowrap">perhaps—"</span></p> + +<p>"Perhaps what?"</p> + +<p>"I could not say all at once that I didn't care for him, when I had +never so much as thought about it for a moment before."</p> + +<p>"You haven't told him this?"</p> + +<p>"No, I have not told him. I couldn't begin by telling him, you know."</p> + +<p>"Then I must pray that you will think about it again. Have you +imagined what a great thing for you it would be to be established for +life,—so that you should never have any more trouble again about a +home, or about money, or anything? Don't answer me now, Dorothy, but +think of it. It seemed to me that I was doing such an excellent thing +for both of you." So saying Miss Stanbury left the room, and Dorothy +was enabled to obey her, at any rate, in one matter. She did think of +it. She laid awake thinking of it almost all the night. But the more +she thought of it, the less able was she to realise to herself any +future comfort or happiness in the idea of becoming Mrs. Gibson.</p> + + +<p><a name="c32" id="c32"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXII.</h3> +<h4>THE "FULL MOON" AT ST. DIDDULPH'S.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>The receipt of Mrs. Trevelyan's letter on that Monday morning was a +great surprise both to Mr. and Mrs. Outhouse. There was no time for +any consideration, no opportunity for delaying their arrival till +they should have again referred the matter to Mr. Trevelyan. Their +two nieces were to be with them on that evening, and even the +telegraph wires, if employed with such purpose, would not be quick +enough to stop their coming. The party, as they knew, would have left +Nuncombe Putney before the arrival of the letter at the parsonage of +St. Diddulph's. There would have been nothing in this to have caused +vexation, had it not been decided between Trevelyan and Mr. Outhouse +that Mrs. Trevelyan was not to find a home at the parsonage. Mr. +Outhouse was greatly afraid of being so entangled in the matter as to +be driven to take the part of the wife against the husband; and Mrs. +Outhouse, though she was full of indignation against Trevelyan, was +at the same time not free from anger in regard to her own niece. She +more than once repeated that most unjust of all proverbs, which +declares that there is never smoke without fire, and asserted broadly +that she did not like to be with people who could not live at home, +husbands with wives, and wives with husbands, in a decent, +respectable manner. Nevertheless the preparations went on busily, and +when the party arrived at seven o'clock in the evening, two rooms had +been prepared close to each other, one for the two sisters, and the +other for the child and nurse, although poor Mr. Outhouse himself was +turned out of his own little chamber in order that the accommodation +might be given. They were all very hot, very tired, and very dusty, +when the cab reached the parsonage. There had been the preliminary +drive from Nuncombe Putney to Lessboro'. Then the railway journey +from thence to the Waterloo Bridge Station had been long. And it had +seemed to them that the distance from the station to St. Diddulph's +had been endless. When the cabman was told whither he was to go, he +looked doubtingly at his poor old horse, and then at the luggage +which he was required to pack on the top of his cab, and laid himself +out for his work with a full understanding that it would not be +accomplished without considerable difficulty. The cabman made it +twelve miles from Waterloo Bridge to St. Diddulph's, and suggested +that extra passengers and parcels would make the fare up to ten and +six. Had he named double as much Mrs. Trevelyan would have assented. +So great was the fatigue, and so wretched the occasion, that there +was sobbing and crying in the cab, and when at last the parsonage was +reached, even the nurse was hardly able to turn her hand to anything. +The poor wanderers were made welcome on that evening without a word +of discussion as to the cause of their coming. "I hope you are not +angry with us, Uncle Oliphant," Emily Trevelyan had said, with tears +in her eyes. "Angry with you, my dear;—for coming to our house! How +could I be angry with you?" Then the travellers were hurried +up-stairs by Mrs. Outhouse, and the master of the parsonage was left +alone for a while. He certainly was not angry, but he was ill at +ease, and unhappy. His guests would probably remain with him for six +or seven months. He had resolutely refused all payment from Mr. +Trevelyan, but, nevertheless, he was a poor man. It is impossible to +conceive that a clergyman in such a parish as St. Diddulph's, without +a private income, should not be a poor man. It was but a +hand-to-mouth existence which he lived, paying his way as his money +came to him, and sharing the proceeds of his parish with the poor. He +was always more or less in debt. That was quite understood among the +tradesmen. And the butcher who trusted him, though he was a bad +churchman, did not look upon the parson's account as he did on other +debts. He would often hint to Mr. Outhouse that a little money ought +to be paid, and then a little money would be paid. But it was never +expected that the parsonage bill should be settled. In such a +household the arrival of four guests, who were expected to remain for +an almost indefinite number of months, could not be regarded without +dismay. On that first evening, Emily and Nora did come down to tea, +but they went up again to their rooms almost immediately afterwards; +and Mr. Outhouse found that many hours of solitary meditation were +allowed to him on the occasion. "I suppose your brother has been told +all about it," he said to his wife, as soon as they were together on +that evening.</p> + +<p>"Yes;—he has been told. She did not write to her mother till after +she had got to Nuncombe Putney. She did not like to speak about her +troubles while there was a hope that things might be made smooth."</p> + +<p>"You can't blame her for that, my dear."</p> + +<p>"But there was a month lost, or nearly. Letters go only once a month. +And now they can't hear from Marmaduke or Bessy,"—Lady Rowley's name +was Bessy,—"till the beginning of September."</p> + +<p>"That will be in a fortnight."</p> + +<p>"But what can my brother say to them? He will suppose that they are +still down in Devonshire."</p> + +<p>"You don't think he will come at once?"</p> + +<p>"How can he, my dear? He can't come without leave, and the expense +would be ruinous. They would stop his pay, and there would be all +manner of evils. He is to come in the spring, and they must stay here +till he comes." The parson of St. Diddulph's sighed and groaned. +Would it not have been almost better that he should have put his +pride in his pocket, and have consented to take Mr. Trevelyan's +money?</p> + +<p>On the second morning Hugh Stanbury called at the parsonage, and was +closeted for a while with the parson. Nora had heard his voice in the +passage, and every one in the house knew who it was that was talking +to Mr. Outhouse, in the little back parlour that was called a study. +Nora was full of anxiety. Would he ask to see them,—to see her? And +why was he there so long? "No doubt he has brought a message from Mr. +Trevelyan," said her sister. "I dare say he will send word that I +ought not to have come to my uncle's house." Then, at last, both Mr. +Outhouse and Hugh Stanbury came into the room in which they were all +sitting. The greetings were cold and unsatisfactory, and Nora barely +allowed Hugh to touch the tip of her fingers. She was very angry with +him, and yet she knew that her anger was altogether unreasonable. +That he had caused her to refuse a marriage that had so much to +attract her was not his sin;—not that; but that, having thus +overpowered her by his influence, he should then have stopped. And +yet Nora had told herself twenty times that it was quite impossible +that she should become Hugh Stanbury's wife;—and that, were Hugh +Stanbury to ask her, it would become her to be indignant with him, +for daring to make a proposition so outrageous. And now she was sick +at heart, because he did not speak to her!</p> + +<p>He had, of course, come to St. Diddulph's with a message from +Trevelyan, and his secret was soon told to them all. Trevelyan +himself was up-stairs in the sanded parlour of the Full Moon +public-house, round the corner. Mrs. Trevelyan, when she heard this, +clasped her hands and bit her lips. What was he there for? If he +wanted to see her, why did he not come boldly to the parsonage? But +it soon appeared that he had no desire to see his wife. "I am to take +Louey to him," said Hugh Stanbury, "if you will allow me."</p> + +<p>"What;—to be taken away from me!" exclaimed the mother. But Hugh +assured her that no such idea had been formed; that he would have +concerned himself in no such stratagem, and that he would himself +undertake to bring the boy back again within an hour. Emily was, of +course, anxious to be informed what other message was to be conveyed +to her; but there was no other message—no message either of love or +of instruction.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Stanbury," said the parson, "has left something in my hands for +you." This "something" was given over to her as soon as Stanbury had +left the house, and consisted of cheques for various small sums, +amounting in all to £200. "And he hasn't said what I am to do with +it?" Emily asked of her uncle. Mr. Outhouse declared that the cheques +had been given to him without any instructions on that head. Mr. +Trevelyan had simply expressed his satisfaction that his wife should +be with her uncle and aunt, had sent the money, and had desired to +see the child.</p> + +<p>The boy was got ready, and Hugh walked with him in his arms round the +corner, to the Full Moon. He had to pass by the bar, and the barmaid +and the potboy looked at him very hard. "There's a young 'ooman has +to do with that ere little game," said the potboy. "And it's two to +one the young 'ooman has the worst of it," said the barmaid. "They +mostly does," said the potboy, not without some feeling of pride in +the immunities of his sex. "Here he is," said Hugh, as he entered the +parlour. "My boy, there's papa." The child at this time was more than +a year old, and could crawl about and use his own legs with the +assistance of a finger to his little hand, and could utter a sound +which the fond mother interpreted to mean papa; for with all her hot +anger against her husband, the mother was above all things anxious +that her child should be taught to love his father's name. She would +talk of her separation from her husband as though it must be +permanent; she would declare to her sister how impossible it was that +they should ever again live together; she would repeat to herself +over and over the tale of the injustice that had been done to her, +assuring herself that it was out of the question that she should ever +pardon the man; but yet, at the bottom of her heart, there was a hope +that the quarrel should be healed before her boy would be old enough +to understand the nature of quarrelling. Trevelyan took the child on +to his knee, and kissed him; but the poor little fellow, startled by +his transference from one male set of arms to another, confused by +the strangeness of the room, and by the absence of things familiar to +his sight, burst out into loud tears. He had stood the journey round +the corner in Hugh's arms manfully, and, though he had looked about +him with very serious eyes, as he passed through the bar, he had +borne that, and his carriage up the stairs; but when he was +transferred to his father, whose air, as he took the boy, was +melancholy and lugubrious in the extreme, the poor little fellow +could endure no longer a mode of treatment so unusual, and, with a +grimace which for a moment or two threatened the coming storm, burst +out with an infantine howl. "That's how he has been taught," said +Trevelyan.</p> + + +<div class="center"><a name="ip1-256" id="ip1-256"></a> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="4px"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/p1-256.jpg"> + <img src="images/p1-256-t.jpg" width="540" + alt="The 'Full Moon' at St. Diddulph's." /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <span class="caption">The "Full Moon" at St. Diddulph's.<br /> + Click to <a href="images/p1-256.jpg">ENLARGE</a></span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p>"Nonsense," said Stanbury. "He's not been taught at all. It's +Nature."</p> + +<p>"Nature that he should be afraid of his own father! He did not cry +when he was with you."</p> + +<p>"No;—as it happened, he did not. I played with him when I was at +Nuncombe; but, of course, one can't tell when a child will cry, and +when it won't."</p> + +<p>"My darling, my dearest, my own son!" said Trevelyan, caressing the +child, and trying to comfort him; but the poor little fellow only +cried the louder. It was now nearly two months since he had seen his +father, and, when age is counted by months only, almost everything +may be forgotten in six weeks. "I suppose you must take him back +again," said Trevelyan, sadly.</p> + +<p>"Of course I must take him back again. Come along, Louey, my boy."</p> + +<p>"It is cruel;—very cruel," said Trevelyan. "No man living could love +his child better than I love mine;—or, for the matter of that, his +wife. It is very cruel."</p> + +<p>"The remedy is in your own hands, Trevelyan," said Stanbury, as he +marched off with the boy in his arms.</p> + +<p>Trevelyan had now become so accustomed to being told by everybody +that he was wrong, and was at the same time so convinced that he was +right, that he regarded the perversity of his friends as a part of +the persecution to which he was subjected. Even Lady Milborough, who +objected to Colonel Osborne quite as strongly as did Trevelyan +himself, even she blamed him now, telling him that he had done wrong +to separate himself from his wife. Mr. Bideawhile, the old family +lawyer, was of the same opinion. Trevelyan had spoken to Mr. +Bideawhile as to the expediency of making some lasting arrangement +for a permanent maintenance for his wife; but the attorney had told +him that nothing of the kind could be held to be lasting. It was +clearly the husband's duty to look forward to a reconciliation, and +Mr. Bideawhile became quite severe in the tone of rebuke which he +assumed. Stanbury treated him almost as though he were a madman. And +as for his wife herself—when she wrote to him she would not even +pretend to express any feeling of affection. And yet, as he thought, +no man had ever done more for a wife. When Stanbury had gone with the +child, he sat waiting for him in the parlour of the public-house, as +miserable a man as one could find. He had promised himself something +that should be akin to pleasure in seeing his boy;—but it had been +all disappointment and pain. What was it that they expected him to +do? What was it that they desired? His wife had behaved with such +indiscretion as almost to have compromised his honour; and in return +for that he was to beg her pardon, confess himself to have done +wrong, and allow her to return in triumph! That was the light in +which he regarded his own position; but he promised to himself that +let his own misery be what it might he would never so degrade him. +The only person who had been true to him was Bozzle. Let them all +look to it. If there were any further intercourse between his wife +and Colonel Osborne, he would take the matter into open court, and +put her away publicly, let Mr. Bideawhile say what he might. Bozzle +should see to that;—and as to himself, he would take himself out of +England and hide himself abroad. Bozzle should know his address, but +he would give it to no one else. Nothing on earth should make him +yield to a woman who had ill-treated him,—nothing but confession and +promise of amendment on her part. If she would acknowledge and +promise, then he would forgive all, and the events of the last four +months should never again be mentioned by him. So resolving he sat +and waited till Stanbury should return to him.</p> + +<p>When Stanbury got back to the parsonage with the boy he had nothing +to do but to take his leave. He would fain have asked permission to +come again, could he have invented any reason for doing so. But the +child was taken from him at once by its mother, and he was left alone +with Mr. Outhouse. Nora Rowley did not even show herself, and he +hardly knew how to express sympathy and friendship for the guests at +the parsonage, without seeming to be untrue to his friend Trevelyan. +"I hope all this may come to an end soon," he said.</p> + +<p>"I hope it may, Mr. Stanbury," said the clergyman; "but to tell you +the truth, it seems to me that Mr. Trevelyan is so unreasonable a +man, so much like a madman indeed, that I hardly know how to look +forward to any future happiness for my niece." This was spoken with +the utmost severity that Mr. Outhouse could assume.</p> + +<p>"And yet no man loves his wife more tenderly."</p> + +<p>"Tender love should show itself by tender conduct, Mr. Stanbury. What +has he done to his wife? He has blackened her name among all his +friends and hers, he has turned her out of his house, he has reviled +her,—and then thinks to prove how good he is by sending her money. +The only possible excuse is that he must be mad."</p> + +<p>Stanbury went back to the Full Moon, and retraced his steps with his +friend towards Lincoln's Inn. Two minutes took him from the parsonage +to the public-house, but during these two minutes he resolved that he +would speak his mind roundly to Trevelyan as they returned home. +Trevelyan should either take his wife back again at once, or else he, +Stanbury, would have no more to do with him. He said nothing till +they had threaded together the maze of streets which led them from +the neighbourhood of the Church of St. Diddulph's into the straight +way of the Commercial Road. Then he began. "Trevelyan," said he, "you +are wrong in all this from beginning to end."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Just what I say. If there was anything in what your wife did to +offend you, a soft word from you would have put it all right."</p> + +<p>"A soft word! How do you know what soft words I used?"</p> + +<p>"A soft word now would do it. You have only to bid her come back to +you, and let bygones be bygones, and all would be right. Can't you be +man enough to remember that you are a man?"</p> + +<p>"Stanbury, I believe you want to quarrel with me."</p> + +<p>"I tell you fairly that I think that you are wrong."</p> + +<p>"They have talked you over to their side."</p> + +<p>"I know nothing about sides. I only know that you are wrong."</p> + +<p>"And what would you have me do?"</p> + +<p>"Go and travel together for six months." Here was Lady Milborough's +receipt again! "Travel together for a year if you will. Then come +back and live where you please. People will have forgotten it;—or if +they remember it, what matters? No sane person can advise you to go +on as you are doing now."</p> + +<p>But it was of no avail. Before they had reached the Bank the two +friends had quarrelled and had parted. Then Trevelyan felt that there +was indeed no one left to him but Bozzle. On the following morning he +saw Bozzle, and on the evening of the next day he was in Paris.</p> + + +<p><a name="c33" id="c33"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXIII.</h3> +<h4>HUGH STANBURY SMOKES ANOTHER PIPE.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Trevelyan was gone, and Bozzle alone knew his address. During the +first fortnight of her residence at St. Diddulph's Mrs. Trevelyan +received two letters from Lady Milborough, in both of which she was +recommended, indeed tenderly implored, to be submissive to her +husband. "Anything," said Lady Milborough, "is better than +separation." In answer to the second letter Mrs. Trevelyan told the +old lady that she had no means by which she could shew any submission +to her husband, even if she were so minded. Her husband had gone +away, she did not know whither, and she had no means by which she +could communicate with him. And then came a packet to her from her +father and mother, despatched from the islands after the receipt by +Lady Rowley of the melancholy tidings of the journey to Nuncombe +Putney. Both Sir Marmaduke and Lady Rowley were full of anger against +Trevelyan, and wrote as though the husband could certainly be brought +back to a sense of his duty, if they only were present. This packet +had been at Nuncombe Putney, and contained a sealed note from Sir +Marmaduke addressed to Mr. Trevelyan. Lady Rowley explained that it +was impossible that they should get to England earlier than in the +spring. "I would come myself at once and leave papa to follow," said +Lady Rowley, "only for the children. If I were to bring them, I must +take a house for them, and the expense would ruin us. Papa has +written to Mr. Trevelyan in a way that he thinks will bring him to +reason."</p> + +<p>But how was this letter, by which the husband was to be brought to +reason, to be put into the husband's hands? Mrs. Trevelyan applied to +Mr. Bideawhile and to Lady Milborough, and to Stanbury, for +Trevelyan's address; but was told by each of them that nothing was +known of his whereabouts. She did not apply to Mr. Bozzle, although +Mr. Bozzle was more than once in her neighbourhood; but as yet she +knew nothing of Mr. Bozzle. The replies from Mr. Bideawhile and from +Lady Milborough came by the post; but Hugh Stanbury thought that duty +required him to make another journey to St. Diddulph's and carry his +own answer with him.</p> + +<p>And on this occasion Fortune was either very kind to him,—or very +unkind. Whichever it was, he found himself alone for a few seconds in +the parsonage parlour with Nora Rowley. Mr. Outhouse was away at the +time. Emily had gone up-stairs for the boy; and Mrs. Outhouse, +suspecting nothing, had followed her. "Miss Rowley," said he, getting +up from his seat, "if you think it will do any good I will follow +Trevelyan till I find him."</p> + +<p>"How can you find him? Besides, why should you give up your own +business?"</p> + +<p>"I would do anything—to serve your sister." This he said with +hesitation in his voice, as though he did not dare to speak all that +he desired to have spoken.</p> + +<p>"I am sure that Emily is very grateful," said Nora; "but she would +not wish to give you such trouble as that."</p> + +<p>"I would do anything for your sister," he repeated, "—for your sake, +Miss Rowley." This was the first time that he had ever spoken a word +to her in such a strain, and it would be hardly too much to say that +her heart was sick for some such expression. But now that it had +come, though there was a sweetness about it that was delicious to +her, she was absolutely silenced by it. And she was at once not only +silent, but stern, rigid, and apparently cold. Stanbury could not but +feel as he looked at her that he had offended her. "Perhaps I ought +not to say as much," said he; "but it is so."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Stanbury," said she, "that is nonsense. It is of my sister, not +of me, that we are speaking."</p> + +<p>Then the door was opened and Emily came in with her child, followed +by her aunt. There was no other opportunity, and perhaps it was well +for Nora and for Hugh that there should have been no other. Enough +had been said to give her comfort; and more might have led to his +discomposure. As to that matter on which he was presumed to have come +to St. Diddulph's, he could do nothing. He did not know Trevelyan's +address, but did know that Trevelyan had abandoned the chambers in +Lincoln's Inn. And then he found himself compelled to confess that he +had quarrelled with Trevelyan, and that they had parted in anger on +the day of their joint visit to the East. "Everybody who knows him +must quarrel with him," said Mrs. Outhouse. Hugh when he took his +leave was treated by them all as a friend who had been gained. Mrs. +Outhouse was gracious to him. Mrs. Trevelyan whispered a word to him +of her own trouble. "If I can hear anything of him, you may be sure +that I will let you know," he said. Then it was Nora's turn to bid +him adieu. There was nothing to be said. No word could be spoken +before others that should be of any avail. But as he took her hand in +his he remembered the reticence of her fingers on that former day, +and thought that he was sure there was a difference.</p> + +<p>On this occasion he made his journey back to the end of Chancery Lane +on the top of an omnibus; and as he lit his little pipe, disregarding +altogether the scrutiny of the public, thoughts passed through his +mind similar to those in which he had indulged as he sat smoking on +the corner of the churchyard wall at Nuncombe Putney. He declared to +himself that he did love this girl; and as it was so, would it not be +better, at any rate more manly, that he should tell her so honestly, +than go on groping about with half-expressed words when he saw her, +thinking of her and yet hardly daring to go near her, bidding himself +to forget her although he knew that such forgetting was impossible, +hankering after the sound of her voice and the touch of her hand, and +something of the tenderness of returned affection,—and yet regarding +her as a prize altogether out of his reach! Why should she be out of +his reach? She had no money, and he had not a couple of hundred +pounds in the world. But he was earning an income which would give +them both shelter and clothes and bread and cheese.</p> + +<p>What reader is there, male or female, of such stories as is this, who +has not often discussed in his or her own mind the different sides of +this question of love and marriage? On either side enough may be said +by any arguer to convince at any rate himself. It must be wrong for a +man, whose income is both insufficient and precarious also, not only +to double his own cares and burdens, but to place the weight of that +doubled burden on other shoulders besides his own,—on shoulders that +are tender and soft, and ill adapted to the carriage of any crushing +weight. And then that doubled burden,—that burden of two mouths to +be fed, of two backs to be covered, of two minds to be satisfied, is +so apt to double itself again and again. The two so speedily become +four, and six! And then there is the feeling that that kind of +semi-poverty, which has in itself something of the pleasantness of +independence, when it is borne by a man alone, entails the miseries +of a draggle-tailed and querulous existence when it is imposed on a +woman who has in her own home enjoyed the comforts of affluence. As a +man thinks of all this, if he chooses to argue with himself on that +side, there is enough in the argument to make him feel that not only +as a wise man but as an honest man, he had better let the young lady +alone. She is well as she is, and he sees around him so many who have +tried the chances of marriage and who are not well! Look at Jones +with his wan, worn wife and his five children, Jones who is not yet +thirty, of whom he happens to know that the wretched man cannot look +his doctor in the face, and that the doctor is as necessary to the +man's house as is the butcher! What heart can Jones have for his work +with such a burden as this upon his shoulders? And so the thinker, +who argues on that side, resolves that the young lady shall go her +own way for him.</p> + +<p>But the arguments on the other side are equally cogent, and so much +more alluring! And they are used by the same man with reference to +the same passion, and are intended by him to put himself right in his +conduct in reference to the same dear girl. Only the former line of +thoughts occurred to him on a Saturday, when he was ending his week +rather gloomily, and this other way of thinking on the same subject +has come upon him on a Monday, as he is beginning his week with +renewed hope. Does this young girl of his heart love him? And if so, +their affection for each other being thus reciprocal, is she not +entitled to an expression of her opinion and her wishes on this +difficult subject? And if she be willing to run the risk and to +encounter the dangers,—to do so on his behalf, because she is +willing to share everything with him,—is it becoming in him, a man, +to fear what she does not fear? If she be not willing let her say so. +If there be any speaking, he must speak first;—but she is entitled, +as much as he is, to her own ideas respecting their great outlook +into the affairs of the world. And then is it not manifestly God's +ordinance that a man should live together with a woman? How poor a +creature does the man become who has shirked his duty in this +respect, who has done nothing to keep the world going, who has been +willing to ignore all affection so that he might avoid all burdens, +and who has put into his own belly every good thing that has come to +him, either by the earning of his own hands or from the bounty and +industry of others! Of course there is a risk; but what excitement is +there in anything in which there is none? So on the Tuesday he speaks +his mind to the young lady, and tells her candidly that there will be +potatoes for the two of them,—sufficient, as he hopes, of potatoes, +but no more. As a matter of course the young lady replies that she +for her part will be quite content to take the parings for her own +eating. Then they rush deliciously into each other's arms and the +matter is settled. For, though the convictions arising from the +former line of argument may be set aside as often as need be, those +reached from the latter are generally conclusive. That such a +settlement will always be better for the young gentleman and the +young lady concerned than one founded on a sterner prudence is more +than one may dare to say; but we do feel sure that that country will +be most prosperous in which such leaps in the dark are made with the +greatest freedom.</p> + +<p>Our friend Hugh, as he sat smoking on the knife-board of the omnibus, +determined that he would risk everything. If it were ordained that +prudence should prevail, the prudence should be hers. Why should he +take upon himself to have prudence enough for two, seeing that she +was so very discreet in all her bearings? Then he remembered the +touch of her hand, which he still felt upon his palm as he sat +handling his pipe, and he told himself that after that he was bound +to say a word more. And moreover he confessed to himself that he was +compelled by a feeling that mastered him altogether. He could not get +through an hour's work without throwing down his pen and thinking of +Nora Rowley. It was his destiny to love her,—and there was, to his +mind, a mean, pettifogging secrecy, amounting almost to daily lying, +in his thus loving her and not telling her that he loved her. It +might well be that she should rebuke him; but he thought that he +could bear that. It might well be that he had altogether mistaken +that touch of her hand. After all it had been the slightest possible +motion of no more than one finger. But he would at any rate know the +truth. If she would tell him at once that she did not care for him, +he thought that he could get over it; but life was not worth having +while he lived in this shifty, dubious, and uncomfortable state. So +he made up his mind that he would go to St. Diddulph's with his heart +in his hand.</p> + +<p>In the mean time, Mr. Bozzle had been twice to St. Diddulph's;—and +now he made a third journey there, two days after Stanbury's visit. +Trevelyan, who, in truth, hated the sight of the man, and who +suffered agonies in his presence, had, nevertheless, taught himself +to believe that he could not live without his assistance. That it +should be so was a part of the cruelty of his lot. Who else was there +that he could trust? His wife had renewed her intimacy with Colonel +Osborne the moment that she had left him. Mrs. Stanbury, who had been +represented to him as the most correct of matrons, had at once been +false to him and to her trust, in allowing Colonel Osborne to enter +her house. Mr. and Mrs. Outhouse, with whom his wife had now located +herself, not by his orders, were, of course, his enemies. His old +friend, Hugh Stanbury, had gone over to the other side, and had +quarrelled with him purposely, with malice prepense, because he would +not submit himself to the caprices of the wife who had injured him. +His own lawyer had refused to act for him; and his fast and oldest +ally, the very person who had sounded in his ear the earliest warning +note against that odious villain, whose daily work it was to destroy +the peace of families,—even Lady Milborough had turned against him! +Because he would not follow the stupid prescription which she, with +pig-headed obstinacy, persisted in giving,—because he would not +carry his wife off to Naples,—she was ill-judging and inconsistent +enough to tell him that he was wrong! Who was then left to him but +Bozzle? Bozzle was very disagreeable. Bozzle said things, and made +suggestions to him which were as bad as pins stuck into his flesh. +But Bozzle was true to his employer, and could find out facts. Had it +not been for Bozzle, he would have known nothing of the Colonel's +journey to Devonshire. Had it not been for Bozzle, he would never +have heard of the correspondence; and, therefore, when he left +London, he gave Bozzle a roving commission; and when he went to +Paris, and from Paris onwards, over the Alps into Italy, he furnished +Bozzle with his address. At this time, in the midst of all his +misery, it never occurred to him to inquire of himself whether it +might be possible that his old friends were right, and that he +himself was wrong. From morning to night he sang to himself +melancholy silent songs of inward wailing, as to the cruelty of his +own lot in life;—and, in the mean time, he employed Bozzle to find +out for him how far that cruelty was carried.</p> + +<p>Mr. Bozzle was, of course, convinced that the lady whom he was +employed to watch was—no better than she ought to be. That is the +usual Bozzlian language for broken vows, secrecy, intrigue, dirt, and +adultery. It was his business to obtain evidence of her guilt. There +was no question to be solved as to her innocency. The Bozzlian mind +would have regarded any such suggestion as the product of a green +softness, the possession of which would have made him quite unfit for +his profession. He was aware that ladies who are no better than they +should be are often very clever,—so clever, as to make it necessary +that the Bozzles who shall at last confound them should be first-rate +Bozzles, Bozzles quite at the top of their profession,—and, +therefore, he went about his work with great industry and much +caution. Colonel Osborne was at the present moment in Scotland. +Bozzle was sure of that. He was quite in the north of Scotland. +Bozzle had examined his map, and had found that Wick, which was the +Colonel's post-town, was very far north indeed. He had half a mind to +run down to Wick, as he was possessed by a certain honest zeal, which +made him long to do something hard and laborious; but his experience +told him that it was very easy for the Colonel to come up to the +neighbourhood of St. Diddulph's, whereas the lady could not go down +to Wick, unless she were to decide upon throwing herself into her +lover's arms,—whereby Bozzle's work would be brought to an end. He, +therefore, confined his immediate operations to St. Diddulph's.</p> + +<p>He made acquaintance with one or two important persons in and about +Mr. Outhouse's parsonage. He became very familiar with the postman. +He arranged terms of intimacy, I am sorry to say, with the housemaid; +and, on the third journey, he made an alliance with the potboy at the +Full Moon. The potboy remembered well the fact of the child being +brought to "our 'ouse," as he called the Full Moon; and he was +enabled to say, that the same "gent as had brought the boy backards +and forrards," had since that been at the parsonage. But Bozzle was +quite quick enough to perceive that all this had nothing to do with +the Colonel. He was led, indeed, to fear that his "governor," as he +was in the habit of calling Trevelyan in his half-spoken +soliloquies,—that his governor was not as true to him as he was to +his governor. What business had that meddling fellow Stanbury at St. +Diddulph's?—for Trevelyan had not thought it necessary to tell his +satellite that he had quarrelled with his friend. Bozzle was grieved +in his mind when he learned that Stanbury's interference was still to +be dreaded; and wrote to his governor, rather severely, to that +effect; but, when so writing, he was able to give no further +information. Facts, in such cases, will not unravel themselves +without much patience on the part of the investigators.</p> + + +<p><a name="c34" id="c34"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXIV.</h3> +<h4>PRISCILLA'S WISDOM.<br /> </h4> + + +<p><img class="left" src="images/ch34a.jpg" width="310" alt="Illustration" /> +On the night after the dinner party in the Close, Dorothy was not the +only person in the house who laid awake thinking of what had taken +place. Miss Stanbury also was full of anxiety, and for hour after +hour could not sleep as she remembered the fruitlessness of her +efforts on behalf of her nephew and niece.</p> + +<p>It had never occurred to her, when she had first proposed to herself +that Dorothy should become Mrs. Gibson that Dorothy herself would +have any objection to such a step in life. Her fear had been that +Dorothy would have become over-radiant with triumph at the idea of +having a husband, and going to that husband with a fortune of her +own. That Mr. Gibson might hesitate she had thought very likely. It +is thus in general that women regard the feelings, desires, and +aspirations of other women. You will hardly ever meet an elderly lady +who will not speak of her juniors as living in a state of breathless +anxiety to catch husbands. And the elder lady will speak of the +younger as though any kind of choice in such catching was quite +disregarded. The man must be a gentleman,—or, at least, +gentlemanlike,—and there must be bread. Let these things be given, +and what girl won't jump into what man's arms? Female reader, is it +not thus that the elders of your sex speak of the younger? When old +Mrs. Stanbury heard that Nora Rowley had refused Mr. Glascock, the +thing was to her unintelligible; and it was now quite unintelligible +to Miss Stanbury that Dorothy should prefer a single life to +matrimony with Mr. Gibson.</p> + +<p>It must be acknowledged, on Aunt Stanbury's behalf, that Dorothy was +one of those yielding, hesitating, submissive young women, trusting +others, but doubting ever of themselves, as to whom it is natural +that their stronger friends should find it expedient to decide for +them. Miss Stanbury was almost justified in thinking that unless she +were to find a husband for her niece, her niece would never find one +for herself. Dorothy would drift into being an old maid, like +Priscilla, simply because she would never assert herself,—never put +her best foot foremost. Aunt Stanbury had therefore taken upon +herself to put out a foot; and having carefully found that Mr. Gibson +was "willing," had conceived that all difficulties were over. She +would be enabled to do her duty by her niece, and establish +comfortably in life, at any rate, one of her brother's children. And +now Dorothy was taking upon herself to say that she did not like the +gentleman! Such conduct was almost equal to writing for a penny +newspaper!</p> + +<p>On the following morning, after breakfast, when Brooke Burgess was +gone out to call upon his uncle,—which he insisted upon doing +openly, and not under the rose, in spite of Miss Stanbury's great +gravity on the occasion,—there was a very serious conversation, and +poor Dorothy had found herself to be almost silenced. She did argue +for a time; but her arguments seemed, even to herself, to amount to +so little! Why shouldn't she love Mr. Gibson? That was a question +which she found it impossible to answer. And though she did not +actually yield, though she did not say that she would accept the man, +still, when she was told that three days were to be allowed to her +for consideration, and that then the offer would be made to her in +form, she felt that, as regarded the anti-Gibson interest, she had +not a leg to stand upon. Why should not such an insignificant +creature, as was she, love Mr. Gibson,—or any other man who had +bread to give her, and was in some degree like a gentleman? On that +night, she wrote the following letter to her +<span class="nowrap">sister:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">The Close, Tuesday.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dearest +Priscilla</span>,</p> + +<p>I do so wish that you could be with me, so that I could +talk to you again. Aunt Stanbury is the most affectionate +and kindest friend in the world; but she has always been +so able to have her own way, because she is both clever +and good, that I find myself almost like a baby with her. +She has been talking to me again about Mr. Gibson; and it +seems that Mr. Gibson really does mean it. It is certainly +very strange; but I do think now that it is true. He is to +come on Friday. It seems very odd that it should all be +settled for him in that way; but then Aunt Stanbury is so +clever at settling things!</p> + +<p>He sat next to me almost all the evening yesterday; but he +didn't say anything about it, except that he hoped I +agreed with him about going to church, and all that. I +suppose I do; and I am quite sure that if I were to be a +clergyman's wife, I should endeavour to do whatever my +husband thought right about religion. One ought to try to +do so, even if the clergyman is not one's husband. Mr. +Burgess has come, and he was so very amusing all the +evening, that perhaps that was the reason Mr. Gibson said +so little. Mr. Burgess is a very nice man, and I think +Aunt Stanbury is more fond of him than of anybody. He is +not at all the sort of person that I expected.</p> + +<p>But if Mr. Gibson does come on Friday, and does really +mean it, what am I to say to him? Aunt Stanbury will be +very angry if I do not take her advice. I am quite sure +that she intends it all for my happiness; and then, of +course, she knows so much more about the world than I do. +She asks me what it is that I expect. Of course, I do not +expect anything. It is a great compliment from Mr. Gibson, +who is a clergyman, and thought well of by everybody. And +nothing could be more respectable. Aunt Stanbury says that +with the money she would give us we should be quite +comfortable; and she wants us to live in this house. She +says that there are thirty girls round Exeter who would +give their eyes for such a chance; and, looking at it in +that light, of course, it is a very great thing for me. +Only think how poor we have been! And then, dear +Priscilla, perhaps he would let me be good to you and dear +mamma!</p> + +<p>But of course he will ask me whether I—love him; and what +am I to say? Aunt Stanbury says that I am to love him. +"Begin to love him at once," she said this morning. I +would if I could, partly for her sake, and because I do +feel that it would be so respectable. When I think of it, +it does seem such a pity that poor I should throw away +such a chance. And I must say that Mr. Gibson is very good +and most obliging; and everybody says that he has an +excellent temper, and that he is a most prudent, +well-dispositioned man. I declare, dear Priscilla, when I +think of it, I cannot bring myself to believe that such a +man should want me to be his wife.</p> + +<p>But what ought I to do? I suppose when a girl is in love +she is very unhappy if the gentleman does not propose to +her. I am sure it would not make me at all unhappy if I +were told that Mr. Gibson had changed his mind.</p> + +<p>Dearest Priscilla, you must write at once, because he is +to be here on Friday. Oh, dear; Friday does seem to be so +near! And I shall never know what to say to him, either +one way or the other.</p> + +<p class="ind8">Your most affectionate sister,</p> + +<p class="ind12"><span class="smallcaps">Dorothy Stanbury</span>.</p> + +<p class="noindent">P.S.—Give my kindest +love to mamma; but you need not tell +her unless you think it best.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>Priscilla received this letter on the Wednesday morning, and felt +herself bound to answer it on that same afternoon. Had she postponed +her reply for a day, it would still have been in Dorothy's hands +before Mr. Gibson could have come to her on the dreaded Friday +morning. But still that would hardly give her time enough to consider +the matter with any degree of deliberation after she should have been +armed with what wisdom Priscilla might be able to send her. The post +left Nuncombe Putney at three; and therefore the letter had to be +written before their early dinner.</p> + +<p>So Priscilla went into the garden and sat herself down under an old +cedar that she might discuss the matter with herself in all its +bearings. She felt that no woman could be called upon to write a +letter that should be of more importance. The whole welfare in life +of the person who was dearest to her would probably depend upon it. +The weight upon her was so great that she thought for a while she +would take counsel with her mother; but she felt sure that her mother +would recommend the marriage; and that if she afterwards should find +herself bound to oppose it, then her mother would be a miserable +woman. There could be no use to her in taking counsel with her +mother, because her mother's mind was known to her beforehand. The +responsibility was thrown upon her, and she alone must bear it.</p> + +<p>She tried hard to persuade herself to write at once and tell her +sister to marry the man. She knew her sister's heart so well as to be +sure that Dorothy would learn to love the man who was her husband. It +was almost impossible that Dorothy should not love those with whom +she lived. And then her sister was so well adapted to be a wife and a +mother. Her temper was so sweet, she was so pure, so unselfish, so +devoted, and so healthy withal! She was so happy when she was acting +for others; and so excellent in action when she had another one to +think for her! She was so trusting and trustworthy that any husband +would adore her! Then Priscilla walked slowly into the house, got her +prayer-book, and returning to her seat under the tree read the +marriage service. It was one o'clock when she went up-stairs to write +her letter, and it had not yet struck eleven when she first seated +herself beneath the tree. Her letter, when written, was as +<span class="nowrap">follows:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">Nuncombe Putney, August 25, 186—.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dearest +Dorothy</span>,</p> + +<p>I got your letter this morning, and I think it is better +to answer it at once, as the time is very short. I have +been thinking about it with all my mind, and I feel almost +awe-stricken lest I should advise you wrongly. After all, +I believe that your own dear sweet truth and honesty would +guide you better than anybody else can guide you. You may +be sure of this, that whichever way it is, I shall think +that you have done right. Dearest sister, I suppose there +can be no doubt that for most women a married life is +happier than a single one. It is always thought so, as we +may see by the anxiety of others to get married; and when +an opinion becomes general, I think that the world is most +often right. And then, my own one, I feel sure that you +are adapted both for the cares and for the joys of married +life. You would do your duty as a married woman happily, +and would be a comfort to your husband;—not a thorn in +his side, as are so many women.</p> + +<p>But, my pet, do not let that reasoning of Aunt Stanbury's +about the thirty young girls who would give their eyes for +Mr. Gibson, have any weight with you. You should not take +him because thirty other young girls would be glad to have +him. And do not think too much of that respectability of +which you speak. I would never advise my Dolly to marry +any man unless she could be respectable in her new +position; but that alone should go for nothing. Nor should +our poverty. We shall not starve. And even if we did, that +would be but a poor excuse.</p> + +<p>I can find no escape from this,—that you should love him +before you say that you will take him. But honest, loyal +love need not, I take it, be of that romantic kind which +people write about in novels and poetry. You need not +think him to be perfect, or the best or grandest of men. +Your heart will tell you whether he is dear to you. And +remember, Dolly, that I shall remember that love itself +must begin at some precise time. Though you had not +learned to love him when you wrote on Tuesday, you may +have begun to do so when you get this on Thursday.</p> + +<p>If you find that you love him, then say that you will be +his wife. If your heart revolts from such a declaration as +being false;—if you cannot bring yourself to feel that +you prefer him to others as the partner of your +life,—then tell him, with thanks for his courtesy, that +it cannot be as he would have it.</p> + +<p class="ind4">Yours always and ever most affectionately,</p> + +<p class="ind12"><span class="smallcaps">Priscilla</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p><a name="c35" id="c35"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXV.</h3> +<h4>MR. GIBSON'S GOOD FORTUNE.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>"I'll bet you half-a-crown, my lad, you're thrown over at last, like +the rest of them. There's nothing she likes so much as taking some +one up in order that she may throw him over afterwards." It was thus +that Mr. Bartholomew Burgess cautioned his nephew Brooke.</p> + +<p>"I'll take care that she shan't break my heart, Uncle Barty. I will +go my way and she may go hers, and she may give her money to the +hospital if she pleases."</p> + +<p>On the morning after his arrival Brooke Burgess had declared aloud in +Miss Stanbury's parlour that he was going over to the bank to see his +uncle. Now there was in this almost a breach of contract. Miss +Stanbury, when she invited the young man to Exeter, had stipulated +that there should be no intercourse between her house and the bank. +"Of course, I shall not need to know where you go or where you don't +go," she had written; "but after all that has passed there must not +be any positive intercourse between my house and the bank." And now +he had spoken of going over to C and B, as he called them, with the +utmost indifference. Miss Stanbury had looked very grave, but had +said nothing. She had determined to be on her guard, so that she +should not be driven to quarrel with Brooke if she could avoid it.</p> + +<p>Bartholomew Burgess was a tall, thin, ill-tempered old man, as +well-known in Exeter as the cathedral, and respected after a fashion. +No one liked him. He said ill-natured things of all his neighbours, +and had never earned any reputation for doing good-natured acts. But +he had lived in Exeter for nearly seventy years, and had achieved +that sort of esteem which comes from long tenure. And he had +committed no great iniquities in the course of his fifty years of +business. The bank had never stopped payment, and he had robbed no +one. He had not swallowed up widows and orphans, and had done his +work in the firm of Cropper and Burgess after the old-fashioned safe +manner, which leads neither to riches nor to ruin. Therefore he was +respected. But he was a discontented, sour old man, who believed +himself to have been injured by all his own friends, who disliked his +own partners because they had bought that which had, at any rate, +never belonged to him;—and whose strongest passion it was to hate +Miss Stanbury of the Close.</p> + +<p>"She's got a parson by the hand, now," said the uncle, as he +continued his caution to the nephew.</p> + +<p>"There was a clergyman there last night."</p> + +<p>"No doubt, and she'll play him off against you, and you against him; +and then she'll throw you both over. I know her."</p> + +<p>"She has got a right to do what she likes with her own, Uncle Barty."</p> + +<p>"And how did she get it? Never mind. I'm not going to set you against +her, if you're her favourite for the moment. She has a niece with her +there,—hasn't she?"</p> + +<p>"One of her brother's daughters."</p> + +<p>"They say she's going to make that clergyman marry her."</p> + +<p>"What;—Mr. Gibson?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. They tell me he was as good as engaged to another girl,—one of +the Frenches of Heavitree. And therefore dear Jemima could do nothing +better than interfere. When she has succeeded in breaking the girl's +<span class="nowrap">heart—"</span></p> + +<p>"Which girl's heart, Uncle Barty?"</p> + +<p>"The girl the man was to have married; when that's done she'll throw +Gibson over. You'll see. She'll refuse to give the girl a shilling. +She took the girl's brother by the hand ever so long, and then she +threw him over. And she'll throw the girl over too, and send her back +to the place she came from. And then she'll throw you over."</p> + +<p>"According to you, she must be the most malicious old woman that ever +was allowed to live!"</p> + +<p>"I don't think there are many to beat her, as far as malice goes. But +you'll find out for yourself. I shouldn't be surprised if she were to +tell you before long that you were to marry the niece."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't think that such very hard lines either," said Brooke +Burgess.</p> + +<p>"I've no doubt you may have her if you like," said Barty, "in spite +of Mr. Gibson. Only I should recommend you to take care and get the +money first."</p> + +<p>When Brooke went back to the house in the Close, Miss Stanbury was +quite fussy in her silence. She would have given much to have been +told something about Barty, and, above all, to have learned what +Barty had said about herself. But she was far too proud even to +mention the old man's name of her own accord. She was quite sure that +she had been abused. She guessed, probably with tolerable accuracy, +the kind of things that had been said of her, and suggested to +herself what answer Brooke would make to such accusations. But she +had resolved to cloak it all in silence, and pretended for a while +not to remember the young man's declared intention when he left the +house. "It seems odd to me," said Brooke, "that Uncle Barty should +always live alone as he does. He must have a dreary time of it."</p> + +<p>"I don't know anything about your Uncle Barty's manner of living."</p> + +<p>"No;—I suppose not. You and he are not friends."</p> + +<p>"By no means, Brooke."</p> + +<p>"He lives there all alone in that poky bank-house, and nobody ever +goes near him. I wonder whether he has any friends in the city?"</p> + +<p>"I really cannot tell you anything about his friends. And, to tell +you the truth, Brooke, I don't want to talk about your uncle. Of +course, you can go to see him when you please, but I'd rather you +didn't tell me of your visits afterwards."</p> + +<p>"There is nothing in the world I hate so much as a secret," said he. +He had no intention in this of animadverting upon Miss Stanbury's +secret enmity, nor had he purposed to ask any question as to her +relations with the old man. He had alluded to his dislike of having +secrets of his own. But she misunderstood him.</p> + +<p>"If you are anxious to know—" she said, becoming very red in the +face.</p> + +<p>"I am not at all curious to know. You quite mistake me."</p> + +<p>"He has chosen to believe,—or to say that he believed,—that I +wronged him in regard to his brother's will. I nursed his brother +when he was dying,—as I considered it to be my duty to do. I cannot +tell you all that story. It is too long, and too sad. Romance is very +pretty in novels, but the romance of a life is always a melancholy +matter. They are most happy who have no story to tell."</p> + +<p>"I quite believe that."</p> + +<p>"But your Uncle Barty chose to think,—indeed, I hardly know what he +thought. He said that the will was a will of my making. When it was +made I and his brother were apart; we were not even on speaking +terms. There had been a quarrel, and all manner of folly. I am not +very proud when I look back upon it. It is not that I think myself +better than others; but your Uncle Brooke's will was made before we +had come together again. When he was ill it was natural that I should +go to him,—after all that had passed between us. Eh, Brooke?"</p> + +<p>"It was womanly."</p> + +<p>"But it made no difference about the will. Mr. Bartholomew Burgess +might have known that at once, and must have known it afterwards. But +he has never acknowledged that he was wrong;—never even yet."</p> + +<p>"He could not bring himself to do that, I should say."</p> + +<p>"The will was no great triumph to me. I could have done without it. +As God is my judge, I would not have lifted up my little finger to +get either a part or the whole of poor Brooke's money. If I had known +that a word would have done it, I would have bitten my tongue out +before it should have been spoken." She had risen from her seat, and +was speaking with a solemnity that almost filled her listener with +awe. She was a woman short of stature; but now, as she stood over +him, she seemed to be tall and majestic. "But when the man was dead," +she continued, "and the will was there,—the property was mine, and I +was bound in duty to exercise the privileges and bear the +responsibilities which the dead man had conferred upon me. It was +Barty, then, who sent a low attorney to me, offering me a compromise. +What had I to compromise? Compromise! No. If it was not mine by all +the right the law could give, I would sooner have starved than have +had a crust of bread out of the money." She had now clenched both her +fists, and was shaking them rapidly as she stood over him, looking +down upon him.</p> + +<p>"Of course it was your own."</p> + +<p>"Yes. Though they asked me to compromise, and sent messages to me to +frighten me;—both Barty and your Uncle Tom; ay, and your father too, +Brooke; they did not dare to go to law. To law, indeed! If ever there +was a good will in the world, the will of your Uncle Brooke was good. +They could talk, and malign me, and tell lies as to dates, and strive +to make my name odious in the county; but they knew that the will was +good. They did not succeed very well in what they did attempt."</p> + +<p>"I would try to forget it all now, Aunt Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"Forget it! How is that to be done? How can the mind forget the +history of its own life? No,—I cannot forget it. I can forgive it."</p> + +<p>"Then why not forgive it?"</p> + +<p>"I do. I have. Why else are you here?"</p> + +<p>"But forgive old Uncle Barty also!"</p> + +<p>"Has he forgiven me? Come now. If I wished to forgive him, how should +I begin? Would he be gracious if I went to him? Does he love me, do +you think,—or hate me? Uncle Barty is a good hater. It is the best +point about him. No, Brooke, we won't try the farce of a +reconciliation after a long life of enmity. Nobody would believe us, +and we should not believe each other."</p> + +<p>"Then I certainly would not try."</p> + +<p>"I do not mean to do so. The truth is, Brooke, you shall have it all +when I'm gone, if you don't turn against me. You won't take to +writing for penny newspapers, will you, Brooke?" As she asked the +question she put one of her hands softly on his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"I certainly shan't offend in that way."</p> + +<p>"And you won't be a Radical?"</p> + +<p>"No, not a Radical."</p> + +<p>"I mean a man to follow Beales and Bright, a republican, a +putter-down of the Church, a hater of the Throne. You won't take up +that line, will you, Brooke?"</p> + +<p>"It isn't my way at present, Aunt Stanbury. But a man shouldn't +promise."</p> + +<p>"Ah me! It makes me sad when I think what the country is coming to. +I'm told there are scores of members of Parliament who don't +pronounce their h's. When I was young, a member of Parliament used to +be a gentleman;—and they've taken to ordaining all manner of people. +It used to be the case that when you met a clergyman you met a +gentleman. By-the-bye, Brooke, what do you think of Mr. Gibson?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Gibson! To tell the truth, I haven't thought much about him."</p> + +<p>"But you must think about him. Perhaps you haven't thought about my +niece, Dolly Stanbury?"</p> + +<p>"I think that she's an uncommonly nice girl."</p> + +<p>"She's not to be nice for you, young man. She's to be married to Mr. +Gibson."</p> + +<p>"Are they engaged?"</p> + +<p>"Well, no; but I intend that they shall be. You won't begrudge that I +should give my little savings to one of my own name?"</p> + +<p>"You don't know me, Aunt Stanbury, if you think that I should +begrudge anything that you might do with your money."</p> + +<p>"Dolly has been here a month or two. I think it's three months since +she came, and I do like her. She's soft and womanly, and hasn't taken +up those vile, filthy habits which almost all the girls have adopted. +Have you seen those Frenches with the things they have on their +heads?"</p> + +<p>"I was speaking to them yesterday."</p> + +<p>"Nasty sluts! You can see the grease on their foreheads when they try +to make their hair go back in the dirty French fashion. Dolly is not +like that;—is she?"</p> + +<p>"She is not in the least like either of the Miss Frenches."</p> + +<p>"And now I want her to become Mrs. Gibson. He is quite taken."</p> + +<p>"Is he?"</p> + +<p>"Oh dear, yes. Didn't you see him the other night at dinner and +afterwards? Of course he knows that I can give her a little bit of +money, which always goes for something, Brooke. And I do think it +would be such a nice thing for Dolly."</p> + +<p>"And what does Dolly think about it?"</p> + +<p>"There's the difficulty. She likes him well enough; I'm sure of that. +And she has no stuck-up ideas about herself. She isn't one of those +who think that almost nothing is good enough for them. +<span class="nowrap">But—"</span></p> + +<p>"She has an objection."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what it is. I sometimes think she is so bashful and +modest she doesn't like to talk of being married,—even to an old +woman like me."</p> + +<p>"Dear me! That's not the way of the age;—is it, Aunt Stanbury?"</p> + +<p>"It's coming to that, Brooke, that the girls will ask the men soon. +Yes,—and that they won't take a refusal either. I do believe that +Camilla French did ask Mr. Gibson."</p> + +<p>"And what did Mr. Gibson say?"</p> + +<p>"Ah;—I can't tell you that. He knows too well what he's about to +take her. He's to come here on Friday at eleven, and you must be out +of the way. I shall be out of the way too. But if Dolly says a word +to you before that, mind you make her understand that she ought to +accept Gibson."</p> + +<p>"She's too good for him, according to my thinking."</p> + +<p>"Don't you be a fool. How can any young woman be too good for a +gentleman and a clergyman? Mr. Gibson is a gentleman. Do you +know,—only you must not mention this,—that I have a kind of idea +that we could get Nuncombe Putney for him. My father had the living, +and my brother; and I should like it to go on in the family."</p> + +<p>No opportunity came in the way of Brooke Burgess to say anything in +favour of Mr. Gibson to Dorothy Stanbury. There did come to be very +quickly a sort of intimacy between her and her aunt's favourite; but +she was one not prone to talk about her own affairs. And as to such +an affair as this,—a question as to whether she should or should not +give herself in marriage to her suitor,—she, who could not speak of +it even to her own sister without a blush, who felt confused and +almost confounded when receiving her aunt's admonitions and +instigations on the subject, would not have endured to hear Brooke +Burgess speak on the matter. Dorothy did feel that a person easier to +know than Brooke had never come in her way. She had already said as +much to him as she had spoken to Mr. Gibson in the three months that +she had made his acquaintance. They had talked about Exeter, and +about Mrs. MacHugh, and the cathedral, and Tennyson's poems, and the +London theatres, and Uncle Barty, and the family quarrel. They had +become quite confidential with each other on some matters. But on +this heavy subject of Mr. Gibson and his proposal of marriage not a +word had been said. When Brooke once mentioned Mr. Gibson on the +Thursday morning, Dorothy within a minute had taken an opportunity of +escaping from the room.</p> + +<p>But circumstances did give him an opportunity of speaking to Mr. +Gibson. On the Wednesday afternoon both he and Mr. Gibson were +invited to drink tea at Mrs. French's house on that evening. Such +invitations at Exeter were wont to be given at short dates, and both +the gentlemen had said that they would go. Then Arabella French had +called in the Close and had asked Miss Stanbury and Dorothy. It was +well understood by Arabella that Miss Stanbury herself would not +drink tea at Heavitree. And it may be that Dorothy's company was not +in truth desired. The ladies both declined. "Don't you stay at home +for me, my dear," Miss Stanbury said to her niece. But Dorothy had +not been out without her aunt since she had been at Exeter, and +understood perfectly that it would not be wise to commence the +practice at the house of the Frenches. "Mr. Brooke is coming, Miss +Stanbury; and Mr. Gibson," Miss French said. And Miss Stanbury had +thought that there was some triumph in her tone. "Mr. Brooke can go +where he pleases, my dear," Miss Stanbury replied. "And as for Mr. +Gibson, I am not his keeper." The tone in which Miss Stanbury spoke +would have implied great imprudence, had not the two ladies +understood each other so thoroughly, and had not each known that it +was so.</p> + +<p>There was the accustomed set of people in Mrs. French's +drawing-room;—the Crumbies, and the Wrights, and the Apjohns. And +Mrs. MacHugh came also,—knowing that there would be a rubber. "Their +naked shoulders don't hurt me," Mrs. MacHugh said, when her friend +almost scolded her for going to the house. "I'm not a young man. I +don't care what they do to themselves." "You might say as much if +they went naked altogether," Miss Stanbury had replied in anger. "If +nobody else complained, I shouldn't," said Mrs. MacHugh. Mrs. MacHugh +got her rubber; and as she had gone for her rubber, on a distinct +promise that there should be a rubber, and as there was a rubber, she +felt that she had no right to say ill-natured things. "What does it +matter to me," said Mrs. MacHugh, "how nasty she is? She's not going +to be my wife." "Ugh!" exclaimed Miss Stanbury, shaking her head both +in anger and disgust.</p> + +<p>Camilla French was by no means so bad as she was painted by Miss +Stanbury, and Brooke Burgess rather liked her than otherwise. And it +seemed to him that Mr. Gibson did not at all dislike Arabella, and +felt no repugnance at either the lady's noddle or shoulders now that +he was removed from Miss Stanbury's influence. It was clear enough +also that Arabella had not given up the attempt, although she must +have admitted to herself that the claims of Dorothy Stanbury were +very strong. On this evening it seemed to have been specially +permitted to Arabella, who was the elder sister, to take into her own +hands the management of the case. Beholders of the game had hitherto +declared that Mr. Gibson's safety was secured by the constant +coupling of the sisters. Neither would allow the other to hunt alone. +But a common sense of the common danger had made some special +strategy necessary, and Camilla hardly spoke a word to Mr. Gibson +during the evening. Let us hope that she found some temporary +consolation in the presence of the stranger.</p> + +<p>"I hope you are going to stay with us ever so long, Mr. Burgess?" +said Camilla.</p> + +<p>"A month. That is ever so long;—isn't it? Why I mean to see all +Devonshire within that time. I feel already that I know Exeter +thoroughly and everybody in it."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure we are very much flattered."</p> + +<p>"As for you, Miss French, I've heard so much about you all my life, +that I felt that I knew you before I came here."</p> + +<p>"Who can have spoken to you about me?"</p> + +<p>"You forget how many relatives I have in the city. Do you think my +Uncle Barty never writes to me?"</p> + +<p>"Not about me."</p> + +<p>"Does he not? And do you suppose I don't hear from Miss Stanbury?"</p> + +<p>"But she hates me. I know that."</p> + +<p>"And do you hate her?"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed. I've the greatest respect for her. But she is a little +odd; isn't she, now, Mr. Burgess? We all like her ever so much; and +we've known her ever so long, six or seven years,—since we were +quite young things. But she has such queer notions about girls."</p> + +<p>"What sort of notions?"</p> + +<p>"She'd like them all to dress just like herself; and she thinks that +they should never talk to young men. If she was here she'd say I was +flirting with you, because we're sitting together."</p> + +<p>"But you are not; are you?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I am not."</p> + +<p>"I wish you would," said Brooke.</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't know how to begin. I shouldn't indeed. I don't know what +flirting means, and I don't know who does know. When young ladies and +gentlemen go out, I suppose they are intended to talk to each other."</p> + +<p>"But very often they don't, you know."</p> + +<p>"I call that stupid," said Camilla. "And yet, when they do, all the +old maids say that the girls are flirting. I'll tell you one thing, +Mr. Burgess. I don't care what any old maid says about me. I always +talk to people that I like, and if they choose to call me a flirt, +they may. It's my opinion that still waters run the deepest."</p> + +<p>"No doubt the noisy streams are very shallow," said Brooke.</p> + +<p>"You may call me a shallow stream if you like, Mr. Burgess."</p> + +<p>"I meant nothing of the kind."</p> + +<p>"But what do you call Dorothy Stanbury? That's what I call still +water. She runs deep enough."</p> + +<p>"The quietest young lady I ever saw in my life."</p> + +<p>"Exactly. So quiet, but so—clever. What do you think of Mr. Gibson?"</p> + +<p>"Everybody is asking me what I think of Mr. Gibson."</p> + +<p>"You know what they say. They say he is to marry Dorothy Stanbury. +Poor man! I don't think his own consent has ever been asked +yet;—but, nevertheless, it's settled."</p> + +<p>"Just at present he seems to me to be,—what shall I say?—I oughtn't +to say flirting with your sister; ought I?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Stanbury would say so if she were here, no doubt. But the fact +is, Mr. Burgess, we've known him almost since we were infants, and of +course we take an interest in his welfare. There has never been +anything more than that. Arabella is nothing more to him than I am. +Once, indeed—; but, however—; that does not signify. It would be +nothing to us, if he really liked Dorothy Stanbury. But as far as we +can see,—and we do see a good deal of him,—there is no such feeling +on his part. Of course we haven't asked. We should not think of such +a thing. Mr. Gibson may do just as he likes for us. But I am not +quite sure that Dorothy Stanbury is just the girl that would make him +a good wife. Of course when you've known a person seven or eight +years you do get anxious about his happiness. Do you know, we think +her,—perhaps a little,—sly."</p> + +<p>In the meantime, Mr. Gibson was completely subject to the individual +charms of Arabella. Camilla had been quite correct in a part of her +description of their intimacy. She and her sister had known Mr. +Gibson for seven or eight years; but nevertheless the intimacy could +not with truth be said to have commenced during the infancy of the +young ladies, even if the word were used in its legal sense. Seven or +eight years, however, is a long acquaintance; and there was, perhaps, +something of a real grievance in this Stanbury intervention. If it be +a recognised fact in society that young ladies are in want of +husbands, and that an effort on their part towards matrimony is not +altogether impossible, it must be recognised also that failure will +be disagreeable, and interference regarded with animosity. Miss +Stanbury the elder was undoubtedly interfering between Mr. Gibson and +the Frenches; and it is neither manly nor womanly to submit to +interference with one's dearest prospects. It may, perhaps, be +admitted that the Miss Frenches had shown too much open ardour in +their pursuit of Mr. Gibson. Perhaps there should have been no ardour +and no pursuit. It may be that the theory of womanhood is right which +forbids to women any such attempts,—which teaches them that they +must ever be pursued, never the pursuers. As to that there shall be +no discourse at present. But it must be granted that whenever the +pursuit has been attempted, it is not in human nature to abandon it +without an effort. That the French girls should be very angry with +Miss Stanbury, that they should put their heads together with the +intention of thwarting her, that they should think evil things of +poor Dorothy, that they should half despise Mr. Gibson, and yet +resolve to keep their hold upon him as a chattel and a thing of value +that was almost their own, was not perhaps much to their discredit.</p> + +<p>"You are a good deal at the house in the Close now," said Arabella, +in her lowest voice,—in a voice so low that it was almost +melancholy.</p> + +<p>"Well; yes. Miss Stanbury, you know, has always been a staunch friend +of mine. And she takes an interest in my little church." People say +that girls are sly; but men can be sly, too, sometimes.</p> + +<p>"It seems that she has taken you so much away from us, Mr. Gibson."</p> + +<p>"I don't know why you should say that, Miss French."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I am wrong. One is apt to be sensitive about one's friends. +We seem to have known you so well. There is nobody else in Exeter +that mamma regards as she does you. But, of course, if you are happy +with Miss Stanbury that is everything."</p> + +<p>"I am speaking of the old lady," said Mr. Gibson, who, in spite of +his slyness, was here thrown a little off his guard.</p> + +<p>"And I am speaking of the old lady too," said Arabella. "Of whom else +should I be speaking?"</p> + +<p>"No;—of course not."</p> + +<p>"Of course," continued Arabella, "I hear what people say about the +niece. One cannot help what one hears, you know, Mr. Gibson; but I +don't believe that, I can assure you." As she said this, she looked +into his face, as though waiting for an answer; but Mr. Gibson had no +answer ready. Then Arabella told herself that if anything was to be +done it must be done at once. What use was there in beating round the +bush, when the only chance of getting the game was to be had by +dashing at once into the thicket. "I own I should be glad," she said, +turning her eyes away from him, "if I could hear from your own mouth +that it is not true."</p> + +<p>Mr. Gibson's position was one not to be envied. Were he willing to +tell the very secrets of his soul to Miss French with the utmost +candour, he could not answer her question either one way or the +other, and he was not willing to tell her any of his secrets. It was +certainly the fact, too, that there had been tender passages between +him and Arabella. Now, when there have been such passages, and the +gentleman is cross-examined by the lady, as Mr. Gibson was being +cross-examined at the present moment,—the gentleman usually teaches +himself to think that a little falsehood is permissible. A gentleman +can hardly tell a lady that he has become tired of her, and has +changed his mind. He feels the matter, perhaps, more keenly even than +she does; and though, at all other times he may be a very Paladin in +the cause of truth, in such strait as this he does allow himself some +latitude.</p> + +<p>"You are only joking, of course," he said.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I am not joking. I can assure you, Mr. Gibson, that the +welfare of the friends whom I really love can never be a matter of +joke to me. Mrs. Crumbie says that you positively are engaged to +marry Dorothy Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"What does Mrs. Crumbie know about it?"</p> + +<p>"I dare say, nothing. It is not so;—is it?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not."</p> + +<p>"And there is nothing in it;—is there?"</p> + +<p>"I wonder why people make these reports," said Mr. Gibson, +prevaricating.</p> + + +<div class="center"><a name="ip1-281" id="ip1-281"></a> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="4px"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/p1-281.jpg"> + <img src="images/p1-281-t.jpg" height="500" + alt='"I wonder why people make these reports."' /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <span class="caption">"I wonder why people make these reports."<br /> + Click to <a href="images/p1-281.jpg">ENLARGE</a></span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p>"It is a fabrication from beginning to end then," said Arabella, +pressing the matter quite home. At this time she was very close to +him, and though her words were severe, the glance from her eyes was +soft. And the scent from her hair was not objectionable to him, as it +would have been to Miss Stanbury. And the mode of her head-dress was +not displeasing to him. And the folds of her dress, as they fell +across his knee, were welcome to his feelings. He knew that he was as +one under temptation, but he was not strong enough to bid the tempter +avaunt. "Say that it is so, Mr. Gibson!"</p> + +<p>"Of course, it is not so," said Mr. Gibson—lying.</p> + +<p>"I am so glad. For of course, Mr. Gibson, when we heard it we thought +a great deal about it. A man's happiness depends so much on whom he +marries;—doesn't it? And a clergyman's more than anybody else's. And +we didn't think she was quite the sort of woman that you would like. +You see, she has had no advantages, poor thing. She has been shut up +in a little country cottage all her life;—just a labourer's hovel, +no more;—and though it wasn't her fault, of course, and we all +pitied her, and were so glad when Miss Stanbury brought her to the +Close;—still, you know, though one was very glad of her as an +acquaintance, yet, you know, as a wife,—and for such a dear, dear +<span class="nowrap">friend—"</span> She went on, and said +many other things with equal +enthusiasm, and then wiped her eyes, and then smiled and laughed. +After that she declared that she was quite happy,—so happy; and so +she left him. The poor man, after the falsehood had been extracted +from him, said nothing more; but sat, in patience, listening to the +raptures and enthusiasm of his friend. He knew that he had disgraced +himself, and he knew also that his disgrace would be known, if +Dorothy Stanbury should accept his offer on the morrow. And yet how +hardly he had been used! What answer could he have given compatible +both with the truth and with his own personal dignity?</p> + +<p>About half an hour afterwards he was walking back to Exeter with +Brooke Burgess, and then Brooke did ask him a question or two.</p> + +<p>"Nice girls those Frenches, I think," said Brooke.</p> + +<p>"Very nice," said Mr. Gibson.</p> + +<p>"How Miss Stanbury does hate them," says Brooke.</p> + +<p>"Not hate them, I hope," said Mr. Gibson.</p> + +<p>"She doesn't love them;—does she?"</p> + +<p>"Well, as for love;—yes; in one sense,—I hope she does. Miss +Stanbury, you know, is a woman who expresses herself strongly."</p> + +<p>"What would she say, if she were told that you and I were going to +marry those two girls? We are both favourites, you know."</p> + +<p>"Dear me! What a very odd supposition," said Mr. Gibson.</p> + +<p>"For my part, I don't think I shall," said Brooke.</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose I shall either," said Mr. Gibson, with a gravity +which was intended to convey some smattering of rebuke.</p> + +<p>"A fellow might do worse, you know," said Brooke. "For my part, I +rather like girls with chignons, and all that sort of get-up. But the +worst of it is, one can't marry two at a time."</p> + +<p>"That would be bigamy," said Mr. Gibson.</p> + +<p>"Just so," said Brooke.</p> + + +<p><a name="c36" id="c36"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXVI.</h3> +<h4>MISS STANBURY'S WRATH.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Punctually at eleven o'clock on the Friday morning Mr. Gibson knocked +at the door of the house in the Close. The reader must not imagine +that he had ever wavered in his intention with regard to Dorothy +Stanbury, because he had been driven into a corner by the +pertinacious ingenuity of Miss French. He never for a moment thought +of being false to Miss Stanbury the elder. Falseness of that nature +would have been ruinous to him,—would have made him a marked man in +the city all his days, and would probably have reached even to the +bishop's ears. He was neither bad enough, nor audacious enough, nor +foolish enough, for such perjury as that. And, moreover, though the +wiles of Arabella had been potent with him, he very much preferred +Dorothy Stanbury. Seven years of flirtation with a young lady is more +trying to the affection than any duration of matrimony. Arabella had +managed to awaken something of the old glow, but Mr. Gibson, as soon +as he was alone, turned from her mentally in disgust. No! Whatever +little trouble there might be in his way, it was clearly his duty to +marry Dorothy Stanbury. She had the sweetest temper in the world, and +blushed with the prettiest blush! She would have, moreover, two +thousand pounds on the day she married, and there was no saying what +other and greater pecuniary advantages might follow. His mind was +quite made up; and during the whole morning he had been endeavouring +to drive all disagreeable reminiscences of Miss French from his +memory, and to arrange the words with which he would make his offer +to Dorothy. He was aware that he need not be very particular about +his words, as Dorothy, from the bashfulness of her nature, would be +no judge of eloquence at such a time. But still, for his own sake, +there should be some form of expression, some propriety of diction. +Before eleven o'clock he had it all by heart, and had nearly freed +himself from the uneasiness of his falsehood to Arabella. He had +given much serious thought to the matter, and had quite resolved that +he was right in his purpose, and that he could marry Dorothy with a +pure conscience, and with a true promise of a husband's love. "Dear +Dolly!" he said to himself, with something of enthusiasm as he walked +across the Close. And he looked up to the house as he came to it. +There was to be his future home. There was not one of the prebends +who had a better house. And there was a dove-like softness about +Dorothy's eyes, and a winning obedience in her manner, that were +charming. His lines had fallen to him in very pleasant places. +Yes;—he would go up to her, and take her at once by the hand, and +ask her whether she would be his, now and for ever. He would not let +go her hand till he had brought her so close to him that she could +hide her blushes on his shoulder. The whole thing had been so well +conceived, had become so clear to his mind, that he felt no +hesitation or embarrassment as he knocked at the door. Arabella +French would, no doubt, hear of it soon. Well;—she must hear of it. +After all she could do him no injury.</p> + +<p>He was shown up at once into the drawing-room, and there he +found—Miss Stanbury the elder. "Oh, Mr. Gibson!" she said at once.</p> + +<p>"Is anything the matter with—dear Dorothy?"</p> + +<p>"She is the most obstinate, pig-headed young woman I ever came across +since the world began."</p> + +<p>"You don't say so! But what is it, Miss Stanbury?"</p> + +<p>"What is it? Why just this. Nothing on earth that I can say to her +will induce her to come down and speak to you."</p> + +<p>"Have I offended her?"</p> + +<p>"Offended a fiddlestick! Offence indeed! An offer from an honest man, +with her friends' approval, and a fortune at her back, as though she +had been born with a gold spoon in her mouth! And she tells me that +she can't, and won't, and wouldn't, and shouldn't, as though I were +asking her to walk the streets. I declare I don't know what has come +to the young women;—or what it is they want. One would have thought +that butter wouldn't melt in her mouth."</p> + +<p>"But what is the reason, Miss Stanbury?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, reason! You don't suppose people give reasons in these days. +What reason have they when they dress themselves up with bandboxes on +their sconces? Just simply the old reason—'I do not like thee, Dr. +Fell;—why I cannot tell.'"</p> + +<p>"May I not see her myself, Miss Stanbury?"</p> + +<p>"I can't make her come down-stairs to you. I've been at her the whole +morning, Mr. Gibson. Ever since daylight, pretty nearly. She came +into my room before I was up, and told me she had made up her mind. +I've coaxed, and scolded, and threatened, and cried;—but if she'd +been a milestone it couldn't have been of less use. I told her she +might go back to Nuncombe, and she just went off to pack up."</p> + +<p>"But she's not to go?"</p> + +<p>"How can I say what such a young woman will do? I'm never allowed a +way of my own for a moment. There's Brooke Burgess been scolding me +at that rate I didn't know whether I stood on my head or my heels. +And I don't know now."</p> + +<p>Then there was a pause, while Mr. Gibson was endeavouring to decide +what would now be his best course of action. "Don't you think she'll +ever come round, Miss Stanbury?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think she'll ever come any way that anybody wants her to +come, Mr. Gibson."</p> + +<p>"I didn't think she was at all like that," said Mr. Gibson, almost in +tears.</p> + +<p>"No,—nor anybody else. I've been seeing it come all the same. It's +just the Stanbury perversity. If I'd wanted to keep her by herself, +to take care of me, and had set my back up at her if she spoke to a +man, and made her understand that she wasn't to think of getting +married, she'd have been making eyes at every man that came into the +house. It's just what one gets for going out of one's way. I did +think she'd be so happy, Mr. Gibson, living here as your wife. She +and I between us could have managed for you so nicely."</p> + +<p>Mr. Gibson was silent for a minute or two, during which he walked up +and down the room,—contemplating, no doubt, the picture of married +life which Miss Stanbury had painted for him,—a picture which, as it +seemed, was not to be realised. "And what had I better do, Miss +Stanbury?" he asked at last.</p> + +<p>"Do! I don't know what you're to do. I'm groom enough to bring a mare +to water, but I can't make her drink."</p> + +<p>"Will waiting be any good?"</p> + +<p>"How can I say? I'll tell you one thing not to do. Don't go and +philander with those girls at Heavitree. It's my belief that Dorothy +has been thinking of them. People talk to her, of course."</p> + +<p>"I wish people would hold their tongues. People are so indiscreet. +People don't know how much harm they may do."</p> + +<p>"You've given them some excuse, you know, Mr. Gibson."</p> + +<p>This was very ill-natured, and was felt by Mr. Gibson to be so rude, +that he almost turned upon his patroness in anger. He had known Dolly +for not more than three months, and had devoted himself to her, to +the great anger of his older friends. He had come this morning true +to his appointment, expecting that others would keep their promises +to him, as he was ready to keep those which he had made;—and now he +was told that it was his fault! "I do think that's rather hard, Miss +Stanbury," he said.</p> + +<p>"So you have," said she;—"nasty, slatternly girls, without an idea +inside their noddles. But it's no use your scolding me."</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean to scold, Miss Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"I've done all that I could."</p> + +<p>"And you think she won't see me for a minute?"</p> + +<p>"She says she won't. I can't bid Martha carry her down."</p> + +<p>"Then, perhaps, I had better leave you for the present," said Mr. +Gibson, after another pause. So he went, a melancholy, blighted man. +Leaving the Close, he passed through into Southernhay, and walked +across by the new streets towards the Heavitree road. He had no +design in taking this route, but he went on till he came in sight of +the house in which Mrs. French lived. As he walked slowly by it, he +looked up at the windows, and something of a feeling of romance came +across his heart. Were his young affections buried there, or were +they not? And, if so, with which of those fair girls were they +buried? For the last two years, up to last night, Camilla had +certainly been in the ascendant. But Arabella was a sweet young +woman; and there had been a time,—when those tender passages were +going on,—in which he had thought that no young woman ever was so +sweet. A period of romance, an era of enthusiasm, a short-lived, +delicious holiday of hot-tongued insanity had been permitted to him +in his youth;—but all that was now over. And yet here he was, with +three strings to his bow,—so he told himself,—and he had not as yet +settled for himself the great business of matrimony. He was inclined +to think, as he walked on, that he would walk his life alone, an +active, useful, but a melancholy man. After such experiences as his, +how should he ever again speak of his heart to a woman? During this +walk, his mind recurred frequently to Dorothy Stanbury; and, +doubtless, he thought that he had often spoken of his heart to her. +He was back at his lodgings before three, at which hour he ate an +early dinner, and then took the afternoon cathedral service at four. +The evening he spent at home, thinking of the romance of his early +days. What would Miss Stanbury have said, had she seen him in his +easy chair behind the "Exeter Argus,"—with a pipe in his mouth?</p> + +<p>In the meantime, there was an uncomfortable scene in progress between +Dorothy and her aunt. Brooke Burgess, as desired, had left the house +before eleven, having taken upon himself, when consulted, to say in +the mildest terms, that he thought that, in general, young women +should not be asked to marry if they did not like to;—which opinion +had been so galling to Miss Stanbury that she had declared that he +had so scolded her, that she did not know whether she was standing on +her head or her heels. As soon as Mr. Gibson left her, she sat +herself down, and fairly cried. She had ardently desired this thing, +and had allowed herself to think of her desire as of one that would +certainly be accomplished. Dorothy would have been so happy as the +wife of a clergyman! Miss Stanbury's standard for men and women was +not high. She did not expect others to be as self-sacrificing, as +charitable, and as good as herself. It was not that she gave to +herself credit for such virtues; but she thought of herself as one +who, from the peculiar circumstances of life, was bound to do much +for others. There was no end to her doing good for others,—if only +the others would allow themselves to be governed by her. She did not +think that Mr. Gibson was a great divine; but she perceived that he +was a clergyman, living decently,—of that secret pipe Miss Stanbury +knew nothing,—doing his duty punctually, and, as she thought, very +much in want of a wife. Then there was her niece, Dolly,—soft, +pretty, feminine, without a shilling, and much in want of some one to +comfort and take care of her. What could be better than such a +marriage! And the overthrow to the girls with the big chignons would +be so complete! She had set her mind upon it, and now Dorothy said +that it couldn't, and it wouldn't, and it shouldn't be accomplished! +She was to be thrown over by this chit of a girl, as she had been +thrown over by the girl's brother! And, when she complained, the girl +simply offered to go away!</p> + +<p>At about twelve Dorothy came creeping down into the room in which her +aunt was sitting, and pretended to occupy herself on some piece of +work. For a considerable time,—for three minutes perhaps,—Miss +Stanbury did not speak. She had resolved that she would not speak to +her niece again,—at least, not for that day. She would let the +ungrateful girl know how miserable she had been made. But at the +close of the three minutes her patience was exhausted. "What are you +doing there?" she said.</p> + +<p>"I am quilting your cap, Aunt Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"Put it down. You shan't do anything for me. I won't have you touch +my things any more. I don't like pretended service."</p> + +<p>"It is not pretended, Aunt Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"I say it is pretended. Why did you pretend to me that you would have +him when you had made up your mind against it all the time?"</p> + +<p>"But I hadn't—made up my mind."</p> + +<p>"If you had so much doubt about it, you might have done what I wanted +you."</p> + +<p>"I couldn't, Aunt Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"You mean you wouldn't. I wonder what it is you do expect."</p> + +<p>"I don't expect anything, Aunt Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"No; and I don't expect anything. What an old fool I am ever to look +for any comfort. Why should I think that anybody would care for me?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, I do care for you."</p> + +<p>"In what sort of way do you show it? You're just like your brother +Hugh. I've disgraced myself to that man,—promising what I could not +perform. I declare it makes me sick when I think of it. Why did you +not tell me at once?" Dorothy said nothing further, but sat with the +cap on her lap. She did not dare to resume her needle, and she did +not like to put the cap aside, as by doing so it would seem as though +she had accepted her aunt's prohibition against her work. For half an +hour she sat thus, during which time Miss Stanbury dropped asleep. +She woke with a start, and began to scold again. "What's the good of +sitting there all the day, with your hands before you, doing +nothing?"</p> + +<p>But Dorothy had been very busy. She had been making up her mind, and +had determined to communicate her resolution to her aunt. "Dear +aunt," she said, "I have been thinking of something."</p> + +<p>"It's too late now," said Miss Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"I see I've made you very unhappy."</p> + +<p>"Of course you have."</p> + +<p>"And you think that I'm ungrateful. I'm not ungrateful, and I don't +think that Hugh is."</p> + +<p>"Never mind Hugh."</p> + +<p>"Only because it seems so hard that you should take so much trouble +about us, and that then there should be so much vexation."</p> + +<p>"I find it very hard."</p> + +<p>"So I think that I'd better go back to Nuncombe."</p> + +<p>"That's what you call gratitude."</p> + +<p>"I don't like to stay here and make you unhappy. I can't think that I +ought to have done what you asked me, because I did not feel at all +in that way about Mr. Gibson. But as I have only disappointed you, it +will be better that I should go home. I have been very happy +here,—very."</p> + +<p>"Bother!" exclaimed Miss Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"I have,—and I do love you, though you won't believe it. But I am +sure I oughtn't to remain to make you unhappy. I shall never forget +all that you have done for me; and though you call me ungrateful, I +am not. But I know that I ought not to stay, as I cannot do what you +wish. So, if you please, I will go back to Nuncombe."</p> + +<p>"You'll not do anything of the kind," said Miss Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"But it will be better."</p> + +<p>"Yes, of course; no doubt. I suppose you're tired of us all."</p> + +<p>"It is not that I'm tired, Aunt Stanbury. It isn't that at all." +Dorothy had now become red up to the roots of her hair, and her eyes +were full of tears. "But I cannot stay where people think that I am +ungrateful. If you please, Aunt Stanbury, I will go." Then, of +course, there was a compromise. Dorothy did at last consent to remain +in the Close, but only on condition that she should be forgiven for +her sin in reference to Mr. Gibson, and be permitted to go on with +her aunt's cap.</p> + + +<p><a name="c37" id="c37"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXVII.</h3> +<h4>MONT CENIS.<br /> </h4> + + +<p><img class="left" src="images/ch37a.jpg" width="310" alt="Illustration" /> +The night had been fine and warm, and it was now noon on a fine +September day when the train from Paris reached St. Michael, on the +route to Italy by Mont Cenis,—as all the world knows St. Michael is, +or was a year or two back, the end of railway travelling in that +direction. At the time Mr. Fell's grand project of carrying a line of +rails over the top of the mountain was only in preparation, and the +journey from St. Michael to Susa was still made by the +diligences,—those dear old continental coaches which are now nearly +as extinct as our own, but which did not deserve death so fully as +did our abominable vehicles. The coupé of a diligence, or better +still, the banquette, was a luxurious mode of travelling as compared +with anything that our coaches offered. There used indeed to be a +certain halo of glory round the occupant of the box of a mail-coach. +The man who had secured that seat was supposed to know something +about the world, and to be such a one that the passengers sitting +behind him would be proud to be allowed to talk to him. But the +prestige of the position was greater than the comfort. A night on the +box of a mail-coach was but a bad time, and a night inside a +mail-coach was a night in purgatory. Whereas a seat up above, on the +banquette of a diligence passing over the Alps, with room for the +feet, and support for the back, with plenty of rugs and plenty of +tobacco, used to be on the Mont Cenis, and still is on some other +mountain passes, a very comfortable mode of seeing a mountain route. +For those desirous of occupying the coupé, or the three front seats +of the body of the vehicle, it must be admitted that difficulties +frequently arose; and that such difficulties were very common at St. +Michael. There would be two or three of those enormous vehicles +preparing to start for the mountain, whereas it would appear that +twelve or fifteen passengers had come down from Paris armed with +tickets assuring them that this preferable mode of travelling should +be theirs. And then assertions would be made, somewhat recklessly, by +the officials, to the effect that all the diligence was coupé. It +would generally be the case that some middle-aged Englishman who +could not speak French would go to the wall, together with his wife. +Middle-aged Englishmen with their wives, who can't speak French, can +nevertheless be very angry, and threaten loudly, when they suppose +themselves to be ill-treated. A middle-aged Englishman, though he +can't speak a word of French, won't believe a French official who +tells him that the diligence is all coupé, when he finds himself with +his unfortunate partner in a roundabout place behind with two +priests, a dirty man who looks like a brigand, a sick maid-servant, +and three agricultural labourers. The attempt, however, was +frequently made, and thus there used to be occasionally a little +noise round the bureau at St. Michael.</p> + +<p>On the morning of which we are speaking two Englishmen had just made +good their claim, each independently of the other, each without +having heard or seen the other, when two American ladies, coming up +very tardily, endeavoured to prove their rights. The ladies were +without other companions, and were not fluent with their French, but +were clearly entitled to their seats. They were told that the +conveyance was all coupé, but perversely would not believe the +statement. The official shrugged his shoulders and signified that his +ultimatum had been pronounced. What can an official do in such +circumstances, when more coupé passengers are sent to him than the +coupés at his command will hold? "But we have paid for the coupé," +said the elder American lady, with considerable indignation, though +her French was imperfect;—for American ladies understand their +rights. "Bah; yes; you have paid and you shall go. What would you +have?" "We would have what we have paid for," said the American lady. +Then the official rose from his stool and shrugged his shoulders +again, and made a motion with both his hands, intended to shew that +the thing was finished. "It is a robbery," said the elder American +lady to the younger. "I should not mind, only you are so unwell." "It +will not kill me, I dare say," said the younger. Then one of the +English gentlemen declared that his place was very much at the +service of the invalid,—and the other Englishman declared that his +also was at the service of the invalid's companion. Then, and not +till then, the two men recognised each other. One was Mr. Glascock, +on his way to Naples, and the other was Mr. Trevelyan, on his +way,—he knew not whither.</p> + +<p>Upon this, of course, they spoke to each other. In London they had +been well acquainted, each having been an intimate guest at the house +of old Lady Milborough. And each knew something of the other's recent +history. Mr. Glascock was aware, as was all the world, that Trevelyan +had quarrelled with his wife; and Trevelyan was aware that Mr. +Glascock had been spoken of as a suitor to his own sister-in-law. Of +that visit which Mr. Glascock had made to Nuncombe Putney, and of the +manner in which Nora had behaved to her lover, Trevelyan knew +nothing. Their greetings spoken, their first topic of conversation +was, of course, the injury proposed to be done to the American +ladies, and which would now fall upon them. They went into the +waiting-room together, and during such toilet as they could make +there, grumbled furiously. They would take post horses over the +mountain, not from any love of solitary grandeur, but in order that +they might make the company pay for its iniquity. But it was soon +apparent to them that they themselves had no ground of complaint, and +as everybody was very civil, and as a seat in the banquette over the +heads of the American ladies was provided for them, and as the man +from the bureau came and apologised, they consented to be pacified, +and ended, of course, by tipping half-a-dozen of the servants about +the yard. Mr. Glascock had a man of his own with him, who was very +nearly being put on to the same seat with his master as an extra +civility; but this inconvenience was at last avoided. Having settled +these little difficulties, they went into breakfast in the buffet.</p> + +<p>There could be no better breakfast than used to be given in the +buffet at the railway terminus at St. Michael. The company might +occasionally be led into errors about that question of coupé seats, +but in reference to their provisions, they set an example which might +be of great use to us here in England. It is probably the case that +breakfasts for travellers are not so frequently needed here as they +are on the Continent; but, still, there is often to be found a crowd +of people ready to eat if only the wherewithal were there. We are +often told in our newspapers that England is disgraced by this and by +that; by the unreadiness of our army, by the unfitness of our navy, +by the irrationality of our laws, by the immobility of our +prejudices, and what not; but the real disgrace of England is the +railway sandwich,—that whited sepulchre, fair enough outside, but so +meagre, poor, and spiritless within, such a thing of shreds and +parings, such a dab of food, telling us that the poor bone whence it +was scraped had been made utterly bare before it was sent into the +kitchen for the soup pot. In France one does get food at the railway +stations, and at St. Michael the breakfast was unexceptional.</p> + +<p>Our two friends seated themselves near to the American ladies, and +were, of course, thanked for their politeness. American women are +taught by the habits of their country to think that men should give +way to them more absolutely than is in accordance with the practices +of life in Europe. A seat in a public conveyance in the States, when +merely occupied by a man, used to be regarded by any woman as being +at her service as completely as though it were vacant. One woman +indicating a place to another would point with equal freedom to a man +or a space. It is said that this is a little altered now, and that +European views on this subject are spreading themselves. Our two +ladies, however, who were pretty, clever-looking, and attractive even +after the night's journey, were manifestly more impressed with the +villainy of the French officials than they were with the kindness of +their English neighbours.</p> + +<p>"And nothing can be done to punish them?" said the younger of them to +Mr. Glascock.</p> + +<p>"Nothing, I should think," said he. "Nothing will, at any rate."</p> + +<p>"And you will not get back your money?" said the elder,—who, though +the elder, was probably not much above twenty.</p> + +<p>"Well;—no. Time is money, they say. It would take thrice the value +of the time in money, and then one would probably fail. They have +done very well for us, and I suppose there are difficulties."</p> + +<p>"It couldn't have taken place in our country," said the younger lady. +"All the same, we are very much obliged to you. It would not have +been nice for us to have to go up into the banquette."</p> + +<p>"They would have put you into the interior."</p> + +<p>"And that would have been worse. I hate being put anywhere,—as if I +were a sheep. It seems so odd to us, that you here should be all so +tame."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean the English or the French, or the world in general on +this side of the Atlantic?"</p> + +<p>"We mean Europeans," said the younger lady, who was better after her +breakfast. "But then we think that the French have something of +compensation, in their manners, and their ways of life, their +climate, the beauty of their cities, and their general management of +things."</p> + +<p>"They are very great in many ways, no doubt," said Mr. Glascock.</p> + +<p>"They do understand living better than you do," said the elder.</p> + +<p>"Everything is so much brighter with them," said the younger.</p> + +<p>"They contrive to give a grace to every-day existence," said the +elder.</p> + +<p>"There is such a welcome among them for strangers," said the younger.</p> + +<p>"Particularly in reference to places taken in the coupé," said +Trevelyan, who had hardly spoken before.</p> + +<p>"Ah, that is an affair of honesty," said the elder. "If we want +honesty, I believe we must go back to the stars and stripes."</p> + +<p>Mr. Glascock looked up from his plate almost aghast. He said nothing, +however, but called for the waiter, and paid for his breakfast. +Nevertheless, there was a considerable amount of travelling +friendship engendered between the ladies and our two friends before +the diligence had left the railway yard. They were two Miss +Spaldings, going on to Florence, at which place they had an uncle, +who was minister from the States to the kingdom of Italy; and they +were not at all unwilling to receive such little civilities as +gentlemen can give to ladies when travelling. The whole party +intended to sleep at Turin that night, and they were altogether on +good terms with each other when they started on the journey from St. +Michael.</p> + +<p>"Clever women those," said Mr. Glascock, as soon as they had arranged +their legs and arms in the banquette.</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed."</p> + +<p>"American women always are clever,—and are almost always pretty."</p> + +<p>"I do not like them," said Trevelyan,—who in these days was in a +mood to like nothing. "They are exigeant;—and then they are so hard. +They want the weakness that a woman ought to have."</p> + +<p>"That comes from what they would call your insular prejudice. We are +accustomed to less self-assertion on the part of women than is +customary with them. We prefer women to rule us by seeming to yield. +In the States, as I take it, the women never yield, and the men have +to fight their own battles with other tactics."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what their tactics are."</p> + +<p>"They keep their distance. The men live much by themselves, as though +they knew they would not have a chance in the presence of their wives +and daughters. Nevertheless they don't manage these things badly. You +very rarely hear of an American being separated from his wife."</p> + +<p>The words were no sooner out of his mouth, than Mr. Glascock knew, +and remembered, and felt what he had said. There are occasions in +which a man sins so deeply against fitness and the circumstances of +the hour, that it becomes impossible for him to slur over his sin as +though it had not been committed. There are certain little +peccadilloes in society which one can manage to throw behind +one,—perhaps with some difficulty, and awkwardness; but still they +are put aside, and conversation goes on, though with a hitch. But +there are graver offences, the gravity of which strikes the offender +so seriously that it becomes impossible for him to seem even to +ignore his own iniquity. Ashes must be eaten publicly, and sackcloth +worn before the eyes of men. It was so now with poor Mr. Glascock. He +thought about it for a moment,—whether or no it was possible that he +should continue his remarks about the American ladies, without +betraying his own consciousness of the thing that he had done; and he +found that it was quite impossible. He knew that he was red up to his +hairs, and hot, and that his blood tingled. His blushes, indeed, +would not be seen in the seclusion of the banquette; but he could not +overcome the heat and the tingling. There was silence for about three +minutes, and then he felt that it would be best for him to confess +his own fault. "Trevelyan," he said, "I am very sorry for the +allusion that I made. I ought to have been less awkward, and I beg +your pardon."</p> + +<p>"It does not matter," said Trevelyan. "Of course I know that +everybody is talking of it behind my back. I am not to expect that +people will be silent because I am unhappy."</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless I beg your pardon," said the other.</p> + +<p>There was but little further conversation between them till they +reached Lanslebourg, at the foot of the mountain, at which place they +occupied themselves with getting coffee for the two American ladies. +The Miss Spaldings took their coffee almost with as much grace as +though it had been handed to them by Frenchmen. And indeed they were +very gracious,—as is the nature of American ladies in spite of that +hardness of which Trevelyan had complained. They assume an intimacy +readily, with no appearance of impropriety, and are at their ease +easily. When, therefore, they were handed out of their carriage by +Mr. Glascock, the bystanders at Lanslebourg might have thought that +the whole party had been travelling together from New York. "What +should we have done if you hadn't taken pity on us?" said the elder +lady. "I don't think we could have climbed up into that high place; +and look at the crowd that have come out of the interior. A man has +some advantages after all."</p> + +<p>"I am quite in the dark as to what they are," said Mr. Glascock.</p> + +<p>"He can give up his place to a lady, and can climb up into a +banquette."</p> + +<p>"And he can be a member of Congress," said the younger. "I'd sooner +be senator from Massachusetts than be the Queen of England."</p> + +<p>"So would I," said Mr. Glascock. "I'm glad we can agree about one +thing."</p> + +<p>The two gentlemen agreed to walk up the mountain together, and with +some trouble induced the conductor to permit them to do so. Why +conductors of diligences should object to such relief to their horses +the ordinary Englishman can hardly understand. But in truth they feel +so deeply the responsibility which attaches itself to their +shepherding of their sheep, that they are always fearing lest some +poor lamb should go astray on the mountain side. And though the road +be broad and very plainly marked, the conductor never feels secure +that his passenger will find his way safely to the summit. He likes +to know that each of his flock is in his right place, and disapproves +altogether of an erratic spirit. But Mr. Glascock at last prevailed, +and the two men started together up the mountain. When the permission +has been once obtained the walker may be sure that his guide and +shepherd will not desert him.</p> + +<p>"Of course I know," said Trevelyan, when the third twist up the +mountain had been overcome, "that people talk about me and my wife. +It is a part of the punishment for the mistake that one makes."</p> + +<p>"It is a sad affair altogether."</p> + +<p>"The saddest in the world. Lady Milborough has no doubt spoken to you +about it."</p> + +<p>"Well;—yes; she has."</p> + +<p>"How could she help it? I am not such a fool as to suppose that +people are to hold their tongues about me more than they do about +others. Intimate as she is with you, of course she has spoken to +you."</p> + +<p>"I was in hopes that something might have been done by this time."</p> + +<p>"Nothing has been done. Sometimes I think I shall put an end to +myself, it makes me so wretched."</p> + +<p>"Then why don't you agree to forget and forgive and have done with +it?"</p> + +<p>"That is so easily said;—so easily said." After this they walked on +in silence for a considerable distance. Mr. Glascock was not anxious +to talk about Trevelyan's wife, but he did wish to ask a question or +two about Mrs. Trevelyan's sister, if only this could be done without +telling too much of his own secret. "There's nothing I think so +grand, as walking up a mountain," he said after a while.</p> + +<p>"It's all very well," said Trevelyan, in a tone which seemed to imply +that to him in his present miserable condition all recreations, +exercises, and occupations were mere leather and prunella.</p> + +<p>"I don't mean, you know, in the Alpine Club way," said Glascock. "I'm +too old and too stiff for that. But when the path is good, and the +air not too cold, and when it is neither snowing, nor thawing, nor +raining, and when the sun isn't hot, and you've got plenty of time, +and know that you can stop any moment you like and be pushed up by a +carriage, I do think walking up a mountain is very fine,—if you've +got proper shoes, and a good stick, and it isn't too soon after +dinner. There's nothing like the air of Alps." And Mr. Glascock +renewed his pace, and stretched himself against the hill at the rate +of three miles an hour.</p> + +<p>"I used to be very fond of Switzerland," said Trevelyan, "but I don't +care about it now. My eye has lost all its taste."</p> + +<p>"It isn't the eye," said Glascock.</p> + +<p>"Well; no. The truth is that when one is absolutely unhappy one +cannot revel in the imagination. I don't believe in the miseries of +poets."</p> + +<p>"I think myself," said Glascock, "that a poet should have a good +digestion. By-the-bye, Mrs. Trevelyan and her sister went down to +Nuncombe Putney, in Devonshire."</p> + +<p>"They did go there."</p> + +<p>"Have they moved since? A very pretty place is Nuncombe Putney."</p> + +<p>"You have been there then?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Glascock blushed again. He was certainly an awkward man, saying +things that he ought not to say, and telling secrets which ought not +to have been told. "Well;—yes. I have been there,—as it happens."</p> + +<p>"Just lately do you mean?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Glascock paused, hoping to find his way out of the scrape, but +soon perceived that there was no way out. He could not lie, even in +an affair of love, and was altogether destitute of those honest +subterfuges,—subterfuges honest in such position,—of which a dozen +would have been at once at the command of any woman, and with one of +which, sufficient for the moment, most men would have been able to +arm themselves. "Indeed, yes," he said, almost stammering as he +spoke. "It was lately;—since your wife went there." Trevelyan, +though he had been told of the possibility of Mr. Glascock's +courtship, felt himself almost aggrieved by this man's intrusion on +his wife's retreat. Had he not sent her there that she might be +private; and what right had any one to invade such privacy? "I +suppose I had better tell the truth at once," said Mr. Glascock. "I +went to see Miss Rowley."</p> + +<p>"Oh, indeed."</p> + +<p>"My secret will be safe with you, I know."</p> + +<p>"I did not know that there was a secret," said Trevelyan. "I should +have thought that they would have told me."</p> + +<p>"I don't see that. However, it doesn't matter much. I got nothing by +my journey. Are the ladies still at Nuncombe Putney?"</p> + +<p>"No, they have moved from there to London."</p> + +<p>"Not back to Curzon Street?"</p> + +<p>"Oh dear, no. There is no house in Curzon Street for them now." This +was said in a tone so sad that it almost made Mr. Glascock weep. +"They are staying with an aunt of theirs,—out to the east of the +city."</p> + +<p>"At St. Diddulph's?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—with Mr. Outhouse, the clergyman there. You can't conceive +what it is not to be able to see your own child; and yet, how can I +take the boy from her?"</p> + +<p>"Of course not. He's only a baby."</p> + +<p>"And yet all this is brought on me solely by her obstinacy. God +knows, however, I don't want to say a word against her. People choose +to say that I am to blame, and they may say so for me. Nothing that +any one may say can add anything to the weight that I have to bear." +Then they walked to the top of the mountain in silence, and in due +time were picked up by their proper shepherd and carried down to Susa +at a pace that would give an English coachman a concussion of the +brain.</p> + +<p>Why passengers for Turin, who reach Susa dusty, tired, and sleepy, +should be detained at that place for an hour and a half instead of +being forwarded to their beds in the great city, is never made very +apparent. All travelling officials on the continent of Europe are +very slow in their manipulation of luggage; but as they are equally +correct we will find the excuse for their tardiness in the latter +quality. The hour and a half, however, is a necessity, and it is very +grievous. On this occasion the two Miss Spaldings ate their supper, +and the two gentlemen waited on them. The ladies had learned to +regard at any rate Mr. Glascock as their own property, and received +his services, graciously indeed, but quite as a matter of course. +When he was sent from their peculiar corner of the big, dirty +refreshment room to the supper-table to fetch an apple, and then +desired to change it because the one which he had brought was +spotted, he rather liked it. And when he sat down with his knees near +to theirs, actually trying to eat a large Italian apple himself +simply because they had eaten one, and discussed with them the +passage over the Mont Cenis, he began to think that Susa was, after +all, a place in which an hour and a half might be whiled away without +much cause for complaint.</p> + +<p>"We only stay one night at Turin," said Caroline Spalding, the elder.</p> + +<p>"And we shall have to start at ten,—to get through to Florence +to-morrow," said Olivia, the younger. "Isn't it cruel, wasting all +this time when we might be in bed?"</p> + +<p>"It is not for me to complain of the cruelty," said Mr. Glascock.</p> + +<p>"We should have fared infinitely worse if we hadn't met you," said +Caroline Spalding.</p> + +<p>"But our republican simplicity won't allow us to assert that even +your society is better than going to bed, after a journey of thirty +hours," said Olivia.</p> + +<p>In the meantime Trevelyan was roaming about the station moodily by +himself, and the place is one not apt to restore cheerfulness to a +moody man by any resources of its own. When the time for departure +came Mr. Glascock sought him and found him; but Trevelyan had chosen +a corner for himself in a carriage, and declared that he would rather +avoid the ladies for the present. "Don't think me uncivil to leave +you," he said, "but the truth is, I don't like American ladies."</p> + +<p>"I do rather," said Mr. Glascock.</p> + +<p>"You can say that I've got a headache," said Trevelyan. So Mr. +Glascock returned to his friends, and did say that Mr. Trevelyan had +a headache. It was the first time that a name had been mentioned +between them.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Trevelyan! What a pretty name. It sounds like a novel," said +Olivia.</p> + +<p>"A very clever man," said Mr. Glascock, "and much liked by his own +circle. But he has had trouble, and is unhappy."</p> + +<p>"He looks unhappy," said Caroline.</p> + +<p>"The most miserable looking man I ever saw in my life," said Olivia. +Then it was agreed between them as they went up to Trompetta's hotel, +that they would go on together by the ten o'clock train to Florence.</p> + + +<p><a name="c38" id="c38"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXVIII.</h3> +<h4>VERDICT OF THE JURY—"MAD, MY LORD."<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Trevelyan was left alone at Turin when Mr. Glascock went on to +Florence with his fair American friends. It was imperatively +necessary that he should remain at Turin, though he had no business +there of any kind whatever, and did not know a single person in the +city. And of all towns in Italy Turin has perhaps less of attraction +to offer to the solitary visitor than any other. It is new and +parallelogrammatic as an American town, is very cold in cold weather, +very hot in hot weather, and now that it has been robbed of its life +as a capital, is as dull and uninteresting as though it were German +or English. There is the Armoury, and the river Po, and a good hotel. +But what are these things to a man who is forced to live alone in a +place for four days, or perhaps a week? Trevelyan was bound to remain +at Turin till he should hear from Bozzle. No one but Bozzle knew his +address; and he could do nothing till Bozzle should have communicated +to him tidings of what was being done at St. Diddulph's.</p> + +<p>There is perhaps no great social question so imperfectly understood +among us at the present day as that which refers to the line which +divides sanity from insanity. That this man is sane and that other +unfortunately mad we do know well enough; and we know also that one +man may be subject to various hallucinations,—may fancy himself to +be a teapot, or what not,—and yet be in such a condition of mind as +to call for no intervention either on behalf of his friends, or of +the law; while another may be in possession of intellectual faculties +capable of lucid exertion for the highest purposes, and yet be so mad +that bodily restraint upon him is indispensable. We know that the +sane man is responsible for what he does, and that the insane man is +irresponsible; but we do not know,—we only guess wildly, at the +state of mind of those, who now and again act like madmen, though no +court or council of experts has declared them to be mad. The bias of +the public mind is to press heavily on such men till the law attempts +to touch them, as though they were thoroughly responsible; and then, +when the law interferes, to screen them as though they were +altogether irresponsible. The same juryman who would find a man mad +who has murdered a young woman, would in private life express a +desire that the same young man should be hung, crucified, or skinned +alive, if he had moodily and without reason broken his faith to the +young woman in lieu of killing her. Now Trevelyan was, in truth, mad +on the subject of his wife's alleged infidelity. He had abandoned +everything that he valued in the world, and had made himself wretched +in every affair of life, because he could not submit to acknowledge +to himself the possibility of error on his own part. For that, in +truth, was the condition of his mind. He had never hitherto believed +that she had been false to her vow, and had sinned against him +irredeemably; but he had thought that in her regard for another man +she had slighted him; and, so thinking, he had subjected her to a +severity of rebuke which no high-spirited woman could have borne. His +wife had not tried to bear it,—in her indignation had not striven to +cure the evil. Then had come his resolution that she should submit, +or part from him; and, having so resolved, nothing could shake him. +Though every friend he possessed was now against him,—including even +Lady Milborough,—he was certain that he was right. Had not his wife +sworn to obey him, and was not her whole conduct one tissue of +disobedience? Would not the man who submitted to this find himself +driven to submit to things worse? Let her own her fault, let her +submit, and then she should come back to him.</p> + +<p>He had not considered, when his resolutions to this effect were first +forming themselves, that a separation between a man and his wife once +effected cannot be annulled, and as it were cured, so as to leave no +cicatrice behind. Gradually, as he spent day after day in thinking on +this one subject, he came to feel that even were his wife to submit, +to own her fault humbly, and to come back to him, this very coming +back would in itself be a new wound. Could he go out again with his +wife on his arm to the houses of those who knew that he had +repudiated her because of her friendship with another man? Could he +open again that house in Curzon Street, and let things go on quietly +as they had gone before? He told himself that it was +impossible;—that he and she were ineffably disgraced;—that, if +reunited, they must live buried out of sight in some remote distance. +And he told himself, also, that he could never be with her again +night or day without thinking of the separation. His happiness had +been shipwrecked.</p> + +<p>Then he had put himself into the hands of Mr. Bozzle, and Mr. Bozzle +had taught him that women very often do go astray. Mr. Bozzle's idea +of female virtue was not high, and he had opportunities of implanting +his idea on his client's mind. Trevelyan hated the man. He was filled +with disgust by Bozzle's words, and was made miserable by Bozzle's +presence. Yet he came gradually to believe in Bozzle. Bozzle alone +believed in him. There were none but Bozzle who did not bid him to +submit himself to his disobedient wife. And then, as he came to +believe in Bozzle, he grew to be more and more assured that no one +but Bozzle could tell him facts. His chivalry, and love, and sense of +woman's honour, with something of manly pride on his own part,—so he +told himself,—had taught him to believe it to be impossible that his +wife should have sinned. Bozzle, who knew the world, thought +otherwise. Bozzle, who had no interest in the matter, one way or the +other, would find out facts. What if his chivalry, and love, and +manly pride had deceived him? There were women who sinned. Then he +prayed that his wife might not be such a woman; and got up from his +prayers almost convinced that she was a sinner.</p> + +<p>His mind was at work upon it always. Could it be that she was so base +as this—so vile a thing, so abject, such dirt, pollution, filth? But +there were such cases. Nay, were they not almost numberless? He found +himself reading in the papers records of such things from day to day, +and thought that in doing so he was simply acquiring experience +necessary for himself. If it were so, he had indeed done well to +separate himself from a thing so infamous. And if it were not so, how +could it be that that man had gone to her in Devonshire? He had +received from his wife's hands a short note addressed to the man, in +which the man was desired by her not to go to her, or to write to her +again, because of her husband's commands. He had shown this to +Bozzle, and Bozzle had smiled. "It's just the sort of thing they +does," Bozzle had said. "Then they writes another by post." He had +consulted Bozzle as to the sending on of that letter, and Bozzle had +been strongly of opinion that it should be forwarded, a copy having +been duly taken and attested by himself. It might be very pretty +evidence by-and-by. If the letter were not forwarded, Bozzle thought +that the omission to do so might be given in evidence against his +employer. Bozzle was very careful, and full of "evidence." The letter +therefore was sent on to Colonel Osborne. "If there's billy-dous +going between 'em we shall nobble 'em," said Bozzle. Trevelyan tore +his hair in despair, but believed that there would be billy-dous.</p> + +<p>He came to believe everything; and, though he prayed fervently that +his wife might not be led astray, that she might be saved at any rate +from utter vice, yet he almost came to hope that it might be +otherwise;—not, indeed, with the hope of the sane man, who desires +that which he tells himself to be for his advantage; but with the +hope of the insane man, who loves to feed his grievance, even though +the grief should be his death. They who do not understand that a man +may be brought to hope that which of all things is the most grievous +to him, have not observed with sufficient closeness the perversity of +the human mind. Trevelyan would have given all that he had to save +his wife; would, even now, have cut his tongue out before he would +have expressed to anyone,—save to Bozzle,—a suspicion that she +could in truth have been guilty; was continually telling himself that +further life would be impossible to him, if he, and she, and that +child of theirs, should be thus disgraced;—and yet he expected it, +believed it, and, after a fashion, he almost hoped it.</p> + +<p>He was to wait at Turin till tidings should come from Bozzle, and +after that he would go on to Venice; but he would not move from Turin +till he should have received his first communication from England. +When he had been three days at Turin they came to him, and, among +other letters in Bozzle's packet, there was a letter addressed in his +wife's handwriting. The letter was simply directed to Bozzle's house. +In what possible way could his wife have found out ought of his +dealings with Bozzle,—where Bozzle lived, or could have learned that +letters intended for him should be sent to the man's own residence? +Before, however, we inspect the contents of Mr. Bozzle's dispatch, we +will go back and see how Mrs. Trevelyan had discovered the manner of +forwarding a letter to her husband.</p> + +<p>The matter of the address was, indeed, very simple. All letters for +Trevelyan were to be redirected from the house in Curzon Street, and +from the chambers in Lincoln's Inn, to the Acrobats' Club; to the +porter of the Acrobats' Club had been confided the secret, not of +Bozzle's name, but of Bozzle's private address, No. 55, Stony Walk, +Union Street, Borough. Thus all letters reaching the Acrobats' were +duly sent to Mr. Bozzle's house. It may be remembered that Hugh +Stanbury, on the occasion of his last visit to the parsonage of St. +Diddulph's, was informed that Mrs. Trevelyan had a letter from her +father for her husband, and that she knew not whither to send it. It +may well be that, had the matter assumed no other interest in +Stanbury's eyes than that given to it by Mrs. Trevelyan's very +moderate anxiety to have the letter forwarded, he would have thought +nothing about it; but having resolved, as he sat upon the knife-board +of the omnibus,—the reader will, at any rate, remember those +resolutions made on the top of the omnibus while Hugh was smoking his +pipe,—having resolved that a deed should be done at St. Diddulph's, +he resolved also that it should be done at once. He would not allow +the heat of his purpose to be cooled by delay. He would go to St. +Diddulph's at once, with his heart in his hand. But it might, he +thought, be as well that he should have an excuse for his visit. So +he called upon the porter at the Acrobats', and was successful in +learning Mr. Trevelyan's address. "Stony Walk, Union Street, +Borough," he said to himself, wondering; then it occurred to him that +Bozzle, and Bozzle only among Trevelyan's friends, could live at +Stony Walk in the Borough. Thus armed, he set out for St. +Diddulph's;—and, as one of the effects of his visit to the East, Sir +Marmaduke's note was forwarded to Louis Trevelyan at Turin.</p> + + +<p><a name="c39" id="c39"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XXXIX.</h3> +<h4>MISS NORA ROWLEY IS MALTREATED.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Hugh Stanbury, when he reached the parsonage, found no difficulty in +making his way into the joint presence of Mrs. Outhouse, Mrs. +Trevelyan, and Nora. He was recognised by the St. Diddulph's party as +one who had come over to their side, as a friend of Trevelyan who had +found himself constrained to condemn his friend in spite of his +friendship, and was consequently very welcome. And there was no +difficulty about giving the address. The ladies wondered how it came +to pass that Mr. Trevelyan's letters should be sent to such a +locality, and Hugh expressed his surprise also. He thought it +discreet to withhold his suspicions about Mr. Bozzle, and simply +expressed his conviction that letters sent in accordance with the +directions given by the club-porter would reach their destination. +Then the boy was brought down, and they were all very confidential +and very unhappy together. Mrs. Trevelyan could see no end to the +cruelty of her position, and declared that her father's anger against +her husband was so great that she anticipated his coming with almost +more of fear than of hope. Mrs. Outhouse expressed an opinion that +Mr. Trevelyan must surely be mad; and Nora suggested that the +possibility of such perversity on the part of a man made it almost +unwise in any woman to trust herself to the power of a husband. "But +there are not many like him, thank God," said Mrs. Outhouse, bridling +in her wrath. Thus they were very friendly together, and Hugh was +allowed to feel that he stood upon comfortable terms in the +parsonage;—but he did not as yet see how he was to carry out his +project for the present day.</p> + +<p>At last Mrs. Trevelyan went away with the child. Hugh felt that he +ought to go, but stayed courageously. He thought he could perceive +that Nora suspected the cause of his assiduity; but it was quite +evident that Mrs. Outhouse did not do so. Mrs. Outhouse, having +reconciled herself to the young man, was by no means averse to his +presence. She went on talking about the wickedness of Trevelyan, and +her brother's anger, and the fate of the little boy, till at last the +little boy's mother came back into the room. Then Mrs. Outhouse went. +They must excuse her for a few minutes, she said. If only she would +have gone a few minutes sooner, how well her absence might have been +excused. Nora understood it all now; and though she became almost +breathless, she was not surprised, when Hugh got up from his chair +and asked her sister to go away. "Mrs. Trevelyan," he said, "I want +to speak a few words to your sister. I hope you will give me the +opportunity."</p> + +<p>"Nora!" exclaimed Mrs. Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"She knows nothing about it," said Hugh.</p> + +<p>"Am I to go?" said Mrs. Trevelyan to her sister. But Nora said never +a word. She sat perfectly fixed, not turning her eyes from the object +on which she was gazing.</p> + + +<div class="center"><a name="ip1-304" id="ip1-304"></a> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="4px"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/p1-304.jpg"> + <img src="images/p1-304-t.jpg" width="540" + alt='"Am I to go?"' /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <span class="caption">"Am I to go?"<br /> + Click to <a href="images/p1-304.jpg">ENLARGE</a></span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p>"Pray,—pray do," said Hugh.</p> + +<p>"I cannot think that it will be for any good," said Mrs. Trevelyan; +"but I know that she may be trusted. And I suppose it ought to be so, +if you wish it."</p> + +<p>"I do wish it, of all things," said Hugh, still standing up, and +almost turning the elder sister out of the room by the force of his +look and voice. Then, with another pause of a moment, Mrs. Trevelyan +rose from her chair and left the room, closing the door after her.</p> + +<p>Hugh, when he found that the coast was clear for him, immediately +began his task with a conviction that not a moment was to be lost. He +had told himself a dozen times that the matter was hopeless, that +Nora had shown him by every means in her power that she was +indifferent to him, that she with all her friends would know that +such a marriage was out of the question; and he had in truth come to +believe that the mission which he had in hand was one in which +success was not possible. But he thought that it was his duty to go +on with it. "If a man love a woman, even though it be the king and +the beggar-woman reversed,—though it be a beggar and a queen, he +should tell her of it. If it be so, she has a right to know it and to +take her choice. And he has a right to tell her, and to say what he +can for himself." Such was Hugh's doctrine in the matter; and, acting +upon it, he found himself alone with his mistress.</p> + +<p>"Nora," he said, speaking perhaps with more energy than the words +required, "I have come here to tell you that I love you, and to ask +you to be my wife."</p> + +<p>Nora, for the last ten minutes, had been thinking that this would +come,—that it would come at once; and yet she was not at all +prepared with an answer. It was now weeks since she had confessed to +herself frankly that nothing else but this,—this one thing which was +now happening, this one thing which had now happened,—that nothing +else could make her happy, or could touch her happiness. She had +refused a man whom she otherwise would have taken, because her heart +had been given to Hugh Stanbury. She had been bold enough to tell +that other suitor that it was so, though she had not mentioned the +rival's name. She had longed for some expression of love from this +man when they had been at Nuncombe together, and had been fiercely +angry with him because no such expression had come from him. Day +after day, since she had been with her aunt, she had told herself +that she was a broken-hearted woman, because she had given away all +that she had to give and had received nothing in return. Had he said +a word that might have given her hope, how happy could she have been +in hoping. Now he had come to her with a plain-spoken offer, telling +her that he loved her, and asking her to be his wife,—and she was +altogether unable to answer. How could she consent to be his wife, +knowing as she did that there was no certainty of an income on which +they could live? How could she tell her father and mother that she +had engaged herself to marry a man who might or might not make £400 a +year, and who already had a mother and sister depending on him?</p> + +<p>In truth, had he come more gently to her, his chance of a happy +answer,—of an answer which might be found to have in it something of +happiness,—would have been greater. He might have said a word which +she could not but have answered softly;—and then from that +constrained softness other gentleness would have followed, and so he +would have won her in spite of her discretion. She would have +surrendered gradually, accepting on the score of her great love all +the penalties of a long and precarious engagement. But when she was +asked to come and be his wife, now and at once, she felt that in +spite of her love it was impossible that she could accede to a +request so sudden, so violent, so monstrous. He stood over her as +though expecting an instant answer; and then, when she had sat dumb +before him for a minute, he repeated his demand. "Tell me, Nora, can +you love me? If you knew how thoroughly I have loved you, you would +at least feel something for me."</p> + +<p>To tell him that she did not love him was impossible to her. But how +was she to refuse him without telling him either a lie, or the truth? +Some answer she must give him; and as to that matter of marrying him, +the answer must be a negative. Her education had been of that nature +which teaches girls to believe that it is a crime to marry a man +without an assured income. Assured morality in a husband is a great +thing. Assured good temper is very excellent. Assured talent, +religion, amiability, truth, honesty, are all desirable. But an +assured income is indispensable. Whereas, in truth, the income may +come hereafter; but the other things, unless they be there already, +will hardly be forthcoming. "Mr. Stanbury," she said, "your +suddenness has quite astounded me."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes; but how should I not be sudden? I have come here on purpose +to say this to you. If I do not say it +<span class="nowrap">now—"</span></p> + +<p>"You heard what Emily said."</p> + +<p>"No;—what did she say?"</p> + +<p>"She said that it would not be for good that you should speak to me +thus."</p> + +<p>"Why not for good? But she is unhappy, and looks gloomily at things."</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed."</p> + +<p>"But all the world need not be sad for ever because she has been +unfortunate."</p> + +<p>"Not all the world, Mr. Stanbury;—but you must not be surprised if +it affects me."</p> + +<p>"But would that prevent your loving me,—if you did love me? But, +Nora, I do not expect you to love me,—not yet. I do not say that I +expect it,—ever. But if you would—. Nora, I can do no more than +tell you the simple truth. Just listen to me for a minute. You know +how I came to be intimate with you all in Curzon Street. The first +day I saw you I loved you; and there has come no change yet. It is +months now since I first knew that I loved you. Well; I told myself +more than once,—when I was down at Nuncombe for instance,—that I +had no right to speak to you. What right can a poor devil like me +have, who lives from hand to mouth, to ask such a girl as you to be +his wife? And so I said nothing,—though it was on my lips every +moment that I was there." Nora remembered at the moment how she had +looked to his lips, and had not seen the words there. "But I think +there is something unmanly in this. If you cannot give me a grain of +hope;—if you tell me that there never can be hope, it is my +misfortune. It will be very grievous, but I will bear it. But that +will be better than puling and moping about without daring to tell my +tale. I am not ashamed of it. I have fallen in love with you, Nora, +and I think it best to come for an answer."</p> + +<p>He held out his arms as though he thought that she might perhaps come +to him. Indeed he had no idea of any such coming on her part; but +she, as she looked at him, almost thought that it was her duty to go. +Had she a right to withhold herself from him, she who loved him so +dearly? Had he stepped forward and taken her in his arms it might be +that all power of refusal would soon have been beyond her power.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Stanbury," she said, "you have confessed yourself that it is +impossible."</p> + +<p>"But do you love me;—do you think that it is possible that you +should ever love me?"</p> + +<p>"You know, Mr. Stanbury, that you should not say anything further. +You know that it cannot be."</p> + +<p>"But do you love me?"</p> + +<p>"You are ungenerous not to take an answer without driving me to be +uncourteous."</p> + +<p>"I do not care for courtesy. Tell me the truth. Can you ever love me? +With one word of hope I will wait, and work, and feel myself to be a +hero. I will not go till you tell me that you cannot love me."</p> + +<p>"Then I must tell you so."</p> + +<p>"What is it you will tell me, Nora? Speak it. Say it. If I knew that +a girl disliked me, nothing should make me press myself upon her. Am +I odious to you, Nora?"</p> + +<p>"No; not odious,—but very, very unfair."</p> + +<p>"I will have the truth if I be ever so unfair," he said. And by this +time probably some inkling of the truth had reached his intelligence. +There was already a tear in Nora's eye, but he did not pity her. She +owed it to him to tell him the truth, and he would have it from her +if it was to be reached. "Nora," he said, "listen to me again. All my +heart and soul are in this. It is everything to me. If you can love +me you are bound to say so. By Jove, I will believe you do unless you +swear to me that it is not so!" He was now holding her by the hand +and looking closely into her face.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Stanbury," she said, "let me go; pray, pray let me go."</p> + +<p>"Not till you say that you love me. Oh, Nora, I believe that you love +me. You do; yes; you do love me. Dearest, dearest Nora, would you not +say a word to make me the happiest man in the world?" And now he had +his arm round her waist.</p> + +<p>"Let me go," she said, struggling through her tears and covering her +face with her hands. "You are very, very wicked. I will never speak +to you again. Nay, but you shall let me go!" And then she was out of +his arms and had escaped from the room before he had managed to touch +her face with his lips.</p> + +<p>As he was thinking how he also might escape now,—might escape and +comfort himself with his triumph,—Mrs. Outhouse returned to the +chamber. She was very demure, and her manner towards him was +considerably changed since she had left the chamber. "Mr. Stanbury," +she said, "this kind of thing mustn't go any further indeed;—at +least not in my house."</p> + +<p>"What kind of thing, Mrs. Outhouse?"</p> + +<p>"Well;—what my elder niece has told me. I have not seen Miss Rowley +since she left you. I am quite sure she has behaved with discretion."</p> + +<p>"Indeed she has, Mrs. Outhouse."</p> + +<p>"The fact is my nieces are in grief and trouble, and this is no time +or place for love-making. I am sorry to be uncivil, but I must ask +you not to come here any more."</p> + +<p>"I will stay away from this house, certainly, if you bid me."</p> + +<p>"I am very sorry; but I must bid you. Sir Marmaduke will be home in +the spring, and if you have anything to say to him of course you can +see him."</p> + +<p>Then Hugh Stanbury took his leave of Mrs. Outhouse; but as he went +home, again on the knifeboard of an omnibus, he smoked the pipe of +triumph rather than the pipe of contemplation.</p> + + +<p><a name="c40" id="c40"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XL.</h3> +<h4>"C. G."<br /> </h4> + + +<p>The Miss Spaldings were met at the station at Florence by their +uncle, the American Minister, by their cousin, the American Secretary +of Legation, and by three or four other dear friends and relations, +who were there to welcome the newcomers to sunny Italy. Mr. Glascock, +therefore, who ten minutes since had been, and had felt himself to +be, quite indispensable to their comfort, suddenly became as though +he were nothing and nobody. Who is there that has not felt these +sudden disruptions to the intimacies and friendships of a long +journey? He bowed to them, and they to him, and then they were +whirled away in their grandeur. He put himself into a small, open +hackney-carriage, and had himself driven to the York Hotel, feeling +himself to be deserted and desolate. The two Miss Spaldings were the +daughters of a very respectable lawyer at Boston, whereas Mr. +Glascock was heir to a peerage, to an enormous fortune, and to one of +the finest places in England. But he thought nothing of this at the +time. As he went he was meditating which young woman was the most +attractive, Nora Rowley or Caroline Spalding. He had no doubt but +that Nora was the prettier, the pleasanter in manner, the better +dressed, the more engaging in all that concerned the outer woman; but +he thought that he had never met any lady who talked better than +Caroline Spalding. And what was Nora Rowley's beauty to him? Had she +not told him that she was the property of some one else; or, for the +matter of that, what was Miss Spalding to him? They had parted, and +he was going on to Naples in two days. He had said some half-defined +word as to calling at the American Embassy, but it had not been taken +up by either of the ladies. He had not pressed it, and so they had +parted without an understanding as to a future meeting.</p> + +<p>The double journey, from Turin to Bologna and from Bologna to +Florence, is very long, and forms ample time for a considerable +intimacy. There had, too, been a long day's journeying together +before that; and with no women is a speedy intimacy so possible, or +indeed so profitable, as with Americans. They fear nothing,—neither +you nor themselves; and talk with as much freedom as though they were +men. It may, perhaps, be assumed to be true as a rule that women's +society is always more agreeable to men than that of other +men,—except for the lack of ease. It undoubtedly is so when the +women be young and pretty. There is a feeling, however, among pretty +women in Europe that such freedom is dangerous, and it is withheld. +There is such danger, and more or less of such withholding is +expedient: but the American woman does not recognise the danger; and, +if she withhold the grace of her countenance and the pearls of her +speech, it is because she is not desirous of the society which is +proffered to her. These two American sisters had not withholden their +pearls from Mr. Glascock. He was much their senior in age; he was +gentle in his manners, and they probably recognised him to be a safe +companion. They had no idea who he was, and had not heard his name +when they parted from him. But it was not probable that they should +have been with him so long, and that they should leave him without +further thought of him, without curiosity or a desire to know more of +him. They had seen "C. G." in large letters on his dressing-bag, and +that was all they had learned as to his identity. He had known their +names well, and had once called Olivia by hers, in the hurry of +speaking to her sister. He had apologised, and there had been a +little laugh, and a discussion about the use of Christian +names,—such as is very conducive to intimacy between gentlemen and +ladies. When you can talk to a young lady about her own Christian +name, you are almost entitled for the nonce to use it.</p> + +<p>Mr. Glascock went to his hotel, and was very moody and desolate. His +name was very soon known there, and he received the honours due to +his rank and station. "I should like to travel in America," he said +to himself, "if I could be sure that no one would find out who I +was." He had received letters at Turin, stating that his father was +better, and, therefore, he intended to remain two days at Florence. +The weather was still very hot, and Florence in the middle of +September is much preferable to Naples.</p> + +<p>That night, when the two Miss Spaldings were alone together, they +discussed their fellow-traveller thoroughly. Something, of course, +had been said about him to their uncle the minister, to their aunt +the minister's wife, and to their cousin the secretary of legation. +But travellers will always observe that the dear new friends they +have made on their journey are not interesting to the dear old +friends whom they meet afterwards. There may be some touch of +jealousy in this; and then, though you, the traveller, are fully +aware that there has been something special in the case which has +made this new friendship more peculiar than others that have sprung +up in similar circumstances, fathers and brothers and wives and +sisters do not see it in that light. They suspect, perhaps, that the +new friend was a bagman, or an opera dancer, and think that the +affair need not be made of importance. The American Minister had cast +his eye on Mr. Glascock during that momentary parting, and had not +thought much of Mr. Glascock. "He was certainly a gentleman," +Caroline had said. "There are a great many English gentlemen," the +minister had replied.</p> + +<p>"I thought you would have asked him to call," Olivia said to her +sister. "He did offer."</p> + +<p>"I know he did. I heard it."</p> + +<p>"Why didn't you tell him he might come?"</p> + +<p>"Because we are not in Boston, Livy. It might be the most horrible +thing in the world to do here in Florence; and it may make a +difference, because Uncle Jonas is minister."</p> + +<p>"Why should that make a difference? Do you mean that one isn't to see +one's own friends? That must be nonsense."</p> + +<p>"But he isn't a friend, Livy."</p> + +<p>"It seems to me as if I'd known him for ever. That soft, monotonous +voice, which never became excited and never disagreeable, is as +familiar to me as though I had lived with it all my life."</p> + +<p>"I thought him very pleasant."</p> + +<p>"Indeed you did, Carry. And he thought you pleasant too. Doesn't it +seem odd? You were mending his glove for him this very afternoon, +just as if he were your brother."</p> + +<p>"Why shouldn't I mend his glove?"</p> + +<p>"Why not, indeed? He was entitled to have everything mended after +getting us such a good dinner at Bologna. By-the-bye, you never paid +him."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I did,—when you were not by."</p> + +<p>"I wonder who he is! C. G.! That fine man in the brown coat was his +servant, you know. I thought at first that C. G. must have been +cracked, and that the tall man was his keeper."</p> + +<p>"I never knew any one less like a madman."</p> + +<p>"No;—but the man was so queer. He did nothing, you know. We hardly +saw him, if you remember, at Turin. All he did was to tie the shawls +at Bologna. What can any man want with another man about with him +like that, unless he is cracked either in body or mind?"</p> + +<p>"You'd better ask C. G. yourself."</p> + +<p>"I shall never see C. G. again, I suppose. I should like to see him +again. I guess you would too, Carry. Eh?"</p> + +<p>"Of course, I should;—why not?"</p> + +<p>"I never knew a man so imperturbable, and who had yet so much to say +for himself. I wonder what he is! Perhaps he's on business, and that +man was a kind of a clerk."</p> + +<p>"He had livery buttons on," said Carry.</p> + +<p>"And does that make a difference?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think they put clerks into livery, even in England."</p> + +<p>"Nor yet mad doctors," said Olivia. "Well, I like him very much; and +the only thing against him is that he should have a man, six feet +high, going about with him doing nothing."</p> + +<p>"You'll make me angry, Livy, if you talk in that way. It's +uncharitable."</p> + +<p>"In what way?"</p> + +<p>"About a mad doctor."</p> + +<p>"It's my belief," said Olivia, "that he's an English swell, a lord, +or a duke;—and it's my belief, too, that he's in love with you."</p> + +<p>"It's my belief, Livy, that you're a regular ass;"—and so the +conversation was ended on that occasion.</p> + +<p>On the next day, about noon, the American Minister, as a part of the +duty which he owed to his country, read in a publication of that day, +issued for the purpose, the names of the new arrivals at Florence. +First and foremost was that of the Honourable Charles Glascock, with +his suite, at the York Hotel, en route to join his father, Lord +Peterborough, at Naples. Having read the news first to himself, the +minister read it out loud in the presence of his nieces.</p> + +<p>"That's our friend C. G.," said Livy.</p> + +<p>"I should think not," said the minister, who had his own ideas about +an English lord.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure it is, because of the tall man with the buttons," said +Olivia.</p> + +<p>"It's very unlikely," said the secretary of legation. "Lord +Peterborough is a man of immense wealth, very old, indeed. They say +he is dying at Naples. This man is his eldest son."</p> + +<p>"Is that any reason why he shouldn't have been civil to us?" asked +Olivia.</p> + +<p>"I don't think he is the sort of man likely to sit up in the +banquette; and he would have posted over the Alps. Moreover, he had +his suite with him."</p> + +<p>"His suite was Buttons," said Olivia. "Only fancy, Carry, we've been +waited on for two days by a lord as is to be, and didn't know it! And +you have mended the tips of his lordship's glove!" But Carry said +nothing at all.</p> + +<p>Late on that same evening, they met Mr. Glascock close to the Duomo, +under the shade of the Campanile. He had come out as they had done, +to see by moonlight that loveliest of all works made by man's hands. +They were with the minister, but Mr. Glascock came up and shook hands +with them.</p> + +<p>"I would introduce you to my uncle, Mr. Spalding," said +Olivia,—"only,—as it happens,—we have never yet heard your name."</p> + +<p>"My name is Mr. Glascock," said he, smiling. Then the introduction +was made; and the American Minister took off his hat, and was very +affable.</p> + +<p>"Only think, Carry," said Olivia, when they were alone that evening, +"if you were to become the wife of an English lord!"</p> + + +<p><a name="c41" id="c41"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XLI.</h3> +<h4>SHEWING WHAT TOOK PLACE AT ST. DIDDULPH'S.<br /> </h4> + + +<p><img class="left" src="images/ch41a.jpg" width="310" alt="Illustration" /> +Nora Rowley, when she escaped from the violence of her lover, at once +rushed up to her own room, and managed to fasten herself in before +she had been seen by any one. Her elder sister had at once gone to +her aunt when, at Hugh's request, she had left the room, thinking it +right that Mrs. Outhouse should know what was being done in her own +house. Mrs. Outhouse had considered the matter patiently for awhile, +giving the lovers the benefit of her hesitation, and had then spoken +her mind to Stanbury, as we have already heard. He had, upon the +whole, been so well pleased with what had occurred, that he was not +in the least angry with the parson's wife when he left the parsonage. +As soon as he was gone Mrs. Outhouse was at once joined by her elder +niece, but Nora remained for a while alone in her room.</p> + +<p>Had she committed herself; and if so, did she regret it? He had +behaved very badly to her, certainly, taking her by the hand and +putting his arm round her waist. And then had he not even attempted +to kiss her? He had done all this, although she had been resolute in +refusing to speak to him one word of kindness,—though she had told +him with all the energy and certainty of which she was mistress, that +she would never be his wife. If a girl were to be subjected to such +treatment as this when she herself had been so firm, so discreet, so +decided, then indeed it would be unfit that a girl should trust +herself with a man. She had never thought that he had been such a one +as that, to ill-use her, to lay a hand on her in violence, to refuse +to take an answer. She threw herself on the bed and sobbed, and then +hid her face,—and was conscious that in spite of this acting before +herself she was the happiest girl alive. He had behaved very +badly;—of course, he had behaved most wickedly, and she would tell +him so some day. But was he not the dearest fellow living? Did ever +man speak with more absolute conviction of love in every tone of his +voice? Was it not the finest, noblest heart that ever throbbed +beneath a waistcoat? Had not his very wickedness come from the +overpowering truth of his affection for her? She would never quite +forgive him because it had been so very wrong; but she would be true +to him for ever and ever. Of course they could not marry. +What!—would she go to him and be a clog round his neck, and a weight +upon him for ever, bringing him down to the gutter by the burden of +her own useless and unworthy self? No. She would never so injure him. +She would not even hamper him by an engagement. But yet she would be +true to him. She had an idea that in spite of all her +protestations,—which, as she looked back upon them, appeared to her +to have been louder than they had been,—that through the teeth of +her denials, something of the truth had escaped from her. Well,—let +it be so. It was the truth, and why should he not know it? Then she +pictured to herself a long romance, in which the heroine lived +happily on the simple knowledge that she had been beloved. And the +reader may be sure that in this romance Mr. Glascock with his +splendid prospects filled one of the characters.</p> + +<p>She had been so wretched at Nuncombe Putney when she had felt herself +constrained to admit to herself that this man for whom she had +sacrificed herself did not care for her, that she could not now but +enjoy her triumph. After she had sobbed upon the bed, she got up and +walked about the room smiling; and she would now press her hands to +her forehead, and then shake her tresses, and then clasp her own left +hand with her right, as though he were still holding it. Wicked man! +Why had he been so wicked and so violent? And why, why, why had she +not once felt his lips upon her brow?</p> + +<p>And she was pleased with herself. Her sister had rebuked her because +she had refused to make her fortune by marrying Mr. Glascock; and, to +own the truth, she had rebuked herself on the same score when she +found that Hugh Stanbury had not had a word of love to say to her. It +was not that she regretted the grandeur which she had lost, but that +she should, even within her own thoughts, with the consciousness of +her own bosom, have declared herself unable to receive another man's +devotion because of her love for this man who neglected her. Now she +was proud of herself. Whether it might be accounted as good or +ill-fortune that she had ever seen Hugh Stanbury, it must at any rate +be right that she should be true to him now that she had seen him and +had loved him. To know that she loved and that she was not loved +again had nearly killed her. But such was not her lot. She too had +been successful with her quarry, and had struck her game, and brought +down her dear. He had been very violent with her, but his violence +had at least made the matter clear. He did love her. She would be +satisfied with that, and would endeavour so to live that that alone +should make life happy for her. How should she get his +photograph,—and a lock of his hair?—and when again might she have +the pleasure of placing her own hand within his great, rough, violent +grasp? Then she kissed the hand which he had held, and opened the +door of her room, at which her sister was now knocking.</p> + +<p>"Nora, dear, will you not come down?"</p> + +<p>"Not yet, Emily. Very soon I will."</p> + +<p>"And what has happened, dearest?"</p> + +<p>"There is nothing to tell, Emily."</p> + +<p>"There must be something to tell. What did he say to you?"</p> + +<p>"Of course you know what he said."</p> + +<p>"And what answer did you make?"</p> + +<p>"I told him that it could not be."</p> + +<p>"And did he take that,—as final, Nora?"</p> + +<p>"Of course not. What man ever takes a No as final?"</p> + +<p>"When you said No to Mr. Glascock he took it."</p> + +<p>"That was different, Emily."</p> + +<p>"But how different? I don't see the difference, except that if you +could have brought yourself to like Mr. Glascock, it would have been +the greatest thing in the world for you, and for all of them."</p> + +<p>"Would you have me take a man, Emily, that I didn't care one straw +for, merely because he was a lord? You can't mean that."</p> + +<p>"I'm not talking about Mr. Glascock now, Nora."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you are. And what's the use? He is gone, and there's an end of +it."</p> + +<p>"And is Mr. Stanbury gone?"</p> + +<p>"Of course."</p> + +<p>"In the same way?" asked Mrs. Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"How can I tell about his ways? No; it is not in the same way. There! +He went in a very different way."</p> + +<p>"How was it different, Nora?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, so different. I can't tell you how. Mr. Glascock will never come +back again."</p> + +<p>"And Mr. Stanbury will?" said the elder sister. Nora made no reply, +but after a while nodded her head. "And you want him to come back?" +She paused again, and again nodded her head. "Then you have accepted +him?"</p> + +<p>"I have not accepted him. I have refused him. I have told him that it +was impossible."</p> + +<p>"And yet you wish him back again!" Nora again nodded her head. "That +is a state of things I cannot at all understand," said Mrs. +Trevelyan, "and would not believe unless you told me so yourself."</p> + +<p>"And you think me very wrong, of course. I will endeavour to do +nothing wrong, but it is so. I have not said a word of encouragement +to Mr. Stanbury; but I love him with all my heart. Ought I to tell +you a lie when you question me? Or is it natural that I should never +wish to see again a person whom I love better than all the world? It +seems to me that a girl can hardly be right if she have any choice of +her own. Here are two men, one rich and the other poor. I shall fall +to the ground between them. I know that. I have fallen to the ground +already. I like the one I can't marry. I don't care a straw for the +one who could give me a grand house. That is falling to the ground. +But I don't see that it is hard to understand, or that I have +disgraced myself."</p> + +<p>"I said nothing of disgrace, Nora."</p> + +<p>"But you looked it."</p> + +<p>"I did not intend to look it, dearest."</p> + +<p>"And remember this, Emily, I have told you everything because you +asked me. I do not mean to tell anybody else, at all. Mamma would not +understand me. I have not told him, and I shall not."</p> + +<p>"You mean Mr. Stanbury?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I mean Mr. Stanbury. As to Mr. Glascock, of course I shall tell +mamma that. I have no secret there. That is his secret, and I suppose +mamma should know it. But I will have nothing told about the other. +Had I accepted him, or even hinted to him that I cared for him, I +would tell mamma at once."</p> + +<p>After that there came something of a lecture, or something, rather, +of admonition, from Mrs. Outhouse. That lady did not attempt to +upbraid, or to find any fault; but observed that as she understood +that Mr. Stanbury had no means whatever, and as Nora herself had +none, there had better be no further intercourse between them, till, +at any rate, Sir Marmaduke and Lady Rowley should be in London. "So I +told him that he must not come here any more, my dear," said Mrs. +Outhouse.</p> + +<p>"You are quite right, aunt. He ought not to come here."</p> + +<p>"I am so glad that you agree with me."</p> + +<p>"I agree with you altogether. I think I was bound to see him when he +asked to see me; but the thing is altogether out of the question. I +don't think he'll come any more, aunt." Then Mrs. Outhouse was quite +satisfied that no harm had been done.</p> + +<p>A month had now passed since anything had been heard at St. +Diddulph's from Mr. Trevelyan, and it seemed that many months might +go on in the same dull way. When Mrs. Trevelyan first found herself +in her uncle's house, a sum of two hundred pounds had been sent to +her; and since that she had received a letter from her husband's +lawyer saying that a similar amount would be sent to her every three +months, as long as she was separated from her husband. A portion of +this she had given over to Mr. Outhouse; but this pecuniary +assistance by no means comforted that unfortunate gentleman in his +trouble. "I don't want to get into debt," he said, "by keeping a lot +of people whom I haven't the means to feed. And I don't want to board +and lodge my nieces and their family at so much a head. It's very +hard upon me either way." And so it was. All the comfort of his home +was destroyed, and he was driven to sacrifice his independence by +paying his tradesmen with a portion of Mrs. Trevelyan's money. The +more he thought of it all, and the more he discussed the matter with +his wife, the more indignant they became with the truant husband. "I +can't believe," he said, "but what Mr. Bideawhile could make him come +back, if he chose to do his duty."</p> + +<p>"But they say that Mr. Trevelyan is in Italy, my dear."</p> + +<p>"And if I went to Italy, might I leave you to starve, and take my +income with me?"</p> + +<p>"He doesn't leave her quite to starve, my dear."</p> + +<p>"But isn't a man bound to stay with his wife? I never heard of such a +thing,—never. And I'm sure that there must be something wrong. A man +can't go away and leave his wife to live with her uncle and aunt. It +isn't right."</p> + +<p>"But what can we do?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Outhouse was forced to acknowledge that nothing could be done. He +was a man to whom the quiescence of his own childless house was the +one pleasure of his existence. And of that he was robbed because this +wicked madman chose to neglect all his duties, and leave his wife +without a house to shelter her. "Supposing that she couldn't have +come here, what then?" said Mr. Outhouse. "I did tell him, as plain +as words could speak, that we couldn't receive them." "But here they +are," said Mrs. Outhouse, "and here they must remain till my brother +comes to England." "It's the most monstrous thing that I ever heard +of in all my life," said Mr. Outhouse. "He ought to be locked +up;—that's what he ought."</p> + +<p>It was hard, and it became harder, when a gentleman, whom Mr. +Outhouse certainly did not wish to see, called upon him about the +latter end of September. Mr. Outhouse was sitting alone, in the +gloomy parlour of his parsonage,—for his own study had been given up +to other things, since this great inroad had been made upon his +family;—he was sitting alone on one Saturday morning, preparing for +the duties of the next day, with various manuscript sermons lying on +the table around him, when he was told that a gentleman had called to +see him. Had Mr. Outhouse been an incumbent at the West-end of +London, or had his maid been a West-end servant, in all probability +the gentleman's name would have been demanded; but Mr. Outhouse was a +man who was not very ready in foreseeing and preventing misfortunes, +and the girl who opened the door was not trained to discreet usages +in such matters. As she announced the fact that there was a +gentleman, she pointed to the door, to show that the gentleman was +there; and before Mr. Outhouse had been able to think whether it +would be prudent for him to make some preliminary inquiry, Colonel +Osborne was in the room. Now, as it happened, these two men had never +hitherto met each other, though one was the brother-in-law of Sir +Marmaduke Rowley, and the other had been his very old friend. "My +name, Mr. Outhouse, is Colonel Osborne," said the visitor, coming +forward, with his hand out. The clergyman, of course, took his hand, +and asked him to be seated. "We have known each other's names very +long," continued the Colonel, "though I do not think we have ever yet +had an opportunity of becoming acquainted."</p> + + +<div class="center"><a name="ip1-318" id="ip1-318"></a> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="4px"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/p1-318.jpg"> + <img src="images/p1-318-t.jpg" height="500" + alt="At St. Diddulph's." /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <span class="caption">At St. Diddulph's.<br /> + Click to <a href="images/p1-318.jpg">ENLARGE</a></span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p>"No," said Mr. Outhouse; "we have never been acquainted, I believe." +He might have added, that he had no desire whatever to make such +acquaintance; and his manner, over which he himself had no control, +did almost say as much. Indeed, this coming to his house of the +suspected lover of his niece appeared to him to be a heavy addition +to his troubles; for, although he was disposed to take his niece's +part against her husband to any possible length,—even to the locking +up of the husband as a madman, if it were possible,—nevertheless, he +had almost as great a horror of the Colonel, as though the husband's +allegation as to the lover had been true as gospel. Because Trevelyan +had been wrong altogether, Colonel Osborne was not the less wrong. +Because Trevelyan's suspicions were to Mr. Outhouse wicked and +groundless, he did not the less regard the presumed lover to be an +iniquitous roaring lion, going about seeking whom he might devour. +Elderly unmarried men of fashion generally, and especially colonels, +and majors, and members of parliament, and such like, were to him as +black sheep or roaring lions. They were "fruges consumere nati;" men +who stood on club doorsteps talking naughtily and doing nothing, +wearing sleek clothing, for which they very often did not pay, and +never going to church. It seemed to him,—in his ignorance,—that +such men had none of the burdens of this world upon their shoulders, +and that, therefore, they stood in great peril of the burdens of the +next. It was, doubtless, his special duty to deal with men in such +peril;—but those wicked ones with whom he was concerned were those +whom he could reach. Now, the Colonel Osbornes of the earth were not +to be got at by any clergyman, or, as far as Mr. Outhouse could see, +by any means of grace. That story of the rich man and the camel +seemed to him to be specially applicable to such people. How was such +a one as Colonel Osborne to be shewn the way through the eye of a +needle? To Mr. Outhouse, his own brother-in-law, Sir Marmaduke, was +almost of the same class,—for he frequented clubs when in London, +and played whist, and talked of the things of the world,—such as the +Derby, and the levées, and West-end dinner parties,—as though they +were all in all to him. He, to be sure, was weighted with so large a +family that there might be hope for him. The eye of the needle could +not be closed against him as a rich man; but he savoured of the +West-end, and was worldly, and consorted with such men as this +Colonel Osborne. When Colonel Osborne introduced himself to Mr. +Outhouse, it was almost as though Apollyon had made his way into the +parsonage of St. Diddulph's.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Outhouse," said the Colonel, "I have thought it best to come to +you the very moment that I got back to town from Scotland." Mr. +Outhouse bowed, and was bethinking himself slowly what manner of +speech he would adopt. "I leave town again to-morrow for Dorsetshire. +I am going down to my friends, the Brambers, for partridge shooting." +Mr. Outhouse knitted his thick brows, in further inward condemnation. +Partridge shooting! yes;—this was September, and partridge shooting +would be the probable care and occupation of such a man at such a +time. A man without a duty in the world! Perhaps, added to this there +was a feeling that, whereas Colonel Osborne could shoot Scotch grouse +in August, and Dorsetshire partridges in September, and go about +throughout the whole year like a roaring lion, he, Mr. Outhouse, was +forced to remain at St. Diddulph's-in-the-East, from January to +December, with the exception of one small parson's week spent at +Margate, for the benefit of his wife's health. If there was such a +thought, or rather, such a feeling, who will say that it was not +natural? "But I could not go through London without seeing you," +continued the Colonel. "This is a most frightful infatuation of +Trevelyan!"</p> + +<p>"Very frightful, indeed," said Mr. Outhouse.</p> + +<p>"And, on my honour as a gentleman, not the slightest cause in the +world."</p> + +<p>"You are old enough to be the lady's father," said Mr. Outhouse, +managing in that to get one blow at the gallant Colonel.</p> + +<p>"Just so. God bless my soul!" Mr. Outhouse shrunk visibly at this +profane allusion to the Colonel's soul. "Why, I've known her father +ever so many years. As you say, I might almost be her father myself." +As far as age went, such certainly might have been the case, for the +Colonel was older than Sir Marmaduke. "Look here, Mr. Outhouse, here +is a letter I got from <span class="nowrap">Emily—"</span></p> + +<p>"From Mrs. Trevelyan?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, from Mrs. Trevelyan; and as well as I can understand, it must +have been sent to me by Trevelyan himself. Did you ever hear of such +a thing? And now I'm told he has gone away, nobody knows where, and +has left her here."</p> + +<p>"He has gone away,—nobody knows where."</p> + +<p>"Of course, I don't ask to see her."</p> + +<p>"It would be imprudent, Colonel Osborne; and could not be permitted +in this house."</p> + +<p>"I don't ask it. I have known Emily Trevelyan since she was an +infant, and have always loved her. I'm her godfather, for aught I +know,—though one forgets things of that sort." Mr. Outhouse again +knit his eyebrows and shuddered visibly. "She and I have been fast +friends,—and why not? But, of course, I can't interfere."</p> + +<p>"If you ask me, Colonel Osborne, I should say that you can do nothing +in the matter;—except to remain away from her. When Sir Marmaduke is +in England, you can see him, if you please."</p> + +<p>"See him;—of course, I shall see him. And, by George, Louis +Trevelyan will have to see him, too! I shouldn't like to have to +stand up before Rowley if I had treated a daughter of his in such a +fashion. You know Rowley, of course?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; I know him."</p> + +<p>"He's not the sort of man to bear this sort of thing. He'll about +tear Trevelyan in pieces if he gets hold of him. God bless my soul—" +the eyebrows went to work again,—"I never heard of such a thing in +all my life! Does he pay anything for them, Mr. Outhouse?"</p> + +<p>This was dreadful to the poor clergyman. "That is a subject which we +surely need not discuss," said he. Then he remembered that such +speech on his part was like to a subterfuge, and he found it +necessary to put himself right. "I am repaid for the maintenance here +of my nieces, and the little boy, and their attendants. I do not know +why the question should be asked, but such is the fact."</p> + +<p>"Then they are here by agreement between you and him?"</p> + +<p>"No, sir; they are not. There is no such agreement. But I do not like +these interrogatives from a stranger as to matters which should be +private."</p> + +<p>"You cannot wonder at my interest, Mr. Outhouse."</p> + +<p>"You had better restrain it, sir, till Sir Marmaduke arrives. I shall +then wash my hands of the affair."</p> + +<p>"And she is pretty well;—Emily, I mean?"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Trevelyan's health is good."</p> + +<p>"Pray tell her though I could not—might not ask to see her, I came +to inquire after her the first moment that I was in London. Pray tell +her how much I feel for her;—but she will know that. When Sir +Marmaduke is here, of course, we shall meet. When she is once more +under her father's wing, she need not be restrained by any absurd +commands from a husband who has deserted her. At present, of course, +I do not ask to see her."</p> + +<p>"Of course, you do not, Colonel Osborne."</p> + +<p>"And give my love to Nora;—dear little Nora! There can be no reason +why she and I should not shake hands."</p> + +<p>"I should prefer that it should not be so in this house," said the +clergyman, who was now standing,—in expectation that his unwelcome +guest would go.</p> + +<p>"Very well;—so be it. But you will understand I could not be in +London without coming and asking after them." Then the Colonel at +last took his leave, and Mr. Outhouse was left to his solitude and +his sermons.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Outhouse was very angry when she heard of the visit. "Men of +that sort," she said, "think it a fine thing, and talk about it. I +believe the poor girl is as innocent as I am, but he isn't innocent. +He likes it."</p> + +<p>"'It is easier,'" said Mr. Outhouse solemnly, "'for a camel to go +through the eye of a needle, than for a rich man to enter the kingdom +of God.'"</p> + +<p>"I don't know that he is a rich man," said Mrs. Outhouse; "but he +wouldn't have come here if he had been honest."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Trevelyan was told of the visit, and simply said that of course +it was out of the question that she should have seen Colonel Osborne. +Nevertheless she seemed to think it quite natural that he should have +called, and defended him with some energy when her aunt declared that +he had been much to blame. "He is not bound to obey Mr. Trevelyan +because I am," said Emily.</p> + +<p>"He is bound to abstain from evil doing," said Mrs. Outhouse; "and he +oughtn't to have come. There; let that be enough, my dear. Your uncle +doesn't wish to have it talked about." Nevertheless it was talked +about between the two sisters. Nora was of opinion that Colonel +Osborne had been wrong, whereas Emily defended him. "It seems to me +to have been the most natural thing in life," said she.</p> + +<p>Had Colonel Osborne made the visit as Sir Marmaduke's friend, feeling +himself to be an old man, it might have been natural. When a man has +come to regard himself as being, on the score of age, about as fit to +be a young lady's lover as though he were an old woman instead of an +old man,—which some men will do when they are younger even than was +Colonel Osborne,—he is justified in throwing behind him as utterly +absurd the suspicions of other people. But Colonel Osborne cannot be +defended altogether on that plea.</p> + + +<p><a name="c42" id="c42"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XLII.</h3> +<h4>MISS STANBURY AND MR. GIBSON BECOME TWO.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>There came to be a very gloomy fortnight at Miss Stanbury's house in +the Close. For two or three days after Mr. Gibson's dismissal at the +hands of Miss Stanbury herself, Brooke Burgess was still in the +house, and his presence saved Dorothy from the full weight of her +aunt's displeasure. There was the necessity of looking after Brooke, +and scolding him, and of praising him to Martha, and of dispraising +him, and of seeing that he had enough to eat, and of watching whether +he smoked in the house, and of quarrelling with him about everything +under the sun, which together so employed Miss Stanbury that she +satisfied herself with glances at Dorothy which were felt to be full +of charges of ingratitude. Dorothy was thankful that it should be so, +and bore the glances with abject submission. And then there was a +great comfort to her in Brooke's friendship. On the second day after +Mr. Gibson had gone she found herself talking to Brooke quite openly +upon the subject. "The fact was, Mr. Burgess, that I didn't really +care for him. I know he's very good and all that, and of course Aunt +Stanbury meant it all for the best. And I would have done it if I +could, but I couldn't." Brooke patted her on the back,—not in the +flesh but in the spirit,—and told her that she was quite right. And +he expressed an opinion too that it was not expedient to yield too +much to Aunt Stanbury. "I would yield to her in anything that was +possible to me," said Dorothy. "I won't," said he; "and I don't think +I should do any good if I did. I like her, and I like her money. But +I don't like either well enough to sell myself for a price."</p> + +<p>A great part too of the quarrelling which went on from day to day +between Brooke and Miss Stanbury was due to the difference of their +opinions respecting Dorothy and her suitor. "I believe you put her up +to it," said Aunt Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"I neither put her up nor down, but I think that she was quite +right."</p> + +<p>"You've robbed her of a husband, and she'll never have another +chance. After what you've done, you ought to take her yourself."</p> + +<p>"I shall be ready to-morrow," said Brooke.</p> + +<p>"How can you tell such a lie?" said Aunt Stanbury.</p> + +<p>But after two or three days Brooke was gone to make a journey through +the distant part of the county, and see the beauties of Devonshire. +He was to be away for a fortnight, and then come back for a day or +two before he returned to London. During that fortnight things did +not go well with poor Dorothy at Exeter.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you know your own business best," her aunt said to her one +morning. Dorothy uttered no word of reply. She felt it to be equally +impossible to suggest either that she did or that she did not know +her own business best. "There may be reasons which I don't +understand," exclaimed Aunt Stanbury; "but I should like to know what +it is you expect."</p> + +<p>"Why should I expect anything, Aunt Stanbury?"</p> + +<p>"That's nonsense. Everybody expects something. You expect to have +your dinner by-and-by,—don't you?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose I shall," said Dorothy, to whom it occurred at the moment +that such expectation was justified by the fact that on every day of +her life hitherto some sort of a dinner had come in her way.</p> + +<p>"Yes,—and you think it comes from heaven, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"It comes by God's goodness and your bounty, Aunt Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"And how will it come when I'm dead? Or how will it come if things +should go in such a way that I can't stay here any longer? You don't +ever think of that."</p> + +<p>"I should go back to mamma, and Priscilla."</p> + +<p>"Psha! As if two mouths were not enough to eat all the meal there is +in that tub. If there was a word to say against the man, I wouldn't +ask you to have him; if he drank, or smoked, or wasn't a gentleman, +or was too poor, or anything you like. But there's nothing. It's all +very well to tell me you don't love him, but why don't you love him? +I don't like a girl to go and throw herself at a man's head, as those +Frenches have done; but when everything has been prepared for you and +made proper, it seems to me to be like turning away from good +victuals." Dorothy could only offer to go home if she had offended +her aunt, and then Miss Stanbury scolded her for making the offer. As +this kind of thing went on at the house in the Close for a fortnight, +during which there was no going out, and no society at home, Dorothy +began to be rather tired of it.</p> + +<p>At the end of the fortnight, on the morning of the day on which +Brooke Burgess was expected back, Dorothy, slowly moving into the +sitting room with her usual melancholy air, found Mr. Gibson talking +to her aunt. "There she is herself," said Miss Stanbury, jumping up +briskly, "and now you can speak to her. Of course I have no +authority,—none in the least. But she knows what my wishes are." +And, having so spoken, Miss Stanbury left the room.</p> + +<p>It will be remembered that hitherto no word of affection had been +whispered by Mr. Gibson into Dorothy's ears. When he came before to +press his suit, she had been made aware of his coming, and had fled, +leaving her answer with her aunt. Mr. Gibson had then expressed +himself as somewhat injured, in that no opportunity of pouring forth +his own eloquence had been permitted to him. On that occasion Miss +Stanbury, being in a snubbing humour, had snubbed him. She had in +truth scolded him almost as much as she had scolded Dorothy, telling +him that he went about the business in hand as though butter wouldn't +melt in his mouth. "You're stiff as a chair-back," she had said to +him, with a few other compliments, and these amenities had for a +while made him regard the establishment at Heavitree as being, at any +rate, pleasanter than that in the Close. But since that cool +reflection had come. The proposal was not that he should marry Miss +Stanbury, senior, who certainly could be severe on occasions, but +Miss Stanbury, junior, whose temper was as sweet as primroses in +March. That which he would have to take from Miss Stanbury, senior, +was a certain sum of money, as to which her promise was as good as +any bond in the world. Things had come to such a pass with him in +Exeter,—from the hints of his friend the Prebend, from a word or two +which had come to him from the Dean, from certain family arrangements +proposed to him by his mother and sisters,—things had come to such a +pass that he was of a mind that he had better marry some one. He had, +as it were, three strings to his bow. There were the two French +strings, and there was Dorothy. He had not breadth of genius enough +to suggest to himself that yet another woman might be found. There +was a difficulty on the French score even about Miss Stanbury; but it +was clear to him that, failing her, he was due to one of the two Miss +Frenches. Now it was not only that the Miss Frenches were +empty-handed, but he was beginning to think himself that they were +not as nice as they might have been in reference to the arrangement +of their head-gear. Therefore, having given much thought to the +matter, and remembering that he had never yet had play for his own +eloquence with Dorothy, he had come to Miss Stanbury asking that he +might have another chance. It had been borne in upon him that he had +perhaps hitherto regarded Dorothy as too certainly his own since she +had been offered to him by her aunt,—as being a prize that required +no eloquence in the winning; and he thought that if he could have an +opportunity of amending that fault, it might even yet be well with +his suit. So he prepared himself, and asked permission, and now found +himself alone with the young lady.</p> + +<p>"When last I was in this house, Miss Stanbury," he began, "I was not +fortunate enough to be allowed an opportunity of pleading my cause to +yourself." Then he paused, and Dorothy was left to consider how best +she might answer him. All that her aunt had said to her had not been +thrown away upon her. The calls upon that slender meal-tub at home +she knew were quite sufficient. And Mr. Gibson was, she believed, a +good man. And how better could she dispose of herself in life? And +what was she that she should scorn the love of an honest gentleman? +She would take him, she thought,—if she could. But then there came +upon her, unconsciously, without work of thought, by instinct rather +than by intelligence, a feeling of the closeness of a wife to her +husband. Looking at it in general she could not deny that it would be +very proper that she should become Mrs. Gibson. But when there came +upon her a remembrance that she would be called upon for +demonstration of her love,—that he would embrace her, and hold her +to his heart, and kiss her,—she revolted and shuddered. She believed +that she did not want to marry any man, and that such a state of +things would not be good for her. "Dear young lady," continued Mr. +Gibson, "you will let me now make up for the loss which I then +experienced?"</p> + +<p>"I thought it was better not to give you trouble," said Dorothy.</p> + +<p>"Trouble, Miss Stanbury! How could it be trouble? The labour we +delight in physics pain. But to go back to the subject-matter. I hope +you do not doubt that my affection for you is true and honest, and +genuine."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to doubt anything, Mr. Gibson; but—"</p> + +<p>"You needn't, dearest Miss Stanbury; indeed you needn't. If you could +read my heart you would see written there true love very +plainly;—very plainly. And do you not think it a duty that people +should marry?" It may be surmised that he had here forgotten some +connecting link which should have joined without abruptness the +declaration of his own love, and his social view as to the general +expediency of matrimony. But Dorothy did not discover the hiatus.</p> + +<p>"Certainly,—when they like each other, and if their friends think it +proper."</p> + +<p>"Our friends think it proper, Miss Stanbury,—may I say Dorothy?—all +of them. I can assure you that on my side you will be welcomed by a +mother and sisters only too anxious to receive you with open arms. +And as regards your own relations, I need hardly allude to your +revered aunt. As to your own mother and sister,—and your brother, +who, I believe, gives his mind chiefly to other things,—I am assured +by Miss Stanbury that no opposition need be feared from them. Is that +true, dearest Dorothy?"</p> + +<p>"It is true."</p> + +<p>"Does not all that plead in my behalf? Tell me, Dorothy."</p> + +<p>"Of course it does."</p> + +<p>"And you will be mine?" As far as eloquence could be of service, Mr. +Gibson was sufficiently eloquent. To Dorothy his words appeared good, +and true, and affecting. All their friends did wish it. There were +many reasons why it should be done. If talking could have done it, +his talking was good enough. Though his words were in truth cold, and +affected, and learned by rote, they did not offend her; but his face +offended her; and the feeling was strong within her that if she +yielded, it would soon be close to her own. She couldn't do it. She +didn't love him, and she wouldn't do it. Priscilla would not grudge +her her share out of that meagre meal-tub. Had not Priscilla told her +not to marry the man if she did not love him? She found that she was +further than ever from loving him. She would not do it. "Say that you +will be mine," pleaded Mr. Gibson, coming to her with both his hands +outstretched.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Gibson, I can't," she said. She was sobbing now, and was half +choked by tears.</p> + +<p>"And why not, Dorothy?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, but I can't. I don't feel that I want to be married at +all."</p> + +<p>"But it is honourable."</p> + +<p>"It's no use, Mr. Gibson; I can't, and you oughtn't to ask me any +more."</p> + +<p>"Must this be your very last answer?"</p> + +<p>"What's the good of going over it all again and again? I can't do +it."</p> + +<p>"Never, Miss Stanbury?"</p> + +<p>"No;—never."</p> + +<p>"That is cruel, very cruel. I fear that you doubt my love."</p> + +<p>"It isn't cruel, Mr. Gibson. I have a right to have my own feelings, +and I can't. If you please, I'll go away now." Then she went, and he +was left standing alone in the room. His first feeling was one of +anger. Then there came to be mixed with that a good deal of +wonder,—and then a certain amount of doubt. He had during the last +fortnight discussed the matter at great length with a friend, a +gentleman who knew the world, and who took upon himself to say that +he specially understood female nature. It was by advice from this +friend that he had been instigated to plead his own cause. "Of course +she means to accept you," the friend had said. "Why the mischief +shouldn't she? But she has some flimsy, old-fashioned country idea +that it isn't maidenly to give in at first. You tell her roundly that +she must marry you." Mr. Gibson was just reaching that roundness +which his friend had recommended when the lady left him and he was +alone.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gibson was no doubt very much in love with Dorothy Stanbury. So +much, we may take for granted. He, at least, believed that he was in +love with her. He would have thought it wicked to propose to her had +he not been in love with her. But with his love was mingled a certain +amount of contempt which had induced him to look upon her as an easy +conquest. He had been perhaps a little ashamed of himself for being +in love with Dorothy, and had almost believed the Frenches when they +had spoken of her as a poor creature, a dependant, one born to be +snubbed,—as a young woman almost without an identity of her own. +When, therefore, she so pertinaciously refused him, he could not but +be angry. And it was natural that he should be surprised. Though he +was to have received a fortune with Dorothy, the money was not hers. +It was to be hers,—or rather theirs,—only if she would accept him. +Mr. Gibson thoroughly understood this point. He knew that Dorothy had +nothing of her own. The proposal made to her was as rich as though he +had sought her down at Nuncombe Putney, with his preferment, plus the +£2,000, in his own pocket. And his other advantages were not hidden +from his own eyes. He was a clergyman, well thought of, not +bad-looking certainly, considerably under forty,—a man, indeed, who +ought to have been, in the eyes of Dorothy, such an Orlando as she +would have most desired. He could not therefore but wonder. And then +came the doubt. Could it be possible that all those refusals were +simply the early pulses of hesitating compliance produced by maidenly +reserve? Mr. Gibson's friend had expressed a strong opinion that +almost any young woman would accept any young man if he put his "com +'ether" upon her strong enough. For Mr. Gibson's friend was an +Irishman. As to Dorothy the friend had not a doubt in the world. Mr. +Gibson, as he stood alone in the room after Dorothy's departure, +could not share his friend's certainty; but he thought it just +possible that the pulsations of maidenly reserve were yet at work. As +he was revolving these points in his mind, Miss Stanbury entered the +room.</p> + +<p>"It's all over now," she said.</p> + +<p>"As how, Miss Stanbury?"</p> + +<p>"As how! She's given you an answer; hasn't she?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Miss Stanbury, she has given me an answer. But it has occurred +to me that young ladies are sometimes,—perhaps a +<span class="nowrap">little—"</span></p> + +<p>"She means it, Mr. Gibson; you may take my word for that. She is +quite in earnest. She can take the bit between her teeth as well as +another, though she does look so mild and gentle. She's a Stanbury +all over."</p> + +<p>"And must this be the last of it, Miss Stanbury?"</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, I don't know what else you can do,—unless you send +the Dean and Chapter to talk her over. She's a pig-headed, foolish +young woman;—but I can't help that. The truth is, you didn't make +enough of her at first, Mr. Gibson. You thought the plum would tumble +into your mouth."</p> + +<p>This did seem cruel to the poor man. From the first day in which the +project had been opened to him by Miss Stanbury, he had yielded a +ready acquiescence,—in spite of those ties which he had at +Heavitree,—and had done his very best to fall into her views. "I +don't think that is at all fair, Miss Stanbury," he said, with some +tone of wrath in his voice.</p> + +<p>"It's true,—quite true. You always treated her as though she were +something beneath you." Mr. Gibson stood speechless, with his mouth +open. "So you did. I saw it all. And now she's had spirit enough to +resent it. I don't wonder at it; I don't, indeed. It's no good your +standing there any longer. The thing is done."</p> + +<p>Such intolerable ill-usage Mr. Gibson had never suffered in his life. +Had he been untrue, or very nearly untrue, to those dear girls at +Heavitree for this? "I never treated her as anything beneath me," he +said at last.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you did. Do you think that I don't understand? Haven't I eyes +in my head, and ears? I'm not deaf yet, nor blind. But there's an end +of it. If any young woman ever meant anything, she means it. The +truth is, she don't like you."</p> + +<p>Was ever a lover despatched in so uncourteous a way! Then, too, he +had been summoned thither as a lover, had been specially encouraged +to come there as a lover, had been assured of success in a peculiar +way, had had the plum actually offered to him! He had done all that +this old woman had bidden him,—something, indeed, to the prejudice +of his own heart; he had been told that the wife was ready for him; +and now, because this foolish young woman didn't know her own +mind,—this was Mr. Gibson's view of the matter,—he was reviled and +abused, and told that he had behaved badly to the lady. "Miss +Stanbury," he said, "I think that you are forgetting yourself."</p> + +<p>"Highty, tighty!" said Miss Stanbury. "Forgetting myself! I shan't +forget you in a hurry, Mr. Gibson."</p> + +<p>"Nor I you, Miss Stanbury. Good morning, Miss Stanbury." Mr. Gibson, +as he went from the hall-door into the street, shook the dust off his +feet, and resolved that for the future he and Miss Stanbury should be +two. There would arise great trouble in Exeter, but, nevertheless, he +and Miss Stanbury must be two. He could justify himself in no other +purpose after such conduct as he had received.</p> + + +<p><a name="c43" id="c43"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XLIII.</h3> +<h4>LABURNUM COTTAGE.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>There had been various letters passing, during the last six weeks, +between Priscilla Stanbury and her brother, respecting the Clock +House at Nuncombe Putney. The ladies at Nuncombe had, certainly, gone +into the Clock House on the clear understanding that the expenses of +the establishment were to be incurred on behalf of Mrs. Trevelyan. +Priscilla had assented to the movement most doubtingly. She had +disliked the idea of taking the charge of a young married woman who +was separated from her husband, and she had felt that a going down +after such an uprising,—a fall from the Clock House back to a +cottage,—would be very disagreeable. She had, however, allowed her +brother's arguments to prevail, and there they were. The annoyance +which she had anticipated from the position of their late guest had +fallen upon them: it had been felt grievously, from the moment in +which Colonel Osborne called at the house; and now that going back to +the cottage must be endured. Priscilla understood that there had been +a settlement between Trevelyan and Stanbury as to the cost of the +establishment so far;—but that must now be at an end. In their +present circumstances she would not continue to live there, and had +already made inquiries as to some humble roof for their shelter. For +herself she would not have cared had it been necessary for her to +hide herself in a hut,—for herself, as regarded any feeling as to +her own standing in the village. For herself, she was ashamed of +nothing. But her mother would suffer, and she knew what Aunt Stanbury +would say to Dorothy. To Dorothy at the present moment, if Dorothy +should think of accepting her suitor, the change might be very +deleterious; but still it should be made. She could not endure to +live there on the very hard-earned proceeds of her brother's +pen,—proceeds which were not only hard-earned, but precarious. She +gave warning to the two servants who had been hired, and consulted +with Mrs. Crocket as to a cottage, and was careful to let it be known +throughout Nuncombe Putney that the Clock House was to be abandoned. +The Clock House had been taken furnished for six months, of which +half were not yet over; but there were other expenses of living there +much greater than the rent, and go she would. Her mother sighed and +assented; and Mrs. Crocket, having strongly but fruitlessly advised +that the Clock House should be inhabited at any rate for the six +months, promised her assistance. "It has been a bad business, Mrs. +Crocket," said Priscilla; "and all we can do now is to get out of it +as well as we can. Every mouthful I eat chokes me while I stay +there." "It ain't good, certainly, miss, not to know as you're all +straight the first thing as you wakes in the morning," said Mrs. +Crocket,—who was always able to feel when she woke that everything +was straight with her.</p> + +<p>Then there came the correspondence between Priscilla and Hugh. +Priscilla was at first decided, indeed, but mild in the expression of +her decision. To this, and to one or two other missives couched in +terms of increasing decision, Hugh answered with manly, +self-asserting, overbearing arguments. The house was theirs till +Christmas; between this and then he would think about it. He could +very well afford to keep the house on till next Midsummer, and then +they might see what had best be done. There was plenty of money, and +Priscilla need not put herself into a flutter. In answer to that word +flutter, Priscilla wrote as +<span class="nowrap">follows:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">Clock House, September 16, 186—.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear Hugh</span>,</p> + +<p>I know very well how good you are, and how generous, but +you must allow me to have feelings as well as yourself. I +will not consent to have myself regarded as a grand lady +out of your earnings. How should I feel when some day I +heard that you had run yourself into debt? Neither mamma +nor I could endure it. Dorothy is provided for now, at any +rate for a time, and what we have is enough for us. You +know I am not too proud to take anything you can spare to +us, when we are ourselves placed in a proper position: but +I could not live in this great house, while you are paying +for everything,—and I will not. Mamma quite agrees with +me, and we shall go out of it on Michaelmas-day. Mrs. +Crocket says she thinks she can get you a tenant for the +three months, out of Exeter,—if not for the whole rent, +at least for part of it. I think we have already got a +small place for eight shillings a week, a little out of +the village, on the road to Cockchaffington. You will +remember it. Old Soames used to live there. Our old +furniture will be just enough. There is a mite of a +garden, and Mrs. Crocket says she thinks we can get it for +seven shillings, or perhaps for six and sixpence, if we +stay there. We shall go in on the 29th. Mrs. Crocket will +see about having somebody to take care of the house.</p> + +<p class="ind8">Your most affectionate sister,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Priscilla</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>On the receipt of this letter, Hugh proceeded to Nuncombe. At this +time he was making about ten guineas a week, and thought that he saw +his way to further work. No doubt the ten guineas were +precarious;—that is, the "Daily Record" might discontinue his +services to-morrow, if the "Daily Record" thought fit to do so. The +greater part of his earnings came from the "D. R.," and the editor +had only to say that things did not suit any longer, and there would +be an end of it. He was not as a lawyer or a doctor with many clients +who could not all be supposed to withdraw their custom at once; but +leading articles were things wanted with at least as much regularity +as physic or law, and Hugh Stanbury, believing in himself, did not +think it probable that an editor, who knew what he was about, would +withdraw his patronage. He was proud of his weekly ten guineas, +feeling sure that a weekly ten guineas would not as yet have been his +had he stuck to the Bar as a profession. He had calculated, when Mrs. +Trevelyan left the Clock House, that two hundred a year would enable +his mother to continue to reside there, the rent of the place +furnished, or half-furnished, being only eighty; and he thought that +he could pay the two hundred easily. He thought so still, when he +received Priscilla's last letter; but he knew something of the +stubbornness of his dear sister, and he, therefore, went down to +Nuncombe Putney, in order that he might use the violence of his logic +on his mother.</p> + +<p>He had heard of Mr. Gibson from both Priscilla and from Dorothy, and +was certainly desirous that "dear old Dolly," as he called her, +should be settled comfortably. But when dear old Dolly wrote to him +declaring that it could not be so, that Mr. Gibson was a very nice +gentleman, of whom she could not say that she was particularly +fond,—"though I really do think that he is an excellent man, and if +it was any other girl in the world, I should recommend her to take +him,"—and that she thought that she would rather not get married, he +wrote to her the kindest brotherly letter in the world, telling her +that she was "a brick," and suggesting to her that there might come +some day some one who would suit her taste better than Mr. Gibson. +"I'm not very fond of parsons myself," said Hugh, "but you must not +tell that to Aunt Stanbury." Then he suggested that as he was going +down to Nuncombe, Dorothy should get leave of absence and come over +and meet him at the Clock House. Dorothy demanded the leave of +absence somewhat imperiously, and was at home at the Clock House when +Hugh arrived.</p> + +<p>"And so that little affair couldn't come off?" said Hugh at their +first family meeting.</p> + +<p>"It was a pity," said Mrs. Stanbury, plaintively. She had been very +plaintive on the subject. What a thing it would have been for her, +could she have seen Dorothy so well established!</p> + +<p>"There's no help for spilt milk, mother," said Hugh. Mrs. Stanbury +shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Dorothy was quite right," said Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"Of course she was right," said Hugh. "Who doubts her being right? +Bless my soul! What's any girl to do if she don't like a man except +to tell him so? I honour you, Dolly,—not that I ever should have +doubted you. You're too much of a chip of the old block to say you +liked a man when you didn't."</p> + +<p>"He is a very excellent young man," said Mrs. Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"An excellent fiddlestick, mother. Loving and liking don't go by +excellence. Besides, I don't know about his being any better than +anybody else, just because he's a clergyman."</p> + +<p>"A clergyman is more likely to be steady than other men," said the +mother.</p> + +<p>"Steady, yes; and as selfish as you please."</p> + +<p>"Your father was a clergyman, Hugh."</p> + +<p>"I don't mean to say that they are not as good as others; but I won't +have it that they are better. They are always dealing with the Bible, +till they think themselves apostles. But when money comes up, or +comfort, or, for the matter of that either, a pretty woman with a +little money, then they are as human as the rest of us."</p> + +<p>If the truth had been told on that occasion, Hugh Stanbury would have +had to own that he had written lately two or three rather stinging +articles in the "Daily Record," as "to the assumed merits and actual +demerits of the clergy of the Church of England." It is astonishing +how fluent a man is on a subject when he has lately delivered himself +respecting it in this fashion.</p> + +<p>Nothing on that evening was said about the Clock House, or about +Priscilla's intentions. Priscilla was up early on the next morning, +intending to discuss it in the garden with Hugh before breakfast; but +Hugh was aware of her purpose and avoided her. It was his intention +to speak first to his mother; and though his mother was, as he knew, +very much in awe of her daughter, he thought that he might carry his +point, at any rate for the next three months, by forcing an assent +from the elder lady. So he managed to waylay Mrs. Stanbury before she +descended to the parlour.</p> + +<p>"We can't afford it, my dear;—indeed we can't," said Mrs. Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"That's not the question, mother. The rent must be paid up to +Christmas, and you can live here as cheap as you can anywhere."</p> + +<p>"But Priscilla—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Priscilla! Of course we know what Priscilla says. Priscilla has +been writing to me about it in the most sensible manner in the world; +but what does it all come to? If you are ashamed of taking assistance +from me, I don't know who is to do anything for anybody. You are +comfortable here?"</p> + +<p>"Very comfortable; only Priscilla feels—"</p> + +<p>"Priscilla is a tyrant, mother; and a very stern one. Just make up +your mind to stay here till Christmas. If I tell you that I can +afford it, surely that ought to be enough." Then Dorothy entered the +room, and Hugh appealed to her. Dorothy had come to Nuncombe only on +the day before, and had not been consulted on the subject. She had +been told that the Clock House was to be abandoned, and had been +taken down to inspect the cottage in which old Soames had lived;—but +her opinion had not been asked. Priscilla had quite made up her mind, +and why should she ask an opinion of any one? But now Dorothy's +opinion was demanded. "It's what I call the rhodomontade of +independence," said Hugh.</p> + +<p>"I suppose it is very expensive," suggested Dorothy.</p> + +<p>"The house must be paid for," said Hugh;—"and if I say that I've got +the money, is not that enough? A miserable, dirty little place, where +you'll catch your death of lumbago, mother."</p> + +<p>"Of course it's not a comfortable house," said Mrs. Stanbury,—who, +of herself, was not at all indifferent to the comforts of her present +residence.</p> + +<p>"And it is very dirty," said Dorothy.</p> + +<p>"The nastiest place I ever saw in my life. Come, mother; if I say +that I can afford it, ought not that to be enough for you? If you +think you can't trust me, there's an end of everything, you know." +And Hugh, as he thus expressed himself, assumed an air of injured +virtue.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Stanbury had very nearly yielded, when Priscilla came in among +them. It was impossible not to continue the conversation, though Hugh +would much have preferred to have forced an assent from his mother +before he opened his mouth on the subject to his sister. "My mother +agrees with me," said he abruptly, "and so does Dolly, that it will +be absurd to move away from this house at present."</p> + +<p>"Mamma!" exclaimed Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"I don't think I said that, Hugh," murmured Dorothy, softly.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I don't want anything for myself," said Mrs. Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"It's I that want it," said Hugh. "And I think that I've a right to +have my wishes respected, so far as that goes."</p> + +<p>"My dear Hugh," said Priscilla, "the cottage is already taken, and we +shall certainly go into it. I spoke to Mrs. Crocket yesterday about a +cart for moving the things. I'm sure mamma agrees with me. What +possible business can people have to live in such a house as this +with about twenty-four shillings a week for everything? I won't do +it. And as the thing is settled, it is only making trouble to disturb +it."</p> + +<p>"I suppose, Priscilla," said Hugh, "you'll do as your mother +chooses?"</p> + +<p>"Mamma chooses to go. She has told me so already."</p> + +<p>"You have talked her into it."</p> + +<p>"We had better go, Hugh," said Mrs. Stanbury. "I'm sure we had better +go."</p> + +<p>"Of course we shall go," said Priscilla. "Hugh is very kind and very +generous, but he is only giving trouble for nothing about this. Had +we not better go down to breakfast?"</p> + +<p>And so Priscilla carried the day. They went down to breakfast, and +during the meal Hugh would speak to nobody. When the gloomy meal was +over he took his pipe and walked out to the cottage. It was an +untidy-looking, rickety place, small and desolate, with a pretension +about it of the lowest order, a pretension that was evidently ashamed +of itself. There was a porch. And the one sitting-room had what the +late Mr. Soames had always called his bow window. But the porch +looked as though it were tumbling down, and the bow window looked as +though it were tumbling out. The parlour and the bedroom over it had +been papered;—but the paper was torn and soiled, and in sundry +places was hanging loose. There was a miserable little room called a +kitchen to the right as you entered the door, in which the grate was +worn out, and behind this was a shed with a copper. In the garden +there remained the stumps and stalks of Mr. Soames's cabbages, and +there were weeds in plenty, and a damp hole among some elder bushes +called an arbour. It was named Laburnum Cottage, from a shrub that +grew at the end of the house. Hugh Stanbury shuddered as he stood +smoking among the cabbage-stalks. How could a man ask such a girl as +Nora Rowley to be his wife, whose mother lived in a place like this? +While he was still standing in the garden, and thinking of +Priscilla's obstinacy and his own ten guineas a week, and the sort of +life which he lived in London,—where he dined usually at his club, +and denied himself nothing in the way of pipes, beer, and beefsteaks, +he heard a step behind him, and turning round, saw his elder sister.</p> + +<p>"Hugh," she said, "you must not be angry with me."</p> + +<p>"But I am angry with you."</p> + +<p>"I know you are; but you are unjust. I am doing what I am sure is +right."</p> + +<p>"I never saw such a beastly hole as this in all my life."</p> + +<p>"I don't think it beastly at all. You'll find that I'll make it nice. +Whatever we want here you shall give us. You are not to think that I +am too proud to take anything at your hands. It is not that."</p> + +<p>"It's very like it."</p> + +<p>"I have never refused anything that is reasonable, but it is quite +unreasonable that we should go on living in such a place as that, as +though we had three or four hundred a year of our own. If mamma got +used to the comfort of it, it would be hard then upon her to move. +You shall give her what you can afford, and what is reasonable; but +it is madness to think of living there. I couldn't do it."</p> + +<p>"You're to have your way at any rate, it seems."</p> + +<p>"But you must not quarrel with me, Hugh. Give me a kiss. I don't have +you often with me; and yet you are the only man in the world that I +ever speak to, or even know. I sometimes half think that the bread is +so hard and the water so bitter, that life will become impossible. I +try to get over it; but if you were to go away from me in anger, I +should be so beaten for a week or two that I could do nothing."</p> + +<p>"Why won't you let me do anything?"</p> + +<p>"I will;—whatever you please. But kiss me." Then he kissed her, as +he stood among Mr. Soames's cabbage-stalks. "Dear Hugh; you are such +a god to me!"</p> + +<p>"You don't treat me like a divinity."</p> + +<p>"But I think of you as one when you are absent. The gods were never +obeyed when they showed themselves. Let us go and have a walk. +Come;—shall we get as far as Ridleigh Mill?" Then they started +together, and all unpleasantness was over between them when they +returned to the Clock House.</p> + + +<p><a name="c44" id="c44"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XLIV.</h3> +<h4>BROOKE BURGESS TAKES LEAVE OF EXETER.<br /> </h4> + + +<p><img class="left" src="images/ch44a.jpg" width="310" alt="Illustration" /> +The time had arrived at which Brooke Burgess was to leave Exeter. He +had made his tour through the county, and returned to spend his two +last nights at Miss Stanbury's house. When he came back Dorothy was +still at Nuncombe, but she arrived in the Close the day before his +departure. Her mother and sister had wished her to stay at Nuncombe. +"There is a bed for you now, and a place to be comfortable in," +Priscilla had said, laughing, "and you may as well see the last of +us." But Dorothy declared that she had named a day to her aunt, and +that she would not break her engagement. "I suppose you can stay if +you like," Priscilla had urged. But Dorothy was of opinion that she +ought not to stay. She said not a word about Brooke Burgess; but it +may be that it would have been matter of regret to her not to shake +hands with him once more. Brooke declared to her that had she not +come back he would have gone over to Nuncombe to see her; but Dorothy +did not consider herself entitled to believe that.</p> + +<p>On the morning of the last day Brooke went over to his uncle's +office. "I've come to say good-bye, Uncle Barty," he said.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, my boy. Take care of yourself."</p> + +<p>"I mean to try."</p> + +<p>"You haven't quarrelled with the old woman,—have you?" said Uncle +Barty.</p> + +<p>"Not yet;—that is to say, not to the knife."</p> + +<p>"And you still believe that you are to have her money?"</p> + +<p>"I believe nothing one way or the other. You may be sure of this,—I +shall never count it mine till I've got it; and I shall never make +myself so sure of it as to break my heart because I don't get it. I +suppose I've got as good a right to it as anybody else, and I don't +see why I shouldn't take it if it come in my way."</p> + +<p>"I don't think it ever will," said the old man, after a pause.</p> + +<p>"I shall be none the worse," said Brooke.</p> + +<p>"Yes, you will. You'll be a broken-hearted man. And she means to +break your heart. She does it on purpose. She has no more idea of +leaving you her money than I have. Why should she?"</p> + +<p>"Simply because she takes the fancy."</p> + +<p>"Fancy! Believe me, there is very little fancy about it. There isn't +one of the name she wouldn't ruin if she could. She'd break all our +hearts if she could get at them. Look at me and my position. I'm +little more than a clerk in the concern. By God;—I'm not so well off +as a senior clerk in many a bank. If there came a bad time, I must +lose as the others would lose;—but a clerk never loses. And my share +in the business is almost a nothing. It's just nothing,—compared to +what it would have been, only for her."</p> + +<p>Brooke had known that his uncle was a disappointed, or at least a +discontented man; but he had never known much of the old man's +circumstances, and certainly had not expected to hear him speak in +the strain that he had now used. He had heard often that his Uncle +Barty disliked Miss Stanbury, and had not been surprised at former +sharp, biting little words spoken in reference to that lady's +character. But he had not expected such a tirade of abuse as the +banker had now poured out. "Of course I know nothing about the bank," +said he; "but I did not suppose that she had had anything to do with +it."</p> + +<p>"Where do you think the money came from that she has got? Did you +ever hear that she had anything of her own? She never had a +penny,—never a penny. It came out of this house. It is the capital +on which this business was founded, and on which it ought to be +carried on to this day. My brother had thrown her off; by heavens, +yes;—had thrown her off. He had found out what she was, and had got +rid of her."</p> + +<p>"But he left her his money."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—she got near him when he was dying, and he did leave her his +money;—his money, and my money, and your father's money."</p> + +<p>"He could have given her nothing, Uncle Barty, that wasn't his own."</p> + +<p>"Of course that's true;—it's true in one way. You might say the same +of a man who was cozened into leaving every shilling away from his +own children. I wasn't in Exeter when the will was made. We none of +us were here. But she was here; and when we came to see him die, +there we found her. She had had her revenge upon him, and she means +to have it on all of us. I don't believe she'll ever leave you a +shilling, Brooke. You'll find her out yet, and you'll talk of her to +your nephews as I do to you."</p> + +<p>Brooke made some ordinary answer to this, and bade his uncle adieu. +He had allowed himself to entertain a half chivalrous idea that he +could produce a reconciliation between Miss Stanbury and his uncle +Barty; and since he had been at Exeter he had said a word, first to +the one and then to the other, hinting at the subject; but his hints +had certainly not been successful. As he walked from the bank into +the High Street he could not fail to ask himself whether there were +any grounds for the terrible accusations which he had just heard from +his uncle's lips. Something of the same kind, though in form much +less violent, had been repeated to him very often by others of the +family. Though he had as a boy known Miss Stanbury well, he had been +taught to regard her as an ogress. All the Burgesses had regarded +Miss Stanbury as an ogress since that unfortunate will had come to +light. But she was an ogress from whom something might be +gained,—and the ogress had still persisted in saying that a Burgess +should be her heir. It had therefore come to pass that Brooke had +been brought up half to revere her and half to abhor her. "She is a +dreadful woman," said his branch of the family, "who will not scruple +at anything evil. But as it seems that you may probably reap the +advantage of the evil that she does, it will become you to put up +with her iniquity." As he had become old enough to understand the +nature of her position, he had determined to judge for himself;—but +his judgment hitherto simply amounted to this,—that Miss Stanbury +was a very singular old woman, with a kind heart and good instincts, +but so capricious withal that no sensible man would risk his +happiness on expectations formed on her promises. Guided by this +opinion, he had resolved to be attentive to her and, after a certain +fashion, submissive; but certainly not to become her slave. She had +thrown over her nephew. She was constantly complaining to him of her +niece. Now and again she would say a very bitter word to him about +himself. When he had left Exeter on his little excursion, no one was +so much in favour with her as Mr. Gibson. On his return he found that +Mr. Gibson had been altogether discarded, and was spoken of in terms +of almost insolent abuse. "If I were ever so humble to her," he had +said to himself, "it would do no good; and there is nothing I hate so +much as humility." He had thus determined to take the goods the gods +provided, should it ever come to pass that such godlike provision was +laid before him out of Miss Stanbury's coffers;—but not to alter his +mode of life or put himself out of his way in obedience to her +behests, as a man might be expected to do who was destined to receive +so rich a legacy. Upon this idea he had acted, still believing the +old woman to be good, but believing at the same time that she was +very capricious. Now he had heard what his Uncle Bartholomew Burgess +had had to say upon the matter, and he could not refrain from asking +himself whether his uncle's accusations were true.</p> + +<p>In a narrow passage between the High Street and the Close he met Mr. +Gibson. There had come to be that sort of intimacy between the two +men which grows from closeness of position rather than from any +social desire on either side, and it was natural that Burgess should +say a word of farewell. On the previous evening Miss Stanbury had +relieved her mind by turning Mr. Gibson into ridicule in her +description to Brooke of the manner in which the clergyman had +carried on his love affair; and she had at the same time declared +that Mr. Gibson had been most violently impertinent to herself. He +knew, therefore, that Miss Stanbury and Mr. Gibson had become two, +and would on this occasion have passed on without a word relative to +the old lady had Mr. Gibson allowed him to do so. But Mr. Gibson +spoke his mind freely.</p> + +<p>"Off to-morrow, are you?" he said. "Good-bye. I hope we may meet +again; but not in the same house, Mr. Burgess."</p> + +<p>"There or anywhere I shall be very happy," said Brooke.</p> + +<p>"Not there, certainly. While you were absent Miss Stanbury treated me +in such a way that I shall certainly never put my foot in her house +again."</p> + +<p>"Dear me! I thought that you and she were such great friends."</p> + +<p>"I knew her very well, of course;—and respected her. She is a good +churchwoman, and is charitable in the city; but she has got such a +tongue in her head that there is no bearing it when she does what she +calls giving you a bit of her mind."</p> + +<p>"She has been indulgent to me, and has not given me much of it."</p> + +<p>"Your time will come, I've no doubt," continued Mr. Gibson. +"Everybody has always told me that it would be so. Even her oldest +friends knew it. You ask Mrs. MacHugh, or Mrs. French, at Heavitree."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. French!" said Brooke, laughing. "That would hardly be fair +evidence."</p> + +<p>"Why not? I don't know a better judge of character in all Exeter than +Mrs. French. And she and Miss Stanbury have been intimate all their +lives. Ask your uncle at the bank."</p> + +<p>"My uncle and Miss Stanbury never were friends," said Brooke.</p> + +<p>"Ask Hugh Stanbury what he thinks of her. But don't suppose I want to +say a word against her. I wouldn't for the world do such a thing. +Only, as we've met there and all that, I thought it best to let you +know that she had treated me in such a way, and has been altogether +so violent, that I never will go there again." So saying, Mr. Gibson +passed on, and was of opinion that he had spoken with great +generosity of the old woman who had treated him so badly.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon Brooke Burgess went over to the further end of the +Close, and called on Mrs. MacHugh; and from thence he walked across +to Heavitree, and called on the Frenches. It may be doubted whether +he would have been so well behaved to these ladies had they not been +appealed to by Mr. Gibson as witnesses to the character of Miss +Stanbury. He got very little from Mrs. MacHugh. That lady was kind +and cordial, and expressed many wishes that she might see him again +in Exeter. When he said a few words about Mr. Gibson, Mrs. MacHugh +only laughed, and declared that the gentleman would soon find a +plaister for that sore. "There are more fishes than one in the sea," +she said.</p> + +<p>"But I'm afraid they've quarrelled, Mrs. MacHugh."</p> + +<p>"So they tell me. What should we have to talk about here if somebody +didn't quarrel sometimes? She and I ought to get up a quarrel for the +good of the public;—only they know that I never can quarrel with +anybody. I never see anybody interesting enough to quarrel with." But +Mrs. MacHugh said nothing about Miss Stanbury, except that she sent +over a message with reference to a rubber of whist for the next night +but one.</p> + +<p>He found the two French girls sitting with their mother, and they all +expressed their great gratitude to him for coming to say good-bye +before he went. "It's so very nice of you, Mr. Burgess," said +Camilla, "and particularly just at present."</p> + +<p>"Yes, indeed," said Arabella, "because you know things have been so +unpleasant."</p> + +<p>"My dears, never mind about that," said Mrs. French. "Miss Stanbury +has meant everything for the best, and it is all over now."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you mean by its being all over, mamma," said +Camilla. "As far as I can understand, it has never been begun."</p> + +<p>"My dear, the least said the soonest mended," said Mrs. French.</p> + +<p>"That's of course, mamma," said Camilla; "but yet one can't hold +one's tongue altogether. All the city is talking about it, and I dare +say Mr. Burgess has heard as much as anybody else."</p> + +<p>"I've heard nothing at all," said Brooke.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, you have," continued Camilla. Arabella conceived herself at +this moment to be situated in so delicate a position, that it was +best that her sister should talk about it, and that she herself +should hold her tongue,—with the exception, perhaps, of a hint here +and there which might be of assistance; for Arabella completely +understood that the prize was now to be hers, if the prize could be +rescued out of the Stanbury clutches. She was aware,—no one better +aware,—how her sister had interfered with her early hopes, and was +sure, in her own mind, that all her disappointment had come from +fratricidal rivalry on the part of Camilla. It had never, however, +been open to her to quarrel with Camilla. There they were, linked +together, and together they must fight their battles. As two pigs may +be seen at the same trough, each striving to take the delicacies of +the banquet from the other, and yet enjoying always the warmth of the +same dunghill in amicable contiguity, so had these young ladies lived +in sisterly friendship, while each was striving to take a husband +from the other. They had understood the position, and, though for +years back they had talked about Mr. Gibson, they had never +quarrelled; but now, in these latter days of the Stanbury +interference, there had come tacitly to be something of an +understanding between them that, if any fighting were still possible +on the subject, one must be put forward and the other must yield. +There had been no spoken agreement, but Arabella quite understood +that she was to be put forward. It was for her to take up the +running, and to win, if possible, against the Stanbury filly. That +was her view, and she was inclined to give Camilla credit for acting +in accordance with it with honesty and zeal. She felt, therefore, +that her words on the present occasion ought to be few. She sat back +in her corner of the sofa, and was intent on her work, and shewed by +the pensiveness of her brow that there were thoughts within her bosom +of which she was not disposed to speak. "You must have heard a great +deal," said Camilla, laughing. "You must know how poor Mr. Gibson has +been abused, because he <span class="nowrap">wouldn't—"</span></p> + +<p>"Camilla, don't be foolish," said Mrs. French.</p> + +<p>"Because he wouldn't what?" asked Brooke. "What ought he to have done +that he didn't do?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know anything about ought," said Camilla. "That's a matter +of taste altogether."</p> + +<p>"I'm the worst hand in the world at a riddle," said Brooke.</p> + +<p>"How sly you are," continued Camilla, laughing; "as if dear Aunt +Stanbury hadn't confided all her hopes to you."</p> + +<p>"Camilla, dear,—don't," said Arabella.</p> + +<p>"But when a gentleman is hunted, and can't be caught, I don't think +he ought to be abused to his face."</p> + +<p>"But who hunted him, and who abused him?" asked Brooke.</p> + +<p>"Mind, I don't mean to say a word against Miss Stanbury, Mr. Burgess. +We've known her and loved her all our lives;—haven't we, mamma?"</p> + +<p>"And respected her," said Arabella.</p> + +<p>"Quite so," continued Camilla. "But you know, Mr. Burgess, that she +likes her own way."</p> + +<p>"I don't know anybody that does not," said Brooke.</p> + +<p>"And when she's disappointed, she shows it. There's no doubt she is +disappointed now, Mr. Burgess."</p> + +<p>"What's the good of going on, Camilla?" said Mrs. French. Arabella +sat silent in her corner, with a conscious glow of satisfaction, as +she reflected that the joint disappointment of the elder and the +younger Miss Stanbury had been caused by a tender remembrance of her +own charms. Had not dear Mr. Gibson told her, in the glowing language +of truth, that there was nothing further from his thoughts than the +idea of taking Dorothy Stanbury for his wife?</p> + +<p>"Well, you know," continued Camilla, "I think that when a person +makes an attempt, and comes by the worst of it, that person should +put up with the defeat, and not say all manner of ill-natured things. +Everybody knows that a certain gentleman is very intimate in this +house."</p> + +<p>"Don't, dear," said Arabella, in a whisper.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I shall," said Camilla. "I don't know why people should hold +their tongues, when other people talk so loudly. I don't care a bit +what anybody says about the gentleman and us. We have known him for +ever so many years, and mamma is very fond of him."</p> + +<p>"Indeed I am, Camilla," said Mrs. French.</p> + +<p>"And for the matter of that, so am I,—very," said Camilla, laughing +bravely. "I don't care who knows it."</p> + +<p>"Don't be so silly, child," said Arabella. Camilla was certainly +doing her best, and Arabella was grateful.</p> + +<p>"We don't care what people may say," continued Camilla again. "Of +course we heard, as everybody else heard too, that a certain +gentleman was to be married to a certain lady. It was nothing to us +whether he was married or not."</p> + +<p>"Nothing at all," said Arabella.</p> + +<p>"We never spoke ill of the young lady. We did not interfere. If the +gentleman liked the young lady, he was quite at liberty to marry her, +as far as we were concerned. We had been in the habit of seeing him +here, almost as a brother, and perhaps we might feel that a +connection with that particular young lady would take him from us; +but we never hinted so much even as that,—to him or to anyone else. +Why should we? It was nothing to us. Now it turns out that the +gentleman never meant anything of the kind, whereupon he is pretty +nearly kicked out of the house, and all manner of ill-natured things +are said about us everywhere." By this time Camilla had become quite +excited, and was speaking with much animation.</p> + +<p>"How can you be so foolish, Camilla?" said Arabella.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I am foolish," said Camilla, "to care what anybody says."</p> + +<p>"What can it all be to Mr. Burgess?" said Mrs. French.</p> + +<p>"Only this, that as we all like Mr. Burgess, and as he is almost one +of the family in the Close, I think he ought to know why we are not +quite so cordial as we used to be. Now that the matter is over I have +no doubt things will get right again. And as for the young lady, I'm +sure we feel for her. We think it was the aunt who was indiscreet."</p> + +<p>"And then she has such a tongue," said Arabella.</p> + +<p>Our friend Brooke, of course, knew the whole truth;—knew the nature +of Mr. Gibson's failure, and knew also how Dorothy had acted in the +affair. He was inclined, moreover, to believe that the ladies who +were now talking to him were as well instructed on the subject as was +he himself. He had heard, too, of the ambition of the two young +ladies now before him, and believed that that ambition was not yet +dead. But he did not think it incumbent on him to fight a battle even +on behalf of Dorothy. He might have declared that Dorothy, at least, +had not been disappointed, but he thought it better to be silent +about Dorothy. "Yes," he said, "Miss Stanbury has a tongue; but I +think it speaks as much good as it does evil, and perhaps that is a +great deal to say for any lady's tongue."</p> + +<p>"We never speak evil of anybody," said Camilla; "never. It is a rule +with us." Then Brooke took his leave, and the three ladies were +cordial and almost affectionate in their farewell greetings.</p> + +<p>Brooke was to start on the following morning before anybody would be +up except Martha, and Miss Stanbury was very melancholy during the +evening. "We shall miss him very much; shall we not?" she said, +appealing to Dorothy. "I am sure you will miss him very much," said +Dorothy. "We are so stupid here alone," said Miss Stanbury. When they +had drank their tea, she sat nearly silent for half an hour, and then +summoned him up into her own room. "So you are going, Brooke?" she +said.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I must go now. They would dismiss me if I stayed an hour +longer."</p> + +<p>"It was good of you to come to the old woman; and you must let me +hear of you from time to time."</p> + +<p>"Of course I'll write."</p> + +<p>"And, Brooke,—"</p> + +<p>"What is it, Aunt Stanbury?"</p> + +<p>"Do you want any money, Brooke?"</p> + +<p>"No;—none, thank you. I've plenty for a bachelor."</p> + +<p>"When you think of marrying, Brooke, mind you tell me."</p> + +<p>"I'll be sure to tell you;—but I can't promise yet when that will +be." She said nothing more to him, though she paused once more as +though she were going to speak. She kissed him and bade him good-bye, +saying that she would not go down-stairs again that evening. He was +to tell Dorothy to go to bed. And so they parted.</p> + +<p>But Dorothy did not go to bed for an hour after that. When Brooke +came down into the parlour with his message she intended to go at +once, and put up her work, and lit her candle, and put out her hand +to him, and said good-bye to him. But, for all that, she remained +there for an hour with him. At first she said very little, but by +degrees her tongue was loosened, and she found herself talking with a +freedom which she could hardly herself understand. She told him how +thoroughly she believed her aunt to be a good woman,—how sure she +was that her aunt was at any rate honest. "As for me," said Dorothy, +"I know that I have displeased her about Mr. Gibson;—and I would go +away, only that I think she would be so desolate." Then Brooke begged +her never to allow the idea of leaving Miss Stanbury to enter her +head. Because Miss Stanbury was capricious, he said, not on that +account should her caprices either be indulged or permitted. That was +his doctrine respecting Miss Stanbury, and he declared that, as +regarded himself, he would never be either disrespectful to her or +submissive. "It is a great mistake," he said, "to think that anybody +is either an angel or a devil." When Dorothy expressed an opinion +that with some people angelic tendencies were predominant, and with +others diabolic tendencies, he assented; but declared that it was not +always easy to tell the one tendency from the other. At last, when +Dorothy had made about five attempts to go, Mr. Gibson's name was +mentioned. "I am very glad that you are not going to be Mrs. Gibson," +said he.</p> + + +<div class="center"><a name="ip1-346" id="ip1-346"></a> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="4px"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/p1-346.jpg"> + <img src="images/p1-346-t.jpg" height="500" + alt="Brooke Burgess takes his leave." /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <span class="caption">Brooke Burgess takes his leave.<br /> + Click to <a href="images/p1-346.jpg">ENLARGE</a></span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p>"I don't know why you should be glad."</p> + +<p>"Because I should not have liked your husband,—not as your husband."</p> + +<p>"He is an excellent man, I'm sure," said Dorothy.</p> + +<p>"Nevertheless I am very glad. But I did not think you would accept +him, and I congratulate you on your escape. You would have been +nothing to me as Mrs. Gibson."</p> + +<p>"Shouldn't I?" said Dorothy, not knowing what else to say.</p> + +<p>"But now I think we shall always be friends."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure I hope so, Mr. Burgess. But indeed I must go now. It is +ever so late, and you will hardly get any sleep. Good night." Then he +took her hand, and pressed it very warmly, and referring to a promise +before made to her, he assured her that he would certainly make +acquaintance with her brother as soon as he was back in London. +Dorothy, as she went up to bed, was more than ever satisfied with +herself, in that she had not yielded in reference to Mr. Gibson.</p> + + +<p><a name="c45" id="c45"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XLV.</h3> +<h4>TREVELYAN AT VENICE.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Trevelyan passed on moodily and alone from Turin to Venice, always +expecting letters from Bozzle, and receiving from time to time the +dispatches which that functionary forwarded to him, as must be +acknowledged, with great punctuality. For Mr. Bozzle did his work, +not only with a conscience, but with a will. He was now, as he had +declared more than once, altogether devoted to Mr. Trevelyan's +interest; and as he was an active, enterprising man, always on the +alert to be doing something, and as he loved the work of writing +dispatches, Trevelyan received a great many letters from Bozzle. It +is not exaggeration to say that every letter made him for the time a +very wretched man. This ex-policeman wrote of the wife of his +bosom,—of her who had been the wife of his bosom, and who was the +mother of his child, who was at this very time the only woman whom he +loved,—with an entire absence of delicacy. Bozzle would have thought +reticence on his part to be dishonest. We remember Othello's demand +of Iago. That was the demand which Bozzle understood that Trevelyan +had made of him, and he was minded to obey that order. But Trevelyan, +though he had in truth given the order, was like Othello also in +this,—that he would have preferred before all the prizes of the +world to have had proof brought home to him exactly opposite to that +which he demanded. But there was nothing so terrible to him as the +grinding suspicion that he was to be kept in the dark. Bozzle could +find out facts. Therefore he gave, in effect, the same order that +Othello gave;—and Bozzle went to work determined to obey it. There +came many dispatches to Venice, and at last there came one, which +created a correspondence which shall be given here at length. The +first is a letter from Mr. Bozzle to his +<span class="nowrap">employer:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">55, Stony Walk, Union Street, Borough,<br /> +September 29, 186—, 4.30 <span class="smallcaps">p.m.</span></p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Hond. Sir</span>,</p> + +<p>Since I wrote yesterday morning, something has occurred +which, it may be, and I think it will, will help to bring +this melancholy affair to a satisfactory termination and +conclusion. I had better explain, Mr. Trewilyan, how I +have been at work from the beginning about watching the +Colonel. I couldn't do nothing with the porter at the +Albany, which he is always mostly muzzled with beer, and +he wouldn't have taken my money, not on the square. So, +when it was tellegrammed to me as the Colonel was on the +move in the North, I put on two boys as knows the Colonel, +at eighteenpence a day, at each end, one Piccadilly end, +and the other Saville Row end, and yesterday morning, as +quick as ever could be, after the Limited Express +Edinburgh Male Up was in, there comes the Saville Row End +Boy here to say as the Colonel was lodged safe in his +downey. Then I was off immediate myself to St. Diddulph's, +because I knows what it is to trust to Inferiors when +matters gets delicate. Now, there hadn't been no letters +from the Colonel, nor none to him as I could make out, +though that mightn't be so sure. She might have had 'em +addressed to A. Z., or the like of that, at any of the +Post-offices as was distant, as nobody could give the +notice to 'em all. Barring the money, which I know ain't +an object when the end is so desirable, it don't do to be +too ubiketous, because things will go astray. But I've +kept my eye uncommon open, and I don't think there have +been no letters since that last which was sent, Mr. +Trewilyan, let any of 'em, parsons, or what not, say what +they will. And I don't see as parsons are better than +other folk when they has to do with a lady as likes her +fancy-man.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>Trevelyan, when he had read as far as this, threw down the letter and +tore his hair in despair. "My wife," he exclaimed, "Oh, my wife!" But +it was essential that he should read Bozzle's letter, and he +persevered.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p>Well; I took to the ground myself as soon as ever I heard +that the Colonel was among us, and I hung out at the Full +Moon. They had been quite on the square with me at the +Full Moon, which I mention, because, of course, it has to +be remembered, and it do come up as a hitem. And I'm +proud, Mr. Trewilyan, as I did take to the ground myself; +for what should happen but I see the Colonel as large as +life ringing at the parson's bell at 1.47 p.m. He was let +in at 1.49, and he was let out at 2.17. He went away in a +cab which it was kept, and I followed him till he was put +down at the Arcade, and I left him having his 'ed washed +and greased at Trufitt's rooms, half-way up. It was a +wonder to me when I see this, Mr. Trewilyan, as he didn't +have his 'ed done first, as they most of 'em does when +they're going to see their ladies; but I couldn't make +nothing of that, though I did try to put too and too +together, as I always does.</p> + +<p>What he did at the parson's, Mr. Trewilyan, I won't say I +saw, and I won't say I know. It's my opinion the young +woman there isn't on the square, though she's been +remembered too, and is a hitem of course. And, Mr. +Trewilyan, it do go against the grain with me when they're +remembered and ain't on the square. I doesn't expect too +much of Human Nature, which is poor, as the saying goes; +but when they're remembered and ain't on the square after +that, it's too bad for Human Nature. It's more than poor. +It's what I calls beggarly.</p> + +<p>He ain't been there since, Mr. Trewilyan, and he goes out +of town to-morrow by the 1.15 p.m. express to Bridport. So +he lets on; but of course I shall see to that. That he's +been at St. Diddulph's, in the house from 1.47 to 2.17, +you may take as a fact. There won't be no shaking of that, +because I have it in my mem. book, and no Counsel can get +the better of it. Of course he went there to see her, and +it's my belief he did. The young woman as was remembered +says he didn't, but she isn't on the square. They never is +when a lady wants to see her gentleman, though they comes +round afterwards, and tells up everything when it comes +before his ordinary lordship.</p> + +<p>If you ask me, Mr. Trewilyan, I don't think it's ripe yet +for the court, but we'll have it ripe before long. I'll +keep a look-out, because it's just possible she may leave +town. If she do, I'll be down upon them together, and no +mistake.</p> + +<p class="ind10">Yours most respectful,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">S. +Bozzle</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>Every word in the letter had been a dagger to Trevelyan, and yet he +felt himself to be under an obligation to the man who had written it. +No one else would or could make facts known to him. If she were +innocent, let him know that she were innocent, and he would proclaim +her innocence, and believe in her innocence,—and sacrifice himself +to her innocence, if such sacrifice were necessary. But if she were +guilty, let him also know that. He knew how bad it was, all that +bribing of postmen and maidservants, who took his money, and her +money also, very likely. It was dirt, all of it. But who had put him +into the dirt? His wife had, at least, deceived him,—had deceived +him and disobeyed him, and it was necessary that he should know the +facts. Life without a Bozzle would now have been to him a perfect +blank.</p> + +<p>The Colonel had been to the parsonage at St. Diddulph's, and had been +admitted! As to that he had no doubt. Nor did he really doubt that +his wife had seen the visitor. He had sent his wife first into a +remote village on Dartmoor, and there she had been visited by +her—lover! How was he to use any other word? Iago;—oh, Iago! The +pity of it, Iago! Then, when she had learned that this was +discovered, she had left the retreat in which he had placed +her,—without permission from him,—and had taken herself to the +house of a relative of hers. Here she was visited again by +her—lover! Oh, Iago; the pity of it, Iago! And then there had been +between them an almost constant correspondence. So much he had +ascertained as fact; but he did not for a moment believe that Bozzle +had learned all the facts. There might be correspondence, or even +visits, of which Bozzle could learn nothing. How could Bozzle know +where Mrs. Trevelyan was during all those hours which Colonel Osborne +passed in London? That which he knew, he knew absolutely, and on that +he could act; but there was, of course, much of which he knew +nothing. Gradually the truth would unveil itself, and then he would +act. He would tear that Colonel into fragments, and throw his wife +from him with all the ignominy which the law made possible to him.</p> + +<p>But in the meantime he wrote a letter to Mr. Outhouse. Colonel +Osborne, after all that had been said, had been admitted at the +parsonage, and Trevelyan was determined to let the clergyman know +what he thought about it. The oftener he turned the matter in his +mind, as he walked slowly up and down the piazza of St. Mark, the +more absurd it appeared to him to doubt that his wife had seen the +man. Of course she had seen him. He walked there nearly the whole +night, thinking of it, and as he dragged himself off at last to his +inn, had almost come to have but one desire,—namely, that he should +find her out, that the evidence should be conclusive, that it should +be proved, and so brought to an end. Then he would destroy her, and +destroy that man,—and afterwards destroy himself, so bitter to him +would be his ignominy. He almost revelled in the idea of the tragedy +he would make. It was three o'clock before he was in his bedroom, and +then he wrote his letter to Mr. Outhouse before he took himself to +his bed. It was as <span class="nowrap">follows:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">Venice, Oct. 4, 186—.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Sir</span>,</p> + +<p>Information of a certain kind, on which I can place a firm +reliance, has reached me, to the effect that Colonel +Osborne has been allowed to visit at your house during the +sojourn of my wife under your roof. I will thank you to +inform me whether this be true; as, although I am +confident of my facts, it is necessary, in reference to my +ulterior conduct, that I should have from you either an +admission or a denial of my assertion. It is of course +open to you to leave my letter unanswered. Should you +think proper to do so, I shall know also how to deal with +that fact.</p> + +<p>As to your conduct in admitting Colonel Osborne into your +house while my wife is there,—after all that has passed, +and all that you know that has passed,—I am quite unable +to speak with anything like moderation of feeling. Had the +man succeeded in forcing himself into your residence, you +should have been the first to give me notice of it. As it +is, I have been driven to ascertain the fact from other +sources. I think that you have betrayed the trust that a +husband has placed in you, and that you will find from the +public voice that you will be regarded as having disgraced +yourself as a clergyman.</p> + +<p>In reference to my wife herself, I would wish her to know, +that after what has now taken place, I shall not feel +myself justified in leaving our child longer in her hands, +even tender as are his years. I shall take steps for +having him removed. What further I shall do to vindicate +myself, and extricate myself as far as may be possible +from the slough of despond in which I have been submerged, +she and you will learn in due time.</p> + +<p class="ind10">Your obedient servant,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">L. Trevelyan</span>.</p> + +<p class="noindent">A letter addressed "poste restante, +Venice," will reach me here.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>If Trevelyan was mad when he wrote this letter, Mr. Outhouse was very +nearly as mad when he read it. He had most strongly desired to have +nothing to do with his wife's niece when she was separated from her +husband. He was a man honest, charitable, and sufficiently +affectionate; but he was timid, and disposed to think ill of those +whose modes of life were strange to him. Actuated by these feelings, +he would have declined to offer the hospitality of his roof to Mrs. +Trevelyan, had any choice been left to him. But there had been no +choice. She had come thither unasked, with her boy and baggage, and +he could not send her away. His wife had told him that it was his +duty to protect these women till their father came, and he recognised +the truth of what his wife said. There they were, and there they must +remain throughout the winter. It was hard upon him,—especially as +the difficulties and embarrassments as to money were so disagreeable +to him;—but there was no help for it. His duty must be done though +it were ever so painful. Then that horrid Colonel had come. And now +had come this letter, in which he was not only accused of being an +accomplice between his married niece and her lover, but was also +assured that he should be held up to public ignominy and disgrace. +Though he had often declared that Trevelyan was mad, he would not +remember that now. Such a letter as he had received should have been +treated by him as the production of a madman. But he was not sane +enough himself to see the matter in that light. He gnashed his teeth, +and clenched his fist, and was almost beside himself as he read the +letter a second time.</p> + +<p>There had been a method in Trevelyan's madness; for though he had +declared to himself that without doubt Bozzle had been right in +saying that as the Colonel had been at the parsonage, therefore, as a +certainty, Mrs. Trevelyan had met the Colonel there, yet he had not +so stated in his letter. He had merely asserted that Colonel Osborne +had been at the house, and had founded his accusation upon that +alleged fact. The alleged fact had been in truth a fact. So far +Bozzle had been right. The Colonel had been at the parsonage; and the +reader knows how far Mr. Outhouse had been to blame for his share in +the matter! He rushed off to his wife with the letter, declaring at +first that Mrs. Trevelyan, Nora, and the child, and the servant, +should be sent out of the house at once. But at last Mrs. Outhouse +succeeded in showing him that he would not be justified in ill-using +them because Trevelyan had ill-used him. "But I will write to him," +said Mr. Outhouse. "He shall know what I think about it." And he did +write his letter that day, in spite of his wife's entreaties that he +would allow the sun to set upon his wrath. And his letter was as +<span class="nowrap">follows:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">St. Diddulph's, October 8, 186—.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Sir</span>,</p> + +<p>I have received your letter of the 4th, which is more +iniquitous, unjust, and ungrateful, than anything I ever +before saw written. I have been surprised from the first +at your gross cruelty to your unoffending wife; but even +that seems to me more intelligible than your conduct in +writing such words as those which you have dared to send +to me.</p> + +<p>For your wife's sake, knowing that she is in a great +degree still in your power, I will condescend to tell you +what has happened. When Mrs. Trevelyan found herself +constrained to leave Nuncombe Putney by your aspersions on +her character, she came here, to the protection of her +nearest relatives within reach, till her father and mother +should be in England. Sorely against my will I received +them into my home, because they had been deprived of other +shelter by the cruelty or madness of him who should have +been their guardian. Here they are, and here they shall +remain till Sir Marmaduke Rowley arrives. The other day, +on the 29th of September, Colonel Osborne, who is their +father's old friend, called, not on them, but on me. I may +truly say that I did not wish to see Colonel Osborne. They +did not see him, nor did he ask to see them. If his coming +was a fault,—and I think it was a fault,—they were not +implicated in it. He came, remained a few minutes, and +went without seeing any one but myself. That is the +history of Colonel Osborne's visit to my house.</p> + +<p>I have not thought fit to show your letter to your wife, +or to make her acquainted with this further proof of your +want of reason. As to the threats which you hold out of +removing her child from her, you can of course do nothing +except by law. I do not think that even you will be +sufficiently audacious to take any steps of that +description. Whatever protection the law may give her and +her child from your tyranny and misconduct cannot be +obtained till her father shall be here.</p> + +<p>I have only further to request that you will not address +any further communication to me. Should you do so, it will +be refused.</p> + +<p class="ind8">Yours in deep indignation,</p> + +<p class="ind12"><span class="smallcaps">Oliphant +Outhouse</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>Trevelyan had also written two other letters to England, one to Mr. +Bideawhile and the other to Bozzle. In the former he acquainted the +lawyer that he had discovered that his wife still maintained her +intercourse with Colonel Osborne, and that he must therefore remove +his child from her custody. He then inquired what steps would be +necessary to enable him to obtain possession of his little boy. In +the letter to Bozzle he sent a cheque, and his thanks for the +ex-policeman's watchful care. He desired Bozzle to continue his +precautions, and explained his intentions about his son. Being +somewhat afraid that Mr. Bideawhile might not be zealous on his +behalf, and not himself understanding accurately the extent of his +power with regard to his own child, or the means whereby he might +exercise it, he was anxious to obtain assistance from Bozzle also on +this point. He had no doubt that Bozzle knew all about it. He had +great confidence in Bozzle. But still he did not like to consult the +ex-policeman. He knew that it became him to have some regard for his +own dignity. He therefore put the matter very astutely to Bozzle, +asking no questions, but alluding to his difficulty in a way that +would enable Bozzle to offer advice.</p> + +<p>And where was he to get a woman to take charge of his child? If Lady +Milborough would do it, how great would be the comfort! But he was +almost sure that Lady Milborough would not do it. All his friends had +turned against him, and Lady Milborough among the number. There was +nobody left to him, but Bozzle. Could he entrust Bozzle to find some +woman for him who would take adequate charge of the little fellow, +till he himself could see to the child's education? He did not put +this question to Bozzle in plain terms; but he was very astute, and +wrote in such a fashion that Bozzle could make a proposal, if any +proposal were within his power.</p> + +<p>The answer from Mr. Outhouse came first. To this Mr. Trevelyan paid +very little attention. It was just what he expected. Of course Mr. +Outhouse's assurance about Colonel Osborne went for nothing. A man +who would permit intercourse in his house between a married lady and +her lover would not scruple to deny that he had permitted it. Then +came Mr. Bideawhile's answer, which was very short. Mr. Bideawhile +said that nothing could be done about the child till Mr. Trevelyan +should return to England;—and that he could give no opinion as to +what should be done then till he knew more of the circumstances. It +was quite clear to Trevelyan that he must employ some other lawyer. +Mr. Bideawhile had probably been corrupted by Colonel Osborne. Could +Bozzle recommend a lawyer?</p> + +<p>From Bozzle himself there came no other immediate reply than, "his +duty, and that he would make further inquiries."</p> + + +<p><a name="c46" id="c46"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XLVI.</h3> +<h4>THE AMERICAN MINISTER.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>In the second week in October, Mr. Glascock returned to Florence, +intending to remain there till the weather should have become +bearable at Naples. His father was said to be better, but was in such +a condition as hardly to receive much comfort from his son's +presence. His mind was gone, and he knew no one but his nurse; and, +though Mr. Glascock was unwilling to put himself altogether out of +the reach of returning at a day's notice, he did not find himself +obliged to remain in Naples during the heat of the autumn. So Mr. +Glascock returned to the hotel at Florence, accompanied by the tall +man who wore the buttons. The hotel-keeper did not allow such a light +to remain long hidden under a bushel, and it was soon spread far and +wide that the Honourable Charles Glascock and his suite were again in +the beautiful city.</p> + +<p>And the fact was soon known to the American Minister and his family. +Mr. Spalding was a man who at home had been very hostile to English +interests. Many American gentlemen are known for such hostility. They +make anti-English speeches about the country, as though they thought +that war with England would produce certain triumph to the States, +certain increase to American trade, and certain downfall to a tyranny +which no Anglo-Saxon nation ought to endure. But such is hardly their +real opinion. There, in the States, as also here in England, you +shall from day to day hear men propounding, in very loud language, +advanced theories of political action, the assertion of which is +supposed to be necessary to the end which they have in view. Men whom +we know to have been as mild as sucking doves in the political +aspiration of their whole lives, suddenly jump up, and with +infuriated gestures declare themselves the enemies of everything +existing. When they have attained their little purpose,—or have +failed to do so,—they revert naturally into their sucking-dove +elements. It is so with Americans as frequently as with +ourselves,—and there is no political subject on which it is +considered more expedient to express pseudo-enthusiasm than on that +of the sins of England. It is understood that we do not resent it. It +is presumed that we regard it as the Irishman regarded his wife's +cuffs. In the States a large party, which consists chiefly of those +who have lately left English rule, and who are keen to prove to +themselves how wise they have been in doing so, is pleased by this +strong language against England; and, therefore, the strong language +is spoken. But the speakers, who are, probably, men knowing something +of the world, mean it not at all; they have no more idea of war with +England than they have of war with all Europe; and their respect for +England and for English opinion is unbounded. In their political +tones of speech and modes of action they strive to be as English as +possible. Mr. Spalding's aspirations were of this nature. He had +uttered speeches against England which would make the hair stand on +end on the head of an uninitiated English reader. He had told his +countrymen that Englishmen hugged their chains, and would do so until +American hammers had knocked those chains from off their wounded +wrists and bleeding ankles. He had declared that, if certain American +claims were not satisfied, there was nothing left for Americans to do +but to cross the ferry with such a sheriff's officer as would be able +to make distraint on the great English household. He had declared +that the sheriff's officer would have very little trouble. He had +spoken of Canada as an outlying American territory, not yet quite +sufficiently redeemed from savage life to be received into the Union +as a State. There is a multiplicity of subjects of this kind ready to +the hand of the American orator. Mr. Spalding had been quite +successful, and was now Minister at Florence; but, perhaps, one of +the greatest pleasures coming to him from his prosperity was the +enjoyment of the society of well-bred Englishmen, in the capital to +which he had been sent. When, therefore, his wife and nieces pointed +out to him the fact that it was manifestly his duty to call upon Mr. +Glascock after what had passed between them on that night under the +Campanile, he did not rebel for an instant against the order given to +him. His mind never reverted for a moment to that opinion which had +gained for him such a round of applause, when expressed on the +platform of the Temperance Hall at Nubbly Creek, State of Illinois, +to the effect that the English aristocrat, thorough-born and +thorough-bred, who inherited acres and titles from his father, could +never be fitting company for a thoughtful Christian American citizen. +He at once had his hat brushed, and took up his best gloves and +umbrella, and went off to Mr. Glascock's hotel. He was strictly +enjoined by the ladies to fix a day on which Mr. Glascock would come +and dine at the American embassy.</p> + +<p>"'C. G.' has come back to see you," said Olivia to her elder sister. +They had always called him "C. G." since the initials had been seen +on the travelling bag.</p> + +<p>"Probably," said Carry. "There is so very little else to bring people +to Florence, that there can hardly be any other reason for his +coming. They do say it's terribly hot at Naples just now; but that +can have had nothing to do with it."</p> + +<p>"We shall see," said Livy. "I'm sure he's in love with you. He looked +to me just like a proper sort of lover for you, when I saw his long +legs creeping up over our heads into the banquette."</p> + +<p>"You ought to have been very much obliged to his long legs;—so sick +as you were at the time."</p> + +<p>"I like him amazingly," said Livy, "legs and all. I only hope Uncle +Jonas won't bore him, so as to prevent his coming."</p> + +<p>"His father is very ill," said Carry, "and I don't suppose we shall +see him at all."</p> + +<p>But the American Minister was successful. He found Mr. Glascock +sitting in his dressing-gown, smoking a cigar, and reading a +newspaper. The English aristocrat seemed very glad to see his +visitor, and assumed no airs at all. The American altogether forgot +his speech at Nubbly Creek, and found the aristocrat's society to be +very pleasant. He lit a cigar, and they talked about Naples, Rome, +and Florence. Mr. Spalding, when the marbles of old Rome were +mentioned, was a little too keen in insisting on the merits of Story, +Miss Hosmer, and Hiram Powers, and hardly carried his listener with +him in the parallel which he drew between Greenough and Phidias; and +he was somewhat repressed by the apathetic curtness of Mr. Glascock's +reply, when he suggested that the victory gained by the gunboats at +Vicksburg, on the Mississippi, was vividly brought to his mind by an +account which he had just been reading of the battle of Actium; but +he succeeded in inducing Mr. Glascock to accept an invitation to +dinner for the next day but one, and the two gentlemen parted on the +most amicable terms.</p> + +<p>Everybody meets everybody in Florence every day. Carry and Livy +Spalding had met Mr. Glascock twice before the dinner at their +uncle's house, so that they met at dinner quite as intimate friends. +Mrs. Spalding had very large rooms, up three flights of stairs, on +the Lungarno. The height of her abode was attributed by Mrs. Spalding +to her dread of mosquitoes. She had not yet learned that people in +Florence require no excuse for being asked to walk up three flights +of stairs. The rooms, when they were reached, were very lofty, +floored with what seemed to be marble, and were of a nature almost to +warrant Mrs. Spalding in feeling that nature had made her more akin +to an Italian countess than to a matron of Nubbly Creek, State of +Illinois, where Mr. Spalding had found her and made her his own. +There was one other Englishman present, Mr. Harris Hyde Granville +Gore, from the Foreign Office, now serving temporarily at the English +Legation in Florence; and an American, Mr. Jackson Unthank, a man of +wealth and taste, who was resolved on having such a collection of +pictures at his house in Baltimore that no English private collection +should in any way come near to it; and a Tuscan, from the Italian +Foreign Office, to whom nobody could speak except Mr. Harris Hyde +Granville Gore,—who did not indeed seem to enjoy the efforts of +conversation which were expected of him. The Italian, who had a +handle to his name,—he was a Count Buonarosci,—took Mrs. Spalding +in to dinner. Mrs. Spalding had been at great trouble to ascertain +whether this was proper, or whether she should not entrust herself to +Mr. Glascock. There were different points to be considered in the +matter. She did not quite know whether she was in Italy or in +America. She had glimmerings on the subject of her privilege to carry +her own nationality into her own drawing-room. And then she was +called upon to deal between an Italian Count with an elder brother, +and an English Honourable, who had no such incumbrance. Which of the +two was possessed of the higher rank? "I've found it all out, Aunt +Mary," said Livy. "You must take the Count." For Livy wanted to give +her sister every chance. "How have you found it out?" said the aunt. +"You may be sure it is so," said Livy. And the lady in her doubt +yielded the point. Mrs. Spalding, as she walked along the passage on +the Count's arm, determined that she would learn Italian. She would +have given all Nubbly Creek to have been able to speak a word to +Count Buonarosci. To do her justice, it must be admitted that she had +studied a few words. But her courage failed her, and she could not +speak them. She was very careful, however, that Mr. H. H. G. Gore was +placed in the chair next to the Count.</p> + +<p>"We are very glad to see you here," said Mr. Spalding, addressing +himself especially to Mr. Glascock, as he stood up at his own seat at +the round table. "In leaving my own country, sir, there is nothing +that I value more than the privilege of becoming acquainted with +those whose historic names and existing positions are of such +inestimable value to the world at large." In saying this, Mr. +Spalding was not in the least insincere, nor did his conscience at +all prick him in reference to that speech at Nubbly Creek. On both +occasions he half thought as he spoke,—or thought that he thought +so. Unless it be on subjects especially endeared to us the thoughts +of but few of us go much beyond this.</p> + +<p>Mr. Glascock, who sat between Mrs. Spalding and her niece, was soon +asked by the elder lady whether he had been in the States. No; he had +not been in the States. "Then you must come, Mr. Glascock," said Mrs. +Spalding, "though I will not say, dwelling as we now are in the +metropolis of the world of art, that we in our own homes have as much +of the outer beauty of form to charm the stranger as is to be found +in other lands. Yet I think that the busy lives of men, and the +varied institutions of a free country, must always have an interest +peculiarly their own." Mr. Glascock declared that he quite agreed +with her, and expressed a hope that he might some day find himself in +New York.</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't like it at all," said Carry; "because you are an +aristocrat. I don't mean that it would be your fault."</p> + +<p>"Why should that prevent my liking it,—even if I were an +aristocrat?"</p> + +<p>"One half of the people would run after you, and the other half would +run away from you," said Carry.</p> + +<p>"Then I'd take to the people who ran after me, and would not regard +the others."</p> + +<p>"That's all very well,—but you wouldn't like it. And then you would +become unfair to what you saw. When some of our speechifying people +talked to you about our institutions through their noses, you would +think that the institutions themselves must be bad. And we have +nothing to show except our institutions."</p> + +<p>"What are American institutions?" asked Mr. Glascock.</p> + +<p>"Everything is an institution. Having iced water to drink in every +room of the house is an institution. Having hospitals in every town +is an institution. Travelling altogether in one class of railway cars +is an institution. Saying sir, is an institution. Teaching all the +children mathematics is an institution. Plenty of food is an +institution. Getting drunk is an institution in a great many towns. +Lecturing is an institution. There are plenty of them, and some are +very good;—but you wouldn't like it."</p> + +<p>"At any rate, I'll go and see," said Mr. Glascock.</p> + +<p>"If you do, I hope we may be at home," said Miss Spalding.</p> + +<p>Mr. Spalding, in the mean time, with the assistance of his +countryman, the man of taste, was endeavouring to explain a certain +point in American politics to the Count. As, in doing this, they +called upon Mr. Gore to translate every speech they made into +Italian, and as Mr. Gore had never offered his services as an +interpreter, and as the Italian did not quite catch the subtle +meanings of the Americans in Mr. Gore's Tuscan version, and did not +in the least wish to understand the things that were explained to +him, Mr. Gore and the Italian began to think that the two Americans +were bores. "The truth is, Mr. Spalding," said Mr. Gore, "I've got +such a cold in my head, that I don't think I can explain it any +more." Then Livy Spalding laughed aloud, and the two American +gentlemen began to eat their dinner. "It sounds ridiculous, don't +it?" said Mr. Gore, in a whisper.</p> + +<p>"I ought not to have laughed, I know," said Livy.</p> + +<p>"The very best thing you could have done. I shan't be troubled any +more now. The fact is, I know just nine words of Italian. Now there +is a difficulty in having to explain the whole theory of American +politics to an Italian, who doesn't want to know anything about it, +with so very small a repertory of words at one's command."</p> + +<p>"How well you did it!"</p> + +<p>"Too well. I felt that. So well that, unless I had stopped it, I +shouldn't have been able to say a word to you all through dinner. +Your laughter clenched it, and Buonarosci and I will be grateful to +you for ever."</p> + +<p>After the ladies went there was rather a bad half hour for Mr. +Glascock. He was button-holed by the minister, and found it +oppressive before he was enabled to escape into the drawing-room. +"Mr. Glascock," said the minister, "an English gentleman, sir, like +you, who has the privilege of an hereditary seat in your +parliament,"—Mr. Glascock was not quite sure whether he were being +accused of having an hereditary seat in the House of Commons, but he +would not stop to correct any possible error on that point,—"and who +has been born to all the gifts of fortune, rank, and social eminence, +should never think that his education is complete till he has visited +our great cities in the west." Mr. Glascock hinted that he by no +means conceived his education to be complete; but the minister went +on without attending to this. "Till you have seen, sir, what men can +do who are placed upon the earth with all God's gifts of free +intelligence, free air, and a free soil, but without any of those +other good things which we are accustomed to call the gifts of +fortune, you can never become aware of the infinite ingenuity of +man." There had been much said before, but just at this moment Mr. +Gore and the American left the room, and the Italian followed them +briskly. Mr. Glascock at once made a decided attempt to bolt; but the +minister was on the alert, and was too quick for him. And he was by +no means ashamed of what he was doing. He had got his guest by the +coat, and openly declared his intention of holding him. "Let me keep +you for a few minutes, sir," said he, "while I dilate on this point +in one direction. In the drawing-room female spells are too potent +for us male orators. In going among us, Mr. Glascock, you must not +look for luxury or refinement, for you will find them not. Nor must +you hope to encounter the highest order of erudition. The lofty +summits of acquired knowledge tower in your country with an altitude +we have not reached yet."</p> + +<p>"It's very good of you to say so," said Mr. Glascock.</p> + +<p>"No, sir. In our new country and in our new cities we still lack the +luxurious perfection of fastidious civilisation. But, sir, regard our +level. That is what I say to every unprejudiced Britisher that comes +among us; look at our level. And when you have looked at our level, I +think that you will confess that we live on the highest table-land +that the world has yet afforded to mankind. You follow my meaning, +Mr. Glascock?" Mr. Glascock was not sure that he did, but the +minister went on to make that meaning clear. "It is the multitude +that with us is educated. Go into their houses, sir, and see how they +thumb their books. Look at the domestic correspondence of our helps +and servants, and see how they write and spell. We haven't got the +mountains, sir, but our table-lands are the highest on which the +bright sun of our Almighty God has as yet shone with its illuminating +splendour in this improving world of ours! It is because we are a +young people, sir,—with nothing as yet near to us of the decrepitude +of age. The weakness of age, sir, is the penalty paid by the folly of +youth. We are not so wise, sir, but what we too shall suffer from its +effects as years roll over our heads." There was a great deal more, +but at last Mr. Glascock did escape into the drawing-room.</p> + +<p>"My uncle has been saying a few words to you perhaps," said Carry +Spalding.</p> + +<p>"Yes; he has," said Mr. Glascock.</p> + +<p>"He usually does," said Carry Spalding.</p> + + +<p><a name="c47" id="c47"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XLVII.</h3> +<h4>ABOUT FISHING, AND NAVIGATION, AND HEAD-DRESSES.<br /> </h4> + + +<p><img class="left" src="images/ch47a.jpg" width="310" alt="Illustration" /> +The feud between Miss Stanbury and Mr. Gibson raged violently in +Exeter, and produced many complications which were very difficult +indeed of management. Each belligerent party felt that a special +injury had been inflicted upon it. Mr. Gibson was quite sure that he +had been grossly misused by Miss Stanbury the elder, and strongly +suspected that Miss Stanbury the younger had had a hand in this +misconduct. It had been positively asserted to him,—at least so he +thought, but in this was probably in error,—that the lady would +accept him if he proposed to her. All Exeter had been made aware of +the intended compact. He, indeed, had denied its existence to Miss +French, comforting himself, as best he might, with the reflection +that all is fair in love and war; but when he counted over his +injuries he did not think of this denial. All Exeter, so to say, had +known of it. And yet, when he had come with his proposal, he had been +refused without a moment's consideration, first by the aunt, and then +by the niece;—and, after that, had been violently abused, and at +last turned out of the house! Surely, no gentleman had ever before +been subjected to ill-usage so violent! But Miss Stanbury the elder +was quite as assured that the injury had been done to her. As to the +matter of the compact itself, she knew very well that she had been as +true as steel. She had done everything in her power to bring about +the marriage. She had been generous in her offers of money. She had +used all her powers of persuasion on Dorothy, and she had given every +opportunity to Mr. Gibson. It was not her fault if he had not been +able to avail himself of the good things which she had put in his +way. He had first been, as she thought, ignorant and arrogant, +fancying that the good things ought to be made his own without any +trouble on his part;—and then awkward, not knowing how to take the +trouble when trouble was necessary. And as to that matter of abusive +language and turning out of the house, Miss Stanbury was quite +convinced that she was sinned against, and not herself the sinner. +She declared to Martha, more than once, that Mr. Gibson had used such +language to her that, coming out of a clergyman's mouth, it had quite +dismayed her. Martha, who knew her mistress, probably felt that Mr. +Gibson had at least received as good as he gave; but she had made no +attempt to set her mistress right on that point.</p> + +<p>But the cause of Miss Stanbury's sharpest anger was not to be found +in Mr. Gibson's conduct either before Dorothy's refusal of his offer, +or on the occasion of his being turned out of the house. A base +rumour was spread about the city that Dorothy Stanbury had been +offered to Mr. Gibson, that Mr. Gibson had civilly declined the +offer,—and that hence had arisen the wrath of the Juno of the Close. +Now this was not to be endured by Miss Stanbury. She had felt even in +the moment of her original anger against Mr. Gibson that she was +bound in honour not to tell the story against him. She had brought +him into the little difficulty, and she at least would hold her +tongue. She was quite sure that Dorothy would never boast of her +triumph. And Martha had been strictly cautioned,—as indeed, also, +had Brooke Burgess. The man had behaved like an idiot, Miss Stanbury +said; but he had been brought into a little dilemma, and nothing +should be said about it from the house in the Close. But when the +other rumour reached Miss Stanbury's ears, when Mrs. Crumbie condoled +with her on her niece's misfortune, when Mrs. MacHugh asked whether +Mr. Gibson had not behaved rather badly to the young lady, then our +Juno's celestial mind was filled with a divine anger. But even then +she did not declare the truth. She asked a question of Mrs. Crumbie, +and was enabled, as she thought, to trace the falsehood to the +Frenches. She did not think that Mr. Gibson could on a sudden have +become so base a liar. "Mr. Gibson fast and loose with my niece!" she +said to Mrs. MacHugh. "You have not got the story quite right, my +dear friend. Pray, believe me;—there has been nothing of that sort." +"I dare say not," said Mrs. MacHugh, "and I'm sure I don't care. Mr. +Gibson has been going to marry one of the French girls for the last +ten years, and I think he ought to make up his mind and do it at +last."</p> + +<p>"I can assure you he is quite welcome as far as Dorothy is +concerned," said Miss Stanbury.</p> + +<p>Without a doubt the opinion did prevail throughout Exeter that Mr. +Gibson, who had been regarded time out of mind as the property of the +Miss Frenches, had been angled for by the ladies in the Close, that +he had nearly been caught, but that he had slipped the hook out of +his mouth, and was now about to subside quietly into the net which +had been originally prepared for him. Arabella French had not spoken +loudly on the subject, but Camilla had declared in more than one +house that she had most direct authority for stating that the +gentleman had never dreamed of offering to the young lady. "Why he +should not do so if he pleases, I don't know," said Camilla. "Only +the fact is that he has not pleased. The rumour of course has reached +him, and, as we happen to be very old friends, we have authority for +denying it altogether." All this came round to Miss Stanbury, and she +was divine in her wrath.</p> + +<p>"If they drive me to it," she said to Dorothy, "I'll have the whole +truth told by the bellman through the city, or I'll publish it in the +County Gazette."</p> + +<p>"Pray don't say a word about it, Aunt Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"It is those odious girls. He's there now every day."</p> + +<p>"Why shouldn't he go there, Aunt Stanbury?"</p> + +<p>"If he's fool enough, let him go. I don't care where he goes. But I +do care about these lies. They wouldn't dare to say it only they +think my mouth is closed. They've no honour themselves, but they +screen themselves behind mine."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure they won't find themselves mistaken in what they trust to," +said Dorothy, with a spirit that her aunt had not expected from her. +Miss Stanbury at this time had told nobody that the offer to her +niece had been made and repeated and finally rejected;—but she found +it very difficult to hold her tongue.</p> + +<p>In the meantime Mr. Gibson spent a good deal of his time at +Heavitree. It should not perhaps be asserted broadly that he had made +up his mind that marriage would be good for him; but he had made up +his mind, at least, to this, that it was no longer to be postponed +without a balance of disadvantage. The Charybdis in the Close drove +him helpless into the whirlpool of the Heavitree Scylla. He had no +longer an escape from the perils of the latter shore. He had been so +mauled by the opposite waves, that he had neither spirit nor skill +left to him to keep in the middle track. He was almost daily at +Heavitree, and did not attempt to conceal from himself the approach +of his doom.</p> + +<p>But still there were two of them. He knew that he must become a prey, +but was there any choice left to him as to which siren should have +him? He had been quite aware in his more gallant days, before he had +been knocked about on that Charybdis rock, that he might sip, and +taste, and choose between the sweets. He had come to think lately +that the younger young lady was the sweeter. Eight years ago indeed +the passages between him and the elder had been tender; but Camilla +had then been simply a romping girl, hardly more than a year or two +beyond her teens. Now, with her matured charms, Camilla was certainly +the more engaging as far as outward form went. Arabella's cheeks were +thin and long, and her front teeth had come to show themselves. Her +eyes were no doubt still bright, and what she had of hair was soft +and dark. But it was very thin in front, and what there was of +supplemental mass behind,—the bandbox by which Miss Stanbury was so +much aggrieved,—was worn with an indifference to the lines of +beauty, which Mr. Gibson himself found to be very depressing. A man +with a fair burden on his back is not a grievous sight; but when we +see a small human being attached to a bale of goods which he can +hardly manage to move, we feel that the poor fellow has been cruelly +overweighted. Mr. Gibson certainly had that sensation about +Arabella's chignon. And as he regarded it in a nearer and a dearer +light,—as a chignon that might possibly become his own, as a burden +which in one sense he might himself be called upon to bear, as a +domestic utensil which he himself might be called upon to inspect, +and perhaps to aid the shifting on and the shifting off, he did begin +to think that that side of the Scylla gulf ought to be avoided if +possible. And probably this propensity on his part, this feeling that +he would like to reconsider the matter dispassionately before he gave +himself up for good to his old love, may have been increased by +Camilla's apparent withdrawal of her claims. He felt mildly grateful +to the Heavitree household in general for accepting him in this time +of his affliction, but he could not admit to himself that they had a +right to decide upon him in private conclave, and allot him either to +the one or to the other nuptials without consultation with himself. +To be swallowed up by Scylla he now recognised as his doom; but he +thought he ought to be asked on which side of the gulf he would +prefer to go down. The way in which Camilla spoke of him as a thing +that wasn't hers, but another's; and the way in which Arabella looked +at him, as though he were hers and could never be another's, wounded +his manly pride. He had always understood that he might have his +choice, and he could not understand that the little mishap which had +befallen him in the Close was to rob him of that privilege.</p> + +<p>He used to drink tea at Heavitree in those days. On one evening on +going in he found himself alone with Arabella. "Oh, Mr. Gibson," she +said, "we weren't sure whether you'd come. And mamma and Camilla have +gone out to Mrs. Camadge's." Mr. Gibson muttered some word to the +effect that he hoped he had kept nobody at home; and, as he did so, +he remembered that he had distinctly said that he would come on this +evening. "I don't know that I should have gone," said Arabella, +"because I am not quite,—not quite myself at present. No, not ill; +not at all. Don't you know what it is, Mr. Gibson, to be,—to be,—to +be,—not quite yourself?" Mr. Gibson said that he had very often felt +like that. "And one can't get over it;—can one?" continued Arabella. +"There comes a presentiment that something is going to happen, and a +kind of belief that something has happened, though you don't know +what; and the heart refuses to be light, and the spirit becomes +abashed, and the mind, though it creates new thoughts, will not +settle itself to its accustomed work. I suppose it's what the novels +have called Melancholy."</p> + +<p>"I suppose it is," said Mr. Gibson. "But there's generally some cause +for it. Debt for <span class="nowrap">instance—"</span></p> + +<p>"It's nothing of that kind with me. It's no debt, at least, that can +be written down in the figures of ordinary arithmetic. Sit down, Mr. +Gibson, and we will have some tea." Then, as she stretched forward to +ring the bell, he thought that he never in his life had seen anything +so unshapely as that huge wen at the back of her head. "Monstrum +horrendum, informe, ingens!" He could not help quoting the words to +himself. She was dressed with some attempt at being smart, but her +ribbons were soiled, and her lace was tawdry, and the fabric of her +dress was old and dowdy. He was quite sure that he would feel no +pride in calling her Mrs. Gibson, no pleasure in having her all to +himself at his own hearth. "I hope we shall escape the bitterness of +Miss Stanbury's tongue if we drink tea tête-à-tête," she said, with +her sweetest smile.</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose she'll know anything about it."</p> + +<p>"She knows about everything, Mr. Gibson. It's astonishing what she +knows. She has eyes and ears everywhere. I shouldn't care, if she +didn't see and hear so very incorrectly. I'm told now that she +declares—; but it doesn't signify."</p> + +<p>"Declares what?" asked Mr. Gibson.</p> + +<p>"Never mind. But wasn't it odd how all Exeter believed that you were +going to be married in that house, and to live there all the rest of +your life, and be one of Miss Stanbury's slaves. I never believed it, +Mr. Gibson." This she said with a sad smile, that ought to have +brought him on his knees, in spite of the chignon.</p> + +<p>"One can't help these things," said Mr. Gibson.</p> + +<p>"I never could have believed it;—not even if you had not given me an +assurance so solemn, and so sweet, that there was nothing in it." The +poor man had given the assurance, and could not deny the solemnity +and the sweetness. "That was a happy moment for us, Mr. Gibson; +because, though we never believed it, when it was dinned into our +ears so frequently, when it was made such a triumph in the Close, it +was impossible not to fear that there might be something in it." He +felt that he ought to make some reply, but he did not know what to +say. He was thoroughly ashamed of the lie he had told, but he could +not untell it. "Camilla reproached me afterwards for asking you," +whispered Arabella, in her softest, tenderest voice. "She said that +it was unmaidenly. I hope you did not think it unmaidenly, Mr. +Gibson?"</p> + +<p>"Oh dear no;—not at all," said he.</p> + +<p>Arabella French was painfully alive to the fact that she must do +something. She had her fish on the hook; but of what use is a fish on +your hook, if you cannot land him? When could she have a better +opportunity than this of landing the scaly darling out of the fresh +and free waters of his bachelor stream, and sousing him into the pool +of domestic life, to be ready there for her own household purposes? +"I had known you so long, Mr. Gibson," she said, "and had valued your +friendship so—so deeply." As he looked at her he could see nothing +but the shapeless excrescence to which his eyes had been so painfully +called by Miss Stanbury's satire. It is true that he had formerly +been very tender with her, but she had not then carried about with +her that distorted monster. He did not believe himself to be at all +bound by anything which had passed between them in circumstances so +very different. But yet he ought to say something. He ought to have +said something; but he said nothing. She was patient, however, very +patient; and she went on playing him with her hook. "I am so glad +that I did not go out to-night with mamma. It has been such a +pleasure to me to have this conversation with you. Camilla, perhaps, +would say that I am—unmaidenly."</p> + +<p>"I don't think so."</p> + +<p>"That is all that I care for, Mr. Gibson. If you acquit me, I do not +mind who accuses. I should not like to suppose that you thought me +unmaidenly. Anything would be better than that; but I can throw all +such considerations to the wind when true—true—friendship is +concerned. Don't you think that one ought, Mr. Gibson?"</p> + +<p>If it had not been for the thing at the back of her head, he would +have done it now. Nothing but that gave him courage to abstain. It +grew bigger and bigger, more shapeless, monstrous, absurd, and +abominable, as he looked at it. Nothing should force upon him the +necessity of assisting to carry such an abortion through the world. +"One ought to sacrifice everything to friendship," said Mr. Gibson, +"except self-respect."</p> + +<p>He meant nothing personal. Something special, in the way of an +opinion, was expected of him; and, therefore, he had striven to say +something special. But she was in tears in a moment. "Oh, Mr. +Gibson," she exclaimed; "oh, Mr. Gibson!"</p> + +<p>"What is the matter, Miss French?"</p> + +<p>"Have I lost your respect? Is it that that you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not, Miss French."</p> + +<p>"Do not call me Miss French, or I shall be sure that you condemn me. +Miss French sounds so very cold. You used to call me—Bella." That +was quite true; but it was long ago, thought Mr. Gibson,—before the +monster had been attached. "Will you not call me Bella now?"</p> + +<p>He thought that he had rather not; and yet, how was he to avoid it? +On a sudden he became very crafty. Had it not been for the sharpness +of his mother wit, he would certainly have been landed at that +moment. "As you truly observed just now," he said, "the tongues of +people are so malignant. There are little birds that hear +everything."</p> + +<p>"I don't care what the little birds hear," said Miss French, through +her tears. "I am a very unhappy girl;—I know that; and I don't care +what anybody says. It is nothing to me what anybody says. I know what +I feel." At this moment there was some dash of truth about her. The +fish was so very heavy on hand that, do what she would, she could not +land him. Her hopes before this had been very low,—hopes that had +once been high; but they had been depressed gradually; and, in the +slow, dull routine of her daily life, she had learned to bear +disappointment by degrees, without sign of outward suffering, without +consciousness of acute pain. The task of her life had been weary, and +the wished-for goal was ever becoming more and more distant; but +there had been still a chance, and she had fallen away into a +lethargy of lessening expectation, from which joy, indeed, had been +banished, but in which there had been nothing of agony. Then had come +upon the whole house at Heavitree the great Stanbury peril, and, +arising out of that, had sprung new hopes to Arabella, which made her +again capable of all the miseries of a foiled ambition. She could +again be patient, if patience might be of any service; but in such a +condition an eternity of patience is simply suicidal. She was willing +to work hard, but how could she work harder than she had worked. Poor +young woman,—perishing beneath an incubus which a false idea of +fashion had imposed on her!</p> + +<p>"I hope I have said nothing that makes you unhappy," pleaded Mr. +Gibson. "I'm sure I haven't meant it."</p> + +<p>"But you have," she said. "You make me very unhappy. You condemn me. +I see you do. And if I have done wrong it has been all because— Oh +dear, oh dear, oh dear!"</p> + +<p>"But who says you have done wrong?"</p> + +<p>"You won't call me Bella,—because you say the little birds will hear +it. If I don't care for the little birds, why should you?"</p> + +<p>There is no question more difficult than this for a gentleman to +answer. Circumstances do not often admit of its being asked by a lady +with that courageous simplicity which had come upon Miss French in +this moment of her agonising struggle; but nevertheless it is one +which, in a more complicated form, is often put, and to which some +reply, more or less complicated, is expected. "If I, a woman, can +dare, for your sake, to encounter the public tongue, will you, a man, +be afraid?" The true answer, if it could be given, would probably be +this; "I am afraid, though a man, because I have much to lose and +little to get. You are not afraid, though a woman, because you have +much to get and little to lose." But such an answer would be uncivil, +and is not often given. Therefore men shuffle and lie, and tell +themselves that in love,—love here being taken to mean all +antenuptial contests between man and woman,—everything is fair. Mr. +Gibson had the above answer in his mind, though he did not frame it +into words. He was neither sufficiently brave nor sufficiently cruel +to speak to her in such language. There was nothing for him, +therefore, but that he must shuffle and lie.</p> + +<p>"I only meant," said he, "that I would not for worlds do anything to +make you uneasy."</p> + +<p>She did not see how she could again revert to the subject of her own +Christian name. She had made her little tender, loving request, and +it had been refused. Of course she knew that it had been refused as a +matter of caution. She was not angry with him because of his caution, +as she had expected him to be cautious. The barriers over which she +had to climb were no more than she had expected to find in her +way;—but they were so very high and so very difficult! Of course she +was aware that he would escape if he could. She was not angry with +him on that account. Anger could not have helped her. Indeed, she did +not price herself highly enough to make her feel that she would be +justified in being angry. It was natural enough that he shouldn't +want her. She knew herself to be a poor, thin, vapid, tawdry +creature, with nothing to recommend her to any man except a sort of +second-rate, provincial-town fashion which,—infatuated as she +was,—she attributed in a great degree to the thing she carried on +her head. She knew nothing. She could do nothing. She possessed +nothing. She was not angry with him because he so evidently wished to +avoid her. But she thought that if she could only be successful she +would be good and loving and obedient,—and that it was fair for her +at any rate to try. Each created animal must live and get its food by +the gifts which the Creator has given to it, let those gifts be as +poor as they may,—let them be even as distasteful as they may to +other members of the great created family. The rat, the toad, the +slug, the flea, must each live according to its appointed mode of +existence. Animals which are parasites by nature can only live by +attaching themselves to life that is strong. To Arabella Mr. Gibson +would be strong enough, and it seemed to her that if she could fix +herself permanently upon his strength, that would be her proper mode +of living. She was not angry with him because he resisted the +attempt, but she had nothing of conscience to tell her that she +should spare him as long as there remained to her a chance of +success. And should not her plea of excuse, her justification be +admitted? There are tormentors as to which no man argues that they +are iniquitous, though they be very troublesome. He either rids +himself of them, or suffers as quiescently as he may.</p> + +<p>"We used to be such—great—friends," she said, still crying, "and I +am afraid you don't like me a bit now."</p> + +<p>"Indeed I do;—I have always liked you. But—"</p> + +<p>"But what? Do tell me what the but means. I will do anything that you +bid me."</p> + +<p>Then it occurred to him that if, after such a promise, he were to +confide to her his feeling that the chignon which she wore was ugly +and unbecoming, she would probably be induced to change her mode of +head-dress. It was a foolish idea, because, had he followed it out, +he would have seen that compliance on her part in such a matter could +only be given with the distinct understanding that a certain reward +should be the consequence. When an unmarried gentleman calls upon an +unmarried lady to change the fashion of her personal adornments, the +unmarried lady has a right to expect that the unmarried gentleman +means to make her his wife. But Mr. Gibson had no such meaning; and +was led into error by the necessity for sudden action. When she +offered to do anything that he might bid her do, he could not take up +his hat and go away. She looked up into his face, expecting that he +would give her some order;—and he fell into the temptation that was +spread for him.</p> + +<p>"If I might say a word,—" he began.</p> + +<p>"You may say anything," she exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"If I were you I don't think—"</p> + +<p>"You don't think what, Mr. Gibson?"</p> + +<p>He found it to be a matter very difficult of approach. "Do you know, +I don't think the fashion that has come up about wearing your hair +quite suits you,—not so well as the way you used to do it." She +became on a sudden very red in the face, and he thought that she was +angry. Vexed she was, but still, accompanying her vexation, there was +a remembrance that she was achieving victory even by her own +humiliation. She loved her chignon; but she was ready to abandon even +that for him. Nevertheless she could not speak for a moment or two, +and he was forced to continue his criticism. "I have no doubt those +things are very becoming and all that, and I dare say they are +comfortable."</p> + +<p>"Oh, very," she said.</p> + +<p>"But there was a simplicity that I liked about the other."</p> + +<p>Could it be then that for the last five years he had stood aloof from +her because she had arrayed herself in fashionable attire? She was +still very red in the face, still suffering from wounded vanity, +still conscious of that soreness which affects us all when we are +made to understand that we are considered to have failed there, where +we have most thought that we excelled. But her womanly art enabled +her quickly to conceal the pain. "I have made a promise," she said, +"and you will find that I will keep it."</p> + +<p>"What promise?" asked Mr. Gibson.</p> + +<p>"I said that I would do as you bade me, and so I will. I would have +done it sooner if I had known that you wished it. I would never have +worn it at all if I had thought that you disliked it."</p> + +<p>"I think that a little of them is very nice," said Mr. Gibson. Mr. +Gibson was certainly an awkward man. But there are men so awkward +that it seems to be their especial province to say always the very +worst thing at the very worst moment.</p> + +<p>She became redder than ever as she was thus told of the hugeness of +her favourite ornament. She was almost angry now. But she restrained +herself, thinking perhaps of how she might teach him taste in days to +come as he was teaching her now. "I will change it to-morrow," she +said with a smile. "You come and see to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Upon this he got up and took his hat and made his escape, assuring +her that he would come and see her on the morrow. She let him go now +without any attempt at further tenderness. Certainly she had gained +much during the interview. He had as good as told her in what had +been her offence, and of course, when she had remedied that offence, +he could hardly refuse to return to her. She got up as soon as she +was alone, and looked at her head in the glass, and told herself that +the pity would be great. It was not that the chignon was in itself a +thing of beauty, but that it imparted so unmistakable an air of +fashion! It divested her of that dowdiness which she feared above all +things, and enabled her to hold her own among other young women, +without feeling that she was absolutely destitute of attraction. +There had been a certain homage paid to it, which she had recognised +and enjoyed. But it was her ambition to hold her own, not among young +women, but among clergymen's wives, and she would certainly obey his +orders. She could not make the attempt now because of the +complications; but she certainly would make it before she laid her +head on the pillow,—and would explain to Camilla that it was a +little joke between herself and Mr. Gibson.</p> + + +<p><a name="c48" id="c48"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XLVIII.</h3> +<h4>MR. GIBSON IS PUNISHED.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Miss Stanbury was divine in her wrath, and became more and more so +daily as new testimony reached her of dishonesty on the part of the +Frenches and of treachery on the part of Mr. Gibson. And these +people, so empty, so vain, so weak, were getting the better of her, +were conquering her, were robbing her of her prestige and her ancient +glory, simply because she herself was too generous to speak out and +tell the truth! There was a martyrdom to her in this which was almost +unendurable.</p> + +<p>Now there came to her one day at luncheon time,—on the day +succeeding that on which Miss French had promised to sacrifice her +chignon,—a certain Mrs. Clifford from Budleigh Salterton, to whom +she was much attached. Perhaps the distance of Budleigh Salterton +from Exeter added somewhat to this affection, so that Mrs. Clifford +was almost closer to our friend's heart even than Mrs. MacHugh, who +lived just at the other end of the cathedral. And in truth Mrs. +Clifford was a woman more serious in her mode of thought than Mrs. +MacHugh, and one who had more in common with Miss Stanbury than that +other lady. Mrs. Clifford had been a Miss Noel of Doddiscombe Leigh, +and she and Miss Stanbury had been engaged to be married at the same +time,—each to a man of fortune. One match had been completed in the +ordinary course of matches. What had been the course of the other we +already know. But the friendship had been maintained on very close +terms. Mrs. MacHugh was a Gallio at heart, anxious chiefly to remove +from herself,—and from her friends also,—all the troubles of life, +and make things smooth and easy. She was one who disregarded great +questions; who cared little or nothing what people said of her; who +considered nothing worth the trouble of a fight;—Epicuri de grege +porca. But there was nothing swinish about Mrs. Clifford of Budleigh +Salterton. She took life thoroughly in earnest. She was a Tory who +sorrowed heartily for her country, believing that it was being +brought to ruin by the counsels of evil men. She prayed daily to be +delivered from dissenters, radicals, and wolves in sheep's +clothing,—by which latter bad name she meant especially a certain +leading politician of the day who had, with the cunning of the devil, +tempted and perverted the virtue of her own political friends. And +she was one who thought that the slightest breath of scandal on a +young woman's name should be stopped at once. An antique, +pure-minded, anxious, self-sacrificing matron was Mrs. Clifford, and +very dear to the heart of Miss Stanbury.</p> + +<p>After lunch was over on the day in question Mrs. Clifford got Miss +Stanbury into some closet retirement, and there spoke her mind as to +the things which were being said. It had been asserted in her +presence by Camilla French that she, Camilla, was authorised by Mr. +Gibson to declare that he had never thought of proposing to Dorothy +Stanbury, and that Miss Stanbury had been "labouring under some +strange misapprehension in the matter." "Now, my dear, I don't care +very much for the young lady in question," said Mrs. Clifford, +alluding to Camilla French.</p> + +<p>"Very little, indeed, I should think," said Miss Stanbury, with a +shake of her head.</p> + +<p>"Quite true, my dear,—but that does not make the words out of her +mouth the less efficacious for evil. She clearly insinuated that you +had endeavoured to make up a match between this gentleman and your +niece, and that you had failed." So much was at least true. Miss +Stanbury felt this, and felt also that she could not explain the +truth, even to her dear old friend. In the midst of her divine wrath +she had acknowledged to herself that she had brought Mr. Gibson into +his difficulty, and that it would not become her to tell any one of +his failure. And in this matter she did not herself accuse Mr. +Gibson. She believed that the lie originated with Camilla French, and +it was against Camilla that her wrath raged the fiercest.</p> + +<p>"She is a poor, mean, disappointed thing," said Miss Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"Very probably;—but I think I should ask her to hold her tongue +about Miss Dorothy," said Mrs. Clifford.</p> + +<p>The consultation in the closet was carried on for about half-an-hour, +and then Miss Stanbury put on her bonnet and shawl and descended into +Mrs. Clifford's carriage. The carriage took the Heavitree road, and +deposited Miss Stanbury at the door of Mrs. French's house. The walk +home from Heavitree would be nothing, and Mrs. Clifford proceeded on +her way, having given this little help in counsel and conveyance to +her friend. Mrs. French was at home, and Miss Stanbury was shown up +into the room in which the three ladies were sitting.</p> + + +<div class="center"><a name="ip1-378" id="ip1-378"></a> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="4px"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/p1-378.jpg"> + <img src="images/p1-378-t.jpg" width="540" + alt="Miss Stanbury visits the Frenches." /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <span class="caption">Miss Stanbury visits the Frenches.<br /> + Click to <a href="images/p1-378.jpg">ENLARGE</a></span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p>The reader will doubtless remember the promise which Arabella had +made to Mr. Gibson. That promise she had already fulfilled,—to the +amazement of her mother and sister;—and when Miss Stanbury entered +the room the elder daughter of the family was seen without her +accustomed head-gear. If the truth is to be owned, Miss Stanbury gave +the poor young woman no credit for her new simplicity, but put down +the deficiency to the charge of domestic slatternliness. She was +unjust enough to declare afterwards that she had found Arabella +French only half dressed at between three and four o'clock in the +afternoon! From which this lesson may surely be learned,—that though +the way down Avernus may be, and customarily is, made with great +celerity, the return journey, if made at all, must be made slowly. A +young woman may commence in chignons by attaching any amount of an +edifice to her head; but the reduction should be made by degrees. +Arabella's edifice had, in Miss Stanbury's eyes, been the ugliest +thing in art that she had known; but, now, its absence offended her, +and she most untruly declared that she had come upon the young woman +in the middle of the day just out of her bed-room and almost in her +dressing-gown.</p> + +<p>And the whole French family suffered a diminution of power from the +strange phantasy which had come upon Arabella. They all felt, in +sight of the enemy, that they had to a certain degree lowered their +flag. One of the ships, at least, had shown signs of striking, and +this element of weakness made itself felt through the whole fleet. +Arabella, herself, when she saw Miss Stanbury, was painfully +conscious of her head, and wished that she had postponed the +operation till the evening. She smiled with a faint watery smile, and +was aware that something ailed her.</p> + +<p>The greetings at first were civil, but very formal, as are those +between nations which are nominally at peace, but which are waiting +for a sign at which each may spring at the other's throat. In this +instance the Juno from the Close had come quite prepared to declare +her casus belli as complete, and to fling down her gauntlet, unless +the enemy should at once yield to her everything demanded with an +abject submission. "Mrs. French," she said, "I have called to-day for +a particular purpose, and I must address myself chiefly to Miss +Camilla."</p> + +<p>"Oh, certainly," said Mrs. French.</p> + +<p>"I shall be delighted to hear anything from you, Miss Stanbury," said +Camilla,—not without an air of bravado. Arabella said nothing, but +she put her hand up almost convulsively to the back of her head.</p> + +<p>"I have been told to-day by a friend of mine, Miss Camilla," began +Miss Stanbury, "that you declared yourself, in her presence, +authorised by Mr. Gibson to make a statement about my niece Dorothy."</p> + +<p>"May I ask who was your friend?" demanded Mrs. French.</p> + +<p>"It was Mrs. Clifford, of course," said Camilla. "There is nobody +else would try to make difficulties."</p> + +<p>"There need be no difficulty at all, Miss Camilla," said Miss +Stanbury, "if you will promise me that you will not repeat the +statement. It can't be true."</p> + +<p>"But it is true," said Camilla.</p> + +<p>"What is true?" asked Miss Stanbury, surprised by the audacity of the +girl.</p> + +<p>"It is true that Mr. Gibson authorised us to state what I did state +when Mrs. Clifford heard me."</p> + +<p>"And what was that?"</p> + +<p>"Only this,—that people had been saying all about Exeter that he was +going to be married to a young lady, and that as the report was +incorrect, and as he had never had the remotest idea in his mind of +making the young lady his <span class="nowrap">wife,—"</span> +Camilla, as she said this, spoke +with a great deal of emphasis, putting forward her chin and shaking +her head,—"and as he thought it was uncomfortable both for the young +lady and for himself, and as there was nothing in it the least in the +world,—nothing at all, no glimmer of a foundation for the report, it +would be better to have it denied everywhere. That is what I said; +and we had authority from the gentleman himself. Arabella can say the +same, and so can mamma;—only mamma did not hear him." Nor had +Camilla heard him, but that incident she did not mention.</p> + +<p>The circumstances were, in Miss Stanbury's judgment, becoming very +remarkable. She did not for a moment believe Camilla. She did not +believe that Mr. Gibson had given to either of the Frenches any +justification for the statement just made. But Camilla had been so +much more audacious than Miss Stanbury had expected, that that lady +was for a moment struck dumb. "I'm sure, Miss Stanbury," said Mrs. +French, "we don't want to give any offence to your niece,—very far +from it."</p> + +<p>"My niece doesn't care about it two straws," said Miss Stanbury. "It +is I that care. And I care very much. The things that have been said +have been altogether false."</p> + +<p>"How false, Miss Stanbury?" asked Camilla.</p> + +<p>"Altogether false,—as false as they can be."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Gibson must know his own mind," said Camilla.</p> + +<p>"My dear, there's a little disappointment," said Miss French, "and it +don't signify."</p> + +<p>"There's no disappointment at all," said Miss Stanbury, "and it does +signify very much. Now that I've begun, I'll go to the bottom of it. +If you say that Mr. Gibson told you to make these statements, I'll go +to Mr. Gibson. I'll have it out somehow."</p> + +<p>"You may have what you like out for us, Miss Stanbury," said Camilla.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe Mr. Gibson said anything of the kind."</p> + +<p>"That's civil," said Camilla.</p> + +<p>"But why shouldn't he?" asked Arabella.</p> + +<p>"There were the reports, you know," said Mrs. French.</p> + +<p>"And why shouldn't he deny them when there wasn't a word of truth in +them?" continued Camilla. "For my part I think the gentleman is bound +for the lady's sake to declare that there's nothing in it when there +is nothing in it." This was more than Miss Stanbury could bear. +Hitherto the enemy had seemed to have the best of it. Camilla was +firing broadside after broadside, as though she was assured of +victory. Even Mrs. French was becoming courageous; and Arabella was +forgetting the place where her chignon ought to have been. "I really +do not know what else there is for me to say," remarked Camilla, with +a toss of her head, and an air of impudence that almost drove poor +Miss Stanbury frantic.</p> + +<p>It was on her tongue to declare the whole truth, but she refrained. +She had schooled herself on this subject vigorously. She would not +betray Mr. Gibson. Had she known all the truth,—or had she believed +Camilla French's version of the story,—there would have been no +betrayal. But looking at the matter with such knowledge as she had at +present, she did not even yet feel herself justified in declaring +that Mr. Gibson had offered his hand to her niece, and had been +refused. She was, however, sorely tempted. "Very well, ladies," she +said. "I shall now see Mr. Gibson, and ask him whether he did give +you authority to make such statements as you have been spreading +abroad everywhere." Then the door of the room was opened, and in a +moment Mr. Gibson was among them. He was true to his promise, and had +come to see Arabella with her altered head-dress;—but he had come at +this hour thinking that escape in the morning would be easier and +quicker than it might have been in the evening. His mind had been +full of Arabella and her head-dress even up to the moment of his +knocking at the door; but all that was driven out of his brain at +once when he saw Miss Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"Here is Mr. Gibson himself," said Mrs. French.</p> + +<p>"How do you do, Mr. Gibson?" said Miss Stanbury, with a very stately +courtesy. They had never met since the day on which he had been, as +he stated, turned out of Miss Stanbury's house. He now bowed to her; +but there was no friendly greeting, and the Frenches were able to +congratulate themselves on the apparent loyalty to themselves of the +gentleman who stood among them. "I have come here, Mr. Gibson," +continued Miss Stanbury, "to put a small matter right in which you +are concerned."</p> + +<p>"It seems to me to be the most insignificant thing in the world," +said Camilla.</p> + +<p>"Very likely," said Miss Stanbury. "But it is not insignificant to +me. Miss Camilla French has asserted publicly that you have +authorised her to make a statement about my niece Dorothy."</p> + +<p>Mr. Gibson looked into Camilla's face doubtingly, inquisitively, +almost piteously. "You had better let her go on," said Camilla. "She +will make a great many mistakes, no doubt, but you had better let her +go on to the end."</p> + +<p>"I have made no mistake as yet, Miss Camilla. She so asserted, Mr. +Gibson, in the hearing of a friend of mine, and she repeated the +assertion here in this room to me just before you came in. She says +that you have authorised her to declare that—that—that,—I had +better speak it out plainly at once."</p> + +<p>"Much better," said Camilla.</p> + +<p>"That you never entertained an idea of offering your hand to my +niece." Miss Stanbury paused, and Mr. Gibson's jaw fell visibly. But +he was not expected to speak as yet; and Miss Stanbury continued her +accusation. "Beyond that, I don't want to mention my niece's name, if +it can be avoided."</p> + +<p>"But it can't be avoided," said Camilla.</p> + +<p>"If you please, I will continue. Mr. Gibson will understand me. I +will not, if I can help it, mention my niece's name again, Mr. +Gibson. But I still have that confidence in you that I do not think +that you would have made such a statement in reference to yourself +and any young lady,—unless it were some young lady who had +absolutely thrown herself at your head." And in saying this she +paused, and looked very hard at Camilla.</p> + +<p>"That's just what Dorothy Stanbury has been doing," said Camilla.</p> + +<p>"She has been doing nothing of the kind, and you know she hasn't," +said Miss Stanbury, raising her arm as though she were going to +strike her opponent. "But I am quite sure, Mr. Gibson, that you never +could have authorised these young ladies to make such an assertion +publicly on your behalf. Whatever there may have been of +misunderstanding between you and me, I can't believe that of you." +Then she paused for a reply. "If you will be good enough to set us +right on that point, I shall be obliged to you."</p> + +<p>Mr. Gibson's position was one of great discomfort. He had given no +authority to any one to make such a statement. He had said nothing +about Dorothy Stanbury to Camilla; but he had told Arabella, when +hard pressed by that lady, that he did not mean to propose to +Dorothy. He could not satisfy Miss Stanbury because he feared +Arabella. He could not satisfy the Frenches because he feared Miss +Stanbury. "I really do not think," said he, "that we ought to talk +about a young lady in this way."</p> + +<p>"That's my opinion, too," said Camilla; "but Miss Stanbury will."</p> + +<p>"Exactly so. Miss Stanbury will," said that lady. "Mr. Gibson, I +insist upon it, that you tell me whether you did give any such +authority to Miss Camilla French, or to Miss French."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't answer her, if I were you," said Camilla.</p> + +<p>"I really don't think this can do any good," said Mrs. French.</p> + +<p>"And it is so very harassing to our nerves," said Arabella.</p> + +<p>"Nerves! Pooh!" exclaimed Miss Stanbury. "Now, Mr. Gibson, I am +waiting for an answer."</p> + +<p>"My dear Miss Stanbury, I really think it better,—the situation is +so peculiar, and, upon my word, I hardly know how not to give +offence, which I wouldn't do for the world."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to tell me that you won't answer my question?" demanded +Miss Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"I really think that I had better hold my tongue," pleaded Mr. +Gibson.</p> + +<p>"You are quite right, Mr. Gibson," said Camilla.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, it is wisest," said Mrs. French.</p> + +<p>"I don't see what else he can do," said Arabella.</p> + +<p>Then was Miss Stanbury driven altogether beyond her powers of +endurance. "If that be so," said she, "I must speak out, though I +should have preferred to hold my tongue. Mr. Gibson did offer to my +niece the week before last,—twice, and was refused by her. My niece, +Dorothy, took it into her head that she did not like him; and, upon +my word, I think she was right. We should have said nothing about +this,—not a word; but when these false assertions are made on Mr. +Gibson's alleged authority, and Mr. Gibson won't deny it, I must tell +the truth." Then there was silence among them for a few seconds, and +Mr. Gibson struggled hard, but vainly, to clothe his face in a +pleasant smile. "Mr. Gibson, is that true?" said Miss Stanbury. But +Mr. Gibson made no reply. "It is as true as heaven," said Miss +Stanbury, striking her hand upon the table. "And now you had better, +all of you, hold your tongues about my niece, and she will hold her +tongue about you. And as for Mr. Gibson,—anybody who wants him after +this is welcome to him for us. Good-morning, Mrs. French; +good-morning, young ladies." And so she stalked out of the room, and +out of the house, and walked back to her house in the Close.</p> + +<p>"Mamma," said Arabella, as soon as the enemy was gone, "I have got +such a headache that I think I will go up-stairs."</p> + +<p>"And I will go with you, dear," said Camilla.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gibson, before he left the house, confided his secret to the +maternal ears of Mrs. French. He certainly had been allured into +making an offer to Dorothy Stanbury, but was ready to atone for this +crime by marrying her daughter,—Camilla,—as soon as might be +convenient. He was certainly driven to make this declaration by +intense cowardice,—not to excuse himself, for in that there could be +no excuse;—but how else should he dare to suggest that he might as +well leave the house? "Shall I tell the dear girl?" asked Mrs. +French. But Mr. Gibson requested a fortnight, in which to consider +how the proposition had best be made.</p> + + +<p><a name="c49" id="c49"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XLIX.</h3> +<h4>MR. BROOKE BURGESS AFTER SUPPER.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Brooke Burgess was a clerk in the office of the Ecclesiastical +Commissioners in London, and as such had to do with things very +solemn, grave, and almost melancholy. He had to deal with the rents +of episcopal properties, to correspond with clerical claimants, and +to be at home with the circumstances of underpaid vicars and +perpetual curates with much less than £300 a-year; but yet he was as +jolly and pleasant at his desk as though he were busied about the +collection of the malt tax, or wrote his letters to admirals and +captains instead of to deans and prebendaries. Brooke Burgess had +risen to be a senior clerk, and was held in some respect in his +office; but it was not perhaps for the amount of work he did, nor yet +on account of the gravity of his demeanour, nor for the brilliancy of +his intellect. But if not clever, he was sensible; though he was not +a dragon of official virtue, he had a conscience;—and he possessed +those small but most valuable gifts by which a man becomes popular +among men. And thus it had come to pass in all those battles as to +competitive merit which had taken place in his as in other public +offices, that no one had ever dreamed of putting a junior over the +head of Brooke Burgess. He was tractable, easy, pleasant, and +therefore deservedly successful. All his brother clerks called him +Brooke,—except the young lads who, for the first year or two of +their service, still denominated him Mr. Burgess.</p> + +<p>"Brooke," said one of his juniors, coming into his room and standing +before the fireplace with a cigar in his mouth, "have you heard who +is to be the new Commissioner?"</p> + +<p>"Colenso, to be sure," said Brooke.</p> + +<p>"What a lark that would be. And I don't see why he shouldn't. But it +isn't Colenso. The name has just come down."</p> + +<p>"And who is it?"</p> + +<p>"Old Proudie, from Barchester."</p> + +<p>"Why, we had him here years ago, and he resigned."</p> + +<p>"But he's to come on again now for a spell. It always seems to me +that the bishops ain't a bit of use here. They only get blown up, and +snubbed, and shoved into corners by the others."</p> + +<p>"You young reprobate,—to talk of shoving an archbishop into a +corner."</p> + +<p>"Well,—don't they? It's only for the name of it they have them. +There's the Bishop of Broomsgrove;—he's always sauntering about the +place, looking as though he'd be so much obliged if somebody would +give him something to do. He's always smiling, and so gracious,—just +as if he didn't feel above half sure that he had any right to be +where he is, and he thought that perhaps somebody was going to kick +him."</p> + +<p>"And so old Proudie is coming up again," said Brooke. "It certainly +is very much the same to us whom they send. He'll get shoved into a +corner, as you call it,—only that he'll go into the corner without +any shoving." Then there came in a messenger with a card, and Brooke +learned that Hugh Stanbury was waiting for him in the strangers' +room. In performing the promise made to Dorothy, he had called upon +her brother as soon as he was back in London, but had not found him. +This now was the return visit.</p> + +<p>"I thought I was sure to find you here," said Hugh.</p> + +<p>"Pretty nearly sure from eleven till five," said Brooke. "A hard +stepmother like the Civil Service does not allow one much chance of +relief. I do get across to the club sometimes for a glass of sherry +and a biscuit,—but here I am now, at any rate; and I'm very glad you +have come." Then there was some talk between them about affairs at +Exeter; but as they were interrupted before half an hour was over +their heads by a summons brought for Burgess from one of the +secretaries, it was agreed that they should dine together at +Burgess's club on the following day. "We can manage a pretty good +beef-steak," said Brooke, "and have a fair glass of sherry. I don't +think you can get much more than that anywhere nowadays,—unless you +want a dinner for eight at three guineas a head. The magnificence of +men has become so intolerable now that one is driven to be humble in +one's self-defence." Stanbury assured his acquaintance that he was +anything but magnificent in his own ideas, that cold beef and beer +was his usual fare, and at last allowed the clerk to wait upon the +secretary.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't have any other fellow to meet you," said Brooke as they +sat at their dinners, "because in this way we can talk over the dear +old woman at Exeter. Yes, our fellow does make good soup, and it's +about all that he does do well. As for getting a potato properly +boiled, that's quite out of the question. Yes, it is a good glass of +sherry. I told you we'd a fairish tap of sherry on. Well, I was +there, backwards and forwards, for nearly six weeks."</p> + +<p>"And how did you get on with the old woman?"</p> + +<p>"Like a house on fire," said Brooke.</p> + +<p>"She didn't quarrel with you?"</p> + +<p>"No,—upon the whole she did not. I always felt that it was touch and +go. She might or she might not. Every now and then she looked at me, +and said a sharp word, as though it was about to come. But I had +determined when I went there altogether to disregard that kind of +thing."</p> + +<p>"It's rather important to you,—is it not?"</p> + +<p>"You mean about her money?"</p> + +<p>"Of course, I mean about her money," said Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"It is important;—and so it was to you."</p> + +<p>"Not in the same degree, or nearly so. And as for me, it was not on +the cards that we shouldn't quarrel. I am so utterly a Bohemian in +all my ideas of life, and she is so absolutely the reverse, that not +to have quarrelled would have been hypocritical on my part or on +hers. She had got it into her head that she had a right to rule my +life; and, of course, she quarrelled with me when I made her +understand that she should do nothing of the kind. Now, she won't +want to rule you."</p> + +<p>"I hope not."</p> + +<p>"She has taken you up," continued Stanbury, "on altogether a +different understanding. You are to her the representative of a +family to whom she thinks she owes the restitution of the property +which she enjoys. I was simply a member of her own family, to which +she owes nothing. She thought it well to help one of us out of what +she regarded as her private purse, and she chose me. But the matter +is quite different with you."</p> + +<p>"She might have given everything to you, as well as to me," said +Brooke.</p> + +<p>"That's not her idea. She conceives herself bound to leave all she +has back to a Burgess, except anything she may save,—as she says, +off her own back, or out of her own belly. She has told me so a score +of times."</p> + +<p>"And what did you say?"</p> + +<p>"I always told her that, let her do as she would, I should never ask +any question about her will."</p> + +<p>"But she hates us all like poison,—except me," said Brooke. "I never +knew people so absurdly hostile as are your aunt and my uncle Barty. +Each thinks the other the most wicked person in the world."</p> + +<p>"I suppose your uncle was hard upon her once."</p> + +<p>"Very likely. He is a hard man,—and has, very warmly, all the +feelings of an injured man. I suppose my uncle Brooke's will was a +cruel blow to him. He professes to believe that Miss Stanbury will +never leave me a shilling."</p> + +<p>"He is wrong, then," said Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes;—he's wrong, because he thinks that that's her present +intention. I don't know that he's wrong as to the probable result."</p> + +<p>"Who will have it, then?"</p> + +<p>"There are ever so many horses in the race," said Brooke. "I'm one."</p> + +<p>"You're the favourite," said Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"For the moment I am. Then there's yourself."</p> + +<p>"I've been scratched, and am altogether out of the betting."</p> + +<p>"And your sister," continued Brooke.</p> + +<p>"She's only entered to run for the second money; and, if she'll trot +over the course quietly, and not go the wrong side of the posts, +she'll win that."</p> + +<p>"She may do more than that. Then there's Martha."</p> + +<p>"My aunt will never leave her money to a servant. What she may give +to Martha would come from her own savings."</p> + +<p>"The next is a dark horse, but one that wins a good many races of +this kind. He's apt to come in with a fatal rush at the end."</p> + +<p>"Who is it?"</p> + +<p>"The hospitals. When an old lady finds in her latter days that she +hates everybody, and fancies that the people around her are all +thinking of her money, she's uncommon likely to indulge herself in a +little bit of revenge, and solace herself with large-handed charity."</p> + +<p>"But she's so good a woman at heart," said Hugh.</p> + +<p>"And what can a good woman do better than promote hospitals?"</p> + +<p>"She'll never do that. She's too strong. It's a maudlin sort of +thing, after all, for a person to leave everything to a hospital."</p> + +<p>"But people are maudlin when they're dying," said Brooke,—"or even +when they think they're dying. How else did the Church get the +estates, of which we are now distributing so bountifully some of the +last remnants down at our office? Come into the next room, and we'll +have a smoke."</p> + +<p>They had their smoke, and then they went at half-price to the play; +and, after the play was over, they eat three or four dozen of oysters +between them. Brooke Burgess was a little too old for oysters at +midnight in September; but he went through his work like a man. Hugh +Stanbury's powers were so great, that he could have got up and done +the same thing again, after he had been an hour in bed, without any +serious inconvenience.</p> + +<p>But, in truth, Brooke Burgess had still another word or two to say +before he went to his rest. They supped somewhere near the Haymarket, +and then he offered to walk home with Stanbury, to his chambers in +Lincoln's Inn. "Do you know that Mr. Gibson at Exeter?" he asked, as +they passed through Leicester Square.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I knew him. He was a sort of tame-cat parson at my aunt's +house, in my days."</p> + +<p>"Exactly;—but I fancy that has come to an end now. Have you heard +anything about him lately?"</p> + +<p>"Well;—yes I have," said Stanbury, feeling that dislike to speak of +his sister which is common to most brothers when in company with +other men.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you've heard of it, and, as I was in the middle of it all, +of course I couldn't but know all about it too. Your aunt wanted him +to marry your sister."</p> + +<p>"So I was told."</p> + +<p>"But your sister didn't see it," said Brooke.</p> + +<p>"So I understand," said Stanbury. "I believe my aunt was exceedingly +liberal, and meant to do the best she could for poor Dorothy; but, if +she didn't like him, I suppose she was right not to have him," said +Hugh.</p> + +<p>"Of course she was right," said Brooke, with a good deal of +enthusiasm.</p> + +<p>"I believe Gibson to be a very decent sort of fellow," said Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"A mean, paltry dog," said Brooke. There had been a little +whisky-toddy after the oysters, and Mr. Burgess was perhaps moved to +a warmer expression of feeling than he might have displayed had he +discussed this branch of the subject before supper. "I knew from the +first that she would have nothing to say to him. He is such a poor +creature!"</p> + +<p>"I always thought well of him," said Stanbury, "and was inclined to +think that Dolly might have done worse."</p> + +<p>"It is hard to say what is the worst a girl might do; but I think she +might do, perhaps, a little better."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean?" said Hugh.</p> + +<p>"I think I shall go down, and ask her to take myself."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean it in earnest?"</p> + +<p>"I do," said Brooke. "Of course, I hadn't a chance when I was there. +She told <span class="nowrap">me—"</span></p> + +<p>"Who told you;—Dorothy?"</p> + +<p>"No, your aunt;—she told me that Mr. Gibson was to marry your +sister. You know your aunt's way. She spoke of it as though the thing +were settled as soon as she had got it into her own head; and she was +as hot upon it as though Mr. Gibson had been an archbishop. I had +nothing to do then but to wait and see."</p> + +<p>"I had no idea of Dolly being fought for by rivals."</p> + +<p>"Brothers never think much of their sisters," said Brooke Burgess.</p> + +<p>"I can assure you I think a great deal of Dorothy," said Hugh. "I +believe her to be as sweet a woman as God ever made. She hardly knows +that she has a self belonging to herself."</p> + +<p>"I am sure she doesn't," said Brooke.</p> + +<p>"She is a dear, loving, sweet-tempered creature, who is only too +ready to yield in all things."</p> + +<p>"But she wouldn't yield about Gibson," said Brooke.</p> + +<p>"How did she and my aunt manage?"</p> + +<p>"Your sister simply said she couldn't,—and then that she wouldn't. I +never thought from the first moment that she'd take that fellow. In +the first place he can't say boo to a goose."</p> + +<p>"But Dolly wouldn't want a man to say—boo."</p> + +<p>"I'm not so sure of that, old fellow. At any rate I mean to try +myself. Now,—what'll the old woman say?"</p> + +<p>"She'll be pleased as Punch, I should think," said Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"Either that;—or else she'll swear that she'll never speak another +word to either of us. However, I shall go on with it."</p> + +<p>"Does Dorothy know anything of this?" asked Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"Not a word," said Brooke. "I came away a day or so after Gibson was +settled; and as I had been talked to all through the affair by both +of them, I couldn't turn round and offer myself the moment he was +gone. You won't object;—will you?"</p> + +<p>"Who; I?" said Stanbury. "I shall have no objection as long as Dolly +pleases herself. Of course you know that we haven't as much as a +brass farthing among us?"</p> + +<p>"That won't matter if the old lady takes it kindly," said Brooke. +Then they parted, at the corner of Lincoln's Inn Fields, and Hugh as +he went up to his own rooms, reflected with something of wonderment +on the success of Dorothy's charms. She had always been the poor one +of the family, the chick out of the nest which would most require +assistance from the stronger birds; but it now appeared that she +would become the first among all the Stanburys. Wealth had first +flowed down upon the Stanbury family from the will of old Brooke +Burgess; and it now seemed probable that poor Dolly would ultimately +have the enjoyment of it all.</p> + + +<p><a name="c50" id="c50"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER L.</h3> +<h4>CAMILLA TRIUMPHANT.<br /> </h4> + + +<p><img class="left" src="images/ch50a.jpg" width="310" alt="Illustration" /> +It was now New Year's day, and there was some grief and perhaps more +excitement in Exeter,—for it was rumoured that Miss Stanbury lay +very ill at her house in the Close. But in order that our somewhat +uneven story may run as smoothly as it may be made to do, the little +history of the French family for the intervening months shall be told +in this chapter, in order that it may be understood how matters were +with them when the tidings of Miss Stanbury's severe illness first +reached their house at Heavitree.</p> + +<p>After that terrible scene in which Miss Stanbury had so dreadfully +confounded Mr. Gibson by declaring the manner in which he had been +rebuffed by Dorothy, the unfortunate clergyman had endeavoured to +make his peace with the French family by assuring the mother that in +very truth it was the dearest wish of his heart to make her daughter +Camilla his wife. Mrs. French, who had ever been disposed to favour +Arabella's ambition, well knowing its priority and ancient right, and +who of late had been taught to consider that even Camilla had +consented to waive any claim that she might have once possessed, +could not refrain from the expression of some surprise. That he +should be recovered at all out of the Stanbury clutches was very much +to Mrs. French,—was so much that, had time been given her for +consideration, she would have acknowledged to herself readily that +the property had best be secured at once to the family, without +incurring that amount of risk which must unquestionably attend any +attempt on her part to direct Mr. Gibson's purpose hither or thither. +But the proposition came so suddenly that time was not allowed to her +to be altogether wise. "I thought it was poor Bella," she said, with +something of a piteous whine in her voice. At the moment Mr. Gibson +was so humble, that he was half inclined to give way even on that +head. He felt himself to have been brought so low in the market by +that terrible story of Miss Stanbury's,—which he had been unable +either to contradict or to explain,—that there was but little power +of fighting left in him. He was, however, just able to speak a word +for himself, and that sufficed. "I hope there has been no mistake," +he said; "but really it is Camilla that has my heart." Mrs. French +made no rejoinder to this. It was so much to her to know that Mr. +Gibson's heart was among them at all after what had occurred in the +Close, that she acknowledged to herself after that moment of +reflection that Arabella must be sacrificed for the good of the +family interests. Poor, dear, loving, misguided, and spiritless +mother! She would have given the blood out of her bosom to get +husbands for her daughters, though it was not of her own experience +that she had learned that of all worldly goods a husband is the best. +But it was the possession which they had from their earliest years +thought of acquiring, which they first expected, for which they had +then hoped, and afterwards worked and schemed and striven with every +energy,—and as to which they had at last almost despaired. And now +Arabella's fire had been rekindled with a new spark, which, alas, was +to be quenched so suddenly! "And am I to tell them?" asked Mrs. +French, with a tremor in her voice. To this, however, Mr. Gibson +demurred. He said that for certain reasons he should like a +fortnight's grace; and that at the end of the fortnight he would be +prepared to speak. The interval was granted without further +questions, and Mr. Gibson was allowed to leave the house.</p> + +<p>After that Mrs. French was not very comfortable at home. As soon as +Mr. Gibson had departed, Camilla at once returned to her mother and +desired to know what had taken place. Was it true that the perjured +man had proposed to that young woman in the Close? Mrs. French was +not clever at keeping a secret, and she could not keep this by her +own aid. She told all that happened to Camilla, and between them they +agreed that Arabella should be kept in ignorance till the fatal +fortnight should have passed. When Camilla was interrogated as to her +own purpose, she said she should like a day to think of it. She took +the twenty-four hours, and then made the following confession of her +passion to her mother. "You see, mamma, I always liked Mr. +Gibson,—always."</p> + +<p>"So did Arabella, my dear,—before you thought of such things."</p> + +<p>"I dare say that may be true, mamma; but that is not my fault. He +came here among us on such sweetly intimate terms that the feeling +grew up with me before I knew what it meant. As to any idea of +cutting out Arabella, my conscience is quite clear. If I thought +there had been anything really between them I would have gone +anywhere,—to the top of a mountain,—rather than rob my sister of a +heart that belonged to her."</p> + +<p>"He has been so slow about it," said Mrs. French.</p> + +<p>"I don't know about that," said Camilla. "Gentlemen have to be slow, +I suppose, when they think of their incomes. He only got St. +Peter's-cum-Pumpkin three years ago, and didn't know for the first +year whether he could hold that and the minor canonry together. Of +course a gentleman has to think of these things before he comes +forward."</p> + +<p>"My dear, he has been very backward."</p> + +<p>"If I'm to be Mrs. Gibson, mamma, I beg that I mayn't hear anything +said against him. Then there came all this about that young woman; +and when I saw that Arabella took on so,—which I must say was very +absurd,—I'm sure I put myself out of the way entirely. If I'd buried +myself under the ground I couldn't have done it more. And it's my +belief that what I've said, all for Arabella's sake, has put the old +woman into such a rage that it has made a quarrel between him and the +niece; otherwise that wouldn't be off. I don't believe a word of her +refusing him, and never shall. Is it in the course of things, mamma?" +Mrs. French shook her head. "Of course not. Then when you question +him,—very properly,—he says that he's devoted to—poor me. If I was +to refuse him, he wouldn't put up with Bella."</p> + +<p>"I suppose not," said Mrs. French.</p> + +<p>"He hates Bella. I've known it all along, though I wouldn't say so. +If I were to sacrifice myself ever so it wouldn't be of any +good,—and I shan't do it." In this way the matter was arranged.</p> + +<p>At the end of the fortnight, however, Mr. Gibson did not come,—nor +at the end of three weeks. Inquiries had of course been made, and it +was ascertained that he had gone into Cornwall for a parson's holiday +of thirteen days. That might be all very well. A man might want the +recruiting vigour of some change of air after such scenes as those +Mr. Gibson had gone through with the Stanburys, and before his +proposed encounter with new perils. And he was a man so tied by the +leg that his escape could not be for any long time. He was back on +the appointed Sunday, and on the Wednesday Mrs. French, under +Camilla's instruction, wrote to him a pretty little note. He replied +that he would be with her on the Saturday. It would then be nearly +four weeks after the great day with Miss Stanbury, but no one would +be inclined to quarrel with so short a delay as that. Arabella in the +meantime had become fidgety and unhappy. She seemed to understand +that something was expected, being quite unable to guess what that +something might be. She was true throughout these days to the +simplicity of head-gear which Mr. Gibson had recommended to her, and +seemed in her questions to her mother and to Camilla to be more +fearful of Dorothy Stanbury than of any other enemy. "Mamma, I think +you ought to tell her," said Camilla more than once. But she had not +been told when Mr. Gibson came on the Saturday. It may truly be said +that the poor mother's pleasure in the prospects of one daughter was +altogether destroyed by the anticipation of the other daughter's +misery. Had Mr. Gibson made Dorothy Stanbury his wife they could have +all comforted themselves together by the heat of their joint +animosity.</p> + +<p>He came on the Saturday, and it was so managed that he was closeted +with Camilla before Arabella knew that he was in the house. There was +a quarter of an hour during which his work was easy, and perhaps +pleasant. When he began to explain his intention, Camilla, with the +utmost frankness, informed him that her mother had told her all about +it. Then she turned her face on one side and put her hand in his; he +got his arm round her waist, gave her a kiss, and the thing was done. +Camilla was fully resolved that after such a betrothal it should not +be undone. She had behaved with sisterly forbearance, and would not +now lose the reward of virtue. Not a word was said of Arabella at +this interview till he was pressed to come and drink tea with them +all that night. He hesitated a moment; and then Camilla declared, +with something perhaps of imperious roughness in her manner, that he +had better face it all at once. "Mamma will tell her, and she will +understand," said Camilla. He hesitated again, but at last promised +that he would come.</p> + +<p>Whilst he was yet in the house Mrs. French had told the whole story +to her poor elder daughter. "What is he doing with Camilla?" Arabella +had asked with feverish excitement.</p> + +<p>"Bella, darling;—don't you know?" said the mother.</p> + +<p>"I know nothing. Everybody keeps me in the dark, and I am badly used. +What is it that he is doing?" Then Mrs. French tried to take the poor +young woman in her arms, but Arabella would not submit to be +embraced. "Don't!" she exclaimed. "Leave me alone. Nobody likes me, +or cares a bit about me! Why is Cammy with him there, all alone?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose he is asking her—to be—his wife." Then Arabella threw +herself in despair upon the bed, and wept without any further attempt +at control over her feelings. It was a death-blow to her last hope, +and all the world, as she looked upon the world then, was over for +her. "If I could have arranged it the other way, you know that I +would," said the mother.</p> + +<p>"Mamma," said Arabella, jumping up, "he shan't do it. He hasn't a +right. And as for her,— Oh, that she should treat me in this way! +Didn't he tell me the other night, when he drank tea here with me +<span class="nowrap">alone—"</span></p> + +<p>"What did he tell you, Bella?"</p> + +<p>"Never mind. Nothing shall ever make me speak to him again;—not if +he married her three times over; nor to her. She is a nasty, sly, +good-for-nothing thing!"</p> + +<p>"But, Bella—"</p> + +<p>"Don't talk to me, mamma. There never was such a thing done before +since people—were—people at all. She has been doing it all the +time. I know she has."</p> + +<p>Nevertheless Arabella did sit down to tea with the two lovers that +night. There was a terrible scene between her and Camilla; but +Camilla held her own; and Arabella, being the weaker of the two, was +vanquished by the expenditure of her own small energies. Camilla +argued that as her sister's chance was gone, and as the prize had +come in her own way, there was no good reason why it should be lost +to the family altogether, because Arabella could not win it. When +Arabella called her a treacherous vixen and a heartless, profligate +hussy, she spoke out freely, and said that she wasn't going to be +abused. A gentleman to whom she was attached had asked her for her +hand, and she had given it. If Arabella chose to make herself a fool +she might,—but what would be the effect? Simply that all the world +would know that she, Arabella, was disappointed. Poor Bella at last +gave way, put on her discarded chignon, and came down to tea. Mr. +Gibson was already in the room when she entered it. "Arabella," he +said, getting up to greet her, "I hope you will congratulate me." He +had planned his little speech and his manner of making it, and had +wisely decided that in this way might he best get over the +difficulty.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes;—of course," she said, with a little giggle, and then a sob, +and then a flood of tears.</p> + +<p>"Dear Bella feels these things so strongly," said Mrs. French.</p> + +<p>"We have never been parted yet," said Camilla. Then Arabella tapped +the head of the sofa three or four times sharply with her knuckles. +It was the only protest against the reading of the scene which +Camilla had given of which she was capable at that moment. After that +Mrs. French gave out the tea, Arabella curled herself upon the sofa +as though she were asleep, and the two lovers settled down to proper +lover-like conversation.</p> + +<p>The reader may be sure that Camilla was not slow in making the fact +of her engagement notorious through the city. It was not probably +true that the tidings of her success had anything to do with Miss +Stanbury's illness; but it was reported by many that such was the +case. It was in November that the arrangement was made, and it +certainly was true that Miss Stanbury was rather ill about the same +time. "You know, you naughty Lothario, that you did give her some +ground to hope that she might dispose of her unfortunate niece," said +Camilla playfully to her own one, when this illness was discussed +between them. "But you are caught now, and your wings are clipped, +and you are never to be a naughty Lothario again." The clerical Don +Juan bore it all, awkwardly indeed, but with good humour, and +declared that all his troubles of that sort were over, now and for +ever. Nevertheless he did not name the day, and Camilla began to feel +that there might be occasion for a little more of that imperious +roughness which she had at her command.</p> + +<p>November was nearly over and nothing had been fixed about the day. +Arabella never condescended to speak to her sister on the subject; +but on more than one occasion made some inquiry of her mother. And +she came to perceive, or to think that she perceived, that her mother +was still anxious on the subject. "I shouldn't wonder if he wasn't +off some day now," she said at last to her mother.</p> + +<p>"Don't say anything so dreadful, Bella."</p> + +<p>"It would serve Cammy quite right, and it's just what he's likely to +do."</p> + +<p>"It would kill me," said the mother.</p> + +<p>"I don't know about killing," said Arabella; "it's nothing to what +I've had to go through. I shouldn't pretend to be sorry if he were to +go to Hong-Kong to-morrow."</p> + +<p>But Mr. Gibson had no idea of going to Hong-Kong. He was simply +carrying out his little scheme for securing the advantages of a "long +day." He was fully resolved to be married, and was contented to think +that his engagement was the best thing for him. To one or two male +friends he spoke of Camilla as the perfection of female virtue, and +entertained no smallest idea of ultimate escape. But a "long day" is +often a convenience. A bill at three months sits easier on a man than +one at sixty days; and a bill at six months is almost as little of a +burden as no bill at all.</p> + +<p>But Camilla was resolved that some day should be fixed. "Thomas," she +said to her lover one morning, as they were walking home together +after service at the cathedral, "isn't this rather a fool's Paradise +of ours?"</p> + +<p>"How a fool's Paradise?" asked the happy Thomas.</p> + +<p>"What I mean is, dearest, that we ought to fix something. Mamma is +getting uneasy about her own plans."</p> + +<p>"In what way, dearest?"</p> + +<p>"About a thousand things. She can't arrange anything till our plans +are made. Of course there are little troubles about money when people +ain't rich." Then it occurred to her that this might seem to be a +plea for postponing rather than for hurrying the marriage, and she +mended her argument. "The truth is, Thomas, she wants to know when +the day is to be fixed, and I've promised to ask. She said she'd ask +you herself, but I wouldn't let her do that."</p> + +<p>"We must think about it, of course," said Thomas.</p> + +<p>"But, my dear, there has been plenty of time for thinking. What do +you say to January?" This was on the last day of November.</p> + +<p>"January!" exclaimed Thomas, in a tone that betrayed no triumph. "I +couldn't get my services arranged for in January."</p> + +<p>"I thought a clergyman could always manage that for his marriage," +said Camilla.</p> + +<p>"Not in January. Besides, I was thinking you would like to be away in +warmer weather."</p> + +<p>They were still in November, and he was thinking of postponing it +till the summer! Camilla immediately perceived how necessary it was +that she should be plain with him. "We shall not have warm weather, +as you call it, for a very long time, Thomas;—and I don't think that +it would be wise to wait for the weather at all. Indeed, I've begun +to get my things for doing it in the winter. Mamma said that she was +sure January would be the very latest. And it isn't as though we had +to get furniture or anything of that kind. Of course a lady shouldn't +be pressing." She smiled sweetly and leaned on his arm as she said +this. "But I hate all girlish nonsense and that kind of thing. It is +such a bore to be kept waiting. I'm sure there's nothing to prevent +it coming off in February."</p> + +<p>The 31st of March was fixed before they reached Heavitree, and +Camilla went into her mother's house a happy woman. But Mr. Gibson, +as he went home, thought that he had been hardly used. Here was a +girl who hadn't a shilling of money,—not a shilling till her mother +died,—and who already talked about his house, and his furniture, and +his income, as if it were all her own! Circumstanced as she was, what +right had she to press for an early day? He was quite sure that +Arabella would have been more discreet and less exacting. He was very +angry with his dear Cammy as he went across the Close to his house.</p> + + +<p><a name="c51" id="c51"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LI.</h3> +<h4>SHEWING WHAT HAPPENED<br />DURING MISS STANBURY'S ILLNESS.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>It was on Christmas-day that Sir Peter Mancrudy, the highest +authority on such matters in the west of England, was sent for to see +Miss Stanbury; and Sir Peter had acknowledged that things were very +serious. He took Dorothy on one side, and told her that Mr. Martin, +the ordinary practitioner, had treated the case, no doubt, quite +wisely throughout; that there was not a word to be said against Mr. +Martin, whose experience was great, and whose discretion was +undeniable; but, nevertheless,—at least it seemed to Dorothy that +this was the only meaning to be attributed to Sir Peter's words,—Mr. +Martin had in this case taken one line of treatment, when he ought to +have taken another. The plan of action was undoubtedly changed, and +Mr. Martin became very fidgety, and ordered nothing without Sir +Peter's sanction. Miss Stanbury was suffering from bronchitis, and a +complication of diseases about her throat and chest. Barty Burgess +declared to more than one acquaintance in the little parlour behind +the bank, that she would go on drinking four or five glasses of new +port wine every day, in direct opposition to Martin's request. +Camilla French heard the report, and repeated it to her lover, and +perhaps another person or two, with an expression of her assured +conviction that it must be false,—at any rate, as regarded the fifth +glass. Mrs. MacHugh, who saw Martha daily, was much frightened. The +peril of such a friend disturbed equally the repose and the pleasures +of her life. Mrs. Clifford was often at Miss Stanbury's +bed-side,—and would have sat there reading for hours together, had +she not been made to understand by Martha that Miss Stanbury +preferred that Miss Dorothy should read to her. The sick woman +received the Sacrament weekly,—not from Mr. Gibson, but from the +hands of another minor canon; and, though she never would admit her +own danger, or allow others to talk to her of it, it was known to +them all that she admitted it to herself because she had, with much +personal annoyance, caused a codicil to be added to her will. "As you +didn't marry that man," she said to Dorothy, "I must change it +again." It was in vain that Dorothy begged her not to trouble herself +with such thoughts. "That's trash," said Miss Stanbury, angrily. "A +person who has it is bound to trouble himself about it. You don't +suppose I'm afraid of dying;—do you?" she added. Dorothy answered +her with some commonplace,—declaring how strongly they all expected +to see her as well as ever. "I'm not a bit afraid to die," said the +old woman, wheezing, struggling with such voice as she possessed; +"I'm not afraid of it, and I don't think I shall die this time; but +I'm not going to have mistakes when I'm gone." This was on the eve of +the new year, and on the same night she asked Dorothy to write to +Brooke Burgess, and request him to come to Exeter. This was Dorothy's +<span class="nowrap">letter:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">Exeter, 31st December, 186—.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My Dear Mr. Burgess</span>,</p> + +<p>Perhaps I ought to have written before, to say that Aunt +Stanbury is not as well as we could wish her; but, as I +know that you cannot very well leave your office, I have +thought it best not to say anything to frighten you. But +to-night Aunt herself has desired me to tell you that she +thinks you ought to know that she is ill, and that she +wishes you to come to Exeter for a day or two, if it is +possible. Sir Peter Mancrudy has been here every day since +Christmas-day, and I believe he thinks she may get over +it. It is chiefly in the throat;—what they call +bronchitis,—and she has got to be very weak with it, and +at the same time very liable to inflammation. So I know +that you will come if you can.</p> + +<p class="ind10">Yours very truly,</p> + +<p class="ind12"><span class="smallcaps">Dorothy Stanbury</span>.</p> + +<p class="noindent">Perhaps I ought +to tell you that she had her lawyer here +with her the day before yesterday; but she does not seem +to think that she herself is in danger. I read to her a +good deal, and I think she is generally asleep; when I +stop she wakes, and I don't believe she gets any other +rest at all.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>When it was known in Exeter that Brooke Burgess had been sent for, +then the opinion became general that Miss Stanbury's days were +numbered. Questions were asked of Sir Peter at every corner of the +street; but Sir Peter was a discreet man, who could answer such +questions without giving any information. If it so pleased God, his +patient would die; but it was quite possible that she might live. +That was the tenor of Sir Peter's replies,—and they were read in any +light, according to the idiosyncracies of the reader. Mrs. MacHugh +was quite sure that the danger was over, and had a little game of +cribbage on the sly with old Miss Wright;—for, during the severity +of Miss Stanbury's illness, whist was put on one side in the vicinity +of the Close. Barty Burgess was still obdurate, and shook his head. +He was of opinion that they might soon gratify their curiosity, and +see the last crowning iniquity of this wickedest of old women. Mrs. +Clifford declared that it was all in the hands of God; but that she +saw no reason why Miss Stanbury should not get about again. Mr. +Gibson thought that it was all up with his late friend; and Camilla +wished that at their last interview there had been more of charity on +the part of one whom she had regarded in past days with respect and +esteem. Mrs. French, despondent about everything, was quite +despondent in this case. Martha almost despaired, and already was +burdened with the cares of a whole wardrobe of solemn funereal +clothing. She was seen peering in for half-an-hour at the windows and +doorway of a large warehouse for the sale of mourning. Giles Hickbody +would not speak above his breath, and took his beer standing; but +Dorothy was hopeful, and really believed that her aunt would recover. +Perhaps Sir Peter had spoken to her in terms less oracular than those +which he used towards the public.</p> + +<p>Brooke Burgess came, and had an interview with Sir Peter, and to him +Sir Peter was under some obligation to speak plainly, as being the +person whom Miss Stanbury recognised as her heir. So Sir Peter +declared that his patient might perhaps live, and perhaps might die. +"The truth is, Mr. Burgess," said Sir Peter, "a doctor doesn't know +so very much more about these things than other people." It was +understood that Brooke was to remain three days in Exeter, and then +return to London. He would, of course, come again if—if anything +should happen. Sir Peter had been quite clear in his opinion, that no +immediate result was to be anticipated,—either in the one direction +or the other. His patient was doomed to a long illness; she might get +over it, or she might succumb to it.</p> + +<p>Dorothy and Brooke were thus thrown much together during these three +days. Dorothy, indeed, spent most of her hours beside her aunt's bed, +instigating sleep by the reading of a certain series of sermons in +which Miss Stanbury had great faith; but nevertheless, there were +some minutes in which she and Brooke were necessarily together. They +eat their meals in each other's company, and there was a period in +the evening, before Dorothy began her night-watch in her aunt's room, +at which she took her tea while Martha was nurse in the room above. +At this time of the day she would remain an hour or more with Brooke; +and a great deal may be said between a man and a woman in an hour +when the will to say it is there. Brooke Burgess had by no means +changed his mind since he had declared it to Hugh Stanbury under the +midnight lamps of Long Acre, when warmed by the influence of oysters +and whisky toddy. The whisky toddy had in that instance brought out +truth and not falsehood,—as is ever the nature of whisky toddy and +similar dangerous provocatives. There is no saying truer than that +which declares that there is truth in wine. Wine is a dangerous +thing, and should not be made the exponent of truth, let the truth be +good as it may; but it has the merit of forcing a man to show his +true colours. A man who is a gentleman in his cups may be trusted to +be a gentleman at all times. I trust that the severe censor will not +turn upon me, and tell me that no gentleman in these days is ever to +be seen in his cups. There are cups of different degrees of depth; +and cups do exist, even among gentlemen, and seem disposed to hold +their own let the censor be ever so severe. The gentleman in his cups +is a gentleman always; and the man who tells his friend in his cups +that he is in love, does so because the fact has been very present to +himself in his cooler and calmer moments. Brooke Burgess, who had +seen Hugh Stanbury on two or three occasions since that of the +oysters and toddy, had not spoken again of his regard for Hugh's +sister; but not the less was he determined to carry out his plan and +make Dorothy his wife if she would accept him. But could he ask her +while the old lady was, as it might be, dying in the house? He put +this question to himself as he travelled down to Exeter, and had told +himself that he must be guided for an answer by circumstances as they +might occur. Hugh had met him at the station as he started for +Exeter, and there had been a consultation between them as to the +propriety of bringing about, or of attempting to bring about, an +interview between Hugh and his aunt. "Do whatever you like," Hugh had +said. "I would go down to her at a moment's warning, if she should +express a desire to see me."</p> + +<p>On the first night of Brooke's arrival this question had been +discussed between him and Dorothy. Dorothy had declared herself +unable to give advice. If any message were given to her she would +deliver it to her aunt, but she thought that anything said to her +aunt on the subject had better come from Brooke himself. "You +evidently are the person most important to her," Dorothy said, "and +she would listen to you when she would not let any one else say a +word." Brooke promised that he would think of it; and then Dorothy +tripped up to relieve Martha, dreaming nothing at all of that other +doubt to which the important personage downstairs was now subject. +Dorothy was, in truth, very fond of the new friend she had made; but +it had never occurred to her that he might be a possible suitor to +her. Her old conception of herself,—that she was beneath the notice +of any man,—had only been partly disturbed by the absolute fact of +Mr. Gibson's courtship. She had now heard of his engagement with +Camilla French, and saw in that complete proof that the foolish man +had been induced to offer his hand to her by the promise of her +aunt's money. If there had been a moment of exaltation,—a period in +which she had allowed herself to think that she was, as other women, +capable of making herself dear to a man,—it had been but a moment. +And now she rejoiced greatly that she had not acceded to the wishes +of one to whom it was so manifest that she had not made herself in +the least dear.</p> + +<p>On the second day of his visit, Brooke was summoned to Miss +Stanbury's room at noon. She was forbidden to talk, and during a +great portion of the day could hardly speak without an effort; but +there would be half hours now and again in which she would become +stronger than usual, at which time nothing that Martha and Dorothy +could say would induce her to hold her tongue. When Brooke came to +her on this occasion he found her sitting up in bed with a great +shawl round her; and he at once perceived she was much more like her +own self than on the former day. She told him that she had been an +old fool for sending for him, that she had nothing special to say to +him, that she had made no alteration in her will in regard to +him,—"except that I have done something for Dolly that will have to +come out of your pocket, Brooke." Brooke declared that too much could +not be done for a person so good, and dear, and excellent as Dorothy +Stanbury, let it come out of whose pocket it might. "She is nothing +to you, you know," said Miss Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"She is a great deal to me," said Brooke.</p> + +<p>"What is she?" asked Miss Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"Oh;—a friend; a great friend."</p> + +<p>"Well; yes. I hope it may be so. But she won't have anything that I +haven't saved," said Miss Stanbury. "There are two houses at St. +Thomas's; but I bought them myself, Brooke;—out of the income." +Brooke could only declare that as the whole property was hers, to do +what she liked with it as completely as though she had inherited it +from her own father, no one could have any right to ask questions as +to when or how this or that portion of the property had accrued. "But +I don't think I'm going to die yet, Brooke," she said. "If it is +God's will, I am ready. Not that I'm fit, Brooke. God forbid that I +should ever think that. But I doubt whether I shall ever be fitter. I +can go without repining if He thinks best to take me." Then he stood +up by her bedside, with his hand upon hers, and after some hesitation +asked her whether she would wish to see her nephew Hugh. "No," said +she, sharply. Brooke went on to say how pleased Hugh would have been +to come to her. "I don't think much of death-bed reconciliations," +said the old woman, grimly. "I loved him dearly, but he didn't love +me, and I don't know what good we should do each other." Brooke +declared that Hugh did love her; but he could not press the matter, +and it was dropped.</p> + +<p>On that evening at eight Dorothy came down to her tea. She had dined +at the same table with Brooke that afternoon, but a servant had been +in the room all the time and nothing had been said between them. As +soon as Brooke had got his tea he began to tell the story of his +failure about Hugh. He was sorry, he said, that he had spoken on the +subject, as it had moved Miss Stanbury to an acrimony which he had +not expected.</p> + +<p>"She always declares that he never loved her," said Dorothy. "She has +told me so twenty times."</p> + +<p>"There are people who fancy that nobody cares for them," said Brooke.</p> + +<p>"Indeed there are, Mr. Burgess; and it is so natural."</p> + +<p>"Why natural?"</p> + +<p>"Just as it is natural that there should be dogs and cats that are +petted and loved and made much of, and others that have to crawl +through life as they can, cuffed and kicked and starved."</p> + +<p>"That depends on the accident of possession," said Brooke.</p> + +<p>"So does the other. How many people there are that don't seem to +belong to anybody,—and if they do, they're no good to anybody. +They're not cuffed exactly, or starved; +<span class="nowrap">but—"</span></p> + +<p>"You mean that they don't get their share of affection?"</p> + +<p>"They get perhaps as much as they deserve," said Dorothy.</p> + +<p>"Because they're cross-grained, or ill-tempered, or disagreeable?"</p> + +<p>"Not exactly that."</p> + +<p>"What then?" asked Brooke.</p> + +<p>"Because they're just nobodies. They are not anything particular to +anybody, and so they go on living till they die. You know what I +mean, Mr. Burgess. A man who is a nobody can perhaps make himself +somebody,—or, at any rate, he can try; but a woman has no means of +trying. She is a nobody, and a nobody she must remain. She has her +clothes and her food, but she isn't wanted anywhere. People put up +with her, and that is about the best of her luck. If she were to die +somebody perhaps would be sorry for her, but nobody would be worse +off. She doesn't earn anything or do any good. She is just there and +that's all."</p> + +<p>Brooke had never heard her speak after this fashion before, had never +known her to utter so many consecutive words, or to put forward any +opinion of her own with so much vigour. And Dorothy herself, when she +had concluded her speech, was frightened by her own energy and grew +red in the face, and showed very plainly that she was half ashamed of +herself. Brooke thought that he had never seen her look so pretty +before, and was pleased by her enthusiasm. He understood perfectly +that she was thinking of her own position, though she had entertained +no idea that he would so read her meaning; and he felt that it was +incumbent on him to undeceive her, and make her know that she was not +one of those women who are "just there and that's all." "One does see +such a woman as that now and again," he said.</p> + +<p>"There are hundreds of them," said Dorothy. "And of course it can't +be helped."</p> + +<p>"Such as Arabella French," said he, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Well,—yes; if she is one. It is very easy to see the difference. +Some people are of use and are always doing things. There are others, +generally women, who have nothing to do, but who can't be got rid of. +It is a melancholy sort of feeling."</p> + +<p>"You at least are not one of them."</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean to complain about myself," she said. "I have got a +great deal to make me happy."</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose you regard yourself as an Arabella French," said he.</p> + +<p>"How angry Miss French would be if she heard you. She considers +herself to be one of the reigning beauties of Exeter."</p> + +<p>"She has had a very long reign, and dominion of that sort to be +successful ought to be short."</p> + +<p>"That is spiteful, Mr. Burgess."</p> + +<p>"I don't feel spiteful against her, poor woman. I own I do not love +Camilla. Not that I begrudge Camilla her present prosperity."</p> + +<p>"Nor I either, Mr. Burgess."</p> + +<p>"She and Mr. Gibson will do very well together, I dare say."</p> + +<p>"I hope they will," said Dorothy, "and I do not see any reason +against it. They have known each other a long time."</p> + +<p>"A very long time," said Brooke. Then he paused for a minute, +thinking how he might best tell her that which he had now resolved +should be told on this occasion. Dorothy finished her tea and got up +as though she were about to go to her duty up-stairs. She had been as +yet hardly an hour in the room, and the period of her relief was not +fairly over. But there had come something of a personal flavour in +their conversation which prompted her, unconsciously, to leave him. +She had, without any special indication of herself, included herself +among that company of old maids who are born and live and die without +that vital interest in the affairs of life which nothing but family +duties, the care of children, or at least of a husband, will give to +a woman. If she had not meant this she had felt it. He had understood +her meaning, or at least her feeling, and had taken upon himself to +assure her that she was not one of the company whose privations she +had endeavoured to describe. Her instinct rather than her reason put +her at once upon her guard, and she prepared to leave the room. "You +are not going yet," he said.</p> + +<p>"I think I might as well. Martha has so much to do, and she comes to +me again at five in the morning."</p> + +<p>"Don't go quite yet," he said, pulling out his watch. "I know all +about the hours, and it wants twenty minutes to the proper time."</p> + +<p>"There is no proper time, Mr. Burgess."</p> + +<p>"Then you can remain a few minutes longer. The fact is, I've got +something I want to say to you."</p> + +<p>He was now standing between her and the door, so that she could not +get away from him; but at this moment she was absolutely ignorant of +his purpose, expecting nothing of love from him more than she would +from Sir Peter Mancrudy. Her face had become flushed when she made +her long speech, but there was no blush on it as she answered him +now. "Of course, I can wait," she said, "if you have anything to say +to me."</p> + +<p>"Well;—I have. I should have said it before, only that that other +man was here." He was blushing now,—up to the roots of his hair, and +felt that he was in a difficulty. There are men, to whom such moments +of their lives are pleasurable, but Brooke Burgess was not one of +them. He would have been glad to have had it done and over,—so that +then he might take pleasure in it.</p> + +<p>"What man?" asked Dorothy, in perfect innocence.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Gibson, to be sure. I don't know that there is anybody else."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Gibson. He never comes here now, and I don't suppose he will +again. Aunt Stanbury is so very angry with him."</p> + +<p>"I don't care whether he comes or not. What I mean is this. When I +was here before, I was told that you were going—to marry him."</p> + +<p>"But I wasn't."</p> + +<p>"How was I to know that, when you didn't tell me? I certainly did +know it after I came back from Dartmoor." He paused a moment, as +though she might have a word to say. She had no word to say, and did +not in the least know what was coming. She was so far from +anticipating the truth, that she was composed and easy in her mind. +"But all that is of no use at all," he continued. "When I was here +before Miss Stanbury wanted you to marry Mr. Gibson; and, of course, +I had nothing to say about it. Now I want you—to marry me."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Burgess!"</p> + +<p>"Dorothy, my darling, I love you better than all the world. I do, +indeed." As soon as he had commenced his protestations he became +profuse enough with them, and made a strong attempt to support them +by the action of his hands. But she retreated from him step by step, +till she had regained her chair by the tea-table, and there she +seated herself,—safely, as she thought; but he was close to her, +over her shoulder, still continuing his protestations, offering up +his vows, and imploring her to reply to him. She, as yet, had not +answered him by a word, save by that one half-terrified exclamation +of his name. "Tell me, at any rate, that you believe me, when I +assure you that I love you," he said. The room was going round with +Dorothy, and the world was going round, and there had come upon her +so strong a feeling of the disruption of things in general, that she +was at the moment anything but happy. Had it been possible for her to +find that the last ten minutes had been a dream, she would at this +moment have wished that it might become one. A trouble had come upon +her, out of which she did not see her way. To dive among the waters +in warm weather is very pleasant; there is nothing pleasanter. But +when the young swimmer first feels the thorough immersion of his +plunge, there comes upon him a strong desire to be quickly out again. +He will remember afterwards how joyous it was; but now, at this +moment, the dry land is everything to him. So it was with Dorothy. +She had thought of Brooke Burgess as one of those bright ones of the +world, with whom everything is happy and pleasant, whom everybody +loves, who may have whatever they please, whose lines have been laid +in pleasant places. She thought of him as a man who might some day +make some woman very happy as his wife. To be the wife of such a man +was, in Dorothy's estimation, one of those blessed chances which come +to some women, but which she never regarded as being within her own +reach. Though she had thought much about him, she had never thought +of him as a possible possession for herself; and now that he was +offering himself to her, she was not at once made happy by his love. +Her ideas of herself and of her life were all dislocated for the +moment, and she required to be alone, that she might set herself in +order, and try herself all over, and find whether her bones were +broken. "Say that you believe me," he repeated.</p> + + +<div class="center"><a name="ip2-016" id="ip2-016"></a> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="4px"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/p2-016.jpg"> + <img src="images/p2-016-t.jpg" height="500" + alt="The world was going round with Dorothy." /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <span class="caption">The world was going round with Dorothy.<br /> + Click to <a href="images/p2-016.jpg">ENLARGE</a></span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p>"I don't know what to say," she whispered.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what to say. Say at once that you will be my wife."</p> + +<p>"I can't say that, Mr. Burgess."</p> + +<p>"Why not? Do you mean that you cannot love me?"</p> + +<p>"I think, if you please, I'll go up to Aunt Stanbury. It is time for +me; indeed it is; and she will be wondering, and Martha will be put +out. Indeed I must go up."</p> + +<p>"And will you not answer me?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know what to say. You must give me a little time to +consider. I don't quite think you're serious."</p> + +<p>"Heaven and earth!" began Brooke.</p> + +<p>"And I'm sure it would never do. At any rate, I must go now. I must, +indeed."</p> + +<p>And so she escaped, and went up to her aunt's room, which she reached +at ten minutes after her usual time, and before Martha had begun to +be put out. She was very civil to Martha, as though Martha had been +injured; and she put her hand on her aunt's arm, with a soft, +caressing, apologetic touch, feeling conscious that she had given +cause for offence. "What has he been saying to you?" said her aunt, +as soon as Martha had closed the door. This was a question which +Dorothy, certainly, could not answer. Miss Stanbury meant nothing by +it,—nothing beyond a sick woman's desire that something of the +conversation of those who were not sick should be retailed to her; +but to Dorothy the question meant so much! How should her aunt have +known that he had said anything? She sat herself down and waited, +giving no answer to the question. "I hope he gets his meals +comfortably," said Miss Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"I am sure he does," said Dorothy, infinitely relieved. Then, knowing +how important it was that her aunt should sleep, she took up the +volume of Jeremy Taylor, and, with so great a burden on her mind, she +went on painfully and distinctly with the second sermon on the +Marriage Ring. She strove valiantly to keep her mind to the godliness +of the discourse, so that it might be of some possible service to +herself; and to keep her voice to the tone that might be of service +to her aunt. Presently she heard the grateful sound which indicated +her aunt's repose, but she knew of experience that were she to stop, +the sound and the sleep would come to an end also. For a whole hour +she persevered, reading the sermon of the Marriage Ring with such +attention to the godly principles of the teaching as she could +give,—with that terrible burden upon her mind.</p> + +<p>"Thank you;—thank you; that will do, my dear. Shut it up," said the +sick woman. "It's time now for the draught." Then Dorothy moved +quietly about the room, and did her nurse's work with soft hand, and +soft touch, and soft tread. After that her aunt kissed her, and bade +her sit down and sleep.</p> + +<p>"I'll go on reading, aunt, if you'll let me," said Dorothy. But Miss +Stanbury, who was not a cruel woman, would have no more of the +reading, and Dorothy's mind was left at liberty to think of the +proposition that had been made to her. To one resolution she came +very quickly. The period of her aunt's illness could not be a proper +time for marriage vows, or the amenities of love-making. She did not +feel that he, being a man, had offended; but she was quite sure that +were she, a woman, the niece of so kind an aunt, the nurse at the +bed-side of such an invalid,—were she at such a time to consent to +talk of love, she would never deserve to have a lover. And from this +resolve she got great comfort. It would give her an excuse for making +no more assured answer at present, and would enable her to reflect at +leisure as to the reply she would give him, should he ever, by any +chance, renew his offer. If he did not,—and probably he would +not,—then it would have been very well that he should not have been +made the victim of a momentary generosity. She had complained of the +dulness of her life, and that complaint from her had produced his +noble, kind, generous, dear, enthusiastic benevolence towards her. As +she thought of it all,—and by degrees she took great pleasure in +thinking of it,—her mind bestowed upon him all manner of eulogies. +She could not persuade herself that he really loved her, and yet she +was full at heart of gratitude to him for the expression of his love. +And as for herself, could she love him? We who are looking on of +course know that she loved him;—that from this moment there was +nothing belonging to him, down to his shoe-tie, that would not be +dear to her heart and an emblem so tender as to force a tear from +her. He had already become her god, though she did not know it. She +made comparisons between him and Mr. Gibson, and tried to convince +herself that the judgment, which was always pronounced very clearly +in Brooke's favour, came from anything but her heart. And thus +through the long watches of the night she became very happy, feeling +but not knowing that the whole aspect of the world was changed to her +by those few words which her lover had spoken to her. She thought now +that it would be consolation enough to her in future to know that +such a man as Brooke Burgess had once asked her to be the partner of +his life, and that it would be almost ungenerous in her to push her +advantage further and attempt to take him at his word. Besides, there +would be obstacles. Her aunt would dislike such a marriage for him, +and he would be bound to obey her aunt in such a matter. She would +not allow herself to think that she could ever become Brooke's wife, +but nothing could rob her of the treasure of the offer which he had +made her. Then Martha came to her at five o'clock, and she went to +her bed to dream for an hour or two of Brooke Burgess and her future +life.</p> + +<p>On the next morning she met him at breakfast. She went down stairs +later than usual, not till ten, having hung about her aunt's room, +thinking that thus she would escape him for the present. She would +wait till he was gone out, and then she would go down. She did wait; +but she could not hear the front door, and then her aunt murmured +something about Brooke's breakfast. She was told to go down, and she +went. But when on the stairs she slunk back to her own room, and +stood there for awhile, aimless, motionless, not knowing what to do. +Then one of the girls came to her, and told her that Mr. Burgess was +waiting breakfast for her. She knew not what excuse to make, and at +last descended slowly to the parlour. She was very happy, but had it +been possible for her to have run away she would have gone.</p> + +<p>"Dear Dorothy," he said at once. "I may call you so,—may I not?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes."</p> + +<p>"And you will love me;—and be my own, own wife?"</p> + +<p>"No, Mr. Burgess."</p> + +<p>"No?"</p> + +<p>"I mean;—that is to say—"</p> + +<p>"Do you love me, Dorothy?"</p> + +<p>"Only think how ill Aunt Stanbury is, Mr. Burgess;—perhaps dying! +How can I have any thought now except about her? It wouldn't be +right;—would it?"</p> + +<p>"You may say that you love me."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Burgess, pray, pray don't speak of it now. If you do I must go +away."</p> + +<p>"But do you love me?"</p> + +<p>"Pray, pray don't, Mr. Burgess!"</p> + +<p>There was nothing more to be got from her during the whole day than +that. He told her in the evening that as soon as Miss Stanbury was +well, he would come again;—that in any case he would come again. She +sat quite still as he said this, with a solemn face,—but smiling at +heart, laughing at heart, so happy! When she got up to leave him, and +was forced to give him her hand, he seized her in his arms and kissed +her. "That is very, very wrong," she said, sobbing, and then ran to +her room,—the happiest girl in all Exeter. He was to start early on +the following morning, and she knew that she would not be forced to +see him again. Thinking of him was so much pleasanter than seeing +him!</p> + + +<p><a name="c52" id="c52"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LII.</h3> +<h4>MR. OUTHOUSE COMPLAINS THAT IT'S HARD.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Life had gone on during the winter at St. Diddulph's Parsonage in a +dull, weary, painful manner. There had come a letter in November from +Trevelyan to his wife, saying that as he could trust neither her nor +her uncle with the custody of his child, he should send a person +armed with due legal authority, addressed to Mr. Outhouse, for the +recovery of the boy, and desiring that little Louis might be at once +surrendered to the messenger. Then of course there had arisen great +trouble in the house. Both Mrs. Trevelyan and Nora Rowley had learned +by this time that, as regarded the master of the house, they were not +welcome guests at St. Diddulph's. When the threat was shewn to Mr. +Outhouse, he did not say a word to indicate that the child should be +given up. He muttered something, indeed, about impotent nonsense, +which seemed to imply that the threat could be of no avail; but there +was none of that reassurance to be obtained from him which a positive +promise on his part to hold the bairn against all comers would have +given. Mrs. Outhouse told her niece more than once that the child +would be given to no messenger whatever; but even she did not give +the assurance with that energy which the mother would have liked. +"They shall drag him away from me by force if they do take him!" said +the mother, gnashing her teeth. Oh, if her father would but come! For +some weeks she did not let the boy out of her sight; but when no +messenger had presented himself by Christmas time, they all began to +believe that the threat had in truth meant nothing,—that it had been +part of the ravings of a madman.</p> + +<p>But the threat had meant something. Early on one morning in January +Mr. Outhouse was told that a person in the hall wanted to see him, +and Mrs. Trevelyan, who was sitting at breakfast, the child being at +the moment up-stairs, started from her seat. The maid described the +man as being "All as one as a gentleman," though she would not go so +far as to say that he was a gentleman in fact. Mr. Outhouse slowly +rose from his breakfast, went out to the man in the passage, and bade +him follow into the little closet that was now used as a study. It is +needless perhaps to say that the man was Bozzle.</p> + +<p>"I dare say, Mr. Houthouse, you don't know me," said Bozzle. Mr. +Outhouse, disdaining all complimentary language, said that he +certainly did not. "My name, Mr. Houthouse, is Samuel Bozzle, and I +live at No. 55, Stony Walk, Union Street, Borough. I was in the Force +once, but I work on my own 'ook now."</p> + +<p>"What do you want with me, Mr. Bozzle?"</p> + +<p>"It isn't so much with you, sir, as it is with a lady as is under +your protection; and it isn't so much with the lady as it is with her +infant."</p> + +<p>"Then you may go away, Mr. Bozzle," said Mr. Outhouse, impatiently. +"You may as well go away at once."</p> + +<p>"Will you please read them few lines, sir," said Mr. Bozzle. "They is +in Mr. Trewilyan's handwriting, which will no doubt be familiar +characters,—leastways to Mrs. T., if you don't know the gent's +fist." Mr. Outhouse, after looking at the paper for a minute, and +considering deeply what in this emergency he had better do, did take +the paper and read it. The words ran as follows: "I hereby give full +authority to Mr. Samuel Bozzle, of 55, Stony Walk, Union Street, +Borough, to claim and to enforce possession of the body of my child, +Louis Trevelyan; and I require that any person whatsoever who may now +have the custody of the said child, whether it be my wife or any of +her friends, shall at once deliver him up to Mr. Bozzle, on the +production of this +authority.—<span class="smallcaps">Louis Trevelyan</span>." +It may be explained +that before this document had been written there had been much +correspondence on the subject between Bozzle and his employer. To +give the ex-policeman his due, he had not at first wished to meddle +in the matter of the child. He had a wife at home who expressed an +opinion with much vigour that the boy should be left with its mother, +and that he, Bozzle, should he succeed in getting hold of the child, +would not know what to do with it. Bozzle was aware, moreover, that +it was his business to find out facts, and not to perform actions. +But his employer had become very urgent with him. Mr. Bideawhile had +positively refused to move in the matter; and Trevelyan, mad as he +was, had felt a disinclination to throw his affairs into the hands of +a certain Mr. Skint, of Stamford Street, whom Bozzle had recommended +to him as a lawyer. Trevelyan had hinted, moreover, that if Bozzle +would make the application in person, that application, if not +obeyed, would act with usefulness as a preliminary step for further +personal measures to be taken by himself. He intended to return to +England for the purpose, but he desired that the order for the +child's rendition should be made at once. Therefore Bozzle had come. +He was an earnest man, and had now worked himself up to a certain +degree of energy in the matter. He was a man loving power, and +specially anxious to enforce obedience from those with whom he came +in contact by the production of the law's mysterious authority. In +his heart he was ever tapping people on the shoulder, and telling +them that they were wanted. Thus, when he displayed his document to +Mr. Outhouse, he had taught himself at least to desire that that +document should be obeyed.</p> + +<p>Mr. Outhouse read the paper and turned up his nose at it. "You had +better go away," said he, as he thrust it back into Bozzle's hand.</p> + +<p>"Of course I shall go away when I have the child."</p> + +<p>"Psha!" said Mr. Outhouse.</p> + +<p>"What does that mean, Mr. Houthouse? I presume you'll not dispute the +paternal parent's legal authority?"</p> + +<p>"Go away, sir," said Mr. Outhouse.</p> + +<p>"Go away!"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—out of this house. It's my belief that you are a knave."</p> + +<p>"A knave, Mr. Houthouse?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—a knave. No one who was not a knave would lend a hand towards +separating a little child from its mother. I think you are a knave, +but I don't think you are fool enough to suppose that the child will +be given up to you."</p> + +<p>"It's my belief that knave is hactionable," said Bozzle,—whose +respect, however, for the clergyman was rising fast. "Would you mind +ringing the bell, Mr. Houthouse, and calling me a knave again before +the young woman?"</p> + +<p>"Go away," said Mr. Outhouse.</p> + +<p>"If you have no objection, sir, I should be glad to see the lady +before I goes."</p> + +<p>"You won't see any lady here; and if you don't get out of my house +when I tell you, I'll send for a real policeman." Then was Bozzle +conquered; and, as he went, he admitted to himself that he had sinned +against all the rules of his life in attempting to go beyond the +legitimate line of his profession. As long as he confined himself to +the getting up of facts nobody could threaten him with a "real +policeman." But one fact he had learned to-day. The clergyman of St. +Diddulph's, who had been represented to him as a weak, foolish man, +was anything but that. Bozzle was much impressed in favour of Mr. +Outhouse, and would have been glad to have done that gentleman a +kindness had an opportunity come in his way.</p> + +<p>"What does he want, Uncle Oliphant?" said Mrs. Trevelyan at the foot +of the stairs, guarding the way up to the nursery. At this moment the +front door had just been closed behind the back of Mr. Bozzle.</p> + +<p>"You had better ask no questions," said Mr. Outhouse.</p> + +<p>"But is it about Louis?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he came about him."</p> + +<p>"Well? Of course you must tell me, Uncle Oliphant. Think of my +condition."</p> + +<p>"He had some stupid paper in his hand from your husband, but it meant +nothing."</p> + +<p>"He was the messenger, then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he was the messenger. But I don't suppose he expected to get +anything. Never mind. Go up and look after the child." Then Mrs. +Trevelyan returned to her boy, and Mr. Outhouse went back to his +papers.</p> + +<p>It was very hard upon him, Mr. Outhouse thought,—very hard. He was +threatened with an action now, and most probably would become subject +to one. Though he had been spirited enough in presence of the enemy, +he was very much out of spirits at this moment. Though he had +admitted to himself that his duty required him to protect his wife's +niece, he had never taken the poor woman to his heart with a loving, +generous feeling of true guardianship. Though he would not give up +the child to Bozzle, he thoroughly wished that the child was out of +his house. Though he called Bozzle a knave and Trevelyan a madman, +still he considered that Colonel Osborne was the chief sinner, and +that Emily Trevelyan had behaved badly. He constantly repeated to +himself the old adage, that there was no smoke without fire; and +lamented the misfortune that had brought him into close relation with +things and people that were so little to his taste. He sat for +awhile, with a pen in his hand, at the miserable little substitute +for a library table which had been provided for him, and strove to +collect his thoughts and go on with his work. But the effort was in +vain. Bozzle would be there, presenting his document, and begging +that the maid might be rung for, in order that she might hear him +called a knave. And then he knew that on this very day his niece +intended to hand him money, which he could not refuse. Of what use +would it be to refuse it now, after it had been once taken? As he +could not write a word, he rose and went away to his wife.</p> + +<p>"If this goes on much longer," said he, "I shall be in Bedlam."</p> + +<p>"My dear, don't speak of it in that way!"</p> + +<p>"That's all very well. I suppose I ought to say that I like it. There +has been a policeman here who is going to bring an action against +me."</p> + +<p>"A policeman!"</p> + +<p>"Some one that her husband has sent for the child."</p> + +<p>"The boy must not be given up, Oliphant."</p> + +<p>"It's all very well to say that, but I suppose we must obey the law. +The parsonage of St. Diddulph's isn't a castle in the Apennines. When +it comes to this, that a policeman is sent here to fetch any man's +child, and threatens me with an action because I tell him to leave my +house, it is very hard upon me, seeing how very little I've had to do +with it. It's all over the parish now that my niece is kept here away +from her husband, and that a lover comes to see her. This about the +policeman will be known now, of course. I only say it is hard; that's +all." The wife did all that she could to comfort him, reminding him +that Sir Marmaduke would be home soon, and that then the burden would +be taken from his shoulders. But she was forced to admit that it was +very hard.</p> + + +<p><a name="c53" id="c53"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LIII.</h3> +<h4>HUGH STANBURY IS SHEWN TO BE NO CONJUROR.<br /> </h4> + + +<p><img class="left" src="images/ch53a.jpg" width="310" alt="Illustration" /> +Many weeks had now passed since Hugh Stanbury had paid his visit to +St. Diddulph's, and Nora Rowley was beginning to believe that her +rejection of her lover had been so firm and decided that she would +never see him or hear from him more; and she had long since confessed +to herself that if she did not see him or hear from him soon, life +would not be worth a straw to her. To all of us a single treasure +counts for much more when the outward circumstances of our life are +dull, unvaried, and melancholy, than it does when our days are full +of pleasure, or excitement, or even of business. With Nora Rowley at +St. Diddulph's life at present was very melancholy. There was little +or no society to enliven her. Her sister was sick at heart, and +becoming ill in health under the burden of her troubles. Mr. Outhouse +was moody and wretched; and Mrs. Outhouse, though she did her best to +make her house comfortable to her unwelcome inmates, could not make +it appear that their presence there was a pleasure to her. Nora +understood better than did her sister how distasteful the present +arrangement was to their uncle, and was consequently very +uncomfortable on that score. And in the midst of that unhappiness, +she of course told herself that she was a young woman miserable and +unfortunate altogether. It is always so with us. The heart when it is +burdened, though it may have ample strength to bear the burden, loses +its buoyancy and doubts its own power. It is like the springs of a +carriage which are pressed flat by the superincumbent weight. But, +because the springs are good, the weight is carried safely, and they +are the better afterwards for their required purposes because of the +trial to which they have been subjected.</p> + +<p>Nora had sent her lover away, and now at the end of three months from +the day of his dismissal she had taught herself to believe that he +would never come again. Amidst the sadness of her life at St. +Diddulph's some confidence in a lover expected to come again would +have done much to cheer her. The more she thought of Hugh Stanbury, +the more fully she became convinced that he was the man who as a +lover, as a husband, and as a companion, would just suit all her +tastes. She endowed him liberally with a hundred good gifts in the +disposal of which Nature had been much more sparing. She made for +herself a mental portrait of him more gracious in its flattery than +ever was canvas coming from the hand of a Court limner. She gave him +all gifts of manliness, honesty, truth, and energy, and felt +regarding him that he was a Paladin,—such as Paladins are in this +age, that he was indomitable, sure of success, and fitted in all +respects to take the high position which he would certainly win for +himself. But she did not presume him to be endowed with such a +constancy as would make him come to seek her hand again. Had Nora at +this time of her life been living at the West-end of London, and +going out to parties three or four times a week, she would have been +quite easy about his coming. The springs would not have been weighted +so heavily, and her heart would have been elastic.</p> + +<p>No doubt she had forgotten many of the circumstances of his visit and +of his departure. Immediately on his going she had told her sister +that he would certainly come again, but had said at the same time +that his coming could be of no use. He was so poor a man; and +she,—though poorer than he,—had been so little accustomed to +poverty of life, that she had then acknowledged to herself that she +was not fit to be his wife. Gradually, as the slow weeks went by her, +there had come a change in her ideas. She now thought that he never +would come again; but that if he did she would confess to him that +her own views about life were changed. "I would tell him frankly that +I could eat a crust with him in any garret in London." But this was +said to herself;—never to her sister. Emily and Mrs. Outhouse had +determined together that it would be wise to abstain from all mention +of Hugh Stanbury's name. Nora had felt that her sister had so +abstained, and this reticence had assisted in producing the despair +which had come upon her. Hugh, when he had left her, had certainly +given her encouragement to expect that he would return. She had been +sure then that he would return. She had been sure of it, though she +had told him that it would be useless. But now, when these sad weeks +had slowly crept over her head, when during the long hours of the +long days she had thought of him continually,—telling herself that +it was impossible that she should ever become the wife of any man if +she did not become his,—she assured herself that she had seen and +heard the last of him. She must surely have forgotten his hot words +and that daring embrace.</p> + +<p>Then there came a letter to her. The question of the management of +letters for young ladies is handled very differently in different +houses. In some establishments the post is as free to young ladies as +it is to the reverend seniors of the household. In others it is +considered to be quite a matter of course that some experienced +discretion should sit in judgment on the correspondence of the +daughters of the family. When Nora Rowley was living with her sister +in Curzon Street, she would have been very indignant indeed had it +been suggested to her that there was any authority over her letters +vested in her sister. But now, circumstanced as she was at St. +Diddulph's, she did understand that no letter would reach her without +her aunt knowing that it had come. All this was distasteful to +her,—as were indeed all the details of her life at St. +Diddulph's;—but she could not help herself. Had her aunt told her +that she should never be allowed to receive a letter at all, she must +have submitted till her mother had come to her relief. The letter +which reached her now was put into her hands by her sister, but it +had been given to Mrs. Trevelyan by Mrs. Outhouse. "Nora," said Mrs. +Trevelyan, "here is a letter for you. I think it is from Mr. +Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"Give it me," said Nora greedily.</p> + +<p>"Of course I will give it you. But I hope you do not intend to +correspond with him."</p> + +<p>"If he has written to me I shall answer him of course," said Nora, +holding her treasure.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Mary thinks that you should not do so till papa and mamma have +arrived."</p> + +<p>"If Aunt Mary is afraid of me let her tell me so, and I will contrive +to go somewhere else." Poor Nora knew that this threat was futile. +There was no house to which she could take herself.</p> + +<p>"She is not afraid of you at all, Nora. She only says that she thinks +you should not write to Mr. Stanbury." Then Nora escaped to the cold +but solitary seclusion of her bed-room and there she read her letter.</p> + +<p>The reader may remember that Hugh Stanbury when he last left St. +Diddulph's had not been oppressed by any of the gloomy reveries of a +despairing lover. He had spoken his mind freely to Nora, and had felt +himself justified in believing that he had not spoken in vain. He had +had her in his arms, and she had found it impossible to say that she +did not love him. But then she had been quite firm in her purpose to +give him no encouragement that she could avoid. She had said no word +that would justify him in considering that there was any engagement +between them; and, moreover, he had been warned not to come to the +house by its mistress. From day to day he thought of it all, now +telling himself that there was nothing to be done but to trust in her +fidelity till he should be in a position to offer her a fitting home, +and then reflecting that he could not expect such a girl as Nora +Rowley to wait for him, unless he could succeed in making her +understand that he at any rate intended to wait for her. On one day +he would think that good faith and proper consideration for Nora +herself required him to keep silent; on the next he would tell +himself that such maudlin chivalry as he was proposing to himself was +sure to go to the wall and be neither rewarded nor recognised. So at +last he sat down and wrote the following +<span class="nowrap">letter:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">Lincoln's Inn Fields, January, 186—.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dearest Nora</span>,</p> + +<p>Ever since I last saw you at St. Diddulph's, I have been +trying to teach myself what I ought to do in reference to +you. Sometimes I think that because I am poor I ought to +hold my tongue. At others I feel sure that I ought to +speak out loud, because I love you so dearly. You may +presume that just at this moment the latter opinion is in +the ascendant.</p> + +<p>As I do write I mean to be very bold; so bold that if I am +wrong you will be thoroughly disgusted with me and will +never willingly see me again. But I think it best to be +true, and to say what I think. I do believe that you love +me. According to all precedent I ought not to say so;—but +I do believe it. Ever since I was at St. Diddulph's that +belief has made me happy,—though there have been moments +of doubt. If I thought that you did not love me, I would +trouble you no further. A man may win his way to love when +social circumstances are such as to throw him and the girl +together; but such is not the case with us; and unless you +love me now, you never will love me.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p class="noindent">"I do—I do!" said Nora, +pressing the letter to her bosom.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent">If you do, I think that +you owe it me to say so, and to +let me have all the joy and all the feeling of +responsibility which such an assurance will give me.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p class="noindent">"I will tell him so," +said Nora; "I don't care what may come +afterwards, but I will tell him the truth."<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent">I know [continued Hugh] +that an engagement with me now +would be hazardous, because what I earn is both scanty and +precarious; but it seems to me that nothing could ever be +done without some risk. There are risks of different +<span class="nowrap">kinds,—</span><br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p class="noindent">She wondered whether +he was thinking when he wrote this of the rock +on which her sister's barque had been split to +<span class="nowrap">pieces;—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent">and we may hardly hope +to avoid them all. For myself, I +own that life would be tame to me, if there were no +dangers to be overcome.</p> + +<p>If you do love me, and will say so, I will not ask you to +be my wife till I can give you a proper home; but the +knowledge that I am the master of the treasure which I +desire will give me a double energy, and will make me feel +that when I have gained so much I cannot fail of adding to +it all other smaller things that may be necessary.</p> + +<p>Pray,—pray, send me an answer. I cannot reach you except +by writing, as I was told by your aunt not to come to the +house again.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="ind6">Dearest Nora, +pray believe</span><br /> +<span class="ind8">That I shall always be truly yours only,</span></p> + +<p class="ind12"><span class="smallcaps">Hugh +Stanbury</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>Write to him! Of course she would write to him. Of course she would +confess to him the truth. "He tells me that I owe it to him to say +so, and I acknowledge the debt," she said aloud to herself. "And as +for a proper home, he shall be the judge of that." She resolved that +she would not be a fine lady, not fastidious, not coy, not afraid to +take her full share of the risk of which he spoke in such manly +terms. "It is quite true. As he has been able to make me love him, I +have no right to stand aloof,—even if I wished it." As she was +walking up and down the room so resolving her sister came to her.</p> + +<p>"Well, dear!" said Emily. "May I ask what it is he says?"</p> + +<p>Nora paused a moment, holding the letter tight in her hand, and then +she held it out to her sister. "There it is. You may read it." Mrs. +Trevelyan took the letter and read it slowly, during which Nora stood +looking out of the window. She would not watch her sister's face, as +she did not wish to have to reply to any outward signs of +disapproval. "Give it me back," she said, when she heard by the +refolding of the paper that the perusal was finished.</p> + +<p>"Of course I shall give it you back, dear."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—thanks. I did not mean to doubt you."</p> + +<p>"And what will you do, Nora?"</p> + +<p>"Answer it of course."</p> + +<p>"I would think a little before I answered it," said Mrs. Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"I have thought,—a great deal, already."</p> + +<p>"And how will you answer it?"</p> + +<p>Nora paused again before she replied. "As nearly as I know how to do +in such words as he would put into my mouth. I shall strive to write +just what I think he would wish me to write."</p> + +<p>"Then you will engage yourself to him, Nora?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly I shall. I am engaged to him already. I have been ever +since he came here."</p> + +<p>"You told me that there was nothing of the kind."</p> + +<p>"I told you that I loved him better than anybody in the world, and +that ought to have made you know what it must come to. When I am +thinking of him every day, and every hour, how can I not be glad to +have an engagement settled with him? I couldn't marry anybody else, +and I don't want to remain as I am." The tears came into the married +sister's eyes, and rolled down her cheeks, as this was said to her. +Would it not have been better for her had she remained as she was? +"Dear Emily," said Nora, "you have got Louey still."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—and they mean to take him from me. But I do not wish to speak +of myself. Will you postpone your answer till mamma is here?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot do that, Emily. What; receive such a letter as that, and +send no reply to it!"</p> + +<p>"I would write a line for you, and explain—"</p> + +<p>"No, indeed, Emily. I choose to answer my own letters. I have shewn +you that, because I trust you; but I have fully made up my mind as to +what I shall write. It will have been written and sent before +dinner."</p> + +<p>"I think you will be wrong, Nora."</p> + +<p>"Why wrong! When I came over here to stay with you, would mamma ever +have thought of directing me not to accept any offer till her consent +had been obtained all the way from the Mandarins? She would never +have dreamed of such a thing."</p> + +<p>"Will you ask Aunt Mary?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. What is Aunt Mary to me? We are here in her house for +a time, under the press of circumstances; but I owe her no obedience. +She told Mr. Stanbury not to come here; and he has not come; and I +shall not ask him to come. I would not willingly bring any one into +Uncle Oliphant's house that he and she do not wish to see. But I will +not admit that either of them have any authority over me."</p> + +<p>"Then who has, dearest?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody;—except papa and mamma; and they have chosen to leave me to +myself."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Trevelyan found it impossible to shake her sister's firmness, +and could herself do nothing, except tell Mrs. Outhouse what was the +state of affairs. When she said that she should do this, there almost +came to be a flow of high words between the two sisters; but at last +Nora assented. "As for knowing, I don't care if all the world knows +it. I shall do nothing in a corner. I don't suppose Aunt Mary will +endeavour to prevent my posting my letter."</p> + +<p>Emily at last went to seek Mrs. Outhouse, and Nora at once sat down +to her desk. Neither of the sisters felt at all sure that Mrs. +Outhouse would not attempt to stop the emission of the letter from +her house; but, as it happened, she was out, and did not return till +Nora had come back from her journey to the neighbouring post-office. +She would trust her letter, when written, to no hands but her own; +and as she herself dropped it into the safe custody of the +Postmaster-General, it also shall be revealed to the +<span class="nowrap">public:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">Parsonage, St. Diddulph's, January, 186—.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear Hugh</span>,</p> + +<p>For I suppose I may as well write to you in that way now. +I have been made so happy by your affectionate letter. Is +not that a candid confession for a young lady? But you +tell me that I owe you the truth, and so I tell you the +truth. Nobody will ever be anything to me, except you; and +you are everything. I do love you; and should it ever be +possible, I will become your wife.</p> + +<p>I have said so much, because I feel that I ought to obey +the order you have given me; but pray do not try to see me +or write to me till mamma has arrived. She and papa will +be here in the spring,—quite early in the spring, we +hope; and then you may come to us. What they may say, of +course, I cannot tell; but I shall be true to you.</p> + +<p class="ind10">Your own, with truest affection,</p> + +<p class="ind18"><span class="smallcaps">Nora</span>.</p> + +<p class="noindent">Of course, you knew +that I loved you, and I don't think +that you are a conjuror at all.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<div class="center"><a name="ip2-031" id="ip2-031"></a> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="4px"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/p2-031.jpg"> + <img src="images/p2-031-t.jpg" height="500" + alt="Nora's letter." /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <span class="caption">Nora's letter.<br /> + Click to <a href="images/p2-031.jpg">ENLARGE</a></span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p>As soon as ever the letter was written, she put on her bonnet, and +went forth with it herself to the post-office. Mrs. Trevelyan stopped +her on the stairs, and endeavoured to detain her, but Nora would not +be detained. "I must judge for myself about this," she said. "If +mamma were here, it would be different, but, as she is not here, I +must judge for myself."</p> + +<p>What Mrs. Outhouse might have done had she been at home at the time, +it would be useless to surmise. She was told what had happened when +it occurred, and questioned Nora on the subject. "I thought I +understood from you," she said, with something of severity in her +countenance, "that there was to be nothing between you and Mr. +Stanbury—at any rate, till my brother came home?"</p> + +<p>"I never pledged myself to anything of the kind, Aunt Mary," Nora +said. "I think he promised that he would not come here, and I don't +suppose that he means to come. If he should do so, I shall not see +him."</p> + +<p>With this Mrs. Outhouse was obliged to be content. The letter was +gone, and could not be stopped. Nor, indeed, had any authority been +delegated to her by which she would have been justified in stopping +it. She could only join her husband in wishing that they both might +be relieved, as soon as possible, from the terrible burden which had +been thrown upon them. "I call it very hard," said Mr. +Outhouse;—"very hard, indeed. If we were to desire them to leave the +house, everybody would cry out upon us for our cruelty; and yet, +while they remain here, they will submit themselves to no authority. +As far as I can see, they may, both of them, do just what they +please, and we can't stop it."</p> + + +<p><a name="c54" id="c54"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LIV.</h3> +<h4>MR. GIBSON'S THREAT.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Miss Stanbury for a long time persisted in being neither better nor +worse. Sir Peter would not declare her state to be precarious, nor +would he say that she was out of danger; and Mr. Martin had been so +utterly prostrated by the nearly-fatal effects of his own mistake +that he was quite unable to rally himself and talk on the subject +with any spirit or confidence. When interrogated he would simply +reply that Sir Peter said this and Sir Peter said that, and thus add +to, rather than diminish, the doubt, and excitement, and varied +opinion which prevailed through the city. On one morning it was +absolutely asserted within the limits of the Close that Miss Stanbury +was dying,—and it was believed for half a day at the bank that she +was then lying in articulo mortis. There had got about, too, a report +that a portion of the property had only been left to Miss Stanbury +for her life, that the Burgesses would be able to reclaim the houses +in the city, and that a will had been made altogether in favour of +Dorothy, cutting out even Brooke from any share in the +inheritance;—and thus Exeter had a good deal to say respecting the +affairs and state of health of our old friend. Miss Stanbury's +illness, however, was true enough. She was much too ill to hear +anything of what was going on;—too ill to allow Martha to talk to +her at all about the outside public. When the invalid herself would +ask questions about the affairs of the world, Martha would be very +discreet and turn away from the subject. Miss Stanbury, for instance, +ill as she was, exhibited a most mundane interest, not exactly in +Camilla French's marriage, but in the delay which that marriage +seemed destined to encounter. "I dare say he'll slip out of it yet," +said the sick lady to her confidential servant. Then Martha had +thought it right to change the subject, feeling it to be wrong that +an old lady on her death-bed should be taking joy in the +disappointment of her young neighbour. Martha changed the subject, +first to jelly, and then to the psalms of the day. Miss Stanbury was +too weak to resist; but the last verse of the last psalm of the +evening had hardly been finished before she remarked that she would +never believe it till she saw it. "It's all in the hands of Him as is +on high, mum," said Martha, turning her eyes up to the ceiling, and +closing the book at the same time, with a look strongly indicative of +displeasure.</p> + +<p>Miss Stanbury understood it all as well as though she were in perfect +health. She knew her own failings, was conscious of her worldly +tendencies, and perceived that her old servant was thinking of it. +And then sundry odd thoughts, half-digested thoughts, ideas too +difficult for her present strength, crossed her brain. Had it been +wicked of her when she was well to hope that a scheming woman should +not succeed in betraying a man by her schemes into an ill-assorted +marriage; and if not wicked then, was it wicked now because she was +ill? And from that thought her mind travelled on to the ordinary +practices of death-bed piety. Could an assumed devotion be of use to +her now,—such a devotion as Martha was enjoining upon her from hour +to hour, in pure and affectionate solicitude for her soul? She had +spoken one evening of a game of cards, saying that a game of cribbage +would have consoled her. Then Martha, with a shudder, had suggested a +hymn, and had had recourse at once to a sleeping draught. Miss +Stanbury had submitted, but had understood it all. If cards were +wicked, she had indeed been a terrible sinner. What hope could there +be now, on her death-bed, for one so sinful? And she could not repent +of her cards, and would not try to repent of them, not seeing the +evil of them; and if they were innocent, why should she not have the +consolation now,—when she so much wanted it? Yet she knew that the +whole household, even Dorothy, would be in arms against her, were she +to suggest such a thing. She took the hymn and the sleeping draught, +telling herself that it would be best for her to banish such ideas +from her mind. Pastors and masters had laid down for her a mode of +living, which she had followed, but indifferently perhaps, but still +with an intention of obedience. They had also laid down a mode of +dying, and it would be well that she should follow that as closely as +possible. She would say nothing more about cards. She would think +nothing more of Camilla French. But, as she so resolved, with +intellect half asleep, with her mind wandering between fact and +dream, she was unconsciously comfortable with an assurance that if +Mr. Gibson did marry Camilla French, Camilla French would lead him +the very devil of a life.</p> + +<p>During three days Dorothy went about the house as quiet as a mouse, +sitting nightly at her aunt's bedside, and tending the sick woman +with the closest care. She, too, had been now and again somewhat +startled by the seeming worldliness of her aunt in her illness. Her +aunt talked to her about rents, and gave her messages for Brooke +Burgess on subjects which seemed to Dorothy to be profane when spoken +of on what might perhaps be a death-bed. And this struck her the more +strongly, because she had a matter of her own on which she would have +much wished to ascertain her aunt's opinion, if she had not thought +that it would have been exceedingly wrong of her to trouble her +aunt's mind at such a time by any such matter. Hitherto she had said +not a word of Brooke's proposal to any living being. At present it +was a secret with herself, but a secret so big that it almost caused +her bosom to burst with the load that it bore. She could not, she +thought, write to Priscilla till she had told her aunt. If she were +to write a word on the subject to any one, she could not fail to make +manifest the extreme longing of her own heart. She could not have +written Brooke's name on paper, in reference to his words to herself, +without covering it with epithets of love. But all that must be known +to no one if her love was to be of no avail to her. And she had an +idea that her aunt would not wish Brooke to marry her,—would think +that Brooke should do better; and she was quite clear that in such a +matter as this her aunt's wishes must be law. Had not her aunt the +power of disinheriting Brooke altogether? And what then if her aunt +should die,—should die now,—leaving Brooke at liberty to do as he +pleased? There was something so distasteful to her in this view of +the matter that she would not look at it. She would not allow herself +to think of any success which might possibly accrue to herself by +reason of her aunt's death. Intense as was the longing in her heart +for permission from those in authority over her to give herself to +Brooke Burgess, perfect as was the earthly Paradise which appeared to +be open to her when she thought of the good thing which had befallen +her in that matter, she conceived that she would be guilty of the +grossest ingratitude were she in any degree to curtail even her own +estimate of her aunt's prohibitory powers because of her aunt's +illness. The remembrance of the words which Brooke had spoken to her +was with her quite perfect. She was entirely conscious of the joy +which would be hers, if she might accept those words as properly +sanctioned; but she was a creature in her aunt's hands,—according to +her own ideas of her own duties; and while her aunt was ill she could +not even learn what might be the behests which she would be called on +to obey.</p> + +<p>She was sitting one evening alone, thinking of all this, having left +Martha with her aunt, and was trying to reconcile the circumstances +of her life as it now existed with the circumstances as they had been +with her in the old days at Nuncombe Putney, wondering at herself in +that she should have a lover, and trying to convince herself that for +her this little episode of romance could mean nothing serious, when +Martha crept down into the room to her. Of late days,—the alteration +might perhaps be dated from the rejection of Mr. Gibson,—Martha, who +had always been very kind, had become more respectful in her manner +to Dorothy than had heretofore been usual with her. Dorothy was quite +aware of it, and was not unconscious of a certain rise in the world +which was thereby indicated. "If you please, miss," said Martha, "who +do you think is here?"</p> + +<p>"But there is nobody with my aunt?" said Dorothy.</p> + +<p>"She is sleeping like a babby, and I came down just for a moment. Mr. +Gibson is here, miss,—in the house! He asked for your aunt, and +when, of course, he could not see her, he asked for you." Dorothy for +a few minutes was utterly disconcerted, but at last she consented to +see Mr. Gibson. "I think it is best," said Martha, "because it is bad +to be fighting, and missus so ill. 'Blessed are the peace-makers,' +miss, 'for they shall be called the children of God.'" Convinced by +this argument, or by the working of her own mind, Dorothy directed +that Mr. Gibson might be shewn into the room. When he came, she found +herself unable to address him. She remembered the last time in which +she had seen him, and was lost in wonder that he should be there. But +she shook hands with him, and went through some form of greeting in +which no word was uttered.</p> + +<p>"I hope you will not think that I have done wrong," said he, "in +calling to ask after my old friend's state of health?"</p> + +<p>"Oh dear, no," said Dorothy, quite bewildered.</p> + +<p>"I have known her for so very long, Miss Dorothy, that now in the +hour of her distress, and perhaps mortal malady, I cannot stop to +remember the few harsh words that she spoke to me lately."</p> + +<p>"She never means to be harsh, Mr. Gibson."</p> + +<p>"Ah; well; no,—perhaps not. At any rate, I have learned to forgive +and forget. I am afraid your aunt is very ill, Miss Dorothy."</p> + +<p>"She is ill, certainly, Mr. Gibson."</p> + +<p>"Dear, dear! We are all as the grass of the field, Miss +Dorothy,—here to-day and gone to-morrow, as sparks fly upwards. Just +fit to be cut down and cast into the oven. Mr. Jennings has been with +her, I believe?" Mr. Jennings was the other minor canon.</p> + +<p>"He comes three times a week, Mr. Gibson."</p> + +<p>"He is an excellent young man,—a very good young man. It has been a +great comfort to me to have Jennings with me. But he's very young, +Miss Dorothy; isn't he?" Dorothy muttered something, purporting to +declare that she was not acquainted with the exact circumstances of +Mr. Jennings' age. "I should be so glad to come if my old friend +would allow me," said Mr. Gibson, almost with a sigh. Dorothy was +clearly of opinion that any change at the present would be bad for +her aunt, but she did not know how to express her opinion; so she +stood silent and looked at him. "There needn't be a word spoken, you +know, about the ladies at Heavitree," said Mr. Gibson.</p> + +<p>"Oh dear, no," said Dorothy. And yet she knew well that there would +be such words spoken if Mr. Gibson were to make his way into her +aunt's room. Her aunt was constantly alluding to the ladies at +Heavitree, in spite of all the efforts of her old servant to restrain +her.</p> + +<p>"There was some little misunderstanding," said Mr. Gibson; "but all +that should be over now. We both intended for the best, Miss Dorothy; +and I'm sure nobody here can say that I wasn't sincere." But Dorothy, +though she could not bring herself to answer Mr. Gibson plainly, +could not be induced to assent to his proposition. She muttered +something about her aunt's weakness, and the great attention which +Mr. Jennings shewed. Her aunt had become very fond of Mr. Jennings, +and she did at last express her opinion, with some clearness, that +her aunt should not be disturbed by any changes at present. "After +that I should not think of pressing it, Miss Dorothy," said Mr. +Gibson; "but, still, I do hope that I may have the privilege of +seeing her yet once again in the flesh. And touching my approaching +marriage, Miss <span class="nowrap">Dorothy—"</span> +He paused, and Dorothy felt that she was +blushing up to the roots of her hair. "Touching my marriage," +continued Mr. Gibson, "which however will not be solemnized till the +end of March;"—it was manifest that he regarded this as a point that +would in that household be regarded as an argument in his favour,—"I +do hope that you will look upon it in the most favourable light,—and +your excellent aunt also, if she be spared to us."</p> + +<p>"I am sure we hope that you will be happy, Mr. Gibson."</p> + +<p>"What was I to do, Miss Dorothy? I know that I have been very much +blamed;—but so unfairly! I have never meant to be untrue to a mouse, +Miss Dorothy." Dorothy did not at all understand whether she were the +mouse, or Camilla French, or Arabella. "And it is so hard to find +that one is ill-spoken of because things have gone a little amiss." +It was quite impossible that Dorothy should make any answer to this, +and at last Mr. Gibson left her, assuring her with his last word that +nothing would give him so much pleasure as to be called upon once +more to see his old friend in her last moments.</p> + +<p>Though Miss Stanbury had been described as sleeping "like a babby," +she had heard the footsteps of a strange man in the house, and had +made Martha tell her whose footsteps they were. As soon as Dorothy +went to her, she darted upon the subject with all her old keenness. +"What did he want here, Dolly?"</p> + +<p>"He said he would like to see you, aunt,—when you are a little +better, you know. He spoke a good deal of his old friendship and +respect."</p> + +<p>"He should have thought of that before. How am I to see people now?"</p> + +<p>"But when you are better, aunt—?"</p> + +<p>"How do I know that I shall ever be better? He isn't off with those +people at Heavitree,—is he?"</p> + +<p>"I hope not, aunt."</p> + +<p>"Psha! A poor, weak, insufficient creature;—that's what he is. Mr. +Jennings is worth twenty of him." Dorothy, though she put the +question again in its most alluring form of Christian charity and +forgiveness, could not induce her aunt to say that she would see Mr. +Gibson. "How can I see him, when you know that Sir Peter has +forbidden me to see anybody except Mrs. Clifford and Mr. Jennings?"</p> + +<p>Two days afterwards there was an uncomfortable little scene at +Heavitree. It must, no doubt, have been the case, that the same train +of circumstances which had produced Mr. Gibson's visit to the Close, +produced also the scene in question. It was suggested by some who +were attending closely to the matter that Mr. Gibson had already come +to repent his engagement with Camilla French; and, indeed, there were +those who pretended to believe that he was induced, by the prospect +of Miss Stanbury's demise, to transfer his allegiance yet again, and +to bestow his hand upon Dorothy at last. There were many in the city +who could never be persuaded that Dorothy had refused him,—these +being, for the most part, ladies in whose estimation the value of a +husband was counted so great, and a beneficed clergyman so valuable +among suitors, that it was to their thinking impossible that Dorothy +Stanbury should in her sound senses have rejected such an offer. "I +don't believe a bit of it," said Mrs. Crumbie to Mrs. Apjohn; "is it +likely?" The ears of all the French family were keenly alive to +rumours, and to rumours of rumours. Reports of these opinions +respecting Mr. Gibson reached Heavitree, and had their effect. As +long as Mr. Gibson was behaving well as a suitor, they were +inoperative there. What did it matter to them how the prize might +have been struggled for,—might still be struggled for elsewhere, +while they enjoyed the consciousness of possession? But when the +consciousness of possession became marred by a cankerous doubt, such +rumours were very important. Camilla heard of the visit in the Close, +and swore that she would have justice done her. She gave her mother +to understand that, if any trick were played upon her, the diocese +should be made to ring of it, in a fashion that would astonish them +all, from the bishop downwards. Whereupon Mrs. French, putting much +faith in her daughter's threats, sent for Mr. Gibson.</p> + +<p>"The truth is, Mr. Gibson," said Mrs. French, when the civilities of +their first greeting had been completed, "my poor child is pining."</p> + +<p>"Pining, Mrs. French!"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—pining, Mr. Gibson. I am afraid that you little understand how +sensitive is that young heart. Of course, she is your own now. To her +thinking, it would be treason to you for her to indulge in +conversation with any other gentleman; but, then, she expects that +you should spend your evenings with her,—of course!"</p> + +<p>"But, Mrs. French,—think of my engagements, as a clergyman."</p> + +<p>"We know all about that, Mr. Gibson. We know what a clergyman's calls +are. It isn't like a doctor's, Mr. Gibson."</p> + +<p>"It's very often worse, Mrs. French."</p> + +<p>"Why should you go calling in the Close, Mr. Gibson?" Here was the +gist of the accusation.</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't you have me make my peace with a poor dying sister?" +pleaded Mr. Gibson.</p> + +<p>"After what has occurred," said Mrs. French, shaking her head at him, +"and while things are just as they are now, it would be more like an +honest man of you to stay away. And, of course, Camilla feels it. She +feels it very much;—and she won't put up with it neither."</p> + +<p>"I think this is the cruellest, cruellest thing I ever heard," said +Mr. Gibson.</p> + +<p>"It is you that are cruel, sir."</p> + +<p>Then the wretched man turned at bay. "I tell you what it is, Mrs. +French;—if I am treated in this way, I won't stand it. I won't, +indeed. I'll go away. I'm not going to be suspected, nor yet blown +up. I think I've behaved handsomely, at any rate to Camilla."</p> + +<p>"Quite so, Mr. Gibson, if you would come and see her on evenings," +said Mrs. French, who was falling back into her usual state of +timidity.</p> + +<p>"But, if I'm to be treated in this way, I will go away. I've thought +of it as it is. I've been already invited to go to Natal, and if I +hear anything more of these accusations, I shall certainly make up my +mind to go." Then he left the house, before Camilla could be down +upon him from her perch on the landing-place.</p> + + +<p><a name="c55" id="c55"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LV.</h3> +<h4>THE REPUBLICAN BROWNING.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Mr. Glascock had returned to Naples after his sufferings in the +dining-room of the American Minister, and by the middle of February +was back again in Florence. His father was still alive, and it was +said that the old lord would now probably live through the winter. +And it was understood that Mr. Glascock would remain in Italy. He had +declared that he would pass his time between Naples, Rome, and +Florence; but it seemed to his friends that Florence was, of the +three, the most to his taste. He liked his room, he said, at the York +Hotel, and he liked being in the capital. That was his own statement. +His friends said that he liked being with Carry Spalding, the +daughter of the American Minister; but none of them, then in Italy, +were sufficiently intimate with him to express that opinion to +himself.</p> + +<p>It had been expressed more than once to Carry Spalding. The world in +general says such things to ladies more openly than it does to men, +and the probability of a girl's success in matrimony is canvassed in +her hearing by those who are nearest to her with a freedom which can +seldom be used in regard to a man. A man's most intimate friend +hardly speaks to him of the prospect of his marriage till he himself +has told that the engagement exists. The lips of no living person had +suggested to Mr. Glascock that the American girl was to become his +wife; but a great deal had been said to Carry Spalding about the +conquest she had made. Her uncle, her aunt, her sister, and her great +friend Miss Petrie, the poetess,—the Republican Browning as she was +called,—had all spoken to her about it frequently. Olivia had +declared her conviction that the thing was to be. Miss Petrie had, +with considerable eloquence, explained to her friend that that +English title, which was but the clatter of a sounding brass, should +be regarded as a drawback rather than as an advantage. Mrs. Spalding, +who was no poetess, would undoubtedly have welcomed Mr. Glascock as +her niece's husband with all an aunt's energy. When told by Miss +Petrie that old Lord Peterborough was a tinkling cymbal she snapped +angrily at her gifted countrywoman. But she was too honest a woman, +and too conscious also of her niece's strength, to say a word to urge +her on. Mr. Spalding as an American minister, with full powers at the +court of a European sovereign, felt that he had full as much to give +as to receive; but he was well inclined to do both. He would have +been much pleased to talk about his nephew Lord Peterborough, and he +loved his niece dearly. But by the middle of February he was +beginning to think that the matter had been long enough in training. +If the Honourable Glascock meant anything, why did he not speak out +his mind plainly? The American Minister in such matters was +accustomed to fewer ambages than were common in the circles among +which Mr. Glascock had lived.</p> + +<p>In the meantime Caroline Spalding was suffering. She had allowed +herself to think that Mr. Glascock intended to propose to her, and +had acknowledged to herself that were he to do so she would certainly +accept him. All that she had seen of him, since the day on which he +had been courteous to her about the seat in the diligence, had been +pleasant to her. She had felt the charm of his manner, his education, +and his gentleness; and had told herself that with all her love for +her own country, she would willingly become an Englishwoman for the +sake of being that man's wife. But nevertheless the warnings of her +great friend, the poetess, had not been thrown away upon her. She +would put away from herself as far as she could any desire to become +Lady Peterborough. There should be no bias in the man's favour on +that score. The tinkling cymbal and the sounding brass should be +nothing to her. But yet,—yet what a chance was there here for her? +"They are dishonest, and rotten at the core," said Miss Petrie, +trying to make her friend understand that a free American should +under no circumstances place trust in an English aristocrat. "Their +country, Carry, is a game played out, while we are still breasting +the hill with our young lungs full of air." Carry Spalding was proud +of her intimacy with the Republican Browning; but nevertheless she +liked Mr. Glascock; and when Mr. Glascock had been ten days in +Florence, on his third visit to the city, and had been four or five +times at the embassy without expressing his intentions in the proper +form, Carry Spalding began to think that she had better save herself +from a heartbreak while salvation might be within her reach. She +perceived that her uncle was gloomy and almost angry when he spoke of +Mr. Glascock, and that her aunt was fretful with disappointment. The +Republican Browning had uttered almost a note of triumph; and had it +not been that Olivia persisted, Carry Spalding would have consented +to go away with Miss Petrie to Rome. "The old stones are rotten too," +said the poetess; "but their dust tells no lies." That well known +piece of hers—"Ancient Marbles, while ye crumble," was written at +this time, and contained an occult reference to Mr. Glascock and her +friend.</p> + +<p>But Livy Spalding clung to the alliance. She probably knew her +sister's heart better than did the others; and perhaps also had a +clearer insight into Mr. Glascock's character. She was at any rate +clearly of opinion that there should be no running away. "Either you +do like him, or you don't. If you do, what are you to get by going to +Rome?" said Livy.</p> + +<p>"I shall get quit of doubt and trouble."</p> + +<p>"I call that cowardice. I would never run away from a man, Carry. +Aunt Sophie forgets that they don't manage these things in England +just as we do."</p> + +<p>"I don't know why there should be a difference."</p> + +<p>"Nor do I;—only that there is. You haven't read so many of their +novels as I have."</p> + +<p>"Who would ever think of learning to live out of an English novel?" +said Carry.</p> + +<p>"I am not saying that. You may teach him to live how you like +afterwards. But if you have anything to do with people it must be +well to know what their manners are. I think the richer sort of +people in England slide into these things more gradually than we do. +You stand your ground, Carry, and hold your own, and take the goods +the gods provide you." Though Caroline Spalding opposed her sister's +arguments, and was particularly hard upon that allusion to "the +richer sort of people,"—which, as she knew, Miss Petrie would have +regarded as evidence of reverence for sounding brasses and tinkling +cymbals,—nevertheless she loved Livy dearly for what she said, and +kissed the sweet counsellor, and resolved that she would for the +present decline the invitation of the poetess. Then was Miss Petrie +somewhat indignant with her friend, and threw out her scorn in those +lines which have been mentioned.</p> + +<p>But the American Minister hardly knew how to behave himself when he +met Mr. Glascock, or even when he was called upon to speak of him. +Florence no doubt is a large city, and is now the capital of a great +kingdom; but still people meet in Florence much more frequently than +they do in Paris or in London. It may almost be said that they whose +habit it is to go into society, and whose circumstances bring them +into the same circles, will see each other every day. Now the +American Minister delighted to see and to be seen in all places +frequented by persons of a certain rank and position in Florence. +Having considered the matter much, he had convinced himself that he +could thus best do his duty as minister from the great Republic of +Free States to the newest and,—as he called it,—"the free-est of +the European kingdoms." The minister from France was a marquis; he +from England was an earl; from Spain had come a count,—and so on. In +the domestic privacy of his embassy Mr. Spalding would be severe +enough upon the sounding brasses and the tinkling cymbals, and was +quite content himself to be the Honourable Jonas G. +Spalding,—Honourable because selected by his country for a post of +honour; but he liked to be heard among the cymbals and seen among the +brasses, and to feel that his position was as high as theirs. Mr. +Glascock also was frequently in the same circles, and thus it came to +pass that the two gentlemen saw each other almost daily. That Mr. +Spalding knew well how to bear himself in his high place no one could +doubt; but he did not quite know how to carry himself before Mr. +Glascock. At home at Boston he would have been more completely master +of the situation.</p> + +<p>He thought too that he began to perceive that Mr. Glascock avoided +him, though he would hear on his return home that that gentleman had +been at the embassy, or had been walking in the Cascine with his +nieces. That their young ladies should walk in public places with +unmarried gentlemen is nothing to American fathers and guardians. +American young ladies are accustomed to choose their own companions. +But the minister was tormented by his doubts as to the ways of +Englishmen, and as to the phase in which English habits might most +properly exhibit themselves in Italy. He knew that people were +talking about Mr. Glascock and his niece. Why then did Mr. Glascock +avoid him? It was perhaps natural that Mr. Spalding should have +omitted to observe that Mr. Glascock was not delighted by those +lectures on the American constitution which formed so large a part of +his ordinary conversation with Englishmen.</p> + +<p>It happened one afternoon that they were thrown together so closely +for nearly an hour that neither could avoid the other. They were both +at the old palace in which the Italian parliament is held, and were +kept waiting during some long delay in the ceremonies of the place. +They were seated next to each other, and during such delay there was +nothing for them but to talk. On the other side of each of them was a +stranger, and not to talk in such circumstances would be to quarrel. +Mr. Glascock began by asking after the ladies.</p> + +<p>"They are quite well, sir, thank you," said the minister. "I hope +that Lord Peterborough was pretty well when last you heard from +Naples, Mr. Glascock." Mr. Glascock explained that his father's +condition was not much altered, and then there was silence for a +moment.</p> + +<p>"Your nieces will remain with you through the spring I suppose?" said +Mr. Glascock.</p> + +<p>"Such is their intention, sir."</p> + +<p>"They seem to like Florence, I think."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—yes; I think they do like Florence. They see this capital, +sir, perhaps under more favourable circumstances than are accorded to +most of my countrywomen. Our republican simplicity, Mr. Glascock, has +this drawback, that away from home it subjects us somewhat to the +cold shade of unobserved obscurity. That it possesses merits which +much more than compensate for this trifling evil I should be the last +man in Europe to deny." It is to be observed that American citizens +are always prone to talk of Europe. It affords the best counterpoise +they know to that other term, America,—and America and the United +States are of course the same. To speak of France or of England as +weighing equally against their own country seems to an American to be +an absurdity,—and almost an insult to himself. With Europe he can +compare himself, but even this is done generally in the style of the +Republican Browning when she addressed the Ancient Marbles.</p> + +<p>"Undoubtedly," said Mr. Glascock, "the family of a minister abroad +has great advantages in seeing the country to which he is +accredited."</p> + +<p>"That is my meaning, sir. But, as I was remarking, we carry with us +as a people no external symbols of our standing at home. The wives +and daughters, sir, of the most honoured of our citizens have no +nomenclature different from that which belongs to the least noted +among us. It is perhaps a consequence of this that Europeans who are +accustomed in their social intercourse to the assistance of titles, +will not always trouble themselves to inquire who and what are the +American citizens who may sit opposite to them at table. I have +known, Mr. Glascock, the wife and daughter of a gentleman who has +been thrice sent as senator from his native State to Washington, to +remain as disregarded in the intercourse of a European city, as +though they had formed part of the family of some grocer from your +Russell Square!"</p> + +<p>"Let the Miss Spaldings go where they will," said Mr. Glascock, "they +will not fare in that way."</p> + +<p>"The Miss Spaldings, sir, are very much obliged to you," said the +minister with a bow.</p> + +<p>"I regard it as one of the luckiest chances of my life that I was +thrown in with them at St. Michael as I was," said Mr. Glascock with +something like warmth.</p> + +<p>"I am sure, sir, they will never forget the courtesy displayed by you +on that occasion," said the minister bowing again.</p> + +<p>"That was a matter of course. I and my friend would have done the +same for the grocer's wife and daughter of whom you spoke. Little +services such as that do not come from appreciation of merit, but are +simply the payment of the debt due by all men to all women."</p> + +<p>"Such is certainly the rule of living in our country, sir," said Mr. +Spalding.</p> + +<p>"The chances are," continued the Englishman, "that no further +observation follows the payment of such a debt. It has been a thing +of course."</p> + +<p>"We delight to think it so, Mr. Glascock, in our own cities."</p> + +<p>"But in this instance it has given rise to one of the pleasantest, +and as I hope most enduring friendships that I have ever formed," +said Mr. Glascock with enthusiasm. What could the American Minister +do but bow again three times? And what other meaning could he attach +to such words than that which so many of his friends had been +attributing to Mr. Glascock for some weeks past? It had occurred to +Mr. Spalding, even since he had been sitting in his present close +proximity to Mr. Glascock, that it might possibly be his duty as an +uncle having to deal with an Englishman, to ask that gentleman what +were his intentions. He would do his duty let it be what it might; +but the asking of such a question would be very disagreeable to him. +For the present he satisfied himself with inviting his neighbour to +come and drink tea with Mrs. Spalding on the next evening but one. +"The girls will be delighted, I am sure," said he, thinking himself +to be justified in this friendly familiarity by Mr. Glascock's +enthusiasm. For Mr. Spalding was clearly of opinion that, let the +value of republican simplicity be what it might, an alliance with the +crumbling marbles of Europe would in his niece's circumstances be not +inexpedient. Mr. Glascock accepted the invitation with alacrity, and +the minister when he was closeted with his wife that evening declared +his opinion that after all the Britisher meant fighting. The aunt +told the girls that Mr. Glascock was coming, and in order that it +might not seem that a net was being specially spread for him, others +were invited to join the party. Miss Petrie consented to be there, +and the Italian, Count Buonarosci, to whose presence, though she +could not speak to him, Mrs. Spalding was becoming accustomed. It was +painful to her to feel that she could not communicate with those +around her, and for that reason she would have avoided Italians. But +she had an idea that she could not thoroughly realise the advantages +of foreign travel unless she lived with foreigners; and, therefore, +she was glad to become intimate at any rate with the outside of Count +Buonarosci.</p> + +<p>"I think your uncle is wrong, dear," said Miss Petrie early in the +day to her friend.</p> + +<p>"But why? He has done nothing more than what is just civil."</p> + +<p>"If Mr. Glascock kept a store in Broadway he would not have thought +it necessary to shew the same civility."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—if we all liked the Mr. Glascock who kept the store."</p> + +<p>"Caroline," said the poetess with severe eloquence, "can you put your +hand upon your heart and say that this inherited title, this tinkling +cymbal as I call it, has no attraction for you or yours? Is it the +unadorned simple man that you welcome to your bosom, or a thing of +stars and garters, a patch of parchment, the minion of a throne, the +lordling of twenty descents, in which each has been weaker than that +before it, the hero of a scutcheon, whose glory is in his +quarterings, and whose worldly wealth comes from the sweat of serfs +whom the euphonism of an effete country has learned to decorate with +the name of tenants?"</p> + +<p>But Caroline Spalding had a spirit of her own, and had already made +up her mind that she would not be talked down by Miss Petrie. "Uncle +Jonas," said she, "asks him because we like him; and would do so too +if he kept the store in Broadway. But if he did keep the store +perhaps we should not like him."</p> + +<p>"I trow not," said Miss Petrie.</p> + +<p>Livy was much more comfortable in her tactics, and without consulting +anybody sent for a hairdresser. "It's all very well for Wallachia," +said Livy,—Miss Petrie's name was Wallachia,—"but I know a nice +sort of man when I see him, and the ways of the world are not to be +altered because Wally writes poetry."</p> + +<p>When Mr. Glascock was announced Mrs. Spalding's handsome rooms were +almost filled, as rooms in Florence are filled,—obstruction in every +avenue, a crowd in every corner, and a block at every doorway, not +being among the customs of the place. Mr. Spalding immediately caught +him,—intercepting him between the passages and the ladies,—and +engaged him at once in conversation.</p> + +<p>"Your John S. Mill is a great man," said the minister.</p> + +<p>"They tell me so," said Mr. Glascock. "I don't read what he writes +myself."</p> + +<p>This acknowledgment seemed to the minister to be almost disgraceful, +and yet he himself had never read a word of Mr. Mill's writings. "He +is a far-seeing man," continued the minister. "He is one of the few +Europeans who can look forward, and see how the rivers of +civilization are running on. He has understood that women must at +last be put upon an equality with men."</p> + +<p>"Can he manage that men shall have half the babies?" said Mr. +Glascock, thinking to escape by an attempt at playfulness.</p> + +<p>But the minister was down upon him at once,—had him by the lappet of +his coat, though he knew how important it was for his dear niece that +he should allow Mr. Glascock to amuse himself this evening after +another fashion. "I have an answer ready, sir, for that difficulty," +he said. "Step aside with me for a moment. The question is important, +and I should be glad if you would communicate my ideas to your great +philosopher. Nature, sir, has laid down certain laws, which are +immutable; and, against <span class="nowrap">them,—"</span></p> + +<p>But Mr. Glascock had not come to Florence for this. There were +circumstances in his present position which made him feel that he +would be gratified in escaping, even at the cost of some seeming +incivility. "I must go in to the ladies at once," he said, "or I +shall never get a word with them." There came across the minister's +brow a momentary frown of displeasure, as though he felt that he were +being robbed of that which was justly his own. For an instant his +grasp fixed itself more tightly to the coat. It was quite within the +scope of his courage to hold a struggling listener by physical +strength;—but he remembered that there was a purpose, and he relaxed +his hold.</p> + +<p>"I will take another opportunity," said the minister. "As you have +raised that somewhat trite objection of the bearing of children, +which we in our country, sir, have altogether got over, I must put +you in possession of my views on that subject; but I will find +another occasion." Then Mr. Glascock began to reflect whether an +American lady, married in England, would probably want to see much of +her uncle in her adopted country.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Spalding was all smiles when her guest reached her. "We did not +mean to have such a crowd of people," she said, whispering; "but you +know how one thing leads to another, and people here really like +short invitations." Then the minister's wife bowed very low to an +Italian lady, and for the moment wished herself in Beacon Street. It +was a great trouble to her that she could not pluck up courage to +speak a word in Italian. "I know more about it than some that are +glib enough," she would say to her niece Livy, "but these Tuscans are +so particular with their Bocca Toscana."</p> + +<p>It was almost spiteful on the part of Miss Petrie,—the manner in +which, on this evening, she remained close to her friend Caroline +Spalding. It is hardly possible to believe that it came altogether +from high principle,—from a determination to save her friend from an +impending danger. One's friend has no right to decide for one what +is, and what is not dangerous. Mr. Glascock after awhile found +himself seated on a fixed couch, that ran along the wall, between +Carry Spalding and Miss Petrie; but Miss Petrie was almost as bad to +him as had been the minister himself. "I am afraid," she said, +looking up into his face with some severity, and rushing upon her +subject with audacity, "that the works of your Browning have not been +received in your country with that veneration to which they are +entitled."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean Mr. or Mrs. Browning?" asked Mr. Glascock,—perhaps with +some mistaken idea that the lady was out of her depth, and did not +know the difference.</p> + +<p>"Either;—both; for they are one, the same, and indivisible. The +spirit and germ of each is so reflected in the outcome of the other, +that one sees only the result of so perfect a combination, and one is +tempted to acknowledge that here and there a marriage may have been +arranged in Heaven. I don't think that in your country you have +perceived this, Mr. Glascock."</p> + +<p>"I am not quite sure that we have," said Mr. Glascock.</p> + +<p>"Yours is not altogether an inglorious mission," continued Miss +Petrie.</p> + +<p>"I've got no mission," said Mr. Glascock,—"either from the Foreign +Office, or from my own inner convictions."</p> + +<p>Miss Petrie laughed with a scornful laugh. "I spoke, sir, of the +mission of that small speck on the earth's broad surface, of which +you think so much, and which we call Great Britain."</p> + +<p>"I do think a good deal of it," said Mr. Glascock.</p> + +<p>"It has been more thought of than any other speck of the same size," +said Carry Spalding.</p> + +<p>"True," said Miss Petrie, sharply;—"because of its iron and coal. +But the mission I spoke of was this." And she put forth her hand with +an artistic motion as she spoke. "It utters prophecies, though it +cannot read them. It sends forth truth, though it cannot understand +it. Though its own ears are deaf as adders', it is the nursery of +poets, who sing not for their own countrymen, but for the higher +sensibilities and newer intelligences of lands, in which philanthropy +has made education as common as the air that is breathed."</p> + +<p>"Wally," said Olivia, coming up to the poetess, in anger that was +almost apparent, "I want to take you, and introduce you to the +Marchesa Pulti."</p> + +<p>But Miss Petrie no doubt knew that the eldest son of an English lord +was at least as good as an Italian marchesa. "Let her come here," +said the poetess, with her grandest smile.</p> + + +<p><a name="c56" id="c56"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LVI.</h3> +<h4>WITHERED GRASS.<br /> </h4> + + +<p><img class="left" src="images/ch56a.jpg" width="310" alt="Illustration" /> +When Caroline Spalding perceived how direct an attempt had been made +by her sister to take the poetess away, in order that she might thus +be left alone with Mr. Glascock, her spirit revolted against the +manœuvre, and she took herself away amidst the crowd. If Mr. +Glascock should wish to find her again he could do so. And there came +across her mind something of a half-formed idea that, perhaps after +all her friend Wallachia was right. Were this man ready to take her +and she ready to be taken, would such an arrangement be a happy one +for both of them? His high-born, wealthy friends might very probably +despise her, and it was quite possible that she also might despise +them. To be Lady Peterborough, and have the spending of a large +fortune, would not suffice for her happiness. She was sure of that. +It would be a leap in the dark, and all such leaps must needs be +dangerous, and therefore should be avoided. But she did like the man. +Her friend was untrue to her and cruel in those allusions to tinkling +cymbals. It might be well for her to get over her liking, and to +think no more of one who was to her a foreigner and a stranger,—of +whose ways of living in his own home she knew so little, whose people +might be antipathetic to her, enemies instead of friends, among whom +her life would be one long misery; but it was not on that ground that +Miss Petrie had recommended her to start for Rome as soon as Mr. +Glascock had reached Florence. "There is no reason," she said to +herself, "why I should not marry a man if I like him, even though he +be a lord. And of him I should not be the least afraid. It's the +women that I fear." And then she called to mind all that she had ever +heard of English countesses and duchesses. She thought that she knew +that they were generally cold and proud, and very little given to +receive outsiders graciously within their ranks. Mr. Glascock had an +aunt who was a Duchess, and a sister who would be a Countess. +Caroline Spalding felt how her back would rise against these new +relations, if it should come to pass that they should look unkindly +upon her when she was taken to her own home;—how she would fight +with them, giving them scorn for scorn; how unutterably miserable she +would be; how she would long to be back among her own equals, in +spite even of her love for her husband. "How grand a thing it is," +she said, "to be equal with those whom you love!" And yet she was to +some extent allured by the social position of the man. She could +perceive that he had a charm of manner which her countrymen lacked. +He had read, perhaps, less than her uncle;—knew, perhaps, less than +most of those men with whom she had been wont to associate in her own +city life at home;—was not braver, or more virtuous, or more +self-denying than they; but there was a softness and an ease in his +manner which was palatable to her, and an absence of that too visible +effort of the intellect which is so apt to mark and mar the +conversation of Americans. She almost wished that she had been +English, in order that the man's home and friends might have suited +her. She was thinking of all this as she stood pretending to talk to +an American lady, who was very eloquent on the delights of Florence.</p> + +<p>In the meantime Olivia and Mr. Glascock had moved away together, and +Miss Petrie was left alone. This was no injury to Miss Petrie, as her +mind at once set itself to work on a sonnet touching the frivolity of +modern social gatherings; and when she complained afterwards to +Caroline that it was the curse of their mode of life that no moment +could be allowed for thought,—in which she referred specially to a +few words that Mr. Gore had addressed to her at this moment of her +meditations,—she was not wilfully a hypocrite. She was painfully +turning her second set of rhymes, and really believed that she had +been subjected to a hardship. In the meantime Olivia and Mr. Glascock +were discussing her at a distance.</p> + +<p>"You were being put through your facings, Mr. Glascock," Olivia had +said.</p> + +<p>"Well; yes; and your dear friend, Miss Petrie, is rather a stern +examiner."</p> + +<p>"She is Carry's ally, not mine," said Olivia. Then she remembered +that by saying this she might be doing her sister an injury. Mr. +Glascock might object to such a bosom friend for his wife. "That is +to say, of course we are all intimate with her, but just at this +moment Carry is most in favour."</p> + +<p>"She is very clever, I am quite sure," said he.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes;—she's a genius. You must not doubt that on the peril of +making every American in Italy your enemy."</p> + +<p>"She is a poet,—is she not?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Glascock!"</p> + +<p>"Have I said anything wrong?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to look me in the face and tell me that you are not +acquainted with her works,—that you don't know pages of them by +heart, that you don't sleep with them under your pillow, don't travel +about with them in your dressing-bag? I'm afraid we have mistaken +you, Mr. Glascock."</p> + +<p>"Is it so great a sin?"</p> + +<p>"If you'll own up honestly, I'll tell you something,—in a whisper. +You have not read a word of her poems?"</p> + +<p>"Not a word."</p> + +<p>"Neither have I. Isn't it horrible? But, perhaps, if I heard Tennyson +talking every day, I shouldn't read Tennyson. Familiarity does breed +contempt;—doesn't it? And then poor dear Wallachia is such a bore. I +sometimes wonder, when English people are listening to her, whether +they think that American girls generally talk like that."</p> + +<p>"Not all, perhaps, with that perfected eloquence."</p> + +<p>"I dare say you do," continued Olivia, craftily. "That is just the +way in which people form their opinions about foreigners. Some +specially self-asserting American speaks his mind louder than other +people, and then you say that all Americans are self-asserting."</p> + +<p>"But you are a little that way given, Miss Spalding."</p> + +<p>"Because we are always called upon to answer accusations against us, +expressed or unexpressed. We don't think ourselves a bit better than +you; or, if the truth were known, half as good. We are always +struggling to be as polished and easy as the French, or as sensible +and dignified as the English; but when our defects are thrown in our +<span class="nowrap">teeth—"</span></p> + +<p>"Who throws them in your teeth, Miss Spalding?"</p> + +<p>"You look it,—all of you,—if you do not speak it out. You do assume +a superiority, Mr. Glascock; and that we cannot endure."</p> + +<p>"I do not feel that I assume anything," said Mr. Glascock, meekly.</p> + +<p>"If three gentlemen be together, an Englishman, a Frenchman, and an +American, is not the American obliged to be on his mettle to prove +that he is somebody among the three? I admit that he is always +claiming to be the first; but he does so only that he may not be too +evidently the last. If you knew us, Mr. Glascock, you would find us +to be very mild, and humble and nice, and good, and clever, and kind, +and charitable, and beautiful,—in short, the finest people that have +as yet been created on the broad face of God's smiling earth." These +last words she pronounced with a nasal twang, and in a tone of voice +which almost seemed to him to be a direct mimicry of the American +Minister. The upshot of the conversation, however, was that the +disgust against Americans which, to a certain degree, had been +excited in Mr. Glascock's mind by the united efforts of Mr. Spalding +and the poetess, had been almost entirely dispelled. From all of +which the reader ought to understand that Miss Olivia Spalding was a +very clever young woman.</p> + +<p>But nevertheless Mr. Glascock had not quite made up his mind to ask +the elder sister to be his wife. He was one of those men to whom +love-making does not come very easy, although he was never so much at +his ease as when he was in company with ladies. He was sorely in want +of a wife, but he was aware that at different periods during the last +fifteen years he had been angled for as a fish. Mothers in England +had tried to catch him, and of such mothers he had come to have the +strongest possible detestation. He had seen the hooks,—or perhaps +had fancied that he saw them when they were not there. Lady Janes and +Lady Sarahs had been hard upon him, till he learned to buckle himself +into triple armour when he went amongst them, and yet he wanted a +wife;—no man more sorely wanted one. The reader will perhaps +remember how he went down to Nuncombe Putney in quest of a wife, but +all in vain. The lady in that case had been so explicit with him that +he could not hope for a more favourable answer; and, indeed, he would +not have cared to marry a girl who had told him that she preferred +another man to himself, even if it had been possible for him to do +so. Now he had met a lady very different from those with whom he had +hitherto associated,—but not the less manifestly a lady. Caroline +Spalding was bright, pleasant, attractive, very easy to talk to, and +yet quite able to hold her own. But the American Minister was—a +bore; and Miss Petrie was—unbearable. He had often told himself that +in this matter of marrying a wife he would please himself altogether, +that he would allow himself to be tied down by no consideration of +family pride,—that he would consult nothing but his own heart and +feelings. As for rank, he could give that to his wife. As for money, +he had plenty of that also. He wanted a woman that was not blasée +with the world, that was not a fool, and who would respect him. The +more he thought of it, the more sure he was that he had seen none who +pleased him so well as Caroline Spalding; and yet he was a little +afraid of taking a step that would be irrevocable. Perhaps the +American Minister might express a wish to end his days at Monkhams, +and might think it desirable to have Miss Petrie always with him as a +private secretary in poetry!</p> + +<p>"Between you and us, Mr. Glascock, the spark of sympathy does not +pass with a strong flash," said a voice in his ear. As he turned +round rapidly to face his foe, he was quite sure, for the moment, +that under no possible circumstances would he ever take an American +woman to his bosom as his wife.</p> + +<p>"No," said he; "no, no. I rather think that I agree with you."</p> + +<p>"The antipathy is one," continued Miss Petrie, "which has been common +on the face of the earth since the clown first trod upon the +courtier's heels. It is the instinct of fallen man to hate equality, +to desire ascendancy, to crush, to oppress, to tyrannise, to enslave. +Then, when the slave is at last free, and in his freedom +demands—equality, man is not great enough to take his enfranchised +brother to his bosom."</p> + +<p>"You mean negroes," said Mr. Glascock, looking round and planning for +himself a mode of escape.</p> + +<p>"Not negroes only,—not the enslaved blacks, who are now enslaved no +more,—but the rising nations of white men wherever they are to be +seen. You English have no sympathy with a people who claim to be at +least your equals. The clown has trod upon the courtier's heels till +the clown is clown no longer, and the courtier has hardly a court in +which he may dangle his sword-knot."</p> + +<p>"If so the clown might as well spare the courtier," not meaning the +rebuke which his words implied.</p> + +<p>"Ah—h,—but the clown will not spare the courtier, Mr. Glascock. I +understand the gibe, and I tell you that the courtier shall be spared +no longer;—because he is useless. He shall be cut down together with +the withered grasses and thrown into the oven, and there shall be an +end of him." Then she turned round to appeal to an American gentleman +who had joined them, and Mr. Glascock made his escape. "I hold it to +be the holiest duty which I owe to my country never to spare one of +them when I meet him."</p> + +<p>"They are all very well in their way," said the American gentleman.</p> + +<p>"Down with them, down with them!" exclaimed the poetess, with a +beautiful enthusiasm. In the meantime Mr. Glascock had made up his +mind that he could not dare to ask Caroline Spalding to be his wife. +There were certain forms of the American female so dreadful that no +wise man would wilfully come in contact with them. Miss Petrie's +ferocity was distressing to him, but her eloquence and enthusiasm +were worse even than her ferocity. The personal incivility of which +she had been guilty in calling him a withered grass was distasteful +to him, as being opposed to his ideas of the customs of society; but +what would be his fate if his wife's chosen friend should be for ever +dinning her denunciation of withered grasses into his ear?</p> + +<p>He was still thinking of all this when he was accosted by Mrs. +Spalding. "Are you going to dear Lady Banbury's to-morrow?" she +asked. Lady Banbury was the wife of the English Minister.</p> + +<p>"I suppose I shall be there in the course of the evening."</p> + +<p>"How very nice she is; is she not? I do like Lady Banbury;—so soft, +and gentle, and kind."</p> + +<p>"One of the pleasantest old ladies I know," said Mr. Glascock.</p> + +<p>"It does not strike you so much as it does me," said Mrs. Spalding, +with one of her sweetest smiles. "The truth is, we all value what we +have not got. There are no Lady Banburys in our country, and +therefore we think the more of them when we meet them here. She is +talking of going to Rome for the Carnival, and has asked Caroline to +go with her. I am so pleased to find that my dear girl is such a +favourite."</p> + +<p>Mr. Glascock immediately told himself that he saw the hook. If he +were to be fished for by this American aunt as he had been fished for +by English mothers, all his pleasure in the society of Caroline +Spalding would be at once over. It would be too much, indeed, if in +this American household he were to find the old vices of an +aristocracy superadded to young republican sins! Nevertheless Lady +Banbury was, as he knew well, a person whose opinion about young +people was supposed to be very good. She noticed those only who were +worthy of notice; and to have been taken by the hand by Lady Banbury +was acknowledged to be a passport into good society. If Caroline +Spalding was in truth going to Rome with Lady Banbury, that fact was +in itself a great confirmation of Mr. Glascock's good opinion of her. +Mrs. Spalding had perhaps understood this; but had not understood +that having just hinted that it was so, she should have abstained +from saying a word more about her dear girl. Clever and +well-practised must, indeed, be the hand of the fisherwoman in +matrimonial waters who is able to throw her fly without showing any +glimpse of the hook to the fish for whom she angles. Poor Mrs. +Spalding, though with kindly instincts towards her niece she did on +this occasion make some slight attempt at angling, was innocent of +any concerted plan. It seemed to her to be so natural to say a good +word in praise of her niece to the man whom she believed to be in +love with her niece.</p> + +<p>Caroline and Mr. Glascock did not meet each other again till late in +the evening, and just as he was about to take his leave. As they came +together each of them involuntarily looked round to see whether Miss +Petrie was near. Had she been there nothing would have been said +beyond the shortest farewell greeting. But Miss Petrie was afar off, +electrifying some Italian by the vehemence of her sentiments, and the +audacious volubility of a language in which all arbitrary +restrictions were ignored. "Are you going?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Well;—I believe I am. Since I saw you last I've encountered Miss +Petrie again, and I'm rather depressed."</p> + +<p>"Ah;—you don't know her. If you did you wouldn't laugh at her."</p> + +<p>"Laugh at her! Indeed I do not do that; but when I'm told that I'm to +be thrown into the oven and burned because I'm such a worn-out old +<span class="nowrap">institution—"</span></p> + +<p>"You don't mean to say that you mind that!"</p> + +<p>"Not much, when it comes up in the ordinary course of conversation; +but it palls upon one when it is asserted for the fourth or fifth +time in an evening."</p> + +<p>"Alas, alas!" exclaimed Miss Spalding, with mock energy.</p> + +<p>"And why, alas?"</p> + +<p>"Because it is so impossible to make the oil and vinegar of the old +world and of the new mix together and suit each other."</p> + +<p>"You think it is impossible, Miss Spalding?"</p> + +<p>"I fear so. We are so terribly tender, and you are always pinching us +on our most tender spot. And we never meet you without treading on +your gouty toes."</p> + +<p>"I don't think my toes are gouty," said he.</p> + +<p>"I apologise to your own, individually, Mr. Glascock; but I must +assert that nationally you are subject to the gout."</p> + +<p>"That is, when I'm told over and over again that I'm to be cut down +and thrown into the <span class="nowrap">oven—"</span></p> + +<p>"Never mind the oven now, Mr. Glascock. If my friend has been +over-zealous I will beg pardon for her. But it does seem to me, +indeed it does, with all the reverence and partiality I have for +everything European,"—the word European was an offence to him, and +he shewed that it was so by his countenance,—"that the +idiosyncrasies of you and of us are so radically different, that we +cannot be made to amalgamate and sympathise with each other +thoroughly."</p> + +<p>He paused for some seconds before he answered her, but it was so +evident by his manner that he was going to speak, that she could +neither leave him nor interrupt him. "I had thought that it might +have been otherwise," he said at last, and the tone of his voice was +so changed as to make her know that he was in earnest.</p> + +<p>But she did not change her voice by a single note. "I'm afraid it +cannot be so," she said, speaking after her old fashion—half in +earnest, half in banter. "We may make up our minds to be very civil +to each other when we meet. The threats of the oven may no doubt be +dropped on our side, and you may abstain from expressing in words +your sense of our inferiority."</p> + +<p>"I never expressed anything of the kind," he said, quite in anger.</p> + +<p>"I am taking you simply as the sample Englishman, not as Mr. +Glascock, who helped me and my sister over the mountains. Such of us +as have to meet in society may agree to be very courteous; but +courtesy and cordiality are not only not the same, but they are +incompatible."</p> + +<p>"Why so?"</p> + +<p>"Courtesy is an effort, and cordiality is free. I must be allowed to +contradict the friend that I love; but I assent,—too often +falsely,—to what is said to me by a passing acquaintance. In spite +of what the Scripture says, I think it is one of the greatest +privileges of a brother that he may call his brother a fool."</p> + +<p>"Shall you desire to call your husband a fool?"</p> + +<p>"My husband!"</p> + +<p>"He will, I suppose, be at least as dear to you as a brother?"</p> + +<p>"I never had a brother."</p> + +<p>"Your sister, then! It is the same, I suppose?"</p> + +<p>"If I were to have a husband, I hope he would be the dearest to me of +all. Unless he were so, he certainly would not be my husband. But +between a man and his wife there does not spring up that playful, +violent intimacy admitting of all liberties, which comes from early +nursery associations; and then, there is the difference of sex."</p> + +<p>"I should not like my wife to call me a fool," he said.</p> + +<p>"I hope she may never have occasion to do so, Mr. Glascock. Marry an +English wife in your own class,—as, of course, you will,—and then +you will be safe."</p> + +<p>"But I have set my heart fast on marrying an American wife," he said.</p> + +<p>"Then I can't tell what may befall you. It's like enough, if you do +that, that you may be called by some name you will think hard to +bear. But you'll think better of it. Like should pair with like, Mr. +Glascock. If you were to marry one of our young women, you would lose +in dignity as much as she would lose in comfort." Then they parted, +and she went off to say farewell to other guests. The manner in which +she had answered what he had said to her had certainly been of a +nature to stop any further speech of the same kind. Had she been +gentle with him, then he would certainly have told her that she was +the American woman whom he desired to take with him to his home in +England.</p> + + +<p><a name="c57" id="c57"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LVII.</h3> +<h4>DOROTHY'S FATE.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Towards the end of February Sir Peter Mancrudy declared Miss Stanbury +to be out of danger, and Mr. Martin began to be sprightly on the +subject, taking to himself no inconsiderable share of the praise +accruing to the medical faculty in Exeter generally for the saving of +a life so valuable to the city. "Yes, Mr. Burgess," Sir Peter said to +old Barty of the bank, "our friend will get over it this time, and +without any serious damage to her constitution, if she will only take +care of herself." Barty made some inaudible grunt, intended to +indicate his own indifference on the subject, and expressed his +opinion to the chief clerk that old Jemima Wideawake,—as he was +pleased to call her,—was one of those tough customers who would +never die. "It would be nothing to us, Mr. Barty, one way or the +other," said the clerk; to which Barty Burgess assented with another +grunt.</p> + +<p>Camilla French declared that she was delighted to hear the news. At +this time there had been some sort of a reconciliation between her +and her lover. Mrs. French had extracted from him a promise that he +would not go to Natal; and Camilla had commenced the preparations for +her wedding. His visits to Heavitree were as few and far between as +he could make them with any regard to decency; but the 31st of March +was coming on quickly, and as he was to be made a possession of them +for ever, it was considered to be safe and well to allow him some +liberty in his present condition. "My dear, if they are driven, there +is no knowing what they won't do," Mrs. French said to her daughter. +Camilla had submitted with compressed lips and a slight nod of her +head. She had worked very hard, but her day of reward was coming. It +was impossible not to perceive,—both for her and her mother,—that +the scantiness of Mr. Gibson's attention to his future bride was +cause of some weak triumph to Arabella. She said that it was very odd +that he did not come,—and once added with a little sigh that he used +to come in former days, alluding to those happy days in which another +love was paramount. Camilla could not endure this with an equal mind. +"Bella, dear," she said, "we know what all that means. He has made +his choice, and if I am satisfied with what he does now, surely you +need not grumble." Miss Stanbury's illness had undoubtedly been a +great source of contentment to the family at Heavitree, as they had +all been able to argue that her impending demise was the natural +consequence of her great sin in the matter of Dorothy's proposed +marriage. When, however, they heard from Mr. Martin that she would +certainly recover, that Sir Peter's edict to that effect had gone +forth, they were willing to acknowledge that Providence, having so +far punished the sinner, was right in staying its hand and abstaining +from the final blow. "I'm sure we are delighted," said Mrs. French, +"for though she has said cruel things of us,—and so untrue too,—yet +of course it is our duty to forgive her. And we do forgive her."</p> + +<p>Dorothy had written three or four notes to Brooke since his +departure, which contained simple bulletins of her aunt's health. She +always began her letters with "My dear Mr. Burgess," and ended them +with "yours truly." She never made any allusion to Brooke's +declaration of love, or gave the slightest sign in her letters to +shew that she even remembered it. At last she wrote to say that her +aunt was convalescent; and, in making this announcement, she allowed +herself some enthusiasm of expression. She was so happy, and was so +sure that Mr. Burgess would be equally so! And her aunt had asked +after her "dear Brooke," expressing her great satisfaction with him, +in that he had come down to see her when she had been almost too ill +to see any one. In answer to this there came to her a real +love-letter from Brooke Burgess. It was the first occasion on which +he had written to her. The little bulletins had demanded no replies, +and had received none. Perhaps there had been a shade of +disappointment on Dorothy's side, in that she had written thrice, and +had been made rich with no word in return. But, although her heart +had palpitated on hearing the postman's knock, and had palpitated in +vain, she had told herself that it was all as it should be. She wrote +to him, because she possessed information which it was necessary that +she should communicate. He did not write to her, because there was +nothing for him to tell. Then had come the love-letter, and in the +love-letter there was an imperative demand for a reply.</p> + +<p>What was she to do? To have recourse to Priscilla for advice was her +first idea; but she herself believed that she owed a debt of +gratitude to her aunt, which Priscilla would not take into +account,—the existence of which Priscilla would by no means admit. +She knew Priscilla's mind in this matter, and was sure that +Priscilla's advice, whatever it might be, would be given without any +regard to her aunt's views. And then Dorothy was altogether ignorant +of her aunt's views. Her aunt had been very anxious that she should +marry Mr. Gibson, but had clearly never admitted into her mind the +idea that she might possibly marry Brooke Burgess; and it seemed to +her that she herself would be dishonest, both to her aunt and to her +lover, if she were to bind this man to herself without her aunt's +knowledge. He was to be her aunt's heir, and she was maintained by +her aunt's liberality! Thinking of all this, she at last resolved +that she would take the bull by the horns, and tell her aunt. She +felt that the task would be one almost beyond her strength. Thrice +she went into her aunt's room, intending to make a clean breast. +Thrice her courage failed her, and she left the room with her tale +untold, excusing herself on various pretexts. Her aunt had seemed to +be not quite so well, or had declared herself to be tired, or had +been a little cross;—or else Martha had come in at the nick of time. +But there was Brooke Burgess's letter unanswered,—a letter that was +read night and morning, and which was never for an instant out of her +mind. He had demanded a reply, and he had a right at least to that. +The letter had been with her for four entire days before she had +ventured to speak to her aunt on the subject.</p> + +<p>On the first of March Miss Stanbury came out of her bed-room for the +first time. Dorothy, on the previous day, had decided on postponing +her communication for this occasion; but, when she found herself +sitting in the little sitting-room up-stairs close at her aunt's +elbow, and perceived the signs of weakness which the new move had +made conspicuous, and heard the invalid declare that the little +journey had been almost too much for her, her heart misgave her. She +ought to have told her tale while her aunt was still in bed. But +presently there came a question, which put her into such a flutter +that she was for the time devoid of all resolution. "Has Brooke +written?" said Miss Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"Yes,—aunt; he has written."</p> + +<p>"And what did he say?" Dorothy was struck quite dumb. "Is there +anything wrong?" And now, as Miss Stanbury asked the question, she +seemed herself to have forgotten that she had two minutes before +declared herself to be almost too feeble to speak. "I'm sure there is +something wrong. What is it? I will know."</p> + +<p>"There is nothing wrong, Aunt Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"Where is the letter? Let me see it."</p> + +<p>"I mean there is nothing wrong about him."</p> + +<p>"What is it, then?"</p> + +<p>"He is quite well, Aunt Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"Shew me the letter. I will see the letter. I know that there is +something the matter. Do you mean to say you won't shew me Brooke's +letter?"</p> + +<p>There was a moment's pause before Dorothy answered. "I will shew you +his letter;—though I am sure he didn't mean that I should shew it to +anyone."</p> + +<p>"He hasn't written evil of me?"</p> + +<p>"No; no; no. He would sooner cut his hand off than say a word bad of +you. He never says or writes anything bad of anybody. But—. Oh, +aunt; I'll tell you everything. I should have told you before, only +that you were ill."</p> + +<p>Then Miss Stanbury was frightened. "What is it?" she said hoarsely, +clasping the arms of the great chair, each with a thin, shrivelled +hand.</p> + +<p>"Aunt Stanbury, Brooke,—Brooke,—wants me to be his—wife!"</p> + + +<div class="center"><a name="ip2-060" id="ip2-060"></a> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="4px"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/p2-060.jpg"> + <img src="images/p2-060-t.jpg" width="540" + alt='"Brooke wants me to be his wife."' /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <span class="caption">"Brooke wants me to be his wife."<br /> + Click to <a href="images/p2-060.jpg">ENLARGE</a></span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p>"What!"</p> + +<p>"You cannot be more surprised than I have been, Aunt Stanbury; and +there has been no fault of mine."</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it," said the old woman.</p> + +<p>"Now you may read the letter," said Dorothy, standing up. She was +quite prepared to be obedient, but she felt that her aunt's manner of +receiving the information was almost an insult.</p> + +<p>"He must be a fool," said Miss Stanbury.</p> + +<p>This was hard to bear, and the colour went and came rapidly across +Dorothy's cheeks as she gave herself a few moments to prepare an +answer. She already perceived that her aunt would be altogether +adverse to the marriage, and that therefore the marriage could never +take place. She had never for a moment allowed herself to think +otherwise, but, nevertheless, the blow was heavy on her. We all know +how constantly hope and expectation will rise high within our own +bosoms in opposition to our own judgment,—how we become sanguine in +regard to events which we almost know can never come to pass. So it +had been with Dorothy. Her heart had been almost in a flutter of +happiness since she had had Brooke's letter in her possession, and +yet she never ceased to declare to herself her own conviction that +that letter could lead to no good result. In regard to her own wishes +on the subject she had never asked herself a single question. As it +had been quite beyond her power to bring herself to endure the idea +of marrying Mr. Gibson, so it had been quite impossible to her not to +long to be Brooke's wife from the moment in which a suggestion to +that effect had fallen from his lips. This was a state of things so +certain, so much a matter of course, that, though she had not spoken +a word to him in which she owned her love, she had never for a moment +doubted that he knew the truth,—and that everybody else concerned +would know it too. But she did not suppose that her wishes would go +for anything with her aunt. Brooke Burgess was to become a rich man +as her aunt's heir, and her aunt would of course have her own ideas +about Brooke's advancement in life. She was quite prepared to submit +without quarrelling when her aunt should tell her that the idea must +not be entertained. But the order might be given, the prohibition +might be pronounced, without an insult to her own feelings as a +woman. "He must be a fool," Miss Stanbury had said, and Dorothy took +time to collect her thoughts before she would reply. In the meantime +her aunt finished the reading of the letter.</p> + +<p>"He may be foolish in this," Dorothy said; "but I don't think you +should call him a fool."</p> + +<p>"I shall call him what I please. I suppose this was going on at the +time when you refused Mr. Gibson."</p> + +<p>"Nothing was going on. Nothing has gone on at all," said Dorothy, +with as much indignation as she was able to assume.</p> + +<p>"How can you tell me that? That is an untruth."</p> + +<p>"It is not—an untruth," said Dorothy, almost sobbing, but driven at +the same time to much anger.</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say that this is the first you ever heard of it?" And +she held out the letter, shaking it in her thin hand.</p> + +<p>"I have never said so, Aunt Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you did."</p> + +<p>"I said that nothing—was—going on, when Mr. Gibson—was—. If you +choose to suspect me, Aunt Stanbury, I'll go away. I won't stay here +if you suspect me. When Brooke spoke to me, I told him you wouldn't +like it."</p> + +<p>"Of course I don't like it." But she gave no reason why she did not +like it.</p> + +<p>"And there was nothing more till this letter came. I couldn't help +his writing to me. It wasn't my fault."</p> + +<p>"Psha!"</p> + +<p>"If you are angry, I am very sorry. But you haven't a right to be +angry."</p> + +<p>"Go on, Dorothy; go on. I'm so weak that I can hardly stir myself; +it's the first moment that I've been out of my bed for weeks;—and of +course you can say what you please. I know what it will be. I shall +have to take to my bed again, and then,—in a very little time,—you +can both—make fools of yourselves,—just as you like."</p> + +<p>This was an argument against which Dorothy of course found it to be +quite impossible to make continued combat. She could only shuffle her +letter back into her pocket, and be, if possible, more assiduous than +ever in her attentions to the invalid. She knew that she had been +treated most unjustly, and there would be a question to be answered +as soon as her aunt should be well as to the possibility of her +remaining in the Close subject to such injustice; but let her aunt +say what she might, or do what she might, Dorothy could not leave her +for the present. Miss Stanbury sat for a considerable time quite +motionless, with her eyes closed, and did not stir or make signs of +life till Dorothy touched her arm, asking her whether she would not +take some broth which had been prepared for her. "Where's Martha? Why +does not Martha come?" said Miss Stanbury. This was a hard blow, and +from that moment Dorothy believed that it would be expedient that she +should return to Nuncombe Putney. The broth, however, was taken, +while Dorothy sat by in silence. Only one word further was said that +evening by Miss Stanbury about Brooke and his love affair. "There +must be nothing more about this, Dorothy; remember that; nothing at +all. I won't have it." Dorothy made no reply. Brooke's letter was in +her pocket, and it should be answered that night. On the following +day she would let her aunt know what she had said to Brooke. Her aunt +should not see the letter, but should be made acquainted with its +purport in reference to Brooke's proposal of marriage.</p> + +<p>"I won't have it!" That had been her aunt's command. What right had +her aunt to give any command upon the matter? Then crossed Dorothy's +mind, as she thought of this, a glimmering of an idea that no one can +be entitled to issue commands who cannot enforce obedience. If Brooke +and she chose to become man and wife by mutual consent, how could her +aunt prohibit the marriage? Then there followed another idea, that +commands are enforced by the threatening and, if necessary, by the +enforcement of penalties. Her aunt had within her hand no penalty of +which Dorothy was afraid on her own behalf; but she had the power of +inflicting a terrible punishment on Brooke Burgess. Now Dorothy +conceived that she herself would be the meanest creature alive if she +were actuated by fears as to money in her acceptance or rejection of +a man whom she loved as she did Brooke Burgess. Brooke had an income +of his own which seemed to her to be ample for all purposes. But that +which would have been sordid in her, did not seem to her to have any +stain of sordidness for him. He was a man, and was bound to be rich +if he could. And, moreover, what had she to offer in herself,—such a +poor thing as was she,—to make compensation to him for the loss of +fortune? Her aunt could inflict this penalty, and therefore the power +was hers, and the power must be obeyed. She would write to Brooke in +a manner that should convey to him her firm decision. But not the +less on that account would she let her aunt know that she thought +herself to have been ill-used. It was an insult to her, a most +ill-natured insult,—that telling her that Brooke had been a fool for +loving her. And then that accusation against her of having been +false, of having given one reason for refusing Mr. Gibson, while +there was another reason in her heart,—of having been cunning and +then untrue, was not to be endured. What would her aunt think of her +if she were to bear such allegations without indignant protest? She +would write her letter, and speak her mind to her aunt as soon as her +aunt should be well enough to hear it.</p> + +<p>As she had resolved, she wrote her letter that night before she went +to bed. She wrote it with floods of tears, and a bitterness of heart +which almost conquered her. She too had heard of love, and had been +taught to feel that the success or failure of a woman's life depended +upon that,—whether she did, or whether she did not, by such gifts as +God might have given to her, attract to herself some man strong +enough, and good enough, and loving enough to make straight for her +her paths, to bear for her her burdens, to be the father of her +children, the staff on which she might lean, and the wall against +which she might grow, feeling the sunshine, and sheltered from the +wind. She had ever estimated her own value so lowly as to have told +herself often that such success could never come in her way. From her +earliest years she had regarded herself as outside the pale within +which such joys are to be found. She had so strictly taught herself +to look forward to a blank existence, that she had learned to do so +without active misery. But not the less did she know where happiness +lay; and when the good thing came almost within her reach, when it +seemed that God had given her gifts which might have sufficed, when a +man had sought her hand whose nature was such that she could have +leaned on him with a true worship, could have grown against him as +against a wall with perfect confidence, could have lain with her head +upon his bosom, and have felt that of all spots that in the world was +the most fitting for her,—when this was all but grasped, and must +yet be abandoned, there came upon her spirit an agony so bitter that +she had not before known how great might be the depth of human +disappointment. But the letter was at last written, and when finished +was as <span class="nowrap">follows:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">The Close, Exeter, March 1, 186—.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear Brooke</span>,<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>There had been many doubts about this; but at last they were +conquered, and the name was written.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p>I have shown your letter to my aunt, as I am sure you will +think was best. I should have answered it before, only +that I thought that she was not quite well enough to talk +about it. She says, as I was sure she would, that what you +propose is quite out of the question. I am aware that I am +bound to obey her; and as I think that you also ought to +do so, I shall think no more of what you have said to me +and have written. It is quite impossible now, even if it +might have been possible under other circumstances. I +shall always remember your great kindness to me. Perhaps I +ought to say that I am very grateful for the compliment +you have paid me. I shall think of you always;—till I +die.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="ind10">Believe me to be,</span><br /> +<span class="ind12">Your very sincere friend,</span></p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Dorothy +Stanbury</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>The next day Miss Stanbury again came out of her room, and on the +third day she was manifestly becoming stronger. Dorothy had as yet +not spoken of her letter, but was prepared to do so as soon as she +thought that a fitting opportunity had come. She had a word or two to +say for herself; but she must not again subject herself to being told +that she was taking her will of her aunt because her aunt was too ill +to defend herself. But on the third day Miss Stanbury herself asked +the question. "Have you written anything to Brooke?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I have answered his letter, Aunt Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"And what have you said to him?"</p> + +<p>"I have told him that you disapproved of it, and that nothing more +must be said about it."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—of course you made me out to be an ogre."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you mean by that, aunt. I am sure that I told him +the truth."</p> + +<p>"May I see the letter?"</p> + +<p>"It has gone."</p> + +<p>"But you have kept a copy," said Miss Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I have got a copy," replied Dorothy; "but I would rather not +shew it. I told him just what I tell you."</p> + +<p>"Dorothy, it is not at all becoming that you should have a +correspondence with any young man of such a nature that you should be +ashamed to shew it to your aunt."</p> + +<p>"I am not ashamed of anything," said Dorothy sturdily.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what young women in these days have come to," continued +Miss Stanbury. "There is no respect, no subjection, no obedience, and +too often—no modesty."</p> + +<p>"Does that mean me, Aunt Stanbury?" asked Dorothy.</p> + +<p>"To tell you the truth, Dorothy, I don't think you ought to have been +receiving love-letters from Brooke Burgess when I was lying ill in +bed. I didn't expect it of you. I tell you fairly that I didn't +expect it of you."</p> + +<p>Then Dorothy spoke out her mind. "As you think that, Aunt Stanbury, I +had better go away. And if you please I will,—when you are well +enough to spare me."</p> + +<p>"Pray don't think of me at all," said her aunt.</p> + +<p>"And as for love-letters,—Mr. Burgess has written to me once. I +don't think that there can be anything immodest in opening a letter +when it comes by the post. And as soon as I had it I determined to +shew it to you. As for what happened before, when Mr. Burgess spoke +to me, which was long, long after all that about Mr. Gibson was over, +I told him that it couldn't be so; and I thought there would be no +more about it. You were so ill that I could not tell you. Now you +know it all."</p> + +<p>"I have not seen your letter to him."</p> + +<p>"I shall never shew it to anybody. But you have said things, Aunt +Stanbury, that are very cruel."</p> + +<p>"Of course! Everything I say is wrong."</p> + +<p>"You have told me that I was telling untruths, and you have called +me—immodest. That is a terrible word."</p> + +<p>"You shouldn't deserve it then."</p> + +<p>"I never have deserved it, and I won't bear it. No; I won't. If Hugh +heard me called that word, I believe he'd tear the house down."</p> + +<p>"Hugh, indeed! He's to be brought in between us;—is he?"</p> + +<p>"He's my brother, and of course I'm obliged to think of him. And if +you please, I'll go home as soon as you are well enough to spare me."</p> + +<p>Quickly after this there were very many letters coming and going +between the house in the Close and the ladies at Nuncombe Putney, and +Hugh Stanbury and Brooke Burgess. The correspondent of Brooke Burgess +was of course Miss Stanbury herself. The letters to Hugh and to +Nuncombe Putney were written by Dorothy. Of the former we need be +told nothing at the present moment; but the upshot of all poor +Dolly's letters was, that on the tenth of March she was to return +home to Nuncombe Putney, share once more her sister's bed and +mother's poverty, and abandon the comforts of the Close. Before this +became a definite arrangement Miss Stanbury had given way in a +certain small degree. She had acknowledged that Dorothy had intended +no harm. But this was not enough for Dorothy, who was conscious of no +harm either done or intended. She did not specify her terms, or +require specifically that her aunt should make apology for that word +immodest, or at least withdraw it; but she resolved that she would go +unless it was most absolutely declared to have been applied to her +without the slightest reason. She felt, moreover, that her aunt's +house ought to be open to Brooke Burgess, and that it could not be +open to them both. And so she went;—having resided under her aunt's +roof between nine and ten months.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, Aunt Stanbury," said Dorothy, kissing her aunt, with a +tear in her eye and a sob in her throat.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, my dear, good-bye." And Miss Stanbury, as she pressed her +niece's hand, left in it a bank-note.</p> + +<p>"I'm much obliged, aunt; I am indeed; but I'd rather not." And the +bank-note was left on the parlour table.</p> + + +<p><a name="c58" id="c58"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LVIII.</h3> +<h4>DOROTHY AT HOME.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Dorothy was received at home with so much affection and such +expressions of esteem as to afford her much consolation in her +misery. Both her mother and her sister approved of her conduct. Mrs. +Stanbury's approval was indeed accompanied by many expressions of +regret as to the good things lost. She was fully alive to the fact +that life in the Close at Exeter was better for her daughter than +life in their little cottage at Nuncombe Putney. The outward +appearance which Dorothy bore on her return home was proof of this. +Her clothes, the set of her hair, her very gestures and motions had +framed themselves on town ideas. The faded, wildered, washed-out +look, the uncertain, purposeless bearing which had come from her +secluded life and subjection to her sister had vanished from her. She +had lived among people, and had learned something of their gait and +carriage. Money we know will do almost everything, and no doubt money +had had much to do with this. It is very pretty to talk of the +alluring simplicity of a clean calico gown; but poverty will shew +itself to be meagre, dowdy, and draggled in a woman's dress, let the +woman be ever so simple, ever so neat, ever so independent, and ever +so high-hearted. Mrs. Stanbury was quite alive to all that her +younger daughter was losing. Had she not received two offers of +marriage while she was at Exeter? There was no possibility that +offers of marriage should be made in the cottage at Nuncombe Putney. +A man within the walls of the cottage would have been considered as +much out of place as a wild bull. It had been matter of deep regret +to Mrs. Stanbury that her daughter should not have found herself able +to marry Mr. Gibson. She knew that there was no matter for reproach +in this, but it was a misfortune,—a great misfortune. And in the +mother's breast there had been a sad, unrepressed feeling of regret +that young people should so often lose their chances in the world +through over-fancifulness, and ignorance as to their own good. Now +when she heard the story of Brooke Burgess, she could not but think +that had Dorothy remained at Exeter, enduring patiently such hard +words as her aunt might speak, the love affair might have been +brought at some future time to a happy conclusion. She did not say +all this; but there came on her a silent melancholy, made expressive +by constant little shakings of the head and a continued reproachful +sadness of demeanour, which was quite as intelligible to Priscilla as +would have been any spoken words. But Priscilla's approval of her +sister's conduct was clear, outspoken, and satisfactory. She had been +quite sure that her sister had been right about Mr. Gibson; and was +equally sure that she was now right about Brooke Burgess. Priscilla +had in her mind an idea that if B. B., as they called him, was half +as good as her sister represented him to be,—for indeed Dorothy +endowed him with every virtue consistent with humanity,—he would not +be deterred from his pursuit either by Dolly's letter or by Aunt +Stanbury's commands. But of this she thought it wise to say nothing. +She paid Dolly the warm and hitherto unaccustomed compliment of +equality, assuming to regard her sister's judgment and persistent +independence to be equally strong with her own; and, as she knew +well, she could not have gone further than this. "I never shall agree +with you about Aunt Stanbury," she said. "To me she seems to be so +imperious, so exacting, and also so unjust, as to be unbearable."</p> + +<p>"But she is affectionate," said Dolly.</p> + +<p>"So is the dog that bites you, and, for aught I know, the horse that +kicks you. But it is ill living with biting dogs and kicking horses. +But all that matters little as you are still your own mistress. How +strange these nine months have been, with you in Exeter, while we +have been at the Clock House. And here we are, together again in the +old way, just as though nothing had happened." But Dorothy knew well +that a great deal had happened, and that her life could never be as +it had been heretofore. The very tone in which her sister spoke to +her was proof of this. She had an infinitely greater possession in +herself than had belonged to her before her residence at Exeter; but +that possession was so heavily mortgaged and so burthened as to make +her believe that the change was to be regretted.</p> + +<p>At the end of the first week there came a letter from Aunt Stanbury +to Dorothy. It began by saying that Dolly had left behind her certain +small properties which had now been made up in a parcel and sent by +the railway, carriage paid. "But they weren't mine at all," said +Dolly, alluding to certain books in which she had taken delight. "She +means to give them to you," said Priscilla, "and I think you must +take them." "And the shawl is no more mine than it is yours, though I +wore it two or three times in the winter." Priscilla was of opinion +that the shawl must be taken also. Then the letter spoke of the +writer's health, and at last fell into such a strain of confidential +gossip that Mrs. Stanbury, when she read it, could not understand +that there had been a quarrel. "Martha says that she saw Camilla +French in the street to-day, such a guy in her new finery as never +was seen before except on May-day." Then in the postscript Dorothy +was enjoined to answer this letter quickly. "None of your short +scraps, my dear," said Aunt Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"She must mean you to go back to her," said Mrs. Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"No doubt she does," said Priscilla; "but Dolly need not go because +my aunt means it. We are not her creatures."</p> + +<p>But Dorothy answered her aunt's letter in the spirit in which it had +been written. She asked after her aunt's health, thanked her aunt for +the gift of the books,—in each of which her name had been clearly +written,—protested about the shawl, sent her love to Martha and her +kind regards to Jane, and expressed a hope that C. F. enjoyed her new +clothes. She described the cottage, and was funny about the cabbage +stumps in the garden, and at last succeeded in concocting a long +epistle. "I suppose there will be a regular correspondence," said +Priscilla.</p> + +<p>Two days afterwards, however, the correspondence took altogether +another form. The cottage in which they now lived was supposed to be +beyond the beat of the wooden-legged postman, and therefore it was +necessary that they should call at the post-office for their letters. +On the morning in question Priscilla obtained a thick letter from +Exeter for her mother, and knew that it had come from her aunt. Her +aunt could hardly have found it necessary to correspond with +Dorothy's mother so soon after that letter to Dorothy had been +written had there not arisen some very peculiar cause. Priscilla, +after much meditation, thought it better that the letter should be +opened in Dorothy's absence, and in Dorothy's absence the following +letter was read both by Priscilla and her +<span class="nowrap">mother:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">The Close, March 19, 186—.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear Sister +Stanbury</span>,</p> + +<p>After much consideration, I think it best to send under +cover to you the enclosed letter from Mr. Brooke Burgess, +intended for your daughter Dorothy. You will see that I +have opened it and read it,—as I was clearly entitled to +do, the letter having been addressed to my niece while she +was supposed to be under my care. I do not like to destroy +the letter, though, perhaps, that would be best; but I +would advise you to do so, if it be possible, without +shewing it to Dorothy. I have told Mr. Brooke Burgess what +I have done.</p> + +<p>I have also told him that I cannot sanction a marriage +between him and your daughter. There are many reasons of +old date,—not to speak of present reasons also,—which +would make such a marriage highly inexpedient. Mr. Brooke +Burgess is, of course, his own master, but your daughter +understands completely how the matter stands.</p> + +<p class="ind10">Yours truly,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Jemima +Stanbury</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>"What a wicked old woman!" said Priscilla. Then there arose a +question whether they should read Brooke's letter, or whether they +should give it unread to Dorothy. Priscilla denounced her aunt in the +strongest language she could use for having broken the seal. +"'Clearly entitled,'—because Dorothy had been living with her!" +exclaimed Priscilla. "She can have no proper conception of honour or +of honesty. She had no more right to open Dorothy's letter than she +had to take her money." Mrs. Stanbury was very anxious to read +Brooke's letter, alleging that they would then be able to judge +whether it should be handed over to Dorothy. But Priscilla's sense of +right would not admit of this. Dorothy must receive the letter from +her lover with no further stain from unauthorised eyes than that to +which it had been already subjected. She was called in, therefore, +from the kitchen, and the whole packet was given to her. "Your aunt +has read the enclosure, Dolly; but we have not opened it."</p> + +<p>Dorothy took the packet without a word and sat herself down. She +first read her aunt's letter very slowly. "I understand perfectly," +she said, folding it up, almost listlessly, while Brooke's letter lay +still unopened on her lap. Then she took it up, and held it awhile in +both hands, while her mother and Priscilla watched her. "Priscilla," +she said, "do you read it first."</p> + +<p>Priscilla was immediately at her side, kissing her. "No, my darling; +no," she said; "it is for you to read it." Then Dorothy took the +precious contents from the envelope, and opened the folds of the +paper. When she had read a dozen words, her eyes were so suffused +with tears, that she could hardly make herself mistress of the +contents of the letter; but she knew that it contained renewed +assurances of her lover's love, and assurance on his part that he +would take no refusal from her based on any other ground than that of +her own indifference to him. He had written to Miss Stanbury to the +same effect; but he had not thought it necessary to explain this to +Dorothy; nor did Miss Stanbury in her letter tell them that she had +received any communication from him. "Shall I read it now?" said +Priscilla, as soon as Dorothy again allowed the letter to fall into +her lap.</p> + +<p>Both Priscilla and Mrs. Stanbury read it, and for awhile they sat +with the two letters among them without much speech about them. Mrs. +Stanbury was endeavouring to make herself believe that her +sister-in-law's opposition might be overcome, and that then Dorothy +might be married. Priscilla was inquiring of herself whether it would +be well that Dorothy should defy her aunt,—so much, at any rate, +would be well,—and marry the man, even to his deprivation of the old +woman's fortune. Priscilla had her doubts about this, being very +strong in her ideas of self-denial. That her sister should put up +with the bitterest disappointment rather than injure the man she +loved was right;—but then it would also be so extremely right to +defy Aunt Stanbury to her teeth! But Dorothy, in whose character was +mixed with her mother's softness much of the old Stanbury strength, +had no doubt in her mind. It was very sweet to be so loved. What +gratitude did she not owe to a man who was so true to her! What was +she that she should stand in his way? To lay herself down that she +might be crushed in his path was no more than she owed to him. Mrs. +Stanbury was the first to speak.</p> + +<p>"I suppose he is a very good young man," she said.</p> + +<p>"I am sure he is;—a noble, true-hearted man," said Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"And why shouldn't he marry whom he pleases, as long as she is +respectable?" said Mrs. Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"In some people's eyes poverty is more disreputable than vice," said +Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"Your aunt has been so fond of Dorothy," pleaded Mrs. Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"Just as she is of her servants," said Priscilla.</p> + +<p>But Dorothy said nothing. Her heart was too full to enable her to +defend her aunt; nor at the present moment was she strong enough to +make her mother understand that no hope was to be entertained. In the +course of the day she walked out with her sister on the road towards +Ridleigh, and there, standing among the rocks and ferns, looking down +upon the river, with the buzz of the little mill within her ears, she +explained the feelings of her heart and her many thoughts with a flow +of words stronger, as Priscilla thought, than she had ever used +before.</p> + +<p>"It is not what he would suffer now, Pris, or what he would feel, but +what he would feel ten, twenty years hence, when he would know that +his children would have been all provided for, had he not lost his +fortune by marrying me."</p> + +<p>"He must be the only judge whether he prefers you to the old woman's +money," said Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"No, dear; not the only judge. And it isn't that, Pris,—not which he +likes best now, but which it is best for him that he should have. +What could I do for him?"</p> + +<p>"You can love him."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—I can do that." And Dorothy paused a moment, to think how +exceedingly well she could do that one thing. "But what is that? As +you said the other day, a dog can do that. I am not clever. I can't +play, or talk French, or do things that men like their wives to do. +And I have lived here all my life; and what am I, that for me he +should lose a great fortune?"</p> + +<p>"That is his look out."</p> + +<p>"No, dearest;—it is mine, and I will look out. I shall be able, at +any rate, to remember always that I have loved him, and have not +injured him. He may be angry with me now,"—and there was a feeling +of pride at her heart, as she thought that he would be angry with +her, because she did not go to him,—"but he will know at last that I +have been as good to him as I knew how to be."</p> + +<p>Then Priscilla wound her arms round Dorothy, and kissed her. "My +sister," she said; "my own sister!" They walked on further, +discussing the matter in all its bearings, talking of the act of +self-denial which Dorothy was called on to perform, as though it were +some abstract thing, the performance of which was, or perhaps was +not, imperatively demanded by the laws which should govern humanity; +but with no idea on the mind of either of them that there was any +longer a doubt as to this special matter in hand. They were away from +home over three hours; and, when they returned, Dorothy at once wrote +her two letters. They were very simple, and very short. She told +Brooke, whom she now addressed as "Dear Mr. Burgess," that it could +not be as he would have it; and she told her aunt,—with some terse +independence of expression, which Miss Stanbury quite +understood,—that she had considered the matter, and had thought it +right to refuse Mr. Burgess's offer.</p> + +<p>"Don't you think she is very much changed?" said Mrs. Stanbury to her +eldest daughter.</p> + +<p>"Not changed in the least, mother; but the sun has opened the bud, +and now we see the fruit."</p> + + +<p><a name="c59" id="c59"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LIX.</h3> +<h4>MR. BOZZLE AT HOME.<br /> </h4> + + +<p><img class="left" src="images/ch59a.jpg" width="310" alt="Illustration" /> +It had now come to pass that Trevelyan had not a friend in the world +to whom he could apply in the matter of his wife and family. In the +last communication which he had received from Lady Milborough she had +scolded him, in terms that were for her severe, because he had not +returned to his wife and taken her off with him to Naples. Mr. +Bideawhile had found himself obliged to decline to move in the matter +at all. With Hugh Stanbury, Trevelyan had had a direct quarrel. Mr. +and Mrs. Outhouse he regarded as bitter enemies, who had taken the +part of his wife without any regard to the decencies of life. And now +it had come to pass that his sole remaining ally, Mr. Samuel Bozzle, +the ex-policeman, was becoming weary of his service. Trevelyan +remained in the north of Italy up to the middle of March, spending a +fortune in sending telegrams to Bozzle, instigating Bozzle by all the +means in his power to obtain possession of the child, desiring him at +one time to pounce down upon the parsonage of St. Diddulph's with a +battalion of policemen armed to the teeth with the law's authority, +and at another time suggesting to him to find his way by stratagem +into Mr. Outhouse's castle and carry off the child in his arms. At +last he sent word to say that he himself would be in England before +the end of March, and would see that the majesty of the law should be +vindicated in his favour.</p> + +<p>Bozzle had in truth made but one personal application for the child +at St. Diddulph's. In making this he had expected no success, though, +from the energetic nature of his disposition, he had made the attempt +with some zeal. But he had never applied again at the parsonage, +disregarding the letters, the telegrams, and even the promises which +had come to him from his employer with such frequency. The truth was +that Mrs. Bozzle was opposed to the proposed separation of the mother +and the child, and that Bozzle was a man who listened to the words of +his wife. Mrs. Bozzle was quite prepared to admit that Madame T.,—as +Mrs. Trevelyan had come to be called at No. 55, Stony Walk,—was no +better than she should be. Mrs. Bozzle was disposed to think that +ladies of quality, among whom Madame T. was entitled in her +estimation to take rank, were seldom better than they ought to be, +and she was quite willing that her husband should earn his bread by +watching the lady or the lady's lover. She had participated in +Bozzle's triumph when he had discovered that the Colonel had gone to +Devonshire, and again when he had learned that the Lothario had been +at St. Diddulph's. And had the case been brought before the judge +ordinary by means of her husband's exertions, she would have taken +pleasure in reading every word of the evidence, even though her +husband should have been ever so roughly handled by the lawyers. But +now, when a demand was made upon Bozzle to violate the sanctity of +the clergyman's house, and withdraw the child by force or stratagem, +she began to perceive that the palmy days of the Trevelyan affair +were over for them, and that it would be wise on her husband's part +gradually to back out of the gentleman's employment. "Just put it on +the fire-back, Bozzle," she said one morning, as her husband stood +before her reading for the second time a somewhat lengthy epistle +which had reached him from Italy, while he held the baby over his +shoulder with his left arm. He had just washed himself at the sink, +and though his face was clean, his hair was rough, and his shirt +sleeves were tucked up.</p> + + +<div class="center"><a name="ip2-074" id="ip2-074"></a> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="4px"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/p2-074.jpg"> + <img src="images/p2-074-t.jpg" height="500" + alt='"Put it on the fire-back, Bozzle."' /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <span class="caption">"Put it on the fire-back, Bozzle."<br /> + Click to <a href="images/p2-074.jpg">ENLARGE</a></span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p>"That's all very well, Maryanne; but when a party has took a gent's +money, a party is bound to go through with the job."</p> + +<p>"Gammon, Bozzle."</p> + +<p>"It's all very well to say gammon; but his money has been took,—and +there's more to come."</p> + +<p>"And ain't you worked for the money,—down to Hexeter one time, +across the water pretty well day and night watching that ere +clergyman's 'ouse like a cat? What more'd he have? As to the child, I +won't hear of it, B. The child shan't come here. We'd all be shewed +up in the papers as that black, that they'd hoot us along the +streets. It ain't the regular line of business, Bozzle; and there +ain't no good to be got, never, by going off the regular line." +Whereupon Bozzle scratched his head and again read the letter. A +distinct promise of a hundred pounds was made to him, if he would +have the child ready to hand over to Trevelyan on Trevelyan's arrival +in England.</p> + +<p>"It ain't to be done, you know," said Bozzle.</p> + +<p>"Of course it ain't," said Mrs. Bozzle.</p> + +<p>"It ain't to be done anyways;—not in my way of business. Why didn't +he go to Skint, as I told him, when his own lawyer was too dainty for +the job? The paternal parent has a right to his infants, no doubt." +That was Bozzle's law.</p> + +<p>"I don't believe it, B."</p> + +<p>"But he have, I tell you."</p> + +<p>"He can't suckle 'em;—can he? I don't believe a bit of his rights."</p> + +<p>"When a married woman has followers, and the husband don't go the +wrong side of the post too, or it ain't proved again him that he do, +they'll never let her have nothing to do with the children. It's been +before the court a hundred times. He'll get the child fast enough if +he'll go before the court."</p> + +<p>"Anyways it ain't your business, Bozzle, and don't you meddle nor +make. The money's good money as long as it's honest earned; but when +you come to rampaging and breaking into a gent's house, then I say +money may be had a deal too hard." In this special letter, which had +now come to hand, Bozzle was not instructed to "rampage." He was +simply desired to make a further official requisition for the boy at +the parsonage, and to explain to Mr. Outhouse, Mrs. Outhouse, and +Mrs. Trevelyan, or to as many of them as he could contrive to see, +that Mr. Trevelyan was immediately about to return to London, and +that he would put the law into execution if his son were not given up +to him at once. "I'll tell you what it is, B.," exclaimed Mrs. +Bozzle, "it's my belief as he ain't quite right up here;" and Mrs. +Bozzle touched her forehead.</p> + +<p>"It's love for her as has done it then," said Bozzle, shaking his +head.</p> + +<p>"I'm not a taking of her part, B. A woman as has a husband as finds +her with her wittels regular, and with what's decent and comfortable +beside, ought to be contented. I've never said no other than that. I +ain't no patience with your saucy madames as can't remember as +they're eating an honest man's bread. Drat 'em all; what is it they +wants? They don't know what they wants. It's just hidleness,—cause +there ain't a ha'porth for 'em to do. It's that as makes 'em—, I +won't say what. But as for this here child, B.—." At that moment +there came a knock at the door. Mrs. Bozzle going into the passage, +opened it herself, and saw a strange gentleman. Bozzle, who had stood +at the inner door, saw that the gentleman was Mr. Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>The letter, which was still in the ex-policeman's hand, had reached +Stony Walk on the previous day; but the master of the house had been +absent, finding out facts, following up his profession, and earning +an honest penny. Trevelyan had followed his letter quicker than he +had intended when it was written, and was now with his prime +minister, before his prime minister had been able to take any action +on the last instruction received. "Does one Mr. Samuel Bozzle live +here?" asked Trevelyan. Then Bozzle came forward and introduced his +wife. There was no one else present except the baby, and Bozzle +intimated that let matters be as delicate as they might, they could +be discussed with perfect security in his wife's presence. But +Trevelyan was of a different opinion, and he was disgusted and +revolted,—most unreasonably,—by the appearance of his minister's +domestic arrangements. Bozzle had always waited upon him with a +decent coat, and a well-brushed hat, and clean shoes. It is very much +easier for such men as Mr. Bozzle to carry decency of appearance +about with them than to keep it at home. Trevelyan had never believed +his ally to be more than an ordinary ex-policeman, but he had not +considered how unattractive might be the interior of a private +detective's private residence. Mrs. Bozzle had set a chair for him, +but he had declined to sit down. The room was dirty, and very +close,—as though no breath of air was ever allowed to find entrance +there. "Perhaps you could put on your coat, and walk out with me for +a few minutes," said Trevelyan. Mrs. Bozzle, who well understood that +business was business, and that wives were not business, felt no +anger at this, and handed her husband his best coat. The well-brushed +hat was fetched from a cupboard, and it was astonishing to see how +easily and how quickly the outer respectability of Bozzle was +restored.</p> + +<p>"Well?" said Trevelyan, as soon as they were together in the middle +of Stony Walk.</p> + +<p>"There hasn't been nothing to be done, sir," said Bozzle.</p> + +<p>"Why not?" Trevelyan could perceive at once that the authority which +he had once respected had gone from the man. Bozzle away from his own +home, out on business, with his coat buttoned over his breast, and +his best hat in his hand, was aware that he commanded respect,—and +he could carry himself accordingly. He knew himself to be somebody, +and could be easy, self-confident, confidential, severe, +authoritative, or even arrogant, as the circumstances of the moment +might demand. But he had been found with his coat off, and a baby in +his arms, and he could not recover himself. "I do not suppose that +anybody will question my right to have the care of my own child," +said Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"If you would have gone to Mr. Skint, sir—," suggested Bozzle. +"There ain't no smarter gent in all the profession, sir, than Mr. +Skint."</p> + +<p>Mr. Trevelyan made no reply to this, but walked on in silence, with +his minister at his elbow. He was very wretched, understanding well +the degradation to which he was subjecting himself in discussing his +wife's conduct with this man;—but with whom else could he discuss +it? The man seemed to be meaner now than he had been before he had +been seen in his own home. And Trevelyan was conscious too that he +himself was not in outward appearance as he used to be; that he was +ill-dressed, and haggard, and worn, and visibly a wretched being. How +can any man care to dress himself with attention who is always alone, +and always miserable when alone? During the months which had passed +over him since he had sent his wife away from him, his very nature +had been altered, and he himself was aware of the change. As he went +about, his eyes were ever cast downwards, and he walked with a quick +shuffling gait, and he suspected others, feeling that he himself was +suspected. And all work had ceased with him. Since she had left him +he had not read a single book that was worth the reading. And he knew +it all. He was conscious that he was becoming disgraced and degraded. +He would sooner have shot himself than have walked into his club, or +even have allowed himself to be seen by daylight in Pall Mall, or +Piccadilly. He had taken in his misery to drinking little drops of +brandy in the morning, although he knew well that there was no +shorter road to the devil than that opened by such a habit. He looked +up for a moment at Bozzle, and then asked him a question. "Where is +he now?"</p> + +<p>"You mean the Colonel, sir. He's up in town, sir, a minding of his +parliamentary duties. He have been up all this month, sir."</p> + +<p>"They haven't met?"</p> + +<p>Bozzle paused a moment before he replied, and then smiled as he +spoke. "It is so hard to say, sir. Ladies is so cute and cunning. +I've watched as sharp as watching can go, pretty near. I've put a +youngster on at each hend, and both of 'em 'd hear a mouse stirring +in his sleep. I ain't got no evidence, Mr. Trevelyan. But if you ask +me my opinion, why in course they've been together somewhere. It +stands to reason, Mr. Trevelyan; don't it?" And Bozzle as he said +this smiled almost aloud.</p> + +<p>"D——n and b——t it all for ever!" +said Trevelyan, gnashing his +teeth, and moving away into Union Street as fast as he could walk. +And he did go away, leaving Bozzle standing in the middle of Stony +Walk.</p> + +<p>"He's disturbed in his mind,—quite 'orrid," Bozzle said when he got +back to his wife. "He cursed and swore as made even me feel bad."</p> + +<p>"B.," said his wife, "do you listen to me. Get in what's a howing, +and don't you have nothing more to do with it."</p> + + +<p><a name="c60" id="c60"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LX.</h3> +<h4>ANOTHER STRUGGLE.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Sir Marmaduke and Lady Rowley were to reach England about the end of +March or the beginning of April, and both Mrs. Trevelyan and Nora +Rowley were almost sick for their arrival. Both their uncle and aunt +had done very much for them, had been true to them in their need, and +had submitted to endless discomforts in order that their nieces might +have respectable shelter in their great need; but nevertheless their +conduct had not been of a kind to produce either love or friendship. +Each of the sisters felt that she had been much better off at +Nuncombe Putney, and that either the weakness of Mrs. Stanbury, or +the hardness of Priscilla, was preferable to the repulsive +forbearance of their clerical host. He did not scold them. He never +threw it in Mrs. Trevelyan's teeth that she had been separated from +her husband by her own fault; he did not tell them of his own +discomfort. But he showed it in every gesture, and spoke of it in +every tone of his voice;—so that Mrs. Trevelyan could not refrain +from apologising for the misfortune of her presence.</p> + +<p>"My dear," he said, "things can't be pleasant and unpleasant at the +same time. You were quite right to come here. I am glad for all our +sakes that Sir Marmaduke will be with us so soon."</p> + +<p>She had almost given up in her mind the hope that she had long +cherished, that she might some day be able to live again with her +husband. Every step which he now took in reference to her seemed to +be prompted by so bitter an hostility, that she could not but believe +that she was hateful to him. How was it possible that a husband and +his wife should again come together, when there had been between them +such an emissary as a detective policeman? Mrs. Trevelyan had +gradually come to learn that Bozzle had been at Nuncombe Putney, +watching her, and to be aware that she was still under the +surveillance of his eye. For some months past now she had neither +seen Colonel Osborne, nor heard from him. He had certainly by his +folly done much to produce the ruin which had fallen upon her; but it +never occurred to her to blame him. Indeed she did not know that he +was liable to blame. Mr. Outhouse always spoke of him with indignant +scorn, and Nora had learned to think that much of their misery was +due to his imprudence. But Mrs. Trevelyan would not see this, and, +not seeing it, was more widely separated from her husband than she +would have been had she acknowledged that any excuse for his +misconduct had been afforded by the vanity and folly of the other +man.</p> + +<p>Lady Rowley had written to have a furnished house taken for them from +the first of April, and a house had been secured in Manchester +Street. The situation in question is not one which is of itself very +charming, nor is it supposed to be in a high degree fashionable; but +Nora looked forward to her escape from St. Diddulph's to Manchester +Street as though Paradise were to be re-opened to her as soon as she +should be there with her father and mother. She was quite clear now +as to her course about Hugh Stanbury. She did not doubt but that she +could so argue the matter as to get the consent of her father and +mother. She felt herself to be altogether altered in her views of +life, since experience had come upon her, first at Nuncombe Putney, +and after that, much more heavily and seriously, at St. Diddulph's. +She looked back as though to a childish dream to the ideas which had +prevailed with her when she had told herself, as she used to do so +frequently, that she was unfit to be a poor man's wife. Why should +she be more unfit for such a position than another? Of course there +were many thoughts in her mind, much of memory if nothing of regret, +in regard to Mr. Glascock and the splendour that had been offered to +her. She had had her chance of being a rich man's wife, and had +rejected it,—had rejected it twice, with her eyes open. Readers will +say that if she loved Hugh Stanbury with all her heart, there could +be nothing of regret in her reflections. But we are perhaps +accustomed in judging for ourselves and of others to draw the lines +too sharply, and to say that on this side lie vice, folly, +heartlessness, and greed,—and on the other honour, love, truth, and +wisdom,—the good and the bad each in its own domain. But the good +and the bad mix themselves so thoroughly in our thoughts, even in our +aspirations, that we must look for excellence rather in overcoming +evil than in freeing ourselves from its influence. There had been +many moments of regret with Nora;—but none of remorse. At the very +moment in which she had sent Mr. Glascock away from her, and had felt +that he had now been sent away for always, she had been full of +regret. Since that there had been many hours in which she had thought +of her own self-lesson, of that teaching by which she had striven to +convince herself that she could never fitly become a poor man's wife. +But the upshot of it all was a healthy pride in what she had done, +and a strong resolution that she would make shirts and hem towels for +her husband if he required it. It had been given her to choose, and +she had chosen. She had found herself unable to tell a man that she +loved him when she did not love him,—and equally unable to conceal +the love which she did feel. "If he wheeled a barrow of turnips about +the street, I'd marry him to-morrow," she said to her sister one +afternoon as they were sitting together in the room which ought to +have been their uncle's study.</p> + +<p>"If he wheeled a big barrow, you'd have to wheel a little one," said +her sister.</p> + +<p>"Then I'd do it. I shouldn't mind. There has been this advantage in +St. Diddulph's, that nothing can be triste, nothing dull, nothing +ugly after it."</p> + +<p>"It may be so with you, Nora;—that is in imagination."</p> + +<p>"What I mean is that living here has taught me much that I never +could have learned in Curzon Street. I used to think myself such a +fine young woman,—but, upon my word, I think myself a finer one +now."</p> + +<p>"I don't quite know what you mean."</p> + +<p>"I don't quite know myself; but I nearly know. I do know this, that +I've made up my own mind about what I mean to do."</p> + +<p>"You'll change it, dear, when mamma is here, and things are +comfortable again. It's my belief that Mr. Glascock would come to you +again to-morrow if you would let him." Mrs. Trevelyan was, naturally, +in complete ignorance of the experience of transatlantic excellence +which Mr. Glascock had encountered in Italy.</p> + +<p>"But I certainly should not let him. How would it be possible after +what I wrote to Hugh?"</p> + +<p>"All that might pass away," said Mrs. Trevelyan,—slowly, after a +long pause.</p> + +<p>"All what might pass away? Have I not given him a distinct promise? +Have I not told him that I loved him, and sworn that I would be true +to him? Can that be made to pass away,—even if one wished it?"</p> + +<p>"Of course it can. Nothing need be fixed for you till you have stood +at the altar with a man and been made his wife. You may choose still. +I can never choose again."</p> + +<p>"I never will, at any rate," said Nora.</p> + +<p>Then there was another pause. "It seems strange to me, Nora," said +the elder sister, "that after what you have seen you should be so +keen to be married to any one."</p> + +<p>"What is a girl to do?"</p> + +<p>"Better drown herself than do as I have done. Only think what there +is before me. What I have gone through is nothing to it. Of course I +must go back to the Islands. Where else am I to live? Who else will +take me?"</p> + +<p>"Come to us," said Nora.</p> + +<p>"Us, Nora! Who are the us? But in no way would that be possible. Papa +will be here, perhaps, for six months." Nora thought it quite +possible that she might have a home of her own before six months were +passed,—even though she might be wheeling the smaller barrow,—but +she would not say so. "And by that time everything must be decided."</p> + +<p>"I suppose it must."</p> + +<p>"Of course papa and mamma must go back," said Mrs. Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"Papa might take a pension. He's entitled to a pension now."</p> + +<p>"He'll never do that as long as he can have employment. They'll go +back, and I must go with them. Who else would take me in?"</p> + +<p>"I know who would take you in, Emily."</p> + +<p>"My darling, that is romance. As for myself, I should not care where +I went. If it were even to remain here, I could bear it."</p> + +<p>"I could not," said Nora, decisively.</p> + +<p>"It is so different with you, dear. I don't suppose it is possible I +should take my boy with me to the Islands; and how—am I—to +go—anywhere—without him?" Then she broke down, and fell into a +paroxysm of sobs, and was in very truth a broken-hearted woman.</p> + +<p>Nora was silent for some minutes, but at last she spoke. "Why do you +not go back to him, Emily?"</p> + +<p>"How am I to go back to him? What am I to do to make him take me +back?" At this very moment Trevelyan was in the house, but they did +not know it.</p> + +<p>"Write to him," said Nora.</p> + +<p>"What am I to say? In very truth I do believe that he is mad. If I +write to him, should I defend myself or accuse myself? A dozen times +I have striven to write such a letter,—not that I might send it, but +that I might find what I could say should I ever wish to send it. And +it is impossible. I can only tell him how unjust he has been, how +cruel, how mad, how wicked!"</p> + +<p>"Could you not say to him simply this?—'Let us be together, wherever +it may be; and let bygones be bygones.'"</p> + +<p>"While he is watching me with a policeman? While he is still thinking +that I entertain a—lover? While he believes that I am the base thing +that he has dared to think me?"</p> + +<p>"He has never believed it."</p> + +<p>"Then how can he be such a villain as to treat me like this? I could +not go to him, Nora;—not unless I went to him as one who was known +to be mad, over whom in his wretched condition it would be my duty to +keep watch. In no other way could I overcome my abhorrence of the +outrages to which he has subjected me."</p> + +<p>"But for the child's sake, Emily."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes! If it were simply to grovel in the dust before him it +should be done. If humiliation would suffice,—or any self-abasement +that were possible to me! But I should be false if I said that I look +forward to any such possibility. How can he wish to have me back +again after what he has said and done? I am his wife, and he has +disgraced me before all men by his own words. And what have I done, +that I should not have done;—what left undone on his behalf that I +should have done? It is hard that the foolish workings of a weak +man's mind should be able so completely to ruin the prospects of a +woman's life!"</p> + +<p>Nora was beginning to answer this by attempting to shew that the +husband's madness was, perhaps, only temporary, when there came a +knock at the door, and Mrs. Outhouse was at once in the room. It will +be well that the reader should know what had taken place at the +parsonage while the two sisters had been together up-stairs, so that +the nature of Mrs. Outhouse's mission to them may explain itself. Mr. +Outhouse had been in his closet down-stairs, when the maid-servant +brought word to him that Mr. Trevelyan was in the parlour, and was +desirous of seeing him.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Trevelyan!" said the unfortunate clergyman, holding up both his +hands. The servant understood the tragic importance of the occasion +quite as well as did her master, and simply shook her head. "Has your +mistress seen him?" said the master. The girl again shook her head. +"Ask your mistress to come to me," said the clergyman. Then the girl +disappeared; and in a few minutes Mrs. Outhouse, equally imbued with +the tragic elements of the day, was with her husband.</p> + +<p>Mr. Outhouse began by declaring that no consideration should induce +him to see Trevelyan, and commissioned his wife to go to the man and +tell him that he must leave the house. When the unfortunate woman +expressed an opinion that Trevelyan had some legal rights upon which +he might probably insist, Mr. Outhouse asserted roundly that he could +have no legal right to remain in that parsonage against the will of +the rector. "If he wants to claim his wife and child, he must do it +by law,—not by force; and thank God, Sir Marmaduke will be here +before he can do that." "But I can't make him go," said Mrs. +Outhouse. "Tell him that you'll send for a policeman," said the +clergyman.</p> + +<p>It had come to pass that there had been messages backwards and +forwards between the visitor and the master of the house, all carried +by that unfortunate lady. Trevelyan did not demand that his wife and +child should be given up to him;—did not even, on this occasion, +demand that his boy should be surrendered to him,—now, at once. He +did say, very repeatedly, that of course he must have his boy, but +seemed to imply that, under certain circumstances, he would be +willing to take his wife to live with him again. This appeared to +Mrs. Outhouse to be so manifestly the one thing that was +desirable,—to be the only solution of the difficulty that could be +admitted as a solution at all,—that she went to work on that hint, +and ventured to entertain a hope that a reconciliation might be +effected. She implored her husband to lend a hand to the work;—by +which she intended to imply that he should not only see Trevelyan, +but consent to meet the sinner on friendly terms. But Mr. Outhouse +was on the occasion even more than customarily obstinate. His wife +might do what she liked. He would neither meddle nor make. He would +not willingly see Mr. Trevelyan in his own house;—unless, indeed, +Mr. Trevelyan should attempt to force his way up into the nursery. +Then he said that which left no doubt on his wife's mind that, should +any violence be attempted, her husband would manfully join the mêlée.</p> + +<p>But it soon became evident that no such attempt was to be made on +that day. Trevelyan was lachrymose, heartbroken, and a sight pitiable +to behold. When Mrs. Outhouse loudly asserted that his wife had not +sinned against him in the least,—"not in a tittle, Mr. Trevelyan," +she repeated over and over again,—he began to assert himself, +declaring that she had seen the man in Devonshire, and corresponded +with him since she had been at St. Diddulph's; and when the lady had +declared that the latter assertion was untrue, he had shaken his +head, and had told her that perhaps she did not know all. But the +misery of the man had its effect upon her, and at last she proposed +to be the bearer of a message to his wife. He had demanded to see his +child, offering to promise that he would not attempt to take the boy +by force on this occasion,—saying, also, that his claim by law was +so good, that no force could be necessary. It was proposed by Mrs. +Outhouse that he should first see the mother,—and to this he at last +assented. How blessed a thing would it be if these two persons could +be induced to forget the troubles of the last twelve months, and once +more to love and trust each other! "But, sir," said Mrs. Outhouse, +putting her hand upon his arm;—"you must not upbraid her, for she +will not bear it." "She knows nothing of what is due to a husband," +said Trevelyan, gloomily. The task was not hopeful; but, +nevertheless, the poor woman resolved to do her best.</p> + +<p>And now Mrs. Outhouse was in her niece's room, asking her to go down +and see her husband. Little Louis had at the time been with the +nurse, and the very moment that the mother heard that the child's +father was in the house, she jumped up and rushed away to get +possession of her treasure. "Has he come for baby?" Nora asked in +dismay. Then Mrs. Outhouse, anxious to obtain a convert to her +present views, boldly declared that Mr. Trevelyan had no such +intention. Mrs. Trevelyan came back at once with the boy, and then +listened to all her aunt's arguments. "But I will not take baby with +me," she said. At last it was decided that she should go down alone, +and that the child should afterwards be taken to his father in the +drawing-room; Mrs. Outhouse pledging herself that the whole household +should combine in her defence if Mr. Trevelyan should attempt to take +the child out of that room. "But what am I to say to him?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"Say as little as possible," said Mrs. Outhouse,—"except to make him +understand that he has been in error in imputing fault to you."</p> + +<p>"He will never understand that," said Mrs. Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>A considerable time elapsed after that before she could bring herself +to descend the stairs. Now that her husband was so near her, and that +her aunt had assured her that she might reinstate herself in her +position, if she could only abstain from saying hard words to him, +she wished that he was away from her again, in Italy. She knew that +she could not refrain from hard words. How was it possible that she +should vindicate her own honour, without asserting with all her +strength that she had been ill-used; and, to speak truth on the +matter, her love for the man, which had once been true and eager, had +been quelled by the treatment she had received. She had clung to her +love in some shape, in spite of the accusations made against her, +till she had heard that the policeman had been set upon her heels. +Could it be possible that any woman should love a man, or at least +that any wife should love a husband, after such usage as that? At +last she crept gently down the stairs, and stood at the parlour-door. +She listened, and could hear his steps, as he paced backwards and +forwards through the room. She looked back, and could see the face of +the servant peering round from the kitchen-stairs. She could not +endure to be watched in her misery, and, thus driven, she opened the +parlour-door. "Louis," she said, walking into the room, "Aunt Mary +has desired me to come to you."</p> + +<p>"Emily!" he exclaimed, and ran to her and embraced her. She did not +seek to stop him, but she did not return the kiss which he gave her. +Then he held her by her hands, and looked into her face, and she +could see how strangely he was altered. She thought that she would +hardly have known him, had she not been sure that it was he. She +herself was also changed. Who can bear sorrow without such change, +till age has fixed the lines of the face, or till care has made them +hard and unmalleable? But the effect on her was as nothing to that +which grief, remorse, and desolation had made on him. He had had no +child with him, no sister, no friend. Bozzle had been his only +refuge,—a refuge not adapted to make life easier to such a man as +Trevelyan; and he,—in spite of the accusations made by himself +against his wife, within his own breast hourly since he had left +her,—had found it to be very difficult to satisfy his own +conscience. He told himself from hour to hour that he knew that he +was right; but in very truth he was ever doubting his own conduct.</p> + +<p>"You have been ill, Louis," she said, looking at him.</p> + +<p>"Ill at ease, Emily;—very ill at ease! A sore heart will make the +face thin, as well as fever or ague. Since we parted I have not had +much to comfort me."</p> + +<p>"Nor have I,—nor any of us," said she. "How was comfort to come from +such a parting?"</p> + +<p>Then they both stood silent together. He was still holding her by the +hand, but she was careful not to return his pressure. She would not +take her hand away from him; but she would show him no sign of +softness till he should have absolutely acquitted her of the +accusation he had made against her. "We are man and wife," he said +after awhile. "In spite of all that has come and gone I am yours, and +you are mine."</p> + +<p>"You should have remembered that always, Louis."</p> + +<p>"I have never forgotten it,—never. In no thought have I been untrue +to you. My heart has never changed since first I gave it you." There +came a bitter frown upon her face, of which she was so conscious +herself, that she turned her face away from him. She still remembered +her lesson, that she was not to anger him, and, therefore, she +refrained from answering him at all. But the answer was there, hot +within her bosom. Had he loved her,—and yet suspected that she was +false to him and to her vows, simply because she had been on terms of +intimacy with an old friend? Had he loved her, and yet turned her +from his house? Had he loved her,—and set a policeman to watch her? +Had he loved her, and yet spoken evil of her to all their friends? +Had he loved her, and yet striven to rob her of her child? "Will you +come to me?" he said.</p> + +<p>"I suppose it will be better so," she answered slowly.</p> + +<p>"Then you will promise me—" He paused, and attempted to turn her +towards him, so that he might look her in the face.</p> + +<p>"Promise what?" she said, quickly glancing round at him, and drawing +her hand away from him as she did so.</p> + +<p>"That all intercourse with Colonel Osborne shall be at an end."</p> + +<p>"I will make no promise. You come to me to add one insult to another. +Had you been a man, you would not have named him to me after what you +have done to me."</p> + +<p>"That is absurd. I have a right to demand from you such a pledge. I +am willing to believe that you have +<span class="nowrap">not—"</span></p> + +<p>"Have not what?"</p> + +<p>"That you have not utterly disgraced me."</p> + +<p>"God in heaven, that I should hear this!" she exclaimed. "Louis +Trevelyan, I have not disgraced you at all,—in thought, in word, in +deed, in look, or in gesture. It is you that have disgraced yourself, +and ruined me, and degraded even your own child."</p> + +<p>"Is this the way in which you welcome me?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly it is,—in this way and in no other if you speak to me of +what is past, without acknowledging your error." Her brow became +blacker and blacker as she continued to speak to him. "It would be +best that nothing should be said,—not a word. That it all should be +regarded as an ugly dream. But, when you come to me and at once go +back to it all, and ask me for a +<span class="nowrap">promise—"</span></p> + +<p>"Am I to understand then that all idea of submission to your husband +is to be at an end?"</p> + +<p>"I will submit to no imputation on my honour,—even from you. One +would have thought that it would have been for you to preserve it +untarnished."</p> + +<p>"And you will give me no assurance as to your future life?"</p> + +<p>"None;—certainly none. If you want promises from me, there can be no +hope for the future. What am I to promise? That I will not have—a +lover? What respect can I enjoy as your wife if such a promise be +needed? If you should choose to fancy that it had been broken you +would set your policeman to watch me again! Louis, we can never live +together again ever with comfort, unless you acknowledge in your own +heart that you have used me shamefully."</p> + +<p>"Were you right to see him in Devonshire?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I was right. Why should I not see him,—or any one?"</p> + +<p>"And you will see him again?"</p> + +<p>"When papa comes, of course I shall see him."</p> + +<p>"Then it is hopeless," said he, turning away from her.</p> + +<p>"If that man is to be a source of disquiet to you, it is hopeless," +she answered. "If you cannot so school yourself that he shall be the +same to you as other men, it is quite hopeless. You must still be +mad,—as you have been mad hitherto."</p> + +<p>He walked about the room restlessly for a time, while she stood with +assumed composure near the window. "Send me my child," he said at +last.</p> + +<p>"He shall come to you, Louis,—for a little; but he is not to be +taken out from hence. Is that a promise?"</p> + +<p>"You are to exact promises from me, where my own rights are +concerned, while you refuse to give me any, though I am entitled to +demand them! I order you to send the boy to me. Is he not my own?"</p> + +<p>"Is he not mine too? And is he not all that you have left to me?"</p> + +<p>He paused again, and then gave the promise. "Let him be brought to +me. He shall not be removed now. I intend to have him. I tell you so +fairly. He shall be taken from you unless you come back to me with +such assurances as to your future conduct as I have a right to +demand. There is much that the law cannot give me. It cannot procure +wife-like submission, love, gratitude, or even decent matronly +conduct. But that which it can give me, I will have."</p> + +<p>She walked off to the door, and then as she was quitting the room she +spoke to him once again. "Alas, Louis," she said, "neither can the +law, nor medicine, nor religion, restore to you that fine intellect +which foolish suspicions have destroyed." Then she left him and +returned to the room in which her aunt, and Nora, and the child were +all clustered together, waiting to learn the effects of the +interview. The two women asked their questions with their eyes, +rather than with spoken words. "It is all over," said Mrs. Trevelyan. +"There is nothing left for me but to go back to papa. I only hear the +same accusations, repeated again and again, and make myself subject +to the old insults." Then Mrs. Outhouse knew that she could interfere +no further, and that in truth nothing could be done till the return +of Sir Marmaduke should relieve her and her husband from all further +active concern in the matter.</p> + +<p>But Trevelyan was still down-stairs waiting for the child. At last it +was arranged that Nora should take the boy into the drawing-room, and +that Mrs. Outhouse should fetch the father up from the parlour to the +room above it. Angry as was Mrs. Trevelyan with her husband, not the +less was she anxious to make the boy good-looking and seemly in his +father's eyes. She washed the child's face, put on him a clean frill +and a pretty ribbon; and, as she did so, she bade him kiss his papa, +and speak nicely to him, and love him. "Poor papa is unhappy," she +said, "and Louey must be very good to him." The boy, child though he +was, understood much more of what was passing around him than his +mother knew. How was he to love papa when mamma did not do so? In +some shape that idea had framed itself in his mind; and, as he was +taken down, he knew it was impossible that he should speak nicely to +his papa. Nora did as she was bidden, and went down to the +first-floor. Mrs. Outhouse, promising that even if she were put out +of the room by Mr. Trevelyan she would not stir from the landing +outside the door, descended to the parlour and quickly returned with +the unfortunate father. Mr. Outhouse, in the meantime, was still +sitting in his closet, tormented with curiosity, but yet determined +not to be seen till the intruder should have left his house.</p> + +<p>"I hope you are well, Nora," he said, as he entered the room with +Mrs. Outhouse.</p> + +<p>"Quite well, thank you, Louis."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry that our troubles should have deprived you of the home +you had been taught to expect." To this Nora made no reply, but +escaped, and went up to her sister. "My poor little boy," said +Trevelyan, taking the child and placing it on his knee. "I suppose +you have forgotten your unfortunate father." The child, of course, +said nothing, but just allowed himself to be kissed.</p> + +<p>"He is looking very well," said Mrs. Outhouse.</p> + +<p>"Is he? I dare say he is well. Louey, my boy, are you happy?" The +question was asked in a voice that was dismal beyond compare, and it +also remained unanswered. He had been desired to speak nicely to his +papa, but how was it possible that a child should speak nicely under +such a load of melancholy? "He will not speak to me," said Trevelyan. +"I suppose it is what I might have expected." Then the child was put +off his knee on to the floor, and began to whimper. "A few months +since he would sit there for hours, with his head upon my breast," +said Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"A few months is a long time in the life of such an infant," said +Mrs. Outhouse.</p> + +<p>"He may go away," said Trevelyan. Then the child was led out of the +room, and sent up to his mother.</p> + +<p>"Emily has done all she can to make the child love your memory," said +Mrs. Outhouse.</p> + +<p>"To love my memory! What;—as though I were dead. I will teach him to +love me as I am, Mrs. Outhouse. I do not think that it is too late. +Will you tell your husband from me, with my compliments, that I shall +cause him to be served with a legal demand for the restitution of my +child?"</p> + +<p>"But Sir Marmaduke will be here in a few days."</p> + +<p>"I know nothing of that. Sir Marmaduke is nothing to me now. My child +is my own,—and so is my wife. Sir Marmaduke has no authority over +either one or the other. I find my child here, and it is here that I +must look for him. I am sorry that you should be troubled, but the +fault does not rest with me. Mr. Outhouse has refused to give me up +my own child, and I am driven to take such steps for his recovery as +the law has put within my reach."</p> + +<p>"Why did you turn your wife out of doors, Mr. Trevelyan?" asked Mrs. +Outhouse boldly.</p> + +<p>"I did not turn her out of doors. I provided a fitting shelter for +her. I gave her everything that she could want. You know what +happened. That man went down and was received there. I defy you, Mrs. +Outhouse, to say that it was my fault."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Outhouse did attempt to show him that it was his fault; but +while she was doing so he left the house. "I don't think she could go +back to him," said Mrs. Outhouse to her husband. "He is quite insane +upon this matter."</p> + +<p>"I shall be insane, I know," said Mr. Outhouse, "if Sir Marmaduke +does not come home very quickly." Nevertheless he quite ignored any +legal power that might be brought to bear against him as to the +restitution of the child to its father.</p> + + +<p><a name="c61" id="c61"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXI.</h3> +<h4>PARKER'S HOTEL, MOWBRAY STREET.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Within a week of the occurrence which is related in the last chapter, +there came a telegram from Southampton to the parsonage at St. +Diddulph's, saying that Sir Marmaduke and Lady Rowley had reached +England. On the evening of that day they were to lodge at a small +family hotel in Baker Street, and both Mrs. Trevelyan and Nora were +to be with them. The leave-taking at the parsonage was painful, as on +both sides there existed a feeling that affection and sympathy were +wanting. The uncle and aunt had done their duty, and both Mrs. +Trevelyan and Nora felt that they ought to have been demonstrative +and cordial in their gratitude;—but they found it impossible to +become so. And the rector could not pretend but that he was glad to +be rid of his guests. There were, too, some last words about money to +be spoken, which were grievous thorns in the poor man's flesh. Two +bank notes, however, were put upon his table, and he knew that unless +he took them he could not pay for the provisions which his unwelcome +visitors had consumed. Surely there never was a man so cruelly +ill-used as had been Mr. Outhouse in all this matter. "Another such +winter as that would put me in my grave," he said, when his wife +tried to comfort him after they were gone. "I know that they have +both been very good to us," said Mrs. Trevelyan, as she and her +sister, together with the child and the nurse, hurried away towards +Baker Street in a cab, "but I have never for a moment felt that they +were glad to have us." "But how could they have been glad to have +us," she added afterwards, "when we brought such trouble with us?" +But they to whom they were going now would receive her with +joy;—would make her welcome with all her load of sorrows, would give +to her a sympathy which it was impossible that she should receive +from others. Though she might not be happy now,—for in truth how +could she be ever really happy again,—there would be a joy to her in +placing her child in her mother's arms, and in receiving her father's +warm caresses. That her father would be very vehement in his anger +against her husband she knew well,—for Sir Marmaduke was a vehement +man. But there would be some support for her in the very violence of +his wrath, and at this moment it was such support that she most +needed. As they journeyed together in the cab, the married sister +seemed to be in the higher spirits of the two. She was sure, at any +rate, that those to whom she was going would place themselves on her +side. Nora had her own story to tell about Hugh Stanbury, and was by +no means so sure that her tale would be received with cordial +agreement. "Let me tell them myself," she whispered to her sister. +"Not to-night, because they will have so much to say to you; but I +shall tell mamma to-morrow."</p> + +<p>The train by which the Rowleys were to reach London was due at the +station at 7.30 p.m., and the two sisters timed their despatch from +St. Diddulph's so as to enable them to reach the hotel at eight. "We +shall be there now before mamma," said Nora, "because they will have +so much luggage, and so many things, and the trains are always late." +When they started from the door of the parsonage, Mr. Outhouse gave +the direction to the cabman, "Gregg's Hotel, Baker Street." Then at +once he began to console himself in that they were gone.</p> + +<p>It was a long drive from St. Diddulph's in the east, to Marylebone in +the west, of London. None of the party in the cab knew anything of +the region through which they passed. The cabman took the line by the +back of the Bank, and Finsbury Square and the City Road, thinking it +best, probably, to avoid the crush at Holborn Hill, though at the +expense of something of a circuit. But of this Mrs. Trevelyan and +Nora knew nothing. Had their way taken them along Piccadilly, or +through Mayfair, or across Grosvenor Square, they would have known +where they were; but at present they were not thinking of those once +much-loved localities. The cab passed the Angel, and up and down the +hill at Pentonville, and by the King's Cross stations, and through +Euston Square,—and then it turned up Gower Street. Surely the man +should have gone on along the New Road, now that he had come so far +out of his way. But of this the two ladies knew nothing,—nor did the +nurse. It was a dark, windy night, but the lamps in the streets had +given them light, so that they had not noticed the night. Nor did +they notice it now as the streets became narrower and darker. They +were hardly thinking that their journey was yet at an end, and the +mother was in the act of covering her boy's face as he lay asleep on +the nurse's lap, when the cab was stopped. Nora looking out through +the window, saw the word "Hotel" over a doorway, and was satisfied. +"Shall I take the child, ma'am?" said a man in black, and the child +was handed out. Nora was the first to follow, and she then perceived +that the door of the hotel was not open. Mrs. Trevelyan followed; and +then they looked round them,—and the child was gone. They heard the +rattle of another cab as it was carried away at a gallop round a +distant corner;—and then some inkling of what had happened came upon +them. The father had succeeded in getting possession of his child.</p> + +<p>It was a narrow, dark street, very quiet, having about it a certain +air of poor respectability,—an obscure, noiseless street, without +even a sign of life. Some unfortunate one had endeavoured here to +keep an hotel;—but there was no hotel kept there now. There had been +much craft in selecting the place in which the child had been taken +from them. As they looked around them, perceiving the terrible +misfortune which had befallen them, there was not a human being near +them save the cabman, who was occupied in unchaining, or pretending +to unchain the heavy mass of luggage on the roof. The windows of the +house before which they were stopping, were closed, and Nora +perceived at once that the hotel was not inhabited. The cabman must +have perceived it also. As for the man who had taken the child, the +nurse could only say that he was dressed in black, like a waiter, +that he had a napkin under his arm, and no hat on his head. He had +taken the boy tenderly in his arms,—and then she had seen nothing +further. The first thing that Nora had seen, as she stood on the +pavement, was the other cab moving off rapidly.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Trevelyan had staggered against the railings, and was soon +screaming in her wretchedness. Before long there was a small crowd +around them, comprising three or four women, a few boys, an old man +or two,—and a policeman. To the policeman Nora had soon told the +whole story, and the cabman was of course attacked. But the cabman +played his part very well. He declared that he had done just what he +had been told to do. Nora was indeed sure that she had heard her +uncle desire him to drive to Gregg's Hotel in Baker Street. The +cabman in answer to this, declared that he had not clearly heard the +old gentleman's directions; but that a man whom he had conceived to +be a servant, had very plainly told him to drive to Parker's Hotel, +Mowbray Street, Gower Street. "I comed ever so far out of my way," +said the cabman, "to avoid the rumpus with the homnibuses at the +hill,—cause the ladies' things is so heavy we'd never got up if the +'orse had once jibbed." All which, though it had nothing to do with +the matter, seemed to impress the policeman with the idea that the +cabman, if not a true man, was going to be too clever for them on +this occasion. And the crafty cabman went on to declare that his +horse was so tired with the load that he could not go on to Baker +Street. They must get another cab. Take his number! Of course they +could take his number. There was his number. His fare was four and +six,—that is if the ladies wouldn't pay him anything extra for the +terrible load; and he meant to have it. It would be sixpence more if +they kept him there many minutes longer. The number was taken, and +another cab was got, and the luggage was transferred, and the money +was paid, while the unhappy mother was still screaming in hysterics +against the railings. What had been done was soon clear enough to all +those around her. Nora had told the policeman, and had told one of +the women, thinking to obtain their sympathy and assistance. "It's +the kid's dada as has taken it," said one man, "and there ain't +nothing to be done." There was nothing to be done;—nothing at any +rate then and there.</p> + +<p>Nora had been very eager that the cabman should be arrested; but the +policeman assured her that such an arrest was out of the question, +and would have been useless had it been possible. The man would be +forthcoming if his presence should be again desired, but he had +probably,—so said the policeman,—really been desired to drive to +Mowbray Street. "They knows where to find me if they wants me,—only +I must be paid my time," said the cabman confidently. And the +policeman was of opinion that as the boy had been kidnapped on behalf +of the father, no legal steps could be taken either for the recovery +of the child or for the punishment of the perpetrators of the act. He +got up, however, on the box of the cab, and accompanied the party to +the hotel in Baker Street. They reached it almost exactly at the same +time with Sir Marmaduke and Lady Rowley, and the reader must imagine +the confusion, the anguish, and the disappointment of that meeting. +Mrs. Trevelyan was hardly in possession of her senses when she +reached her mother, and could not be induced to be tranquil even when +she was assured by her father that her son would suffer no immediate +evil by being transferred to his father's hands. She in her frenzy +declared that she would never see her little one again, and seemed to +think that the father might not improbably destroy the child. "He is +mad, papa, and does not know what he does. Do you mean to say that a +madman may do as he pleases?—that he may rob my child from me in the +streets?—that he may take him out of my very arms in that way?" And +she was almost angry with her father because no attempt was made that +night to recover the boy.</p> + +<p>Sir Marmaduke, who was not himself a good lawyer, had been closeted +with the policeman for a quarter of an hour, and had learned the +policeman's views. Of course, the father of the child was the person +who had done the deed. Whether the cabman had been in the plot or +not, was not matter of much consequence. There could be no doubt that +some one had told the man to go to Parker's Hotel, as the cab was +starting; and it would probably be impossible to punish him in the +teeth of such instructions. Sir Marmaduke, however, could doubtless +have the cabman summoned. And as for the absolute abduction of the +child, the policeman was of opinion that a father could not be +punished for obtaining possession of his son by such a stratagem, +unless the custody of the child had been made over to the mother by +some court of law. The policeman, indeed, seemed to think that +nothing could be done, and Sir Marmaduke was inclined to agree with +him. When this was explained to Mrs. Trevelyan by her mother, she +again became hysterical in her agony, and could hardly be restrained +from going forth herself to look for her lost treasure.</p> + +<p>It need hardly be further explained that Trevelyan had planned the +stratagem in concert with Mr. Bozzle. Bozzle, though strongly +cautioned by his wife to keep himself out of danger in the matter, +was sorely tempted by his employer's offer of a hundred pounds. He +positively refused to be a party to any attempt at violence at St. +Diddulph's; but when he learned, as he did learn, that Mrs. +Trevelyan, with her sister and baby, were to be transferred from St. +Diddulph's in a cab to Baker Street, and that the journey was luckily +to be made during the shades of evening, his active mind went to +work, and he arranged the plan. There were many difficulties, and +even some pecuniary difficulty. He bargained that he should have his +hundred pounds clear of all deduction for expenses, and then the +attendant expenses were not insignificant. It was necessary that +there should be four men in the service, all good and true; and men +require to be well paid for such goodness and truth. There was the +man, himself an ex-policeman, who gave the instructions to the first +cabman, as he was starting. The cabman would not undertake the job at +all unless he were so instructed on the spot, asserting that in this +way he would be able to prove that the orders he obeyed came from the +lady's husband. And there was the crafty pseudo-waiter, with the +napkin and no hat, who had carried the boy to the cab in which his +father was sitting. And there were the two cabmen. Bozzle planned it +all, and with some difficulty arranged the preliminaries. How +successful was the scheme, we have seen; and Bozzle, for a month, was +able to assume a superiority over his wife, which that honest woman +found to be very disagreeable. "There ain't no fraudulent abduction +in it at all," Bozzle exclaimed, "because a wife ain't got no rights +again her husband,—not in such a matter as that." Mrs. Bozzle +implied that if her husband were to take her child away from her +without her leave, she'd let him know something about it. But as the +husband had in his possession the note for a hundred pounds, +realized, Mrs. Bozzle had not much to say in support of her view of +the case.</p> + +<p>On the morning after the occurrence, while Sir Marmaduke was waiting +with his solicitor upon a magistrate to find whether anything could +be done, the following letter was brought to Mrs. Trevelyan at +Gregg's <span class="nowrap">Hotel:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p>Our child is safe with me, and will remain so. If you care +to obtain legal advice you will find that I as his father +have a right to keep him under my protection. I shall do +so; but will allow you to see him as soon as I shall have +received a full guarantee that you have no idea of +withdrawing him from my charge.</p> + +<p>A home for yourself with me is still open to you,—on +condition that you will give me the promise that I have +demanded from you; and as long as I shall not hear that +you again see or communicate with the person to whose +acquaintance I object. While you remain away from me I +will cause you to be paid £50 a month, as I do not wish +that you should be a burden on others. But this payment +will depend also on your not seeing or holding any +communication with the person to whom I have alluded.</p> + +<p class="ind6">Your affectionate and offended husband,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Louis Trevelyan</span>.</p> + +<p class="noindent">A letter addressed to the Acrobats' +Club will reach me.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>Sir Rowley came home dispirited and unhappy, and could not give much +comfort to his daughter. The magistrate had told him that though the +cabman might probably be punished for taking the ladies otherwise +than as directed,—if the direction to Baker Street could be +proved,—nothing could be done to punish the father. The magistrate +explained that under a certain Act of Parliament the mother might +apply to the Court of Chancery for the custody of any children under +seven years of age, and that the court would probably grant such +custody,—unless it were shewn that the wife had left her husband +without sufficient cause. The magistrate could not undertake to say +whether or no sufficient cause had here been given;—or whether the +husband was in fault or the wife. It was, however, clear that nothing +could be done without application to the Court of Chancery. It +appeared,—so said the magistrate,—that the husband had offered a +home to his wife, and that in offering it he had attempted to impose +no conditions which could be shown to be cruel before a judge. The +magistrate thought that Mr. Trevelyan had done nothing illegal in +taking the child from the cab. Sir Marmaduke, on hearing this, was of +opinion that nothing could be gained by legal interference. His +private desire was to get hold of Trevelyan and pull him limb from +limb. Lady Rowley thought that her daughter had better go back to her +husband, let the future consequences be what they might. And the poor +desolate mother herself had almost brought herself to offer to do so, +having in her brain some idea that she would after a while be able to +escape with her boy. As for love for her husband, certainly there was +none now left in her bosom. Nor could she teach herself to think it +possible that she should ever live with him again on friendly terms. +But she would submit to anything with the object of getting back her +boy. Three or four letters were written to Mr. Trevelyan in as many +days from his wife, from Lady Rowley, and from Nora; in which various +overtures were made. Trevelyan wrote once again to his wife. She +knew, he said, already the terms on which she might come back. These +terms were still open to her. As for the boy, he certainly should not +leave his father. A meeting might be planned on condition that he, +Trevelyan, were provided with a written assurance from his wife that +she would not endeavour to remove the boy, and that he himself should +be present at the meeting.</p> + +<p>Thus the first week was passed after Sir Marmaduke's return,—and a +most wretched time it was for all the party at Gregg's Hotel.</p> + + +<p><a name="c62" id="c62"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXII.</h3> +<h4>LADY ROWLEY MAKES AN ATTEMPT.<br /> </h4> + + +<p><img class="left" src="images/ch62a.jpg" width="310" alt="Illustration" /> +Nothing could be more uncomfortable than the state of Sir Marmaduke +Rowley's family for the first ten days after the arrival in London of +the Governor of the Mandarin Islands. Lady Rowley had brought with +her two of her girls,—the third and fourth,—and, as we know, had +been joined by the two eldest, so that there was a large family of +ladies gathered together. A house had been taken in Manchester +Street, to which they had intended to transfer themselves after a +single night passed at Gregg's Hotel. But the trouble and sorrow +inflicted upon them by the abduction of Mrs. Trevelyan's child, and +the consequent labours thrust upon Sir Marmaduke's shoulders had been +so heavy, that they had slept six nights at the hotel, before they +were able to move themselves into the house prepared for them. By +that time all idea had been abandoned of recovering the child by any +legal means to be taken as a consequence of the illegality of the +abduction. The boy was with his father, and the lawyers seemed to +think that the father's rights were paramount,—as he had offered a +home to his wife without any conditions which a court of law would +adjudge to be cruel. If she could shew that he had driven her to live +apart from him by his own bad conduct, then probably the custody of +her boy might be awarded to her, until the child should be seven +years old. But when the circumstances of the case were explained to +Sir Marmaduke's lawyer by Lady Rowley, that gentleman shook his head. +Mrs. Trevelyan had, he said, no case with which she could go into +court. Then by degrees there were words whispered as to the husband's +madness. The lawyer said that that was a matter for the doctors. If a +certain amount of medical evidence could be obtained to shew that the +husband was in truth mad, the wife could, no doubt, obtain the +custody of the child. When this was reported to Mrs. Trevelyan, she +declared that conduct such as her husband's must suffice to prove any +man to be mad; but at this Sir Marmaduke shook his head, and Lady +Rowley sat, sadly silent, with her daughter's hand within her own. +They would not dare to tell her that she could regain her child by +that plea.</p> + +<p>During those ten days they did not learn whither the boy had been +carried, nor did they know even where the father might be found. Sir +Marmaduke followed up the address as given in the letter, and learned +from the porter at "The Acrobats" that the gentleman's letters were +sent to No. 55, Stony Walk, Union Street, Borough. To this +uncomfortable locality Sir Marmaduke travelled more than once. Thrice +he went thither, intent on finding his son-in-law's residence. On the +two first occasions he saw no one but Mrs. Bozzle; and the discretion +of that lady in declining to give any information was most admirable. +"Trewillian!" Yes, she had heard the name certainly. It might be that +her husband had business engagements with a gent of that name. She +would not say even that for certain, as it was not her custom ever to +make any inquiries as to her husband's business engagements. Her +husband's business engagements were, she said, much too important for +the "likes of she" to know anything about them. When was Bozzle +likely to be at home? Bozzle was never likely to be at home. +According to her showing, Bozzle was of all husbands the most +erratic. He might perhaps come in for an hour or two in the middle of +the day on a Wednesday, or perhaps would take a cup of tea at home on +Friday evening. But anything so fitful and uncertain as were Bozzle's +appearances in the bosom of his family was not to be conceived in the +mind of woman. Sir Marmaduke then called in the middle of the day on +Wednesday, but Bozzle was reported to be away in the provinces. His +wife had no idea in which of the provinces he was at that moment +engaged. The persevering governor from the islands called again on +the Friday evening, and then, by chance, Bozzle was found at home. +But Sir Marmaduke succeeded in gaining very little information even +from Bozzle. The man acknowledged that he was employed by Mr. +Trevelyan. Any letter or parcel left with him for Mr. Trevelyan +should be duly sent to that gentleman. If Sir Marmaduke wanted Mr. +Trevelyan's address, he could write to Mr. Trevelyan and ask for it. +If Mr. Trevelyan declined to give it, was it likely that he, Bozzle, +should betray it? Sir Marmaduke explained who he was at some length. +Bozzle with a smile assured the governor that he knew very well who +he was. He let drop a few words to show that he was intimately +acquainted with the whole course of Sir Marmaduke's family affairs. +He knew all about the Mandarins, and Colonel Osborne, and Gregg's +Hotel,—not that he said anything about Parker's Hotel,—and the +Colonial Office. He spoke of Miss Nora, and even knew the names of +the other two young ladies, Miss Sophia and Miss Lucy. It was a +weakness with Bozzle,—that of displaying his information. He would +have much liked to be able to startle Sir Marmaduke by describing the +Government House in the island, or by telling him something of his +old carriage-horses. But of such information as Sir Marmaduke +desired, Sir Marmaduke got none.</p> + +<p>And there were other troubles which fell very heavily upon the poor +governor, who had come home as it were for a holiday, and who was a +man hating work naturally, and who, from the circumstances of his +life, had never been called on to do much work. A man may govern the +Mandarins and yet live in comparative idleness. To do such governing +work well a man should have a good presence, a flow of words which +should mean nothing, an excellent temper, and a love of hospitality. +With these attributes Sir Rowley was endowed; for, though his +disposition was by nature hot, for governing purposes it had been +brought by practice under good control. He had now been summoned home +through the machinations of his dangerous old friend Colonel Osborne, +in order that he might give the results of his experience in +governing before a committee of the House of Commons. In coming to +England on this business he had thought much more of his holiday, of +his wife and children, of his daughters at home, of his allowance per +day while he was to be away from his government, and of his salary to +be paid to him entire during his absence, instead of being halved as +it would be if he were away on leave,—he had thought much more in +coming home on these easy and pleasant matters, than he did on the +work that was to be required from him when he arrived. And then it +came to pass that he felt himself almost injured when the Colonial +Office demanded his presence from day to day, and when clerks +bothered him with questions as to which they expected ready replies, +but in replying to which Sir Marmaduke was by no means ready. The +working men at the Colonial Office had not quite thought that Sir +Marmaduke was the most fitting man for the job in hand. There was a +certain Mr. Thomas Smith at another set of islands in quite another +part of the world, who was supposed by these working men at home to +be a very paragon of a governor. If he had been had home,—so said +the working men,—no Committee of the House would have been able to +make anything of him. They might have asked him questions week after +week, and he would have answered them all fluently and would have +committed nobody. He knew all the ins and outs of governing,—did Mr. +Thomas Smith,—and was a match for the sharpest Committee that ever +sat at Westminster. Poor Sir Marmaduke was a man of a very different +sort; all of which was known by the working men; but the +Parliamentary interest had been too strong, and here was Sir +Marmaduke at home. But the working men were not disposed to make +matters so pleasant for Sir Marmaduke, as Sir Marmaduke had expected. +The Committee would not examine Sir Marmaduke till after Easter, in +the middle of April; but it was expected of him that he should read +blue-books without number, and he was so catechised by the working +men that he almost began to wish himself back at the Mandarins. In +this way the new establishment in Manchester Street was not at first +in a happy or even in a contented condition.</p> + +<p>At last, after about ten days, Lady Rowley did succeed in obtaining +an interview with Trevelyan. A meeting was arranged through Bozzle, +and took place in a very dark and gloomy room at an inn in the City. +Why Bozzle should have selected the Bremen Coffee House, in Poulter's +Alley, for this meeting no fit reason can surely be given, unless it +was that he conceived himself bound to select the most dreary +locality within his knowledge on so melancholy an occasion. Poulter's +Alley is a narrow dark passage somewhere behind the Mansion House; +and the Bremen Coffee House,—why so called no one can now tell,—is +one of those strange houses of public resort in the City at which the +guests seem never to eat, never to drink, never to sleep, but to come +in and out after a mysterious and almost ghostly fashion, seeing +their friends,—or perhaps their enemies, in nooks and corners, and +carrying on their conferences in low, melancholy whispers. There is +an aged waiter at the Bremen Coffee House; and there is certainly one +private sitting-room up-stairs. It was a dingy, ill-furnished room, +with an old large mahogany table, an old horse-hair sofa, six +horse-hair chairs, two old round mirrors, and an old mahogany press +in a corner. It was a chamber so sad in its appearance that no +wholesome useful work could have been done within it; nor could men +have eaten there with any appetite, or have drained the flowing bowl +with any touch of joviality. It was generally used for such purposes +as that to which it was now appropriated, and no doubt had been taken +by Bozzle on more than one previous occasion. Here Lady Rowley +arrived precisely at the hour fixed, and was told that the gentleman +was waiting up-stairs for her.</p> + +<p>There had, of course, been many family consultations as to the manner +in which this meeting should be arranged. Should Sir Marmaduke +accompany his wife;—or, perhaps, should Sir Marmaduke go alone? Lady +Rowley had been very much in favour of meeting Mr. Trevelyan without +any one to assist her in the conference. As for Sir Marmaduke, no +meeting could be concluded between him and his son-in-law without a +personal, and probably a violent quarrel. Of that Lady Rowley had +been quite sure. Sir Marmaduke, since he had been home, had, in the +midst of his various troubles, been driven into so vehement a state +of indignation against his son-in-law as to be unable to speak of the +wretched man without strongest terms of opprobrium. Nothing was too +bad to be said by him of one who had ill-treated his dearest +daughter. It must be admitted that Sir Marmaduke had heard only one +side of the question. He had questioned his daughter, and had +constantly seen his old friend Osborne. The Colonel's journey down to +Devonshire had been made to appear the most natural proceeding in the +world. The correspondence of which Trevelyan thought so much had been +shown to consist of such notes as might pass between any old +gentleman and any young woman. The promise which Trevelyan had +endeavoured to exact, and which Mrs. Trevelyan had declined to give, +appeared to the angry father to be a monstrous insult. He knew that +the Colonel was an older man than himself, and his Emily was still to +him only a young girl. It was incredible to him that anybody should +have regarded his old comrade as his daughter's lover. He did not +believe that anybody had, in truth, so regarded the man. The tale had +been a monstrous invention on the part of the husband, got up because +he had become tired of his young wife. According to Sir Marmaduke's +way of thinking, Trevelyan should either be thrashed within an inch +of his life, or else locked up in a mad-house. Colonel Osborne shook +his head, and expressed a conviction that the poor man was mad.</p> + +<p>But Lady Rowley was more hopeful. Though she was as confident about +her daughter as was the father, she was less confident about the old +friend. She, probably, was alive to the fact that a man of fifty +might put on the airs and assume the character of a young lover; and +acting on that suspicion, entertaining also some hope that bad as +matters now were they might be mended, she had taken care that +Colonel Osborne and Mrs. Trevelyan should not be brought together. +Sir Marmaduke had fumed, but Lady Rowley had been firm. "If you think +so, mamma," Mrs. Trevelyan had said, with something of scorn in her +tone,—"of course let it be so." Lady Rowley had said that it would +be better so; and the two had not seen each other since the memorable +visit to Nuncombe Putney. And now Lady Rowley was about to meet her +son-in-law with some slight hope that she might arrange affairs. She +was quite aware that present indignation, though certainly a +gratification, might be indulged in at much too great a cost. It +would be better for all reasons that Emily should go back to her +husband and her home, and that Trevelyan should be forgiven for his +iniquities.</p> + +<p>Bozzle was at the tavern during the interview, but he was not seen by +Lady Rowley. He remained seated down-stairs, in one of the dingy +corners, ready to give assistance to his patron should assistance be +needed. When Lady Rowley was shown into the gloomy sitting-room by +the old waiter, she found Trevelyan alone, standing in the middle of +the room, and waiting for her. "This is a sad occasion," he said, as +he advanced to give her his hand.</p> + +<p>"A very sad occasion, Louis."</p> + +<p>"I do not know what you may have heard of what has occurred, Lady +Rowley. It is natural, however, to suppose that you must have heard +me spoken of with censure."</p> + +<p>"I think my child has been ill used, Louis," she replied.</p> + +<p>"Of course you do. I could not expect that it should be otherwise. +When it was arranged that I should meet you here, I was quite aware +that you would have taken the side against me before you had heard my +story. It is I that have been ill used,—cruelly misused; but I do +not expect that you should believe me. I do not wish you to do. I +would not for worlds separate the mother from her daughter."</p> + +<p>"But why have you separated your own wife from her child?"</p> + +<p>"Because it was my duty. What! Is a father not to have the charge of +his own son? I have done nothing, Lady Rowley, to justify a +separation which is contrary to the laws of nature."</p> + +<p>"Where is the boy, Louis?"</p> + +<p>"Ah;—that is just what I am not prepared to tell any one who has +taken my wife's side till I know that my wife has consented to pay to +me that obedience which I, as her husband, have a right to demand. If +Emily will do as I request of her, as I command her,"—as Trevelyan +said this, he spoke in a tone which was intended to give the highest +possible idea of his own authority and dignity,—"then she may see +her child without delay."</p> + +<p>"What is it you request of my daughter?"</p> + +<p>"Obedience;—simply that. Submission to my will, which is surely a +wife's duty. Let her beg my pardon for what has +<span class="nowrap">occurred,—"</span></p> + +<p>"She cannot do that, Louis."</p> + +<p>"And solemnly promise me," continued Trevelyan, not deigning to +notice Lady Rowley's interruption, "that she will hold no further +intercourse with that snake in the grass who wormed his way into my +house,—let her be humble, and penitent, and affectionate, and then +she shall be restored to her husband and to her child." He said this +walking up and down the room, and waving his hand, as though he were +making a speech that was intended to be eloquent,—as though he had +conceived that he was to overcome his mother-in-law by the weight of +his words and the magnificence of his demeanour. And yet his +demeanour was ridiculous, and his words would have had no weight had +they not tended to show Lady Rowley how little prospect there was +that she should be able to heal this breach. He himself, too, was so +altered in appearance since she had last seen him, bright with the +hopes of his young married happiness, that she would hardly have +recognised him had she met him in the street. He was thin, and pale, +and haggard, and mean. And as he stalked up and down the room, it +seemed to her that the very character of the man was changed. She had +not previously known him to be pompous, unreasonable, and absurd. She +did not answer him at once, as she perceived that he had not finished +his address;—and, after a moment's pause, he continued. "Lady +Rowley, there is nothing I would not have done for your +daughter,—for my wife. All that I had was hers. I did not dictate to +her any mode of life; I required from her no sacrifices; I subjected +her to no caprices; but I was determined to be master in my own +house."</p> + +<p>"I do not think, Louis, that she has ever denied your right to be +master."</p> + +<p>"To be master in my own house, and to be paramount in my influence +over her. So much I had a right to demand."</p> + +<p>"Who has denied your right?"</p> + +<p>"She has submitted herself to the counsels and to the influences of a +man who has endeavoured to undermine me in her affection. In saying +that I make my accusation as light against her as is possible. I +might make it much heavier, and yet not sin against the truth."</p> + +<p>"This is an illusion, Louis."</p> + +<p>"Ah;—well. No doubt it becomes you to defend your child. Was it an +illusion when he went to Devonshire? Was it an illusion when he +corresponded with her,—contrary to my express orders,—both before +and after that unhallowed journey? Lady Rowley, there must be no more +such illusions. If my wife means to come back to me, and to have her +child in her own hands, she must be penitent as regards the past, and +obedient as regards the future."</p> + +<p>There was a wicked bitterness in that word penitent which almost +maddened Lady Rowley. She had come to this meeting believing that +Trevelyan would be rejoiced to take back his wife, if details could +be arranged for his doing so which should not subject him to the +necessity of crying, peccavi; but she found him speaking of his wife +as though he would be doing her the greatest possible favour in +allowing her to come back to him dressed in sackcloth, and with ashes +on her head. She could understand from what she had heard that his +tone and manner were much changed since he obtained possession of the +child, and that he now conceived that he had his wife within his +power. That he should become a tyrant because he had the power to +tyrannise was not in accordance with her former conception of the +man's character;—but then he was so changed, that she felt that she +knew nothing of the man who now stood before her. "I cannot +acknowledge that my daughter has done anything that requires +penitence," said Lady Rowley.</p> + +<p>"I dare say not; but my view is different."</p> + +<p>"She cannot admit herself to be wrong when she knows herself to be +right. You would not have her confess to a fault, the very idea of +which has always been abhorrent to her?"</p> + +<p>"She must be crushed in spirit, Lady Rowley, before she can again +become a pure and happy woman."</p> + +<p>"This is more than I can bear," said Lady Rowley, now, at last, +worked up to a fever of indignation. "My daughter, sir, is as pure a +woman as you have ever known, or are likely to know. You, who should +have protected her against the world, will some day take blame to +yourself as you remember that you have so cruelly maligned her." Then +she walked away to the door, and would not listen to the words which +he was hurling after her. She went down the stairs, and out of the +house, and at the end of Poulter's Alley found the cab which was +waiting for her.</p> + +<p>Trevelyan, as soon as he was alone, rang the bell, and sent for +Bozzle. And while the waiter was coming to him, and until his +myrmidon had appeared, he continued to stalk up and down the room, +waving his hand in the air as though he were continuing his speech. +"Bozzle," said he, as soon as the man had closed the door, "I have +changed my mind."</p> + +<p>"As how, Mr. Trewillian?"</p> + +<p>"I shall make no further attempt. I have done all that man can do, +and have done it in vain. Her father and mother uphold her in her +conduct, and she is lost to me,—for ever."</p> + +<p>"But the boy, Mr. T.?"</p> + +<p>"I have my child. Yes,—I have my child. Poor infant. Bozzle, I look +to you to see that none of them learn our retreat."</p> + +<p>"As for that, Mr. Trewillian,—why facts is to be come at by one +party pretty well as much as by another. Now, suppose the things was +changed, wicey warsey,—and as I was hacting for the Colonel's +party."</p> + +<p>"D—— the Colonel!" exclaimed Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"Just so, Mr. Trewillian; but if I was hacting for the other party, +and they said to me, 'Bozzle,—where's the boy?' why, in three days +I'd be down on the facts. Facts is open, Mr. Trewillian, if you knows +where to look for them."</p> + +<p>"I shall take him abroad,—at once."</p> + +<p>"Think twice of it, Mr. T. The boy is so young, you see, and a +mother's 'art is softer and lovinger than anything. I'd think twice +of it, Mr. T., before I kept 'em apart." This was a line of thought +which Mr. Bozzle's conscience had not forced him to entertain to the +prejudice of his professional arrangements; but now, as he conversed +with his employer, and became by degrees aware of the failure of +Trevelyan's mind, some shade of remorse came upon him, and made him +say a word on behalf of the "other party."</p> + +<p>"Am I not always thinking of it? What else have they left me to think +of? That will do for to-day. You had better come down to me to-morrow +afternoon." Bozzle promised obedience to these instructions, and as +soon as his patron had started he paid the bill, and took himself +home.</p> + +<p>Lady Rowley, as she travelled back to her house in Manchester Street, +almost made up her mind that the separation between her daughter and +her son-in-law had better be continued. It was a very sad conclusion +to which to come, but she could not believe that any high-spirited +woman could long continue to submit herself to the caprices of a man +so unreasonable and dictatorial as he to whom she had just been +listening. Were it not for the boy, there would, she felt, be no +doubt upon the matter. And now, as matters stood, she thought that it +should be their great object to regain possession of the child. Then +she endeavoured to calculate what would be the result to her +daughter, if in very truth it should be found that the wretched man +was mad. To hope for such a result seemed to her to be very +wicked;—and yet she hardly knew how not to hope for it.</p> + +<p>"Well, mamma," said Emily Trevelyan, with a faint attempt at a smile, +"you saw him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dearest, I saw him. I can only say that he is a most +unreasonable man."</p> + +<p>"And he would tell you nothing of Louey?"</p> + +<p>"No dear,—not a word."</p> + + +<p><a name="c63" id="c63"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXIII.</h3> +<h4>SIR MARMADUKE AT HOME.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Nora Rowley had told her lover that there was to be no further +communication between them till her father and mother should be in +England; but in telling him so, had so frankly confessed her own +affection for him and had so sturdily promised to be true to him, +that no lover could have been reasonably aggrieved by such an +interdiction. Nora was quite conscious of this, and was aware that +Hugh Stanbury had received such encouragement as ought at any rate to +bring him to the new Rowley establishment, as soon as he should learn +where it had fixed itself. But when at the end of ten days he had not +shown himself, she began to feel doubts. Could it be that he had +changed his mind, that he was unwilling to encounter refusal from her +father, or that he had found, on looking into his own affairs more +closely, that it would be absurd for him to propose to take a wife to +himself while his means were so poor and so precarious? Sir Marmaduke +during this time had been so unhappy, so fretful, so indignant, and +so much worried, that Nora herself had become almost afraid of him; +and, without much reasoning on the matter, had taught herself to +believe that Hugh might be actuated by similar fears. She had +intended to tell her mother of what had occurred between her and +Stanbury the first moment that she and Lady Rowley were together; but +then there had fallen upon them that terrible incident of the loss of +the child, and the whole family had become at once so wrapped up in +the agony of the bereaved mother, and so full of rage against the +unreasonable father, that there seemed to Nora to be no possible +opportunity for the telling of her own love-story. Emily herself +appeared to have forgotten it in the midst of her own misery, and had +not mentioned Hugh Stanbury's name since they had been in Manchester +Street. We have all felt how on occasions our own hopes and fears, +nay, almost our own individuality, become absorbed in and obliterated +by the more pressing cares and louder voices of those around us. Nora +hardly dared to allude to herself while her sister's grief was still +so prominent, and while her father was daily complaining of his own +personal annoyances at the Colonial Office. It seemed to her that at +such a moment she could not introduce a new matter for dispute, and +perhaps a new subject of dismay.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, as the days passed by, and as she saw nothing of Hugh +Stanbury, her heart became sore and her spirit vexed. It seemed to +her that if she were now deserted by him, all the world would be over +for her. The Glascock episode in her life had passed by,—that +episode which might have been her history, which might have been a +history so prosperous, so magnificent, and probably so happy. As she +thought of herself and of circumstances as they had happened to her, +of the resolutions which she had made as to her own career when she +first came to London, and of the way in which she had thrown all +those resolutions away in spite of the wonderful success which had +come in her path, she could not refrain from thinking that she had +brought herself to shipwreck by her own indecision. It must not be +imagined that she regretted what she had done. She knew very well +that to have acted otherwise than she did when Mr. Glascock came to +her at Nuncombe Putney would have proved her to be heartless, +selfish, and unwomanly. Long before that time she had determined that +it was her duty to marry a rich man,—and, if possible, a man in high +position. Such a one had come to her,—one endowed with all the good +things of the world beyond her most sanguine expectation,—and she +had rejected him! She knew that she had been right because she had +allowed herself to love the other man. She did not repent what she +had done, the circumstances being as they were, but she almost +regretted that she had been so soft in heart, so susceptible of the +weakness of love, so little able to do as she pleased with herself. +Of what use to her was it that she loved this man with all her +strength of affection when he never came to her, although the time at +which he had been told that he might come was now ten days past?</p> + +<p>She was sitting one afternoon in the drawing-room listlessly reading, +or pretending to read, a novel, when, on a sudden, Hugh Stanbury was +announced. The circumstances of the moment were most unfortunate for +such a visit. Sir Marmaduke, who had been down at Whitehall in the +morning, and from thence had made a journey to St. +Diddulph's-in-the-East and back, was exceedingly cross and out of +temper. They had told him at his office that they feared he would not +suffice to carry through the purpose for which he had been brought +home. And his brother-in-law, the parson, had expressed to him an +opinion that he was in great part responsible for the misfortune of +his daughter, by the encouragement which he had given to such a man +as Colonel Osborne. Sir Marmaduke had in consequence quarrelled both +with the chief clerk and with Mr. Outhouse, and had come home surly +and discontented. Lady Rowley and her eldest daughter were away, +closeted at the moment with Lady Milborough, with whom they were +endeavouring to arrange some plan by which the boy might at any rate +be given back. Poor Emily Trevelyan was humble enough now to Lady +Milborough,—was prepared to be humble to any one, and in any +circumstances, so that she should not be required to acknowledge that +she had entertained Colonel Osborne as her lover. The two younger +girls, Sophy and Lucy, were in the room when Stanbury was announced, +as was also Sir Marmaduke, who at that very moment was uttering angry +growls at the obstinacy and want of reason with which he had been +treated by Mr. Outhouse. Now Sir Marmaduke had not so much as heard +the name of Hugh Stanbury as yet; and Nora, though her listlessness +was all at an end, at once felt how impossible it would be to explain +any of the circumstances of her case in such an interview as this. +While, however, Hugh's dear steps were heard upon the stairs, her +feminine mind at once went to work to ascertain in what best mode, +with what most attractive reason for his presence, she might +introduce the young man to her father. Had not the girls been then +present, she thought that it might have been expedient to leave Hugh +to tell his own story to Sir Marmaduke. But she had no opportunity of +sending her sisters away; and, unless chance should remove them, this +could not be done.</p> + +<p>"He is son of the lady we were with at Nuncombe Putney," she +whispered to her father as she got up to move across the room to +welcome her lover. Now Sir Marmaduke had expressed great disapproval +of that retreat to Dartmoor, and had only understood respecting it +that it had been arranged between Trevelyan and the family in whose +custody his two daughters had been sent away into banishment. He was +not therefore specially disposed to welcome Hugh Stanbury in +consequence of this mode of introduction.</p> + +<p>Hugh, who had asked for Lady Rowley and Mrs. Trevelyan and had +learned that they were out before he had mentioned Miss Rowley's +name, was almost prepared to take his sweetheart into his arms. In +that half-minute he had taught himself to expect that he would meet +her alone, and had altogether forgotten Sir Marmaduke. Young men when +they call at four o'clock in the day never expect to find papas at +home. And of Sophia and Lucy he had either heard nothing or had +forgotten what he had heard. He repressed himself however in time, +and did not commit either Nora or himself by any very vehement +demonstration of affection. But he did hold her hand longer than he +should have done, and Sir Marmaduke saw that he did so.</p> + +<p>"This is papa," said Nora. "Papa, this is our friend, Mr. Hugh +Stanbury." The introduction was made in a manner almost absurdly +formal, but poor Nora's difficulties lay heavy upon her. Sir +Marmaduke muttered something;—but it was little more than a grunt. +"Mamma and Emily are out," continued Nora. "I dare say they will be +in soon." Sir Marmaduke looked round sharply at the man. Why was he +to be encouraged to stay till Lady Rowley should return? Lady Rowley +did not want to see him. It seemed to Sir Marmaduke, in the midst of +his troubles, that this was no time to be making new acquaintances. +"These are my sisters, Mr. Stanbury," continued Nora. "This is +Sophia, and this is Lucy." Sophia and Lucy would have been thoroughly +willing to receive their sister's lover with genial kindness if they +had been properly instructed, and if the time had been opportune; +but, as it was, they had nothing to say. They, also, could only +mutter some little sound intended to be more courteous than their +father's grunt. Poor Nora!</p> + +<p>"I hope you are comfortable here," said Hugh.</p> + +<p>"The house is all very well," said Nora, "but we don't like the +neighbourhood."</p> + +<p>Hugh also felt that conversation was difficult. He had soon come to +perceive,—before he had been in the room half a minute,—that the +atmosphere was not favourable to his mission. There was to be no +embracing or permission for embracing on the present occasion. Had he +been left alone with Sir Marmaduke he would probably have told his +business plainly, let Sir Marmaduke's manner to him have been what it +might; but it was impossible for him to do this with three young +ladies in the room with him. Seeing that Nora was embarrassed by her +difficulties, and that Nora's father was cross and silent, he +endeavoured to talk to the other girls, and asked them concerning +their journey and the ship in which they had come. But it was very +up-hill work. Lucy and Sophy could talk as glibly as any young ladies +home from any colony,—and no higher degree of fluency can be +expressed;—but now they were cowed. Their elder sister was +shamefully and most undeservedly disgraced, and this man had had +something,—they knew not what,—to do with it. "Is Priscilla quite +well?" Nora asked at last.</p> + +<p>"Quite well. I heard from her yesterday. You know they have left the +Clock House."</p> + +<p>"I had not heard it."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes;—and they are living in a small cottage just outside the +village. And what else do you think has happened?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing bad, I hope, Mr. Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"My sister Dorothy has left her aunt, and is living with them again +at Nuncombe."</p> + +<p>"Has there been a quarrel, Mr. Stanbury?"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes;—after a fashion there has, I suppose. But it is a long +story and would not interest Sir Marmaduke. The wonder is that +Dorothy should have been able to stay so long with my aunt. I will +tell it you all some day." Sir Marmaduke could not understand why a +long story about this man's aunt and sister should be told to his +daughter. He forgot,—as men always do in such circumstances +forget,—that, while he was living in the Mandarins, his daughter, +living in England, would of course pick up new interest and become +intimate with new histories. But he did not forget that pressure of +the hand which he had seen, and he determined that his daughter Nora +could not have any worse lover than the friend of his elder +daughter's husband.</p> + +<p>Stanbury had just determined that he must go, that there was no +possibility for him either to say or do anything to promote his cause +at the present moment, when the circumstances were all changed by the +return home of Lady Rowley and Mrs. Trevelyan. Lady Rowley knew, and +had for some days known, much more of Stanbury than had come to the +ears of Sir Marmaduke. She understood in the first place that the +Stanburys had been very good to her daughter, and she was aware that +Hugh Stanbury had thoroughly taken her daughter's part against his +old friend Trevelyan. She would therefore have been prepared to +receive him kindly had he not on this very morning been the subject +of special conversation between her and Emily. But, as it had +happened, Mrs. Trevelyan had this very day told Lady Rowley the whole +story of Nora's love. The elder sister had not intended to be +treacherous to the younger; but in the thorough confidence which +mutual grief and close conference had created between the mother and +daughter, everything had at last come out, and Lady Rowley had +learned the story, not only of Hugh Stanbury's courtship, but of +those rich offers which had been made by the heir to the barony of +Peterborough.</p> + +<p>It must be acknowledged that Lady Rowley was greatly grieved and +thoroughly dismayed. It was not only that Mr. Glascock was the eldest +son of a peer, but that he was represented by the poor suffering wife +of the ill-tempered man to be a man blessed with a disposition sweet +as an angel's. "And she would have liked him," Emily had said, "if it +had not been for this unfortunate young man." Lady Rowley was not +worse than are other mothers, not more ambitious, or more heartless, +or more worldly. She was a good mother, loving her children, and +thoroughly anxious for their welfare. But she would have liked to be +the mother-in-law of Lord Peterborough, and she would have liked, +dearly, to see her second daughter removed from the danger of those +rocks against which her eldest child had been shipwrecked. And when +she asked after Hugh Stanbury, and his means of maintaining a wife, +the statement which Mrs. Trevelyan made was not comforting. "He +writes for a penny newspaper,—and, I believe, writes very well," +Mrs. Trevelyan had said.</p> + +<p>"For a penny newspaper! Is that respectable?"</p> + +<p>"His aunt, Miss Stanbury, seemed to think not. But I suppose men of +education do write for such things now. He says himself that it is +very precarious as an employment."</p> + +<p>"It must be precarious, Emily. And has he got nothing?"</p> + +<p>"Not a penny of his own," said Mrs. Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>Then Lady Rowley had thought again of Mr. Glascock, and of the family +title, and of Monkhams. And she thought of her present troubles, and +of the Mandarins, and the state of Sir Marmaduke's balance at the +bankers;—and of the other girls, and of all there was before her to +do. Here had been a very Apollo among suitors kneeling at her child's +feet, and the foolish girl had sent him away for the sake of a young +man who wrote for a penny newspaper! Was it worth the while of any +woman to bring up daughters with such results? Lady Rowley, +therefore, when she was first introduced to Hugh Stanbury, was not +prepared to receive him with open arms.</p> + +<p>On this occasion the task of introducing him fell to Mrs. Trevelyan, +and was done with much graciousness. Emily knew that Hugh Stanbury +was her friend, and would sympathise with her respecting her child. +"You have heard what has happened to me?" she said. Stanbury, +however, had heard nothing of that kidnapping of the child. Though to +the Rowleys it seemed that such a deed of iniquity, done in the +middle of London, must have been known to all the world, he had not +as yet been told of it;—and now the story was given to him. Mrs. +Trevelyan herself told it, with many tears and an agony of fresh +grief; but still she told it as to one whom she regarded as a sure +friend, and from whom she knew that she would receive sympathy. Sir +Marmaduke sat by the while, still gloomy and out of humour. Why was +their family sorrow to be laid bare to this stranger?</p> + +<p>"It is the cruellest thing I ever heard," said Hugh.</p> + +<p>"A dastardly deed," said Lady Rowley.</p> + +<p>"But we all feel that for the time he can hardly know what he does," +said Nora.</p> + +<p>"And where is the child?" Stanbury asked.</p> + +<p>"We have not the slightest idea," said Lady Rowley. "I have seen him, +and he refuses to tell us. He did say that my daughter should see her +boy; but he now accompanies his offer with such conditions that it is +impossible to listen to him."</p> + +<p>"And where is he?"</p> + +<p>"We do not know where he lives. We can reach him only through a +certain <span class="nowrap">man—"</span></p> + +<p>"Ah, I know the man," said Stanbury; "one who was a policeman once. +His name is Bozzle."</p> + +<p>"That is the man," said Sir Marmaduke. "I have seen him."</p> + +<p>"And of course he will tell us nothing but what he is told to tell +us," continued Lady Rowley. "Can there be anything so horrible as +this,—that a wife should be bound to communicate with her own +husband respecting her own child through such a man as that?"</p> + +<p>"One might possibly find out where he keeps the child," said Hugh.</p> + +<p>"If you could manage that, Mr. Stanbury!" said Lady Rowley.</p> + +<p>"I hardly see that it would do much good," said Hugh. "Indeed I do +not know why he should keep the place a secret. I suppose he has a +right to the boy until the mother shall have made good her claim +before the court." He promised, however, that he would do his best to +ascertain where the child was kept, and where Trevelyan resided, and +then,—having been nearly an hour at the house,—he was forced to get +up and take his leave. He had said not a word to any one of the +business that had brought him there. He had not even whispered an +assurance of his affection to Nora. Till the two elder ladies had +come in, and the subject of the taking of the boy had been mooted, he +had sat there as a perfect stranger. He thought that it was manifest +enough that Nora had told her secret to no one. It seemed to him that +Mrs. Trevelyan must have forgotten it;—that Nora herself must have +forgotten it, if such forgetting could be possible! He got up, +however, and took his leave, and was comforted in some slight degree +by seeing that there was a tear in Nora's eye.</p> + +<p>"Who is he?" demanded Sir Marmaduke, as soon as the door was closed.</p> + +<p>"He is a young man who was an intimate friend of Louis's," answered +Mrs. Trevelyan; "but he is so no longer, because he sees how +infatuated Louis has been."</p> + +<p>"And why does he come here?"</p> + + +<div class="center"><a name="ip2-118" id="ip2-118"></a> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="4px"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/p2-118.jpg"> + <img src="images/p2-118-t.jpg" width="540" + alt='"And why does he come here?"' /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <span class="caption">"And why does he come here?"<br /> + Click to <a href="images/p2-118.jpg">ENLARGE</a></span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p>"We know him very well," continued Mrs. Trevelyan. "It was he that +arranged our journey down to Devonshire. He was very kind about it, +and so were his mother and sister. We have every reason to be +grateful to Mr. Stanbury." This was all very well, but Nora +nevertheless felt that the interview had been anything but +successful.</p> + +<p>"Has he any profession?" asked Sir Marmaduke.</p> + +<p>"He writes for the press," said Mrs. Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean;—books?"</p> + +<p>"No;—for a newspaper."</p> + +<p>"For a penny newspaper," said Nora boldly—"for the Daily Record."</p> + +<p>"Then I hope he won't come here any more," said Sir Marmaduke. Nora +paused a moment, striving to find words for some speech which might +be true to her love and yet not unseemly,—but finding no such words +ready, she got up from her seat and walked out of the room. "What is +the meaning of it all?" asked Sir Marmaduke. There was a silence for +a while, and then he repeated his question in another form. "Is there +any reason for his coming here,—about Nora?"</p> + +<p>"I think he is attached to Nora," said Mrs. Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"My dear," said Lady Rowley, "perhaps we had better not speak about +it just now."</p> + +<p>"I suppose he has not a penny in the world," said Sir Marmaduke.</p> + +<p>"He has what he earns," said Mrs. Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"If Nora understands her duty she will never let me hear his name +again," said Sir Marmaduke. Then there was nothing more said, and as +soon as they could escape, both Lady Rowley and Mrs. Trevelyan left +the room.</p> + +<p>"I should have told you everything," said Nora to her mother that +night. "I had no intention to keep anything a secret from you. But we +have all been so unhappy about Louey, that we have had no heart to +talk of anything else."</p> + +<p>"I understand all that, my darling."</p> + +<p>"And I had meant that you should tell papa, for I supposed that he +would come. And I meant that he should go to papa himself. He +intended that himself,—only, to-day,—as things turned +<span class="nowrap">out—"</span></p> + +<p>"Just so, dearest;—but it does not seem that he has got any income. +It would be very rash,—wouldn't it?"</p> + +<p>"People must be rash sometimes. Everybody can't have an income +without earning it. I suppose people in professions do marry without +having fortunes."</p> + +<p>"When they have settled professions, Nora."</p> + +<p>"And why is not his a settled profession? I believe he receives quite +as much at seven and twenty as Uncle Oliphant does at sixty."</p> + +<p>"But your Uncle Oliphant's income is permanent."</p> + +<p>"Lawyers don't have permanent incomes, or doctors,—or merchants."</p> + +<p>"But those professions are regular and sure. They don't marry, +without fortunes, till they have made their incomes sure."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Stanbury's income is sure. I don't know why it shouldn't be +sure. He goes on writing and writing every day, and it seems to me +that of all professions in the world it is the finest. I'd much +sooner write for a newspaper than be one of those old musty, fusty +lawyers, who'll say anything that they're paid to say."</p> + +<p>"My dearest Nora, all that is nonsense. You know as well as I do that +you should not marry a man when there is a doubt whether he can keep +a house over your head;—that is his position."</p> + +<p>"It is good enough for me, mamma."</p> + +<p>"And what is his income from writing?"</p> + +<p>"It is quite enough for me, mamma. The truth is I have promised, and +I cannot go back from it. Dear, dear mamma, you won't quarrel with +us, and oppose us, and make papa hard against us. You can do what you +like with papa. I know that. Look at poor Emily. Plenty of money has +not made her happy."</p> + +<p>"If Mr. Glascock had only asked you a week sooner," said Lady Rowley, +with a handkerchief to her eyes.</p> + +<p>"But you see he didn't, mamma."</p> + +<p>"When I think of it I cannot but weep"—and the poor mother burst out +into a full flood of tears—"such a man, so good, so gentle, and so +truly devoted to you."</p> + +<p>"Mamma, what's the good of that now?"</p> + +<p>"Going down all the way to Devonshire after you!"</p> + +<p>"So did Hugh, mamma."</p> + +<p>"A position that any girl in England would have envied you. I cannot +but feel it. And Emily says she is sure he would come back if he got +the very slightest encouragement."</p> + +<p>"That is quite impossible, mamma."</p> + +<p>"Why should it be impossible? Emily declares that she never saw a man +so much in love in her life;—and she says also that she believes he +is abroad now simply because he is broken-hearted about it."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Glascock, mamma, was very nice and good and all that; but indeed +he is not the man to suffer from a broken heart. And Emily is quite +mistaken. I told him the whole truth."</p> + +<p>"What truth?"</p> + +<p>"That there was somebody else that I did love. Then he said that of +course that put an end to it all, and he wished me good-bye ever so +calmly."</p> + +<p>"How could you be so infatuated? Why should you have cut the ground +away from your feet in that way?"</p> + +<p>"Because I chose that there should be an end to it. Now there has +been an end to it; and it is much better, mamma, that we should not +think about Mr. Glascock any more. He will never come again to +me,—and if he did, I could only say the same thing."</p> + +<p>"You mustn't be surprised, Nora, if I'm unhappy; that is all. Of +course I must feel it. Such a connection as it would have been for +your sisters! Such a home for poor Emily in her trouble! And as for +this other <span class="nowrap">man—"</span></p> + +<p>"Mamma, don't speak ill of him."</p> + +<p>"If I say anything of him, I must say the truth," said Lady Rowley.</p> + +<p>"Don't say anything against him, mamma, because he is to be my +husband. Dear, dear mamma, you can't change me by anything you say. +Perhaps I have been foolish; but it is settled now. Don't make me +wretched by speaking against the man whom I mean to love all my life +better than all the world."</p> + +<p>"Think of Louis Trevelyan."</p> + +<p>"I will think of no one but Hugh Stanbury. I tried not to love him, +mamma. I tried to think that it was better to make believe that I +loved Mr. Glascock. But he got the better of me, and conquered me, +and I will never rebel against him. You may help me, mamma;—but you +can't change me."</p> + + +<p><a name="c64" id="c64"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXIV.</h3> +<h4>SIR MARMADUKE AT HIS CLUB.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Sir Marmaduke had come away from his brother-in-law the parson in +much anger, for Mr. Outhouse, with that mixture of obstinacy and +honesty which formed his character, had spoken hard words of Colonel +Osborne, and words which by implication had been hard also against +Emily Trevelyan. He had been very staunch to his niece when attacked +by his niece's husband; but when his sympathies and assistance were +invoked by Sir Marmaduke it seemed as though he had transferred his +allegiance to the other side. He pointed out to the unhappy father +that Colonel Osborne had behaved with great cruelty in going to +Devonshire, that the Stanburys had been untrue to their trust in +allowing him to enter the house, and that Emily had been "indiscreet" +in receiving him. When a young woman is called indiscreet by her +friends it may be assumed that her character is very seriously +assailed. Sir Marmaduke had understood this, and on hearing the word +had become wroth with his brother-in-law. There had been hot words +between them, and Mr. Outhouse would not yield an inch or retract a +syllable. He conceived it to be his duty to advise the father to +caution his daughter with severity, to quarrel absolutely with +Colonel Osborne, and to let Trevelyan know that this had been done. +As to the child, Mr. Outhouse expressed a strong opinion that the +father was legally entitled to the custody of his boy, and that +nothing could be done to recover the child, except what might be done +with the father's consent. In fact, Mr. Outhouse made himself +exceedingly disagreeable, and sent away Sir Marmaduke with a very +heavy heart. Could it really be possible that his old friend Fred +Osborne, who seven or eight-and-twenty years ago had been potent +among young ladies, had really been making love to his old friend's +married daughter? Sir Marmaduke looked into himself, and conceived it +to be quite out of the question that he should make love to any one. +A good dinner, good wine, a good cigar, an easy chair, and a rubber +of whist,—all these things, with no work to do, and men of his own +standing around him were the pleasures of life which Sir Marmaduke +desired. Now Fred Osborne was an older man than he, and though Fred +Osborne did keep up a foolish system of padded clothes and dyed +whiskers, still,—at fifty-two or fifty-three,—surely a man might be +reckoned safe. And then, too, that ancient friendship! Sir Marmaduke, +who had lived all his life in the comparative seclusion of a colony, +thought perhaps more of that ancient friendship than did the Colonel, +who had lived amidst the blaze of London life, and who had had many +opportunities of changing his friends. Some inkling of all this made +its way into Sir Marmaduke's bosom, as he thought of it with +bitterness; and he determined that he would have it out with his +friend.</p> + +<p>Hitherto he had enjoyed very few of those pleasant hours which he had +anticipated on his journey homewards. He had had no heart to go to +his club, and he had fancied that Colonel Osborne had been a little +backward in looking him up, and providing him with amusement. He had +suggested this to his wife, and she had told him that the Colonel had +been right not to come to Manchester Street. "I have told Emily," +said Lady Rowley, "that she must not meet him, and she is quite of +the same opinion." Nevertheless, there had been remissness. Sir +Marmaduke felt that it was so, in spite of his wife's excuses. In +this way he was becoming sore with everybody, and very unhappy. It +did not at all improve his temper when he was told that his second +daughter had refused an offer from Lord Peterborough's eldest son. +"Then she may go into the workhouse for me," the angry father had +said, declaring at the same time that he would never give his consent +to her marriage with the man who "did dirty work" for the Daily +Record,—as he, with his paternal wisdom, chose to express it. But +this cruel phrase was not spoken in Nora's hearing, nor was it +repeated to her. Lady Rowley knew her husband, and was aware that he +would on occasions change his opinion.</p> + +<p>It was not till two or three days after his visit to St. Diddulph's +that he met Colonel Osborne. The Easter recess was then over, and +Colonel Osborne had just returned to London. They met on the +door-steps of "The Acrobats," and the Colonel immediately began with +an apology. "I have been so sorry to be away just when you are +here;—upon my word I have. But I was obliged to go down to the +duchess's. I had promised early in the winter; and those people are +so angry if you put them off. By George, it's almost as bad as +putting off royalty."</p> + +<p>"D——n the duchess," said Sir Marmaduke.</p> + +<p>"With all my heart," said the Colonel;—"only I thought it as well +that I should tell you the truth."</p> + +<p>"What I mean is, that the duchess and her people make no difference +to me. I hope you had a pleasant time; that's all."</p> + +<p>"Well;—yes, we had. One must get away somewhere at Easter. There is +no one left at the club, and there's no House, and no one asks one to +dinner in town. In fact, if one didn't go away one wouldn't know what +to do. There were ever so many people there that I liked to meet. +Lady Glencora was there, and uncommon pleasant she made it. That +woman has more to say for herself than any half-dozen men that I +know. And Lord Cantrip, your chief, was there. He said a word or two +to me about you."</p> + +<p>"What sort of a word?"</p> + +<p>"He says he wishes you would read up some blue-books, or papers, or +reports, or something of that kind, which he says that some of his +fellows have sent you. It seems that there are some new rules, or +orders, or fashions, which he wants you to have at your fingers' +ends. Nothing could be more civil than he was,—but he just wished me +to mention this, knowing that you and I are likely to see each +other."</p> + +<p>"I wish I had never come over," said Sir Marmaduke.</p> + +<p>"Why so?"</p> + +<p>"They didn't bother me with their new rules and fashions over there. +When the papers came somebody read them, and that was enough. I could +do what they wanted me to do there."</p> + +<p>"And so you will here,—after a bit."</p> + +<p>"I'm not so sure of that. Those young fellows seem to forget that an +old dog can't learn new tricks. They've got a young brisk fellow +there who seems to think that a man should be an encyclopedia of +knowledge because he has lived in a colony over twenty years."</p> + +<p>"That's the new under-secretary."</p> + +<p>"Never mind who it is. Osborne, just come up to the library, will +you? I want to speak to you." Then Sir Marmaduke, with considerable +solemnity, led the way up to the most deserted room in the club, and +Colonel Osborne followed him, well knowing that something was to be +said about Emily Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>Sir Marmaduke seated himself on a sofa, and his friend sat close +beside him. The room was quite deserted. It was four o'clock in the +afternoon, and the club was full of men. There were men in the +morning-room, and men in the drawing-room, and men in the card-room, +and men in the billiard-room; but no better choice of a chamber for a +conference intended to be silent and secret could have been made in +all London than that which had induced Sir Marmaduke to take his +friend into the library of "The Acrobats." And yet a great deal of +money had been spent in providing this library for "The Acrobats." +Sir Marmaduke sat for awhile silent, and had he sat silent for an +hour, Colonel Osborne would not have interrupted him. Then, at last, +he began, with a voice that was intended to be serious, but which +struck upon the ear of his companion as being affected and unlike the +owner of it. "This is a very sad thing about my poor girl," said Sir +Marmaduke.</p> + +<p>"Indeed it is. There is only one thing to be said about it, Rowley."</p> + +<p>"And what's that?"</p> + +<p>"The man must be mad."</p> + +<p>"He is not so mad as to give us any relief by his madness,—poor as +such comfort would be. He has got Emily's child away from her, and I +think it will about kill her. And what is to become of her? As to +taking her back to the islands without her child, it is out of the +question. I never knew anything so cruel in my life."</p> + +<p>"And so absurd, you know."</p> + +<p>"Ah,—that's just the question. If anybody had asked me, I should +have said that you were the man of all men whom I could have best +trusted."</p> + +<p>"Do you doubt it now?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know what to think."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say that you suspect me,—and your daughter too?"</p> + +<p>"No;—by heavens! Poor dear. If I suspected her, there would be an +end of all things with me. I could never get over that. No; I don't +suspect her!" Sir Marmaduke had now dropped his affected tone, and +was speaking with natural energy.</p> + +<p>"But you do me?"</p> + +<p>"No;—if I did, I don't suppose I should be sitting with you here; +but they tell <span class="nowrap">me—"</span></p> + +<p>"They tell you what?"</p> + +<p>"They tell me that,—that you did not behave wisely about it. Why +could you not let her alone when you found out how matters were +going?"</p> + +<p>"Who has been telling you this, Rowley?"</p> + +<p>Sir Marmaduke considered for awhile, and then remembering that +Colonel Osborne could hardly quarrel with a clergyman, told him the +truth. "Outhouse says that you have done her an irretrievable injury +by going down to Devonshire to her, and by writing to her."</p> + +<p>"Outhouse is an ass."</p> + +<p>"That is easily said;—but why did you go?"</p> + +<p>"And why should I not go? What the deuce! Because a man like that +chooses to take vagaries into his head I am not to see my own +godchild!" Sir Marmaduke tried to remember whether the Colonel was in +fact the godfather of his eldest daughter, but he found that his mind +was quite a blank about his children's godfathers and godmothers. +"And as for the letters;—I wish you could see them. The only letters +which had in them a word of importance were those about your coming +home. I was anxious to get that arranged, not only for your sake, but +because she was so eager about it."</p> + +<p>"God bless her, poor child," said Sir Marmaduke, rubbing the tears +away from his eyes with his red silk pocket-handkerchief.</p> + +<p>"I will acknowledge that those letters,—there may have been one or +two,—were the beginning of the trouble. It was these that made this +man show himself to be a lunatic. I do admit that. I was bound not to +talk about your coming, and I told her to keep the secret. He went +spying about, and found her letters, I suppose,—and then he took +fire because there was to be a secret from him. Dirty, mean dog! And +now I'm to be told by such a fellow as Outhouse that it's my fault, +that I have caused all the trouble, because, when I happened to be in +Devonshire, I went to see your daughter!" We must do the Colonel the +justice of supposing that he had by this time quite taught himself to +believe that the church porch at Cockchaffington had been the motive +cause of his journey into Devonshire. "Upon my word it is too hard," +continued he indignantly. "As for Outhouse,—only for the gown upon +his back, I'd pull his nose. And I wish that you would tell him that +I say so."</p> + +<p>"There is trouble enough without that," said Sir Marmaduke.</p> + +<p>"But it is hard. By G——, it is hard. There +is this comfort;—if it +hadn't been me, it would have been some one else. Such a man as that +couldn't have gone two or three years, without being jealous of some +one. And as for poor Emily, she is better off perhaps with an +accusation so absurd as this, than she might have been had her name +been joined with a younger man, or with one whom you would have less +reason for trusting."</p> + +<p>There was so much that seemed to be sensible in this, and it was +spoken with so well assumed a tone of injured innocence, that Sir +Marmaduke felt that he had nothing more to say. He muttered something +further about the cruelty of the case, and then slunk away out of the +club, and made his way home to the dull gloomy house in Manchester +Street. There was no comfort for him there;—but neither was there +any comfort for him at the club. And why did that vexatious Secretary +of State send him messages about blue books? As he went, he expressed +sundry wishes that he was back at the Mandarins, and told himself +that it would be well that he should remain there till he died.</p> + + +<p><a name="c65" id="c65"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXV.</h3> +<h4>MYSTERIOUS AGENCIES.<br /> </h4> + + +<p><img class="left" src="images/ch65a.jpg" width="310" alt="Illustration" /> +When the thirty-first of March arrived, Exeter had not as yet been +made gay with the marriage festivities of Mr. Gibson and Camilla +French. And this delay had not been the fault of Camilla. Camilla had +been ready, and when, about the middle of the month, it was hinted to +her that some postponement was necessary, she spoke her mind out +plainly, and declared that she was not going to stand that kind of +thing. The communication had not been made to her by Mr. Gibson in +person. For some days previously he had not been seen at Heavitree, +and Camilla had from day to day become more black, gloomy, and harsh +in her manners both to her mother and her sister. Little notes had +come and little notes had gone, but no one in the house, except +Camilla herself, knew what those notes contained. She would not +condescend to complain to Arabella; nor did she say much in +condemnation of her lover to Mrs. French, till the blow came. With +unremitting attention she pursued the great business of her wedding +garments, and exacted from the unfortunate Arabella an amount of work +equal to her own,—of thankless work, as is the custom of embryo +brides with their unmarried sisters. And she drew with great audacity +on the somewhat slender means of the family for the amount of +feminine gear necessary to enable her to go into Mr. Gibson's house +with something of the éclat of a well-provided bride. When Mrs. +French hesitated, and then expostulated, Camilla replied that she did +not expect to be married above once, and that in no cheaper or more +productive way than this could her mother allow her to consume her +share of the family resources. "What matter, mamma, if you do have to +borrow a little money? Mr. Burgess will let you have it when he knows +why. And as I shan't be eating and drinking at home any more, nor yet +getting my things here, I have a right to expect it." And she ended +by expressing an opinion, in Arabella's hearing, that any daughter of +a house who proves herself to be capable of getting a husband for +herself, is entitled to expect that those left at home shall pinch +themselves for a time, in order that she may go forth to the world in +a respectable way, and be a credit to the family.</p> + +<p>Then came the blow. Mr. Gibson had not been at the house for some +days, but the notes had been going and coming. At last Mr. Gibson +came himself; but, as it happened, when he came, Camilla was out +shopping. In these days she often did go out shopping between eleven +and one, carrying her sister with her. It must have been but a poor +pleasure for Arabella, this witnessing the purchases made, seeing the +pleasant draperies, and handling the real linens and admiring the +fine cambrics spread out before them on the shop counters by +obsequious attendants. And the questions asked of her by her sister, +whether this was good enough for so august an occasion, or that +sufficiently handsome, must have been harassing. She could not have +failed to remember that it ought all to have been done for her,—that +had she not been treated with monstrous injustice, with most +unsisterly cruelty, all these good things would have been spread on +her behoof. But she went on and endured it, and worked diligently +with her needle, and folded and unfolded as she was desired, and +became as it were quite a younger sister in the house,—creeping out +by herself now and again into the purlieus of the city, to find such +consolation as she might receive from her solitary thoughts.</p> + +<p>But Arabella and Camilla were both away when Mr. Gibson called to +tell Mrs. French of his altered plans. And as he asked, not for his +lady-love, but for Mrs. French herself, it is probable that he +watched his opportunity and that he knew to what cares his Camilla +was then devoting herself. "Perhaps it is quite as well that I should +find you alone," he said, after sundry preludes, to his future +mother-in-law, "because you can make Camilla understand this better +than I can. I must put off the day for about three weeks."</p> + +<p>"Three weeks, Mr. Gibson?"</p> + +<p>"Or a month. Perhaps we had better say the 29th of April." Mr. Gibson +had by this time thrown off every fear that he might have entertained +of the mother, and could speak to her of such an unwarrantable change +of plans with tolerable equanimity.</p> + +<p>"But I don't know that that will suit Camilla at all."</p> + +<p>"She can name any other day she pleases, of course;—that is, in +May."</p> + +<p>"But why is this to be?"</p> + +<p>"There are things about money, Mrs. French, which I cannot arrange +sooner. And I find that unfortunately I must go up to London." Though +many other questions were asked, nothing further was got out of Mr. +Gibson on that occasion; and he left the house with a perfect +understanding on his own part,—and on that of Mrs. French,—that the +marriage was postponed till some day still to be fixed, but which +could not and should not be before the 29th of April. Mrs. French +asked him why he did not come up and see Camilla. He replied,—false +man that he was,—that he had hoped to have seen her this morning, +and that he would come again before the week was over.</p> + +<p>Then it was that Camilla spoke her mind out plainly. "I shall go to +his house at once," she said, "and find out all about it. I don't +understand it. I don't understand it at all; and I won't put up with +it. He shall know who he has to deal with, if he plays tricks upon +me. Mamma, I wonder you let him out of the house, till you had made +him come back to his old day."</p> + +<p>"What could I do, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"What could you do? Shake him out of it,—as I would have done. But +he didn't dare to tell me,—because he is a coward."</p> + +<p>Camilla in all this showed her spirit; but she allowed her anger to +hurry her away into an indiscretion. Arabella was present, and +Camilla should have repressed her rage.</p> + +<p>"I don't think he's at all a coward," said Arabella.</p> + +<p>"That's my business. I suppose I'm entitled to know what he is better +than you."</p> + +<p>"All the same I don't think Mr. Gibson is at all a coward," said +Arabella, again pleading the cause of the man who had misused her.</p> + +<p>"Now, Arabella, I won't take any interference from you; mind that. I +say it was cowardly, and he should have come to me. It's my concern, +and I shall go to him. I'm not going to be stopped by any +shilly-shally nonsense, when my future respectability, perhaps, is at +stake. All Exeter knows that the marriage is to take place on the +31st of this month."</p> + +<p>On the next day Camilla absolutely did go to Mr. Gibson's house at an +early hour, at nine, when, as she thought, he would surely be at +breakfast. But he had flown. He had left Exeter that morning by an +early train, and his servant thought that he had gone to London. On +the next morning Camilla got a note from him, written in London. It +affected to be very cheery and affectionate, beginning "Dearest +Cammy," and alluding to the postponement of his wedding as though it +were a thing so fixed as to require no further question. Camilla +answered this letter, still in much wrath, complaining, protesting, +expostulating;—throwing in his teeth the fact that the day had been +fixed by him, and not by her. And she added a postscript in the +following momentous words:—"If you have any respect for the name of +your future wife, you will fall back upon your first arrangement." To +this she got simply a line of an answer, declaring that this falling +back was impossible, and then nothing was heard of him for ten days. +He had gone from Tuesday to Saturday week;—and the first that +Camilla saw of him was his presence in the reading desk when he +chaunted the cathedral service as priest-vicar on the Sunday.</p> + +<p>At this time Arabella was very ill, and was confined to her bed. Mr. +Martin declared that her system had become low from over +anxiety,—that she was nervous, weak, and liable to hysterics,—that +her feelings were in fact too many for her,—and that her efforts to +overcome them, and to face the realities of the world, had exhausted +her. This was, of course, not said openly, at the town-cross of +Exeter; but such was the opinion which Mr. Martin gave in confidence +to the mother. "Fiddle-de-dee!" said Camilla, when she was told of +feelings, susceptibilities, and hysterics. At the present moment she +had a claim to the undivided interest of the family, and she believed +that her sister's illness was feigned in order to defraud her of her +rights. "My dear, she is ill," said Mrs. French. "Then let her have a +dose of salts," said the stern Camilla. This was on the Sunday +afternoon. Camilla had endeavoured to see Mr. Gibson as he came out +of the cathedral, but had failed. Mr. Gibson had been detained within +the building,—no doubt by duties connected with the choral services. +On that evening he got a note from Camilla, and quite early on the +Monday morning he came up to Heavitree.</p> + +<p>"You will find her in the drawing-room," said Mrs. French, as she +opened the hall-door for him. There was a smile on her face as she +spoke, but it was a forced smile. Mr. Gibson did not smile at all.</p> + +<p>"Is it all right with her?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Well;—you had better go to her. You see, Mr. Gibson, young ladies, +when they are going to be married, think that they ought to have +their own way a little, just for the last time, you know." He took no +notice of the joke, but went with slow steps up to the drawing-room. +It would be inquiring too curiously to ask whether Camilla, when she +embraced him, discerned that he had fortified his courage that +morning with a glass of curacoa.</p> + +<p>"What does all this mean, Thomas?" was the first question that +Camilla asked when the embrace was over.</p> + +<p>"All what mean, dear?"</p> + +<p>"This untoward delay. Thomas, you have almost broken my heart. You +have been away, and I have not heard from you."</p> + +<p>"I wrote twice, Camilla."</p> + +<p>"And what sort of letters? If there is anything the matter, Thomas, +you had better tell me at once." She paused, but Thomas held his +tongue. "I don't suppose you want to kill me."</p> + +<p>"God forbid," said Thomas.</p> + +<p>"But you will. What must everybody think of me in the city when they +find that it is put off? Poor mamma has been dreadful;—quite +dreadful! And here is Arabella now laid up on a bed of sickness." +This, too, was indiscreet. Camilla should have said nothing about her +sister's sickness.</p> + +<p>"I have been so sorry to hear about dear Bella," said Mr. Gibson.</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose she's very bad," said Camilla, "but of course we all +feel it. Of course we're upset. As for me, I bear up; because I've +that spirit that I won't give way if it's ever so; but, upon my word, +it tries me hard. What is the meaning of it, Thomas?"</p> + +<p>But Thomas had nothing to say beyond what he had said before to Mrs. +French. He was very particular, he said, about money; and certain +money matters made it incumbent on him not to marry before the 29th +of April. When Camilla suggested to him that as she was to be his +wife, she ought to know all about his money matters, he told her that +she should,—some day. When they were married, he would tell her all. +Camilla talked a great deal, and said some things that were very +severe. Mr. Gibson did not enjoy his morning, but he endured the +upbraidings of his fair one with more firmness than might perhaps +have been expected from him. He left all the talking to Camilla; but +when he got up to leave her, the 29th of April had been fixed, with +some sort of assent from her, as the day on which she was really to +become Mrs. Gibson.</p> + +<p>When he left the room, he again met Mrs. French on the landing-place. +She hesitated a moment, waiting to see whether the door would be +shut; but the door could not be shut, as Camilla was standing in the +entrance. "Mr. Gibson," said Mrs. French, in a voice that was +scarcely a whisper, "would you mind stepping in and seeing poor Bella +for a moment?"</p> + +<p>"Why;—she is in bed," said Camilla.</p> + +<p>"Yes;—she is in bed; but she thinks it would be a comfort to her. +She has seen nobody these four days except Mr. Martin, and she thinks +it would comfort her to have a word or two with Mr. Gibson." Now Mr. +Gibson was not only going to be Bella's brother-in-law, but he was +also a clergyman. Camilla in her heart believed that the +half-clerical aspect which her mother had given to the request was +false and hypocritical. There were special reasons why Bella should +not have wished to see Mr. Gibson in her bedroom, at any rate till +Mr. Gibson had become her brother-in-law. The expression of such a +wish at the present moment was almost indecent.</p> + +<p>"You'll be there with them?" said Camilla. Mr. Gibson blushed up to +his ears as he heard the suggestion. "Of course you'll be there with +them, mamma."</p> + +<p>"No, my dear, I think not. I fancy she wishes him to read to her,—or +something of that sort." Then Mr. Gibson, without speaking a word, +but still blushing up to his ears, was taken to Arabella's room; and +Camilla, flouncing into the drawing-room, banged the door behind her. +She had hitherto fought her battle with considerable skill and with +great courage;—but her very success had made her imprudent. She had +become so imperious in the great position which she had reached, that +she could not control her temper or wait till her power was +confirmed. The banging of that door was heard through the whole +house, and every one knew why it was banged. She threw herself on to +a sofa, and then, instantly rising again, paced the room with quick +step. Could it be possible that there was treachery? Was it on the +cards that that weak, poor creature, Bella, was intriguing once again +to defraud her of her husband? There were different things that she +now remembered. Arabella, in that moment of bliss in which she had +conceived herself to be engaged to Mr. Gibson, had discarded her +chignon. Then she had resumed it,—in all its monstrous proportions. +Since that it had been lessened by degrees, and brought down, through +various interesting but abnormal shapes, to a size which would hardly +have drawn forth any anathema from Miss Stanbury. And now, on this +very morning, Arabella had put on a clean nightcap, with muslin +frills. It is perhaps not unnatural that a sick lady, preparing to +receive a clergyman in her bedroom, should put on a clean +nightcap,—but to suspicious eyes small causes suffice to create +alarm. And if there were any such hideous wickedness in the wind, had +Arabella any colleague in her villainy? Could it be that the mother +was plotting against her daughter's happiness and respectability? +Camilla was well aware that her mamma would at first have preferred +to give Arabella to Mr. Gibson, had the choice in the matter been +left to her. But now, when the thing had been settled before all the +world, would not such treatment on a mother's part be equal to +infanticide? And then as to Mr. Gibson himself! Camilla was not prone +to think little of her own charms, but she had been unable not to +perceive that her lover had become negligent in his personal +attentions to her. An accepted lover, who deserves to have been +accepted, should devote every hour at his command to his mistress. +But Mr. Gibson had of late been so chary of his presence at +Heavitree, that Camilla could not but have known that he took no +delight in coming thither. She had acknowledged this to herself; but +she had consoled herself with the reflection that marriage would make +this all right. Mr. Gibson was not the man to stray from his wife, +and she could trust herself to obtain a sufficient hold upon her +husband hereafter, partly by the strength of her tongue, partly by +the ascendency of her spirit, and partly, also, by the comforts which +she would provide for him. She had not doubted but that it would be +all well when they should be married;—but how if, even now, there +should be no marriage for her? Camilla French had never heard of +Creusa and of Jason, but as she paced her mother's drawing-room that +morning she was a Medea in spirit. If any plot of that kind should be +in the wind, she would do such things that all Devonshire should hear +of her wrongs and of her revenge!</p> + +<p>In the meantime Mr. Gibson was sitting by Arabella's bedside, while +Mrs. French was trying to make herself busy in her own chamber, next +door. There had been a reading of some chapter of the Bible,—or of +some portion of a chapter. And Mr. Gibson, as he read, and Arabella, +as she listened, had endeavoured to take to their hearts and to make +use of the word which they heard. The poor young woman, when she +begged her mother to send to her the man who was so dear to her, did +so with some half-formed condition that it would be good for her to +hear a clergyman read to her. But now the chapter had been read, and +the book was back in Mr. Gibson's pocket, and he was sitting with his +hand on the bed. "She is so very arrogant," said Bella,—"and so +domineering." To this Mr. Gibson made no reply. "I'm sure I have +endeavoured to bear it well, though you must have known what I have +suffered, Thomas. Nobody can understand it so well as you do."</p> + +<p>"I wish I had never been born," said Mr. Gibson, tragically.</p> + +<p>"Don't say that, Thomas,—because it's wicked."</p> + +<p>"But I do. See all the harm I have done;—and yet I did not mean it."</p> + +<p>"You must try and do the best you can now. I am not saying what that +should be. I am not dictating to you. You are a man, and, of course, +you must judge for yourself. But I will say this. You shouldn't do +anything just because it is the easiest. I don't suppose I should +live after it. I don't indeed. But that should not signify to you."</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose that any man was ever before in such a terrible +position since the world began."</p> + +<p>"It is difficult;—I am sure of that, Thomas."</p> + +<p>"And I have meant to be so true. I fancy sometimes that some +mysterious agency interferes with the affairs of a man, and drives +him on,—and on,—and on,—almost,—till he doesn't know where it +drives him." As he said this in a voice that was quite sepulchral in +its tone, he felt some consolation in the conviction that this +mysterious agency could not affect a man without embuing him with a +certain amount of grandeur,—very uncomfortable, indeed, in its +nature, but still having considerable value as a counterpoise. Pride +must bear pain;—but pain is recompensed by pride.</p> + +<p>"She is so strong, Thomas, that she can put up with anything," said +Arabella, in a whisper.</p> + +<p>"Strong;—yes," said he, with a shudder;—"she is strong enough."</p> + +<p>"And as for love—"</p> + +<p>"Don't talk about it," said he, getting up from his chair. "Don't +talk about it. You will drive me frantic."</p> + +<p>"You know what my feelings are, Thomas; you have always known them. +There has been no change since I was the young thing you first knew +me." As she spoke, she just touched his hand with hers; but he did +not seem to notice this, sitting with his elbow on the arm of his +chair and his forehead on his hand. In reply to what she said to him, +he merely shook his head,—not intending to imply thereby any doubt +of the truth of her assertion. "You have now to make up your mind and +to be bold, Thomas," continued Arabella. "She says that you are a +coward; but I know that you are no coward. I told her so, and she +said that I was interfering. Oh,—that she should be able to tell me +that I interfere when I defend you!"</p> + +<p>"I must go," said Mr. Gibson, jumping up from his chair. "I must go. +Bella, I cannot stand this any longer. It is too much for me. I will +pray that I may decide aright. God bless you!" Then he kissed her +brow as she lay in bed, and hurried out of the room.</p> + +<p>He had hoped to go from the house without further converse with any +of its inmates; for his mind was disturbed, and he longed to be at +rest. But he was not allowed to escape so easily. Camilla met him at +the dining-room door, and accosted him with a smile. There had been +time for much meditation during the last half hour, and Camilla had +meditated. "How do you find her, Thomas?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"She seems weak, but I believe she is better. I have been reading to +her."</p> + +<p>"Come in, Thomas;—will you not? It is bad for us to stand talking on +the stairs. Dear Thomas, don't let us be so cold to each other." He +had no alternative but to put his arm round her waist and kiss her, +thinking, as he did so, of the mysterious agency which afflicted him. +"Tell me that you love me, Thomas," she said.</p> + +<p>"Of course I love you." The question is not a pleasant one when put +by a lady to a gentleman whose affections towards her are not strong, +and it requires a very good actor to produce an efficient answer.</p> + +<p>"I hope you do, Thomas. It would be sad, indeed, if you did not. You +are not weary of your Camilla,—are you?"</p> + +<p>For a moment there came upon him an idea that he would confess that +he was weary of her, but he found at once that such an effort was +beyond his powers. "How can you ask such a question?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Because you do not—come to me." Camilla, as she spoke, laid her +head upon his shoulder, and wept. "And now you have been five minutes +with me and nearly an hour with Bella."</p> + +<p>"She wanted me to read to her," said Mr. Gibson;—and he hated +himself thoroughly as he said it.</p> + +<p>"And now you want to get away as fast as you can," continued Camilla.</p> + +<p>"Because of the morning service," said Mr. Gibson. This was quite +true, and yet he hated himself again for saying it. As Camilla knew +the truth of the last plea, she was obliged to let him go; but she +made him swear before he went that he loved her dearly. "I think it's +all right," she said to herself as he went down the stairs. "I don't +think he'd dare make it wrong. If he does;—o-oh!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Gibson, as he walked into Exeter, endeavoured to justify his own +conduct to himself. There was no moment, he declared to himself, in +which he had not endeavoured to do right. Seeing the manner in which +he had been placed among these two young women, both of whom had +fallen in love with him, how could he have saved himself from +vacillation? And by what untoward chance had it come to pass that he +had now learned to dislike so vigorously, almost to hate, the one +with whom he had been for a moment sufficiently infatuated to think +that he loved?</p> + +<p>But with all his arguments he did not succeed in justifying to +himself his own conduct, and he hated himself.</p> + + +<p><a name="c66" id="c66"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXVI.</h3> +<h4>OF A QUARTER OF LAMB.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Miss Stanbury, looking out of her parlour window, saw Mr. Gibson +hurrying towards the cathedral, down the passage which leads from +Southernhay into the Close. "He's just come from Heavitree, I'll be +bound," said Miss Stanbury to Martha, who was behind her.</p> + +<p>"Like enough, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"Though they do say that the poor fool of a man has become quite sick +of his bargain already."</p> + +<p>"He'll have to be sicker yet, ma'am," said Martha.</p> + +<p>"They were to have been married last week, and nobody ever knew why +it was put off. It's my belief he'll never marry her. And she'll be +served right;—quite right."</p> + +<p>"He must marry her now, ma'am. She's been buying things all over +Exeter, as though there was no end of their money."</p> + +<p>"They haven't more than enough to keep body and soul together," said +Miss Stanbury. "I don't see why I mightn't have gone to service this +morning, Martha. It's quite warm now out in the Close."</p> + +<p>"You'd better wait, ma'am, till the east winds is over. She was at +Puddock's only the day before yesterday, buying bed-linen,—the +finest they had, and that wasn't good enough."</p> + +<p>"Psha!" said Miss Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"As though Mr. Gibson hadn't things of that kind good enough for +her," said Martha.</p> + +<p>Then there was silence in the room for awhile. Miss Stanbury was +standing at one window, and Martha at the other, watching the people +as they passed backwards and forwards, in and out of the Close. +Dorothy had now been away at Nuncombe Putney for some weeks, and her +aunt felt her loneliness with a heavy sense of weakness. Never had +she entertained a companion in the house who had suited her as well +as her niece, Dorothy. Dorothy would always listen to her, would +always talk to her, would always bear with her. Since Dorothy had +gone, various letters had been interchanged between them. Though +there had been anger about Brooke Burgess, there had been no absolute +rupture; but Miss Stanbury had felt that she could not write and beg +her niece to come back to her. She had not sent Dorothy away. Dorothy +had chosen to go, because her aunt had had an opinion of her own as +to what was fitting for her heir; and as Miss Stanbury would not give +up her opinion, she could not ask her niece to return to her. Such +had been her resolution, sternly expressed to herself a dozen times +during these solitary weeks; but time and solitude had acted upon +her, and she longed for the girl's presence in the house. "Martha," +she said at last, "I think I shall get you to go over to Nuncombe +Putney."</p> + +<p>"Again, ma'am?"</p> + +<p>"Why not again? It's not so far, I suppose, that the journey will +hurt you."</p> + +<p>"I don't think it'd hurt me, ma'am;—only what good will I do?"</p> + +<p>"If you'll go rightly to work, you may do good. Miss Dorothy was a +fool to go the way she did;—a great fool."</p> + +<p>"She stayed longer than I thought she would, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"I'm not asking you what you thought. I'll tell you what. Do you send +Giles to Winslow's, and tell them to send in early to-morrow a nice +fore-quarter of lamb. Or it wouldn't hurt you if you went and chose +it yourself."</p> + +<p>"It wouldn't hurt me at all, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"You get it nice;—not too small, because meat is meat at the price +things are now; and how they ever see butcher's meat at all is more +than I can understand."</p> + +<p>"People as has to be careful, ma'am, makes a little go a long way."</p> + +<p>"You get it a good size, and take it over in a basket. It won't hurt +you, done up clean in a napkin."</p> + +<p>"It won't hurt me at all, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"And you give it to Miss Dorothy with my love. Don't you let 'em +think I sent it to my sister-in-law."</p> + +<p>"And is that to be all, ma'am?"</p> + +<p>"How do you mean all?"</p> + +<p>"Because, ma'am, the railway and the carrier would take it quite +ready, and there would be a matter of ten or twelve shillings saved +in the journey."</p> + +<p>"Whose affair is that?"</p> + +<p>"Not mine, ma'am, of course."</p> + +<p>"I believe you are afraid of the trouble, Martha. Or else you don't +like going because they're poor."</p> + +<p>"It ain't fair, ma'am, of you to say so;—that it ain't. All I ask +is,—is that to be all? When I've giv'em the lamb, am I just to come +away straight, or am I to say anything? It will look so odd if I'm +just to put down the basket and come away without e'er a word."</p> + +<p>"Martha!"</p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"You're a fool."</p> + +<p>"That's true, too, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"It would be like you to go about in that dummy way,—wouldn't +it;—and you that was so fond of Miss Dorothy."</p> + +<p>"I was fond of her, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"Of course you'll be talking to her;—and why not? And if she should +say anything about <span class="nowrap">returning—"</span></p> + +<p>"Yes, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"You can say that you know her old aunt wouldn't,—wouldn't refuse to +have her back again. You can put it your own way, you know. You +needn't make me find words for you."</p> + +<p>"But she won't, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"Won't what?"</p> + +<p>"Won't say anything about returning."</p> + +<p>"Yes, she will, Martha, if you talk to her rightly." The servant +didn't reply for awhile, but stood looking out of the window. "You +might as well go about the lamb at once, Martha."</p> + +<p>"So I will, ma'am, when I've got it out, all clear."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean by that?"</p> + +<p>"Why,—just this, ma'am. May I tell Miss Dolly straight out that you +want her to come back, and that I've been sent to say so?"</p> + +<p>"No, Martha."</p> + +<p>"Then how am I to do it, ma'am?"</p> + +<p>"Do it out of your own head, just as it comes up at the moment."</p> + +<p>"Out of my own head, ma'am?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—just as you feel, you know."</p> + +<p>"Just as I feel, ma'am?"</p> + +<p>"You understand what I mean, Martha."</p> + +<p>"I'll do my best, ma'am, and I can't say no more. And if you scolds +me afterwards, ma'am,—why, of course, I must put up with it."</p> + +<p>"But I won't scold you, Martha."</p> + +<p>"Then I'll go out to Winslow's about the lamb at once, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"Very nice, and not too small, Martha."</p> + +<p>Martha went out and ordered the lamb, and packed it as desired quite +clean in a napkin, and fitted it into the basket, and arranged with +Giles Hickbody to carry it down for her early in the morning to the +station, so that she might take the first train to Lessborough. It +was understood that she was to hire a fly at Lessborough to take her +to Nuncombe Putney. Now that she understood the importance of her +mission and was aware that the present she took with her was only the +customary accompaniment of an ambassadress entrusted with a great +mission, Martha said nothing even about the expense. The train +started for Lessborough at seven, and as she was descending from her +room at six, Miss Stanbury, in her flannel dressing-gown, stepped out +of the door of her own room. "Just put this in the basket," said she, +handing a note to her servant. "I thought last night I'd write a +word. Just put it in the basket and say nothing about it." The note +which she sent was +as <span class="nowrap">follows:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">The Close, 8th April, 186—.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My Dear +Dorothy</span>,—</p> + +<p>As Martha talks of going over to pay you a visit, I've +thought that I'd just get her to take you a quarter of +lamb, which is coming in now very nice. I do envy her +going to see you, my dear, for I had gotten somehow to +love to see your pretty face. I'm getting almost strong +again; but Sir Peter, who was here this afternoon, just +calling as a friend, was uncivil enough to say that I'm +too much of an old woman to go out in the east wind. I +told him it didn't much matter;—for the sooner old women +made way for young ones, the better.</p> + +<p>I am very desolate and solitary here. But I rather think +that women who don't get married are intended to be +desolate; and perhaps it is better for them, if they +bestow their time and thoughts properly,—as I hope you +do, my dear. A woman with a family of children has almost +too many of the cares of this world, to give her mind as +she ought to the other. What shall we say then of those +who have no such cares, and yet do not walk uprightly? +Dear Dorothy, be not such a one. For myself, I acknowledge +bitterly the extent of my shortcomings. Much has been +given to me; but if much be expected, how shall I answer +the demand?</p> + +<p>I hope I need not tell you that whenever it may suit you +to pay a visit to Exeter, your room will be ready for you, +and there will be a warm welcome. Mrs. MacHugh always asks +after you; and so has Mrs. Clifford. I won't tell you what +Mrs. Clifford said about your colour, because it would +make you vain. The Heavitree affair has all been put +off;—of course you have heard that. Dear, dear, dear! You +know what I think, so I need not repeat it.</p> + +<p>Give my respects to your mamma and Priscilla,—and for +yourself, accept the affectionate love of</p> + +<p class="ind10">Your loving old aunt,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Jemima Stanbury</span>.</p> + +<p class="noindent">P.S.—If Martha +should say anything to you, you may feel +sure that she knows my mind.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>Poor old soul. She felt an almost uncontrollable longing to have her +niece back again, and yet she told herself that she was bound not to +send a regular invitation, or to suggest an unconditional return. +Dorothy had herself decided to take her departure, and if she chose +to remain away,—so it must be. She, Miss Stanbury, could not demean +herself by renewing her invitation. She read her letter before she +added to it the postscript, and felt that it was too solemn in its +tone to suggest to Dorothy that which she wished to suggest. She had +been thinking much of her own past life when she wrote those words +about the state of an unmarried woman, and was vacillating between +two minds,—whether it were better for a young woman to look forward +to the cares and affections, and perhaps hard usage, of a married +life; or to devote herself to the easier and safer course of an old +maid's career. But an old maid is nothing if she be not kind and +good. She acknowledged that, and, acknowledging it, added the +postscript to her letter. What though there was a certain blow to her +pride in the writing of it! She did tell herself that in thus +referring her niece to Martha for an expression of her own +mind,—after that conversation which she and Martha had had in the +parlour,—she was in truth eating her own words. But the postscript +was written, and though she took the letter up with her to her own +room in order that she might alter the words if she repented of them +in the night, the letter was sent as it was written,—postscript and +all.</p> + +<p>She spent the next day with very sober thoughts. When Mrs. MacHugh +called upon her and told her that there were rumours afloat in Exeter +that the marriage between Camilla French and Mr. Gibson would +certainly be broken off, in spite of all purchases that had been +made, she merely remarked that they were two poor, feckless things, +who didn't know their own minds. "Camilla knows hers plain enough," +said Mrs. MacHugh sharply; but even this did not give Miss Stanbury +any spirit. She waited, and waited patiently, till Martha should +return, thinking of the sweet pink colour which used to come and go +in Dorothy's cheeks,—which she had been wont to observe so +frequently, not knowing that she had observed it and loved it.</p> + + +<p><a name="c67" id="c67"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXVII.</h3> +<h4>RIVER'S COTTAGE.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Three days after Hugh Stanbury's visit to Manchester Street, he wrote +a note to Lady Rowley, telling her of the address at which might be +found both Trevelyan and his son. As Bozzle had acknowledged, facts +are things which may be found out. Hugh had gone to work somewhat +after the Bozzlian fashion, and had found out this fact. "He lives at +a place called River's Cottage, at Willesden," wrote Stanbury. "If +you turn off the Harrow Road to the right, about a mile beyond the +cemetery, you will find the cottage on the left hand side of the lane +about a quarter of a mile from the Harrow Road. I believe you can go +to Willesden by railway, but you had better take a cab from London." +There was much consultation respecting this letter between Lady +Rowley and Mrs. Trevelyan, and it was decided that it should not be +shown to Sir Marmaduke. To see her child was at the present moment +the most urgent necessity of the poor mother, and both the ladies +felt that Sir Marmaduke in his wrath might probably impede rather +than assist her in this desire. If told where he might find +Trevelyan, he would probably insist on starting in quest of his +son-in-law himself, and the distance between the mother and her child +might become greater in consequence, instead of less. There were many +consultations; and the upshot of these was, that Lady Rowley and her +daughter determined to start for Willesden without saying anything to +Sir Marmaduke of the purpose they had in hand. When Emily expressed +her conviction that if Trevelyan should be away from home they would +probably be able to make their way into the house,—so as to see the +child, Lady Rowley with some hesitation acknowledged that such might +be the case. But the child's mother said nothing to her own mother of +a scheme which she had half formed of so clinging to her boy that no +human power should separate them.</p> + +<p>They started in a cab, as advised by Stanbury, and were driven to a +point on the road from which a lane led down to Willesden, passing by +River's Cottage. They asked as they came along, and met no difficulty +in finding their way. At the point on the road indicated, there was a +country inn for hay-waggoners, and here Lady Rowley proposed that +they should leave their cab, urging that it might be best to call at +the cottage in the quietest manner possible; but Mrs. Trevelyan, with +her scheme in her head for the recapture of their child, begged that +the cab might go on;—and thus they were driven up to the door.</p> + +<p>River's Cottage was not a prepossessing abode. It was a new building, +of light-coloured bricks, with a door in the middle and one window on +each side. Over the door was a stone tablet, bearing the +name,—River's Cottage. There was a little garden between the road +and the house, across which there was a straight path to the door. In +front of one window was a small shrub, generally called a +puzzle-monkey, and in front of the other was a variegated laurel. +There were two small morsels of green turf, and a distant view round +the corner of the house of a row of cabbage stumps. If Trevelyan were +living there, he had certainly come down in the world since the days +in which he had occupied the house in Curzon Street. The two ladies +got out of the cab, and slowly walked across the little garden. Mrs. +Trevelyan was dressed in black, and she wore a thick veil. She had +altogether been unable to make up her mind as to what should be her +conduct to her husband should she see him. That must be governed by +circumstances as they might occur. Her visit was made not to him, but +to her boy.</p> + +<p>The door was opened before they knocked, and Trevelyan himself was +standing in the narrow passage. Lady Rowley was the first to speak. +"Louis," she said, "I have brought your wife to see you."</p> + +<p>"Who told you that I was here?" he asked, still standing in the +passage.</p> + +<p>"Of course a mother would find out where was her child," said Lady +Rowley.</p> + +<p>"You should not have come here without notice," he said. "I was +careful to let you know the conditions on which you should come."</p> + +<p>"You do not mean that I shall not see my child," said the mother. +"Oh, Louis, you will let me see him."</p> + +<p>Trevelyan hesitated a moment, still keeping his position firmly in +the doorway. By this time an old woman, decently dressed and of +comfortable appearance, had taken her place behind him, and behind +her was a slip of a girl about fifteen years of age. This was the +owner of River's Cottage and her daughter, and all the inhabitants of +the cottage were now there, standing in the passage. "I ought not to +let you see him," said Trevelyan; "you have intruded upon me in +coming here! I had not wished to see you here,—till you had complied +with the order I had given you." What a meeting between a husband and +a wife who had not seen each other now for many months,—between a +husband and a wife who were still young enough not to have outlived +the first impulses of their early love! He still stood there guarding +the way, and had not even put out his hand to greet her. He was +guarding the way lest she should, without his permission, obtain +access to her own child! She had not removed her veil, and now she +hardly dared to step over the threshold of her husband's house. At +this moment, she perceived that the woman behind was pointing to the +room on the left, as the cottage was entered, and Emily at once +understood that her boy was there. Then at that moment she heard her +son's voice, as, in his solitude, the child began to cry. "I must go +in," she said; "I will go in;" and rushing on she tried to push aside +her husband. Her mother aided her, nor did Trevelyan attempt to stop +her with violence, and in a moment she was kneeling at the foot of a +small sofa, with her child in her arms. "I had not intended to hinder +you," said Trevelyan, "but I require from you a promise that you will +not attempt to remove him."</p> + +<p>"Why should she not take him home with her?" said Lady Rowley.</p> + +<p>"Because I will not have it so," replied Trevelyan. "Because I choose +that it should be understood that I am to be the master of my own +affairs."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Trevelyan had now thrown aside her bonnet and her veil, and was +covering her child with caresses. The poor little fellow, whose mind +had been utterly dismayed by the events which had occurred to him +since his capture, though he returned her kisses, did so in fear and +trembling. And he was still sobbing, rubbing his eyes with his +knuckles, and by no means yielding himself with his whole heart to +his mother's tenderness,—as she would have had him do. "Louey," she +said, whispering to him, "you know mamma; you haven't forgotten +mamma?" He half murmured some little infantine word through his sobs, +and then put his cheek up to be pressed against his mother's face. +"Louey will never, never forget his own mamma; will he, Louey?" The +poor boy had no assurances to give, and could only raise his cheek +again to be kissed. In the meantime Lady Rowley and Trevelyan were +standing by, not speaking to each other, regarding the scene in +silence.</p> + + +<div class="center"><a name="ip2-137" id="ip2-137"></a> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="4px"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/p2-137.jpg"> + <img src="images/p2-137-t.jpg" height="500" + alt="'You haven't forgotten Mamma?'" /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <span class="caption">"You haven't forgotten Mamma?"<br /> + Click to <a href="images/p2-137.jpg">ENLARGE</a></span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p>She,—Lady Rowley,—could see that he was frightfully altered in +appearance, even since the day on which she had so lately met him in +the City. His cheeks were thin and haggard, and his eyes were deep +and very bright,—and he moved them quickly from side to side, as +though ever suspecting something. He seemed to be smaller in +stature,—withered, as it were, as though he had melted away. And +though he stood looking upon his wife and child, he was not for a +moment still. He would change the posture of his hands and arms, +moving them quickly with little surreptitious jerks, and would +shuffle his feet upon the floor, almost without altering his +position. His clothes hung about him, and his linen was soiled and +worn. Lady Rowley noticed this especially, as he had been a man +peculiarly given to neatness of apparel. He was the first to speak. +"You have come down here in a cab?" said he.</p> + +<p>"Yes,—in a cab, from London," said Lady Rowley.</p> + +<p>"Of course you will go back in it? You cannot stay here. There is no +accommodation. It is a wretched place, but it suits the boy. As for +me, all places are now alike."</p> + +<p>"Louis," said his wife, springing up from her knees, coming to him, +and taking his right hand between both her own, "you will let me take +him with me. I know you will let me take him with me."</p> + +<p>"I cannot do that, Emily; it would be wrong."</p> + +<p>"Wrong to restore a child to his mother? Oh, Louis, think of it. What +must my life be without him,—or you?"</p> + +<p>"Don't talk of me. It is too late for that."</p> + +<p>"Not if you will be reasonable, Louis, and listen to me. Oh, heavens, +how ill you are!" As she said this she drew nearer to him, so that +her face was almost close to his. "Louis, come back; come back, and +let it all be forgotten. It shall be a dream, a horrid dream, and +nobody shall speak of it." He left his hand within hers and stood +looking into her face. He was well aware that his life since he had +left her had been one long hour of misery. There had been to him no +alleviation, no comfort, no consolation. He had not a friend left to +him. Even his satellite, the policeman, was becoming weary of him and +manifestly suspicious. The woman with whom he was now lodging, and +whose resources were infinitely benefited by his payments to her, had +already thrown out hints that she was afraid of him. And as he looked +at his wife, he knew that he loved her. Everything for him now was +hot and dry and poor and bitter. How sweet would it be again to sit +with her soft hand in his, to feel her cool brow against his own, to +have the comfort of her care, and to hear the music of loving words! +The companionship of his wife had once been to him everything in the +world; but now, for many months past, he had known no companion. She +bade him come to her, and look upon all this trouble as a dream not +to be mentioned. Could it be possible that it should be so, and that +they might yet be happy together,—perhaps in some distant country, +where the story of all their misery might not be known? He felt all +this truly and with a keen accuracy. If he were mad, he was not all +mad. "I will tell you of nothing that is past," said she, hanging to +him, and coming still nearer to him, and embracing his arm.</p> + +<p>Could she have condescended to ask him not to tell her of the +past;—had it occurred to her so to word her request,—she might +perhaps have prevailed. But who can say how long the tenderness of +his heart would have saved him from further outbreak;—and whether +such prevailing on her part would have been of permanent service? As +it was, her words wounded him in that spot of his inner self which +was most sensitive,—on that spot from whence had come all his fury. +A black cloud came upon his brow, and he made an effort to withdraw +himself from her grasp. It was necessary to him that she should in +some fashion own that he had been right, and now she was promising +him that she would not tell him of his fault! He could not thus +swallow down all the convictions by which he had fortified himself to +bear the misfortunes which he had endured. Had he not quarrelled with +every friend he possessed on this score; and should he now stultify +himself in all those quarrels by admitting that he had been cruel, +unjust, and needlessly jealous? And did not truth demand of him that +he should cling to his old assurances? Had she not been disobedient, +ill-conditioned, and rebellious? Had she not received the man, both +him personally and his letters, after he had explained to her that +his honour demanded that it should not be so? How could he come into +such terms as those now proposed to him, simply because he longed to +enjoy the rich sweetness of her soft hand, to feel the fragrance of +her breath, and to quench the heat of his forehead in the cool +atmosphere of her beauty? "Why have you driven me to this by your +intercourse with that man?" he said. "Why, why, why did you do it?"</p> + +<p>She was still clinging to him. "Louis," she said, "I am your wife."</p> + +<p>"Yes; you are my wife."</p> + +<p>"And will you still believe such evil of me without any cause?"</p> + +<p>"There has been cause,—horrible cause. You must +repent,—repent,—repent."</p> + +<p>"Heaven help me," said the woman, falling back from him, and +returning to the boy who was now seated in Lady Rowley's lap. "Mamma, +do you speak to him. What can I say? Would he think better of me were +I to own myself to have been guilty, when there has been no guilt, no +slightest fault? Does he wish me to purchase my child by saying that +I am not fit to be his mother?"</p> + +<p>"Louis," said Lady Rowley, "if any man was ever wrong, mad, madly +mistaken, you are so now."</p> + +<p>"Have you come out here to accuse me again, as you did before in +London?" he asked. "Is that the way in which you and she intend to +let the past be, as she says, like a dream? She tells me that I am +ill. It is true. I am ill,—and she is killing me, killing me, by her +obstinacy."</p> + +<p>"What would you have me do?" said the wife, again rising from her +child.</p> + +<p>"Acknowledge your transgressions, and say that you will amend your +conduct for the future."</p> + +<p>"Mamma, mamma,—what shall I say to him?"</p> + +<p>"Who can speak to a man that is beside himself?" replied Lady Rowley.</p> + +<p>"I am not so beside myself as yet, Lady Rowley, but that I know how +to guard my own honour and to protect my own child. I have told you, +Emily, the terms on which you can come back to me. You had better now +return to your mother's house; and if you wish again to have a house +of your own, and your husband, and your boy, you know by what means +you may acquire them. For another week I shall remain here;—after +that I shall remove far from hence."</p> + +<p>"And where will you go, Louis?"</p> + +<p>"As yet I know not. To Italy I think,—or perhaps to America. It +matters little where for me."</p> + +<p>"And will Louey be taken with you?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly he will go with me. To strive to bring him up so that he +may be a happier man than his father is all that there is now left +for me in life." Mrs. Trevelyan had now got the boy in her arms, and +her mother was seated by her on the sofa. Trevelyan was standing away +from them, but so near the door that no sudden motion on their part +would enable them to escape with the boy without his interposition. +It now again occurred to the mother to carry off her prize in +opposition to her husband;—but she had no scheme to that effect laid +with her mother, and she could not reconcile herself to the idea of a +contest with him in which personal violence would be necessary. The +woman of the house had, indeed, seemed to sympathise with her, but +she could not dare in such a matter to trust to assistance from a +stranger. "I do not wish to be uncourteous," said Trevelyan, "but if +you have no assurance to give me, you had better—leave me."</p> + +<p>Then there came to be a bargaining about time, and the poor woman +begged almost on her knees that she might be allowed to take her +child up-stairs and be with him alone for a few minutes. It seemed to +her that she had not seen her boy till she had had him to herself, in +absolute privacy, till she had kissed his limbs, and had her hand +upon his smooth back, and seen that he was white and clean and bright +as he had ever been. And the bargain was made. She was asked to +pledge her word that she would not take him out of the house,—and +she pledged her word, feeling that there was no strength in her for +that action which she had meditated. He, knowing that he might still +guard the passage at the bottom of the stairs, allowed her to go with +the boy to his bedroom, while he remained below with Lady Rowley. A +quarter of an hour was allowed to her, and she humbly promised that +she would return when that time was expired.</p> + +<p>Trevelyan held the door open for her as she went, and kept it open +during her absence. There was hardly a word said between him and Lady +Rowley, but he paced from the passage into the room and from the room +into the passage with his hands behind his back. "It is cruel," he +said once. "It is very cruel."</p> + +<p>"It is you that are cruel," said Lady Rowley.</p> + +<p>"Of course;—of course. That is natural from you. I expect that from +you." To this she made no answer, and he did not open his lips again.</p> + +<p>After a while Mrs. Trevelyan called to her mother, and Lady Rowley +was allowed to go up-stairs. The quarter of an hour was of course +greatly stretched, and all the time Trevelyan continued to pace in +and out of the room. He was patient, for he did not summon them; but +went on pacing backwards and forwards, looking now and again to see +that the cab was at its place,—that no deceit was being attempted, +no second act of kidnapping being perpetrated. At last the two ladies +came down the stairs, and the boy was with them,—and the woman of +the house.</p> + +<p>"Louis," said the wife, going quickly up to her husband, "I will do +anything, if you will give me my child."</p> + +<p>"What will you do?"</p> + +<p>"Anything;—say what you want. He is all the world to me, and I +cannot live if he be taken from me."</p> + +<p>"Acknowledge that you have been wrong."</p> + +<p>"But how;—in what words;—how am I to speak it?"</p> + +<p>"Say that you have sinned;—and that you will sin no more."</p> + +<p>"Sinned, Louis;—as the woman did,—in the Scripture? Would you have +me say that?"</p> + +<p>"He cannot think that it is so," said Lady Rowley.</p> + +<p>But Trevelyan had not understood her. "Lady Rowley, I should have +fancied that my thoughts at any rate were my own. But this is useless +now. The child cannot go with you to-day, nor can you remain here. Go +home and think of what I have said. If then you will do as I would +have you, you shall return."</p> + +<p>With many embraces, with promises of motherly love, and with prayers +for love in return, the poor woman did at last leave the house, and +return to the cab. As she went there was a doubt on her own mind +whether she should ask to kiss her husband; but he made no sign, and +she at last passed out without any mark of tenderness. He stood by +the cab as they entered it, and closed the door upon them, and then +went slowly back to his room. "My poor bairn," he said to the boy; +"my poor bairn."</p> + +<p>"Why for mamma go?" sobbed the child.</p> + +<p>"Mamma goes—; oh, heaven and earth, why should she go? She goes +because her spirit is obstinate, and she will not bend. She is +stiff-necked, and will not submit herself. But Louey must love mamma +always;—and mamma some day will come back to him, and be good to +him."</p> + +<p>"Mamma is good,—always," said the child. Trevelyan had intended on +this very afternoon to have gone up to town,—to transact business +with Bozzle; for he still believed, though the aspect of the man was +bitter to him as wormwood, that Bozzle was necessary to him in all +his business. And he still made appointments with the man, sometimes +at Stony Walk, in the Borough, and sometimes at the tavern in +Poulter's Court, even though Bozzle not unfrequently neglected to +attend the summons of his employer. And he would go to his banker's +and draw out money, and then walk about the crowded lanes of the +City, and afterwards return to his desolate lodgings at Willesden, +thinking that he had been transacting business,—and that this +business was exacted from him by the unfortunate position of his +affairs. But now he gave up his journey. His retreat had been +discovered; and there came upon him at once a fear that if he left +the house his child would be taken. His landlady told him on this +very day that the boy ought to be sent to his mother, and had made +him understand that it would not suit her to find a home any longer +for one who was so singular in his proceedings. He believed that his +child would be given up at once, if he were not there to guard it. He +stayed at home, therefore, turning in his mind many schemes. He had +told his wife that he should go either to Italy or to America at +once; but in doing so he had had no formed plan in his head. He had +simply imagined at the moment that such a threat would bring her to +submission. But now it became a question whether he would do better +than go to America. He suggested to himself that he should go to +Canada, and fix himself with his boy on some remote farm,—far away +from any city; and would then invite his wife to join him if she +would. She was too obstinate, as he told himself, ever to yield, +unless she should be absolutely softened and brought down to the +ground by the loss of her child. What would do this so effectually as +the interposition of the broad ocean between him and her? He sat +thinking of this for the rest of the day, and Louey was left to the +charge of the mistress of River's Cottage.</p> + +<p>"Do you think he believes it, mamma?" Mrs. Trevelyan said to her +mother when they had already made nearly half their journey home in +the cab. There had been nothing spoken hitherto between them, except +some half-formed words of affection intended for consolation to the +young mother in her great affliction.</p> + +<p>"He does not know what he believes, dearest."</p> + +<p>"You heard what he said. I was to own that I had—sinned."</p> + +<p>"Sinned;—yes; because you will not obey him like a slave. That is +sin—to him."</p> + +<p>"But I asked him, mamma. Did you not hear me? I could not say the +word plainer,—but I asked him whether he meant that sin. He must +have known, and he would not answer me. And he spoke of +my—transgression. Mamma, if he believed that, he would not let me +come back at all."</p> + +<p>"He did not believe it, Emily."</p> + +<p>"Could he possibly then so accuse me,—the mother of his child! If +his heart be utterly hard and false towards me, if it is possible +that he should be cruel to me with such cruelty as that,—still he +must love his boy. Why did he not answer me, and say that he did not +think it?"</p> + +<p>"Simply because his reason has left him."</p> + +<p>"But if he be mad, mamma, ought we to leave him like that? And, then, +did you see his eyes, and his face, and his hands? Did you observe +how thin he is,—and his back, how bent? And his clothes,—how they +were torn and soiled. It cannot be right that he should be left like +that."</p> + +<p>"We will tell papa when we get home," said Lady Rowley, who was +herself beginning to be somewhat frightened by what she had seen. It +is all very well to declare that a friend is mad when one simply +desires to justify one's self in opposition to that friend;—but the +matter becomes much more serious when evidence of the friend's +insanity becomes true and circumstantial. "I certainly think that a +physician should see him," continued Lady Rowley. On their return +home Sir Marmaduke was told of what had occurred, and there was a +long family discussion in which it was decided that Lady Milborough +should be consulted, as being the oldest friend of Louis Trevelyan +himself with whom they were acquainted. Trevelyan had relatives of +his own name living in Cornwall; but Mrs. Trevelyan herself had never +even met one of that branch of the family.</p> + +<p>Sir Marmaduke, however, resolved that he himself would go out and see +his son-in-law. He too had called Trevelyan mad, but he did not +believe that the madness was of such a nature as to interfere with +his own duties in punishing the man who had ill used his daughter. He +would at any rate see Trevelyan himself;—but of this he said nothing +either to his wife or to his child.</p> + + +<p><a name="c68" id="c68"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXVIII.</h3> +<h4>MAJOR MAGRUDER'S COMMITTEE.<br /> </h4> + + +<p><img class="left" src="images/ch68a.jpg" width="310" alt="Illustration" /> +Sir Marmaduke could not go out to Willesden on the morning after Lady +Rowley's return from River's Cottage, because on that day he was +summoned to attend at twelve o'clock before a Committee of the House +of Commons, to give his evidence and the fruit of his experience as +to the government of British colonies generally; and as he went down +to the House in a cab from Manchester Street he thoroughly wished +that his friend Colonel Osborne had not been so efficacious in +bringing him home. The task before him was one which he thoroughly +disliked, and of which he was afraid. He dreaded the inquisitors +before whom he was to appear, and felt that though he was called +there to speak as a master of his art of governing, he would in truth +be examined as a servant,—and probably as a servant who did not know +his business. Had his sojourn at home been in other respects happy, +he might have been able to balance the advantage against the +inquiry;—but there was no such balancing for him now. And, moreover, +the expense of his own house in Manchester Street was so large that +this journey, in a pecuniary point of view, would be of but little +service to him. So he went down to the House in an unhappy mood; and +when he shook hands in one of the passages with his friend Osborne +who was on the Committee, there was very little cordiality in his +manner. "This is the most ungrateful thing I ever knew," said the +Colonel to himself; "I have almost disgraced myself by having this +fellow brought home; and now he quarrels with me because that idiot, +his son-in-law, has quarrelled with his wife." And Colonel Osborne +really did feel that he was a martyr to the ingratitude of his +friend.</p> + +<p>The Committee had been convoked by the House in compliance with the +eager desires of a certain ancient pundit of the constitution, who +had been for many years a member, and who had been known as a stern +critic of our colonial modes of government. To him it certainly +seemed that everything that was, was bad,—as regarded our national +dependencies. But this is so usually the state of mind of all +parliamentary critics, it is so much a matter of course that the +members who take up the army or the navy, guns, India, our relations +with Spain, or workhouse management, should find everything to be +bad, rotten, and dishonest, that the wrath of the member for +Killicrankie against colonial peculation and idleness, was not +thought much of in the open House. He had been at the work for years, +and the Colonial Office were so used to it that they rather liked +him. He had made himself free of the office, and the clerks were +always glad to see him. It was understood that he said bitter things +in the House,—that was Major Magruder's line of business; but he +could be quite pleasant when he was asking questions of a private +secretary, or telling the news of the day to a senior clerk. As he +was now between seventy and eighty, and had been at the work for at +least twenty years, most of those concerned had allowed themselves to +think that he would ride his hobby harmlessly to the day of his +parliamentary death. But the drop from a house corner will hollow a +stone by its constancy, and Major Magruder at last persuaded the +House to grant him a Committee of Inquiry. Then there came to be +serious faces at the Colonial Office, and all the little pleasantries +of a friendly opposition were at an end. It was felt that the battle +must now become a real fight, and Secretary and Under-Secretary +girded up their loins.</p> + +<p>Major Magruder was chairman of his own committee, and being a man of +a laborious turn of mind, much given to blue-books, very patient, +thoroughly conversant with the House, and imbued with a strong belief +in the efficacy of parliamentary questionings to carry a point, if +not to elicit a fact, had a happy time of it during this session. He +was a man who always attended the House from 4 p.m. to the time of +its breaking up, and who never missed a division. The slight +additional task of sitting four hours in a committee-room three days +a week, was only a delight the more,—especially as during those four +hours he could occupy the post of chairman. Those who knew Major +Magruder well did not doubt but that the Committee would sit for many +weeks, and that the whole theory of colonial government, or rather of +imperial control supervising such government, would be tested to the +very utmost. Men who had heard the old Major maunder on for years +past on his pet subject, hardly knew how much vitality would be found +in him when his maundering had succeeded in giving him a committee.</p> + +<p>A Governor from one of the greater colonies had already been under +question for nearly a week, and was generally thought to have come +out of the fire unscathed by the flames of the Major's criticism. +This Governor had been a picked man, and he had made it appear that +the control of Downing Street was never more harsh and seldom less +refreshing and beautifying than a spring shower in April. No other +lands under the sun were so blest, in the way of government, as were +the colonies with which he had been acquainted; and, as a natural +consequence, their devotion and loyalty to the mother country were +quite a passion with them. Now the Major had been long of a mind that +one or two colonies had better simply be given up to other nations, +which were more fully able to look after them than was England, and +that three or four more should be allowed to go clear,—costing +England nothing, and owing England nothing. But the well-chosen +Governor who had now been before the Committee, had rather staggered +the Major,—and things altogether were supposed to be looking up for +the Colonial Office.</p> + +<p>And now had come the day of Sir Marmaduke's martyrdom. He was first +requested, with most urbane politeness, to explain the exact nature +of the government which he exercised in the Mandarins. Now it +certainly was the case that the manner in which the legislative and +executive authorities were intermingled in the affairs of these +islands, did create a complication which it was difficult for any man +to understand, and very difficult indeed for any man to explain to +others. There was a Court of Chancery, so called, which Sir Marmaduke +described as a little parliament. When he was asked whether the court +exercised legislative or executive functions, he said at first that +it exercised both, and then that it exercised neither. He knew that +it consisted of nine men, of whom five were appointed by the colony +and four by the Crown. Yet he declared that the Crown had the control +of the court;—which, in fact, was true enough no doubt, as the five +open members were not perhaps, all of them, immaculate patriots; but +on this matter poor Sir Marmaduke was very obscure. When asked who +exercised the patronage of the Crown in nominating the four members, +he declared that the four members exercised it themselves. Did he +appoint them? No; he never appointed anybody himself. He consulted +the Court of Chancery for everything. At last it came out that the +chief justice of the islands, and three other officers, always sat in +the court;—but whether it was required by the constitution of the +islands that this should be so, Sir Marmaduke did not know. It had +worked well; that was to say, everybody had complained of it, but he, +Sir Marmaduke, would not recommend any change. What he thought best +was that the Colonial Secretary should send out his orders, and that +the people in the colonies should mind their business and grow +coffee. When asked what would be the effect upon the islands, under +his scheme of government, if an incoming Colonial Secretary should +change the policy of his predecessor, he said that he didn't think it +would much matter if the people did not know anything about it.</p> + +<p>In this way the Major had a field day, and poor Sir Marmaduke was +much discomfited. There was present on the Committee a young +Parliamentary Under-Secretary, who with much attention had studied +the subject of the Court of Chancery in the Mandarins, and who had +acknowledged to his superiors in the office that it certainly was of +all legislative assemblies the most awkward and complicated. He did +what he could, by questions judiciously put, to pull Sir Marmaduke +through his difficulties; but the unfortunate Governor had more than +once lost his temper in answering the chairman; and in his heavy +confusion was past the power of any Under-Secretary, let him be ever +so clever, to pull him through. Colonel Osborne sat by the while and +asked no questions. He had been put on the Committee as a respectable +dummy; but there was not a member sitting there who did not know that +Sir Marmaduke had been brought home as his friend;—and some of them, +no doubt, had whispered that this bringing home of Sir Marmaduke was +part of the payment made by the Colonel for the smiles of the +Governor's daughter. But no one alluded openly to the inefficiency of +the evidence given. No one asked why a Governor so incompetent had +been sent to them. No one suggested that a job had been done. There +are certain things of which opposition members of Parliament complain +loudly;—and there are certain other things as to which they are +silent. The line between these things is well known; and should an +ill-conditioned, a pig-headed, an underbred, or an ignorant member +not understand this line and transgress it, by asking questions which +should not be asked, he is soon put down from the Treasury bench, to +the great delight of the whole House.</p> + +<p>Sir Marmaduke, after having been questioned for an entire afternoon, +left the House with extreme disgust. He was so convinced of his own +failure, that he felt that his career as a Colonial Governor must be +over. Surely they would never let him go back to his islands after +such an exposition as he had made of his own ignorance. He hurried +off into a cab, and was ashamed to be seen of men. But the members of +the Committee thought little or nothing about it. The Major, and +those who sided with him, had been anxious to entrap their witness +into contradictions and absurdities, for the furtherance of their own +object; and for the furtherance of theirs, the Under-Secretary from +the Office and the supporters of Government had endeavoured to defend +their man. But, when the affair was over, if no special admiration +had been elicited for Sir Marmaduke, neither was there expressed any +special reprobation. The Major carried on his Committee over six +weeks, and succeeded in having his blue-book printed; but, as a +matter of course, nothing further came of it; and the Court of +Chancery in the Mandarin Islands still continues to hold its own, and +to do its work, in spite of the absurdities displayed in its +construction. Major Magruder has had his day of success, and now +feels that Othello's occupation is gone. He goes no more to the +Colonial Office, lives among his friends on the memories of his +Committee,—not always to their gratification,—and is beginning to +think that as his work is done he may as well resign Killicrankie to +some younger politician. Poor Sir Marmaduke remembered his defeat +with soreness long after it had been forgotten by all others who had +been present, and was astonished when he found that the journals of +the day, though they did in some curt fashion report the proceedings +of the Committee, never uttered a word of censure against him, as +they had not before uttered a word of praise for that pearl of a +Governor who had been examined before him.</p> + +<p>On the following morning he went to the Colonial Office by +appointment, and then he saw the young Irish Under-Secretary whom he +had so much dreaded. Nothing could be more civil than was the young +Irish Under-Secretary, who told him that he had better of course stay +in town till the Committee was over, though it was not probable that +he would be wanted again. When the Committee had done its work he +would be allowed to remain six weeks on service to prepare for his +journey back. If he wanted more time after that he could ask for +leave of absence. So Sir Marmaduke left the Colonial Office with a +great weight off his mind, and blessed that young Irish Secretary as +he went.</p> + + +<p><a name="c69" id="c69"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXIX.</h3> +<h4>SIR MARMADUKE AT WILLESDEN.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>On the next day Sir Marmaduke purposed going to Willesden. He was in +great doubt whether or no he would first consult that very eminent +man Dr. Trite Turbury, as to the possibility, and,—if possible,—as +to the expediency, of placing Mr. Trevelyan under some control. But +Sir Marmaduke, though he would repeatedly declare that his son-in-law +was mad, did not really believe in this madness. He did not, that is, +believe that Trevelyan was so mad as to be fairly exempt from the +penalties of responsibility; and he was therefore desirous of +speaking his own mind out fully to the man, and, as it were, of +having his own personal revenge, before he might be deterred by the +interposition of medical advice. He resolved therefore that he would +not see Sir Trite Turbury, at any rate till he had come back from +Willesden. He also went down in a cab, but he left the cab at the +public-house at the corner of the road, and walked to the cottage.</p> + +<p>When he asked whether Mr. Trevelyan was at home, the woman of the +house hesitated and then said that her lodger was out. "I +particularly wish to see him," said Sir Marmaduke, feeling that the +woman was lying to him. "But he ain't to be seen, sir," said the +woman. "I know he is at home," said Sir Marmaduke. But the argument +was soon cut short by the appearance of Trevelyan behind the woman's +shoulder.</p> + +<p>"I am here, Sir Marmaduke Rowley," said Trevelyan. "If you wish to +see me you may come in. I will not say that you are welcome, but you +can come in." Then the woman retired, and Sir Marmaduke followed +Trevelyan into the room in which Lady Rowley and Emily had been +received; but the child was not now in the chamber.</p> + +<p>"What are these charges that I hear against my daughter?" said Sir +Marmaduke, rushing at once into the midst of his indignation.</p> + +<p>"I do not know what charges you have heard."</p> + +<p>"You have put her away."</p> + +<p>"In strict accuracy that is not correct, Sir Marmaduke."</p> + +<p>"But she is put away. She is in my house now because you have no +house of your own for her. Is not that so? And when I came home she +was staying with her uncle, because you had put her away. And what +was the meaning of her being sent down into Devonshire? What has she +done? I am her father, and I expect to have an answer."</p> + +<p>"You shall have an answer, certainly."</p> + +<p>"And a true one. I will have no hocus-pocus, no humbug, no Jesuitry."</p> + +<p>"Have you come here to insult me, Sir Marmaduke? Because, if so, +there shall be an end to this interview at once."</p> + +<p>"There shall not be an end;—by G——, no, +not till I have heard what +is the meaning of all this. Do you know what people are saying of +you;—that you are mad, and that you must be locked up, and your +child taken away from you, and your property?"</p> + +<p>"Who are the people that say so? Yourself;—and, perhaps, Lady +Rowley? Does my wife say so? Does she think that I am mad? She did +not think so on Thursday, when she prayed that she might be allowed +to come back and live with me."</p> + +<p>"And you would not let her come?"</p> + +<p>"Pardon me," said Trevelyan. "I would wish that she should come,—but +it must be on certain conditions."</p> + +<p>"What I want to know is why she was turned out of your house?"</p> + +<p>"She was not turned out."</p> + +<p>"What has she done that she should be punished?" urged Sir Marmaduke, +who was unable to arrange his questions with the happiness which had +distinguished Major Magruder. "I insist upon knowing what it is that +you lay to her charge. I am her father, and I have a right to know. +She has been barbarously, shamefully ill-used, and by +<span class="nowrap">G——</span> I will +know."</p> + +<p>"You have come here to bully me, Sir Marmaduke Rowley."</p> + +<p>"I have come here, sir, to do the duty of a parent to his child; to +protect my poor girl against the cruelty of a husband who in an +unfortunate hour was allowed to take her from her home. I will know +the reason why my daughter has been treated as though,—as +though,—as <span class="nowrap">though—"</span></p> + +<p>"Listen to me for a minute," said Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"I am listening."</p> + +<p>"I will tell you nothing; I will answer you not a word."</p> + +<p>"You will not answer me?"</p> + +<p>"Not when you come to me in this fashion. My wife is my wife, and my +claim to her is nearer and closer than is yours, who are her father. +She is the mother of my child, and the only being in the +world,—except that child,—whom I love. Do you think that with such +motives on my part for tenderness towards her, for loving care, for +the most anxious solicitude, that I can be made more anxious, more +tender, more loving by coarse epithets from you? I am the most +miserable being under the sun because our happiness has been +interrupted, and is it likely that such misery should be cured by +violent words and gestures? If your heart is wrung for her, so is +mine. If she be much to you, she is more to me. She came here the +other day, almost as a stranger, and I thought that my heart would +have burst beneath its weight of woe. What can you do that can add an +ounce to the burden that I bear? You may as well leave me,—or at +least be quiet."</p> + +<p>Sir Marmaduke had stood and listened to him, and he, too, was so +struck by the altered appearance of the man that the violence of his +indignation was lessened by the pity which he could not suppress. +When Trevelyan spoke of his wretchedness, it was impossible not to +believe him. He was as wretched a being to look at as it might have +been possible to find. His contracted cheeks, and lips always open, +and eyes glowing in their sunken caverns, told a tale which even Sir +Marmaduke, who was not of nature quick in deciphering such stories, +could not fail to read. And then the twitching motion of the man's +hands, and the restless shuffling of his feet, produced a nervous +feeling that if some remedy were not applied quickly, some +alleviation given to the misery of the suffering wretch, human power +would be strained too far, and the man would break to pieces,—or +else the mind of the man. Sir Marmaduke, during his journey in the +cab, had resolved that, old as he was, he would take this sinner by +the throat, this brute who had striven to stain his daughter's +name,—and would make him there and then acknowledge his own +brutality. But it was now very manifest to Sir Marmaduke that there +could be no taking by the throat in this case. He could not have +brought himself to touch the poor, weak, passionate creature before +him. Indeed, even the fury of his words was stayed, and after that +last appeal he stormed no more. "But what is to be the end of it?" he +said.</p> + +<p>"Who can tell? Who can say? She can tell. She can put an end to it +all. She has but to say a word, and I will devote my life to her. But +that word must be spoken." As he said this, he dashed his hand upon +the table, and looked up with an air that would have been comic with +its assumed magnificence had it not been for the true tragedy of the +occasion.</p> + +<p>"You had better, at any rate, let her have her child for the +present."</p> + +<p>"No;—my boy shall go with me. She may go, too, if she pleases, but +my boy shall certainly go with me. If I had put her from me, as you +said just now, it might have been otherwise. But she shall be as +welcome to me as flowers in May,—as flowers in May! She shall be as +welcome to me as the music of heaven."</p> + +<p>Sir Marmaduke felt that he had nothing more to urge. He had +altogether abandoned that idea of having his revenge at the cost of +the man's throat, and was quite convinced that reason could have no +power with him. He was already thinking that he would go away, +straight to his lawyer, so that some step might be taken at once to +stop, if possible, the taking away of the boy to America, when the +lock of the door was gently turned, and the landlady entered the +room.</p> + +<p>"You will excuse me, sir," said the woman, "but if you be anything to +this <span class="nowrap">gentleman—"</span></p> + +<p>"Mrs. Fuller, leave the room," said Trevelyan. "I and the gentleman +are engaged."</p> + +<p>"I see you be engaged, and I do beg pardon. I ain't one as would +intrude wilful, and, as for listening, or the likes of that, I scorn +it. But if this gentleman be anything to you, Mr. +<span class="nowrap">Trevelyan—"</span></p> + +<p>"I am his wife's father," said Sir Marmaduke.</p> + +<p>"Like enough. I was thinking perhaps so. His lady was down here on +Thursday,—as sweet a lady as any gentleman need wish to stretch by +his side."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Fuller," said Trevelyan, marching up towards her, "I will not +have this, and I desire that you will retire from my room."</p> + +<p>But Mrs. Fuller escaped round the table, and would not be banished. +She got round the table, and came closely opposite to Sir Marmaduke. +"I don't want to say nothing out of my place, sir," said she, "but +something ought to be done. He ain't fit to be left to hisself,—not +alone,—not as he is at present. He ain't, indeed, and I wouldn't be +doing my duty if I didn't say so. He has them sweats at night as'd be +enough to kill any man; and he eats nothing, and he don't do nothing; +and as for that poor little boy as is now in my own bed upstairs, if +it wasn't that I and my Bessy is fond of children, I don't know what +would become of that boy."</p> + +<p>Trevelyan, finding it impossible to get rid of her, had stood +quietly, while he listened to her. "She has been good to my child," +he said. "I acknowledge it. As for myself, I have not been well. It +is true. But I am told that travel will set me on my feet again. +Change of air will do it." Not long since he had been urging the +wretchedness of his own bodily health as a reason why his wife should +yield to him; but now, when his sickness was brought as a charge +against him,—was adduced as a reason why his friends should +interfere, and look after him, and concern themselves in his affairs, +he saw at once that it was necessary that he should make little of +his ailments.</p> + +<p>"Would it not be best, Trevelyan, that you should come with me to a +doctor?" said Sir Marmaduke.</p> + +<p>"No;—no. I have my own doctor. That is, I know the course which I +should follow. This place, though it is good for the boy, has +disagreed with me, and my life has not been altogether pleasant;—I +may say, by no means pleasant. Troubles have told upon me, but change +of air will mend it all."</p> + +<p>"I wish you would come with me, at once, to London. You shall come +back, you know. I will not detain you."</p> + +<p>"Thank you,—no. I will not trouble you. That will do, Mrs. Fuller. +You have intended to do your duty, no doubt, and now you can go." +Whereupon Mrs. Fuller did go. "I am obliged for your care, Sir +Marmaduke, but I can really do very well without troubling you."</p> + +<p>"You cannot suppose, Trevelyan, that we can allow things to go on +like this."</p> + +<p>"And what do you mean to do?"</p> + +<p>"Well;—I shall take advice. I shall go to a lawyer,—and to a +doctor, and perhaps to the Lord Chancellor, and all that kind of +thing. We can't let things go on like this."</p> + +<p>"You can do as you please," said Trevelyan, "but as you have +threatened me, I must ask you to leave me."</p> + +<p>Sir Marmaduke could do no more, and could say no more, and he took +his leave, shaking hands with the man, and speaking to him with a +courtesy which astonished himself. It was impossible to maintain the +strength of his indignation against a poor creature who was so +manifestly unable to guide himself. But when he was in London he +drove at once to the house of Dr. Trite Turbury, and remained there +till the doctor returned from his round of visits. According to the +great authority, there was much still to be done before even the +child could be rescued out of the father's hands. "I can't act +without the lawyers," said Dr. Turbury. But he explained to Sir +Marmaduke what steps should be taken in such a matter.</p> + +<p>Trevelyan, in the mean time, clearly understanding that hostile +measures would now be taken against him, set his mind to work to +think how best he might escape at once to America with his boy.</p> + + +<p><a name="c70" id="c70"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXX.</h3> +<h4>SHEWING WHAT NORA ROWLEY<br />THOUGHT ABOUT CARRIAGES.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Sir Marmaduke, on his return home from Dr. Turbury's house, found +that he had other domestic troubles on hand over and above those +arising from his elder daughter's position. Mr. Hugh Stanbury had +been in Manchester Street during his absence, and had asked for him, +and, finding that he was away from home, had told his story to Lady +Rowley. When he had been shown up-stairs all the four daughters had +been with their mother; but he had said a word or two signifying his +desire to speak to Lady Rowley, and the three girls had left the +room. In this way it came to pass that he had to plead his cause +before Nora's mother and her elder sister. He had pleaded it well, +and Lady Rowley's heart had been well disposed towards him; but when +she asked of his house and his home, his answer had been hardly more +satisfactory than that of Alan-a-Dale. There was little that he could +call his own beyond "The blue vault of heaven." Had he saved any +money? No,—not a shilling;—that was to say,—as he himself +expressed it,—nothing that could be called money. He had a few +pounds by him, just to go on with. What was his income? Well—last +year he had made four hundred pounds, and this year he hoped to make +something more. He thought he could see his way plainly to five +hundred a year. Was it permanent; and if not, on what did it depend? +He believed it to be as permanent as most other professional incomes, +but was obliged to confess that, as regarded the source from whence +it was drawn at the present moment, it might be brought to an abrupt +end any day by a disagreement between himself and the editor of the +D. R. Did he think that this was a fixed income? He did think that if +he and the editor of the D. R. were to fall out, he could come across +other editors who would gladly employ him. Would he himself feel safe +in giving his own sister to a man with such an income? In answer to +this question, he started some rather bold doctrines on the subject +of matrimony in general, asserting that safety was not desirable, +that energy, patience, and mutual confidence would be increased by +the excitement of risk, and that in his opinion it behoved young men +and young women to come together and get themselves married, even +though there might be some not remote danger of distress before them. +He admitted that starvation would be disagreeable,—especially for +children, in the eyes of their parents,—but alleged that children as +a rule were not starved, and quoted the Scripture to prove that +honest laborious men were not to be seen begging their bread in the +streets. He was very eloquent, but his eloquence itself was against +him. Both Lady Rowley and Mrs. Trevelyan were afraid of such advanced +opinions; and, although everything was of course to be left, +nominally, to the decision of Sir Marmaduke, they both declared that +they could not recommend Sir Marmaduke to consent. Lady Rowley said a +word as to the expediency of taking Nora back with her to the +Mandarins, pointing out what appeared to her then to be the necessity +of taking Mrs. Trevelyan with them also; and in saying this she +hinted that if Nora were disposed to stand by her engagement, and Mr. +Stanbury equally so disposed, there might be some possibility of a +marriage at a future period. Only in such case, there must be no +correspondence. In answer to this Hugh declared that he regarded such +a scheme as being altogether bad. The Mandarins were so very far +distant that he might as well be engaged to an angel in heaven. Nora, +if she were to go away now, would perhaps never come back again; and +if she did come back, would be an old woman, with hollow cheeks. In +replying to this proposition, he let fall an opinion that Nora was +old enough to judge for herself. He said nothing about her actual +age, and did not venture to plead that the young lady had a legal +right to do as she liked with herself; but he made it manifest that +such an idea was in his mind. In answer to this, Lady Rowley asserted +that Nora was a good girl, and would do as her father told her; but +she did not venture to assert that Nora would give up her engagement. +Lady Rowley at last undertook to speak to Sir Rowley, and to speak +also to her daughter. Hugh was asked for his address, and gave that +of the office of the D. R. He was always to be found there between +three and five; and after that, four times a week, in the reporters' +gallery of the House of Commons. Then he was at some pains to explain +to Lady Rowley that though he attended the reporters' gallery, he did +not report himself. It was his duty to write leading political +articles, and, to enable him to do so, he attended the debates.</p> + +<p>Before he went Mrs. Trevelyan thanked him most cordially for the +trouble he had taken in procuring for her the address at Willesden, +and gave him some account of the journey which she and her mother had +made to River's Cottage. He argued with both of them that the +unfortunate man must now be regarded as being altogether out of his +mind, and something was said as to the great wisdom and experience of +Dr. Trite Turbury. Then Hugh Stanbury took his leave; and even Lady +Rowley bade him adieu with kind cordiality. "I don't wonder, mamma, +that Nora should like him," said Mrs. Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"That is all very well, my dear, and no doubt he is pleasant, and +manly, and all that;—but really it would be almost like marrying a +beggar."</p> + +<p>"For myself," said Mrs. Trevelyan, "if I could begin life again, I do +not think that any temptation would induce me to place myself in a +man's power."</p> + +<p>Sir Marmaduke was told of all this on his return home, and he asked +many questions as to the nature of Stanbury's work. When it was +explained to him,—Lady Rowley repeating as nearly as she could all +that Hugh had himself said about it, he expressed his opinion that +writing for a penny newspaper was hardly more safe as a source of +income than betting on horse races. "I don't see that it is wrong," +said Mrs. Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"I say nothing about wrong. I simply assert that it is uncertain. The +very existence of such a periodical must in itself be most insecure." +Sir Marmaduke, amidst the cares of his government at the Mandarins, +had, perhaps, had no better opportunity of watching what was going on +in the world of letters than had fallen to the lot of Miss Stanbury +at Exeter.</p> + +<p>"I think your papa is right," said Lady Rowley.</p> + +<p>"Of course I am right. It is out of the question; and so Nora must be +told." He had as yet heard nothing about Mr. Glascock. Had that +misfortune been communicated to him his cup would indeed have been +filled with sorrow to overflowing.</p> + +<p>In the evening Nora was closeted with her father. "Nora, my dear, you +must understand, once and for all, that this cannot be," said Sir +Marmaduke. The Governor, when he was not disturbed by outward +circumstances, could assume a good deal of personal dignity, and +could speak, especially to his children, with an air of indisputable +authority.</p> + +<p>"What can't be, papa?" said Nora.</p> + +<p>Sir Marmaduke perceived at once that there was no indication of +obedience in his daughter's voice, and he prepared himself for +battle. He conceived himself to be very strong, and thought that his +objections were so well founded that no one would deny their truth +and that his daughter had not a leg to stand on. "This, that your +mamma tells me of about Mr. Stanbury. Do you know, my dear, that he +has not a shilling in the world?"</p> + +<p>"I know that he has no fortune, papa,—if you mean that."</p> + +<p>"And no profession either;—nothing that can be called a profession. +I do not wish to argue it, my dear, because there is no room for +argument. The whole thing is preposterous. I cannot but think ill of +him for having proposed it to you; for he must have known,—must have +known, that a young man without an income cannot be accepted as a +fitting suitor for a gentleman's daughter. As for yourself, I can +only hope that you will get the little idea out of your head very +quickly;—but mamma will speak to you about that. What I want you to +understand from me is this,—that there must be an end to it."</p> + +<p>Nora listened to this speech in perfect silence, standing before her +father, and waiting patiently till the last word of it should be +pronounced. Even when he had finished she still paused before she +answered him. "Papa," she said at last, and hesitated again before +she went on.</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear."</p> + +<p>"I can not give it up."</p> + +<p>"But you must give it up."</p> + + +<div class="center"><a name="ip2-158" id="ip2-158"></a> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="4px"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/p2-158.jpg"> + <img src="images/p2-158-t.jpg" width="540" + alt='"But you must give it up," said Sir Marmaduke.' /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <span class="caption">"But you must give it up," said Sir Marmaduke.<br /> + Click to <a href="images/p2-158.jpg">ENLARGE</a></span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p>"No, papa. I would do anything I could for you and mamma, but that is +impossible."</p> + +<p>"Why is it impossible?"</p> + +<p>"Because I love him so dearly."</p> + +<p>"That is nonsense. That is what all girls say when they choose to run +against their parents. I tell you that it shall be given up. I will +not have him here. I forbid you to see him. It is quite out of the +question that you should marry such a man. I do hope, Nora, that you +are not going to add to mamma's difficulties and mine by being +obstinate and disobedient." He paused a moment, and then added, "I do +not think that there is anything more to be said."</p> + +<p>"Papa."</p> + +<p>"My dear, I think you had better say nothing further about it. If you +cannot bring yourself at the present moment to promise that there +shall be an end of it, you had better hold your tongue. You have +heard what I say, and you have heard what mamma says. I do not for a +moment suppose that you dream of carrying on a communication with +this gentleman in opposition to our wishes."</p> + +<p>"But I do."</p> + +<p>"Do what?"</p> + +<p>"Papa, you had better listen to me." Sir Marmaduke, when he heard +this, assumed an air of increased authority, in which he intended +that paternal anger should be visible; but he seated himself, and +prepared to receive, at any rate, some of the arguments with which +Nora intended to bolster up her bad cause. "I have promised Mr. +Stanbury that I will be his wife."</p> + +<p>"That is all nonsense."</p> + +<p>"Do listen to me, papa. I have listened to you and you ought to +listen to me. I have promised him, and I must keep my promise. I +shall keep my promise if he wishes it. There is a time when a girl +must be supposed to know what is best for herself,—just as there is +for a man."</p> + +<p>"I never heard such stuff in all my life. Do you mean that you'll go +out and marry him like a beggar, with nothing but what you stand up +in, with no friend to be with you, an outcast, thrown off by your +mother,—with your father's—curse?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, papa, do not say that. You would not curse me. You could not."</p> + +<p>"If you do it at all, that will be the way."</p> + +<p>"That will not be the way, papa. You could not treat me like that."</p> + +<p>"And how are you proposing to treat me?"</p> + +<p>"But, papa, in whatever way I do it, I must do it. I do not say +to-day or to-morrow; but it must be the intention and purpose of my +life, and I must declare that it is, everywhere. I have made up my +mind about it. I am engaged to him, and I shall always say +so,—unless he breaks it. I don't care a bit about fortune. I thought +I did once, but I have changed all that."</p> + +<p>"Because this scoundrel has talked sedition to you."</p> + +<p>"He is not a scoundrel, papa, and he has not talked sedition. I don't +know what sedition is. I thought it meant treason, and I'm sure he is +not a traitor. He has made me love him, and I shall be true to him."</p> + +<p>Hereupon Sir Marmaduke began almost to weep. There came first a +half-smothered oath and then a sob, and he walked about the room, and +struck the table with his fist, and rubbed his bald head impatiently +with his hand. "Nora," he said, "I thought you were so different from +this! If I had believed this of you, you never should have come to +England with Emily."</p> + +<p>"It is too late for that now, papa."</p> + +<p>"Your mamma always told me that you had such excellent ideas about +marriage."</p> + +<p>"So I have,—I think," said she, smiling.</p> + +<p>"She always believed that you would make a match that would be a +credit to the family."</p> + +<p>"I tried it, papa;—the sort of match that you mean. Indeed I was +mercenary enough in what I believed to be my views of life. I meant +to marry a rich man,—if I could, and did not think much whether I +should love him or not. But when the rich man came—"</p> + +<p>"What rich man?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose mamma has told you about Mr. Glascock."</p> + +<p>"Who is Mr. Glascock? I have not heard a word about Mr. Glascock." +Then Nora was forced to tell her story,—was called upon to tell it +with all its aggravating details. By degrees Sir Marmaduke learned +that this Mr. Glascock, who had desired to be his son-in-law, was in +very truth the heir to the Peterborough title and estates,—would +have been such a son-in-law as almost to compensate, by the +brilliance of the connection, for that other unfortunate alliance. He +could hardly control his agony when he was made to understand that +this embryo peer had in truth been in earnest. "Do you mean that he +went down after you into Devonshire?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, papa."</p> + +<p>"And you refused him then,—a second time?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, papa."</p> + +<p>"Why;—why;—why? You say yourself that you liked him;—that you +thought that you would accept him."</p> + +<p>"When it came to speaking the word, papa, I found that I could not +pretend to love him when I did not love him. I did not care for +him,—and I liked somebody else so much better! I just told him the +plain truth,—and so he went away."</p> + +<p>The thought of all that he had lost, of all that might so easily have +been his, for a time overwhelmed Sir Marmaduke, and drove the very +memory of Hugh Stanbury almost out of his head. He could understand +that a girl should not marry a man whom she did not like; but he +could not understand how any girl should not love such a suitor as +was Mr. Glascock. And had she accepted this pearl of men, with her +position, with her manners and beauty and appearance, such a +connection would have been as good as an assured marriage for every +one of Sir Marmaduke's numerous daughters. Nora was just the woman to +look like a great lady, a lady of high rank,—such a lady as could +almost command men to come and throw themselves at her unmarried +sisters' feet. Sir Marmaduke had believed in his daughter Nora, had +looked forward to see her do much for the family; and, when the crash +had come upon the Trevelyan household, had thought almost as much of +her injured prospects as he had of the misfortune of her sister. But +now it seemed that more than all the good things of what he had +dreamed had been proposed to this unruly girl, in spite of that great +crash,—and had been rejected! And he saw more than this,—as he +thought. These good things would have been accepted had it not been +for this rascal of a penny-a-liner, this friend of that other rascal +Trevelyan, who had come in the way of their family to destroy the +happiness of them all! Sir Marmaduke, in speaking of Stanbury after +this, would constantly call him a penny-a-liner, thinking that the +contamination of the penny communicated itself to all transactions of +the Daily Record.</p> + +<p>"You have made your bed for yourself, Nora, and you must lie upon +it."</p> + +<p>"Just so, papa."</p> + +<p>"I mean that, as you have refused Mr. Glascock's offer, you can never +again hope for such an opening in life."</p> + +<p>"Of course I cannot. I am not such a child as to suppose that there +are many Mr. Glascocks to come and run after me. And if there were +ever so many, papa, it would be no good. As you say, I have chosen +for myself, and I must put up with it. When I see the carriages going +about in the streets, and remember how often I shall have to go home +in an omnibus, I do think about it a good deal."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid you will think when it is too late."</p> + +<p>"It isn't that I don't like carriages, papa. I do like them; and +pretty dresses, and brooches, and men and women who have nothing to +do, and balls, and the opera; but—I love this man, and that is more +to me than all the rest. I cannot help myself, if it were ever so. +Papa, you mustn't be angry with me. Pray, pray, pray do not say that +horrid word again."</p> + +<p>This was the end of the interview. Sir Marmaduke found that he had +nothing further to say. Nora, when she reached her last prayer to her +father, referring to that curse with which he had threatened her, was +herself in tears, and was leaning on him with her head against his +shoulder. Of course he did not say a word which could be understood +as sanctioning her engagement with Stanbury. He was as strongly +determined as ever that it was his duty to save her from the perils +of such a marriage as that. But, nevertheless, he was so far overcome +by her as to be softened in his manners towards her. He kissed her as +he left her, and told her to go to her mother. Then he went out and +thought of it all, and felt as though Paradise had been opened to his +child and she had refused to enter the gate.</p> + + +<p><a name="c71" id="c71"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXI.</h3> +<h4>SHEWING WHAT HUGH STANBURY THOUGHT<br />ABOUT THE DUTY OF MAN.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>In the conference which took place between Sir Marmaduke and his wife +after the interview between him and Nora, it was his idea that +nothing further should be done at all. "I don't suppose the man will +come here if he be told not," said Sir Marmaduke, "and if he does, +Nora of course will not see him." He then suggested that Nora would +of course go back with them to the Mandarins, and that when once +there she would not be able to see Stanbury any more. "There must be +no correspondence or anything of that sort, and so the thing will die +away." But Lady Rowley declared that this would not quite suffice. +Mr. Stanbury had made his offer in due form, and must be held to be +entitled to an answer. Sir Marmaduke, therefore, wrote the following +letter to the "penny-a-liner," mitigating the asperity of his +language in compliance with his wife's counsels.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">Manchester Street, April 20th, 186—.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My Dear +Sir</span>,—</p> + +<p>Lady Rowley has told me of your proposal to my daughter +Nora; and she has told me also what she learned from you +as to your circumstances in life. I need hardly point out +to you that no father would be justified in giving his +daughter to a gentleman upon so small an income, and upon +an income so very insecure.</p> + +<p>I am obliged to refuse my consent, and I must therefore +ask you to abstain from visiting and from communicating +with my daughter.</p> + +<p class="ind10">Yours faithfully,</p> + +<p class="ind12"><span class="smallcaps">Marmaduke Rowley</span>.</p> + +<p class="noindent">Hugh Stanbury, Esq.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>This letter was directed to Stanbury at the office of the D. R., and +Sir Marmaduke, as he wrote the pernicious address, felt himself +injured in that he was compelled to write about his daughter to a man +so circumstanced. Stanbury, when he got the letter, read it hastily +and then threw it aside. He knew what it would contain before he +opened it. He had heard enough from Lady Rowley to be aware that Sir +Marmaduke would not welcome him as a son-in-law. Indeed, he had never +expected such welcome. He was half-ashamed of his own suit because of +the lowliness of his position,—half-regretful that he should have +induced such a girl as Nora Rowley to give up for his sake her hopes +of magnificence and splendour. But Sir Marmaduke's letter did not add +anything to this feeling. He read it again, and smiled as he told +himself that the father would certainly be very weak in the hands of +his daughter. Then he went to work again at his article with a +persistent resolve that so small a trifle as such a note should have +no effect upon his daily work. Of course Sir Marmaduke would refuse +his consent. Of course it would be for him, Stanbury, to marry the +girl he loved in opposition to her father. Her father indeed! If Nora +chose to take him,—and as to that he was very doubtful as to Nora's +wisdom,—but if Nora would take him, what was any father's opposition +to him? He wanted nothing from Nora's father. He was not looking for +money with his wife;—nor for fashion, nor countenance. Such a +Bohemian was he that he would be quite satisfied if his girl would +walk out to him, and become his wife, with any morning-gown on and +with any old hat that might come readiest to hand. He wanted neither +cards, nor breakfast, nor carriages, nor fine clothes. If his Nora +should choose to come to him as she was, he having had all previous +necessary arrangements duly made,—such as calling of banns or +procuring of licence if possible,—he thought that a father's +opposition would almost add something to the pleasure of the +occasion. So he pitched the letter on one side, and went on with his +article. And he finished his article; but it may be doubted whether +it was completed with the full strength and pith needed for moving +the pulses of the national mind,—as they should be moved by leading +articles in the D. R. As he was writing he was thinking of Nora,—and +thinking of the letter which Nora's father had sent to him. Trivial +as was the letter, he could not keep himself from repeating the words +of it to himself. "'Need hardly point out,'—oh; needn't he. Then why +does he? Refusing his consent! I wonder what the old buffers think is +the meaning of their consent, when they are speaking of daughters old +enough to manage for themselves? Abstain from visiting or +communicating with her! But if she visits and communicates with +me;—what then? I can't force my way into the house, but she can +force her way out. Does he imagine that she can be locked up in the +nursery or put into the corner?" So he argued with himself, and by +such arguments he brought himself to the conviction that it would be +well for him to answer Sir Marmaduke's letter. This he did at +once,—before leaving the office of the D. R.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">250, Fleet Street, 20th April.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My dear +Sir Marmaduke Rowley</span>,—</p> + +<p>I have just received your letter, and am indeed sorry that +its contents should be so little favourable to my hopes. I +understand that your objection to me is simply in regard +to the smallness and insecurity of my income. On the first +point I may say that I have fair hopes that it may be at +once increased. As to the second, I believe I may assert +that it is as sure at least as the income of other +professional men, such as barristers, merchants, and +doctors. I cannot promise to say that I will not see your +daughter. If she desires me to do so, of course I shall be +guided by her views. I wish that I might be allowed an +opportunity of seeing you, as I think I could reverse or +at least mitigate some of the objections which you feel to +our marriage.</p> + +<p class="ind10">Yours most faithfully,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Hugh +Stanbury</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>On the next day but one Sir Marmaduke came to him. He was sitting at +the office of the D. R., in a very small and dirty room at the back +of the house, and Sir Marmaduke found his way thither through a +confused crowd of compositors, pressmen, and printers' boys. He +thought that he had never before been in a place so foul, so dark, so +crowded, and so comfortless. He himself was accustomed to do his +work, out in the Islands, with many of the appanages of vice-royalty +around him. He had his secretary, and his private secretary, and his +inner-room, and his waiting-room; and not unfrequently he had the +honour of a dusky sentinel walking before the door through which he +was to be approached. He had an idea that all gentlemen at their work +had comfortable appurtenances around them,—such as carpets, +dispatch-boxes, unlimited stationery, easy chairs for temporary +leisure, big table-space, and a small world of books around them to +give at least a look of erudition to their pursuits. There was +nothing of the kind in the miserably dark room occupied by Stanbury. +He was sitting at a wretched little table on which there was nothing +but a morsel of blotting paper, a small ink-bottle, and the paper on +which he was scribbling. There was no carpet there, and no +dispatch-box, and the only book in the room was a little dog's-eared +dictionary. "Sir Marmaduke, I am so much obliged to you for coming," +said Hugh. "I fear you will find this place a little rough, but we +shall be all alone."</p> + +<p>"The place, Mr. Stanbury, will not signify, I think."</p> + +<p>"Not in the least,—if you don't mind it. I got your letter, you +know, Sir Marmaduke."</p> + +<p>"And I have had your reply. I have come to you because you have +expressed a wish for an interview;—but I do not see that it will do +any good."</p> + +<p>"You are very kind for coming, indeed, Sir Marmaduke;—very kind. I +thought I might explain something to you about my income."</p> + +<p>"Can you tell me that you have any permanent income?"</p> + +<p>"It goes on regularly from month to month;"—Sir Marmaduke did not +feel the slightest respect for an income that was paid monthly. +According to his ideas, a gentleman's income should be paid +quarterly, or perhaps half-yearly. According to his view, a monthly +salary was only one degree better than weekly wages;—"and I suppose +that is permanence," said Hugh Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"I cannot say that I so regard it."</p> + +<p>"A barrister gets his, you know, very irregularly. There is no saying +when he may have it."</p> + +<p>"But a barrister's profession is recognised as a profession among +gentlemen, Mr. Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"And is not ours recognised? Which of us, barristers or men of +literature, have the most effect on the world at large? Who is most +thought of in London, Sir Marmaduke,—the Lord Chancellor or the +Editor of the 'Jupiter?'"</p> + +<p>"The Lord Chancellor a great deal," said Sir Marmaduke, quite +dismayed by the audacity of the question.</p> + +<p>"By no means, Sir Marmaduke," said Stanbury, throwing out his hand +before him so as to give the energy of action to his words. "He has +the higher rank. I will admit that."</p> + +<p>"I should think so," said Sir Marmaduke.</p> + +<p>"And the larger income."</p> + +<p>"Very much larger, I should say," said Sir Marmaduke, with a smile.</p> + +<p>"And he wears a wig."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—he wears a wig," said Sir Marmaduke, hardly knowing in what +spirit to accept this assertion.</p> + +<p>"And nobody cares one brass button for him or his opinions," said +Stanbury, bringing down his hand heavily on the little table for the +sake of emphasis.</p> + +<p>"What, sir?"</p> + +<p>"If you'll think of it, it is so."</p> + +<p>"Nobody cares for the Lord Chancellor!" It certainly is the fact that +gentlemen living in the Mandarin Islands do think more of the Lord +Chancellor, and the Lord Mayor, and the Lord-Lieutenant, and the Lord +Chamberlain, than they whose spheres of life bring them into closer +contact with those august functionaries. "I presume, Mr. Stanbury, +that a connection with a penny newspaper makes such opinions as these +almost a necessity."</p> + +<p>"Quite a necessity, Sir Marmaduke. No man can hold his own in print, +now-a-days, unless he can see the difference between tinsel and +gold."</p> + +<p>"And the Lord Chancellor, of course, is tinsel."</p> + +<p>"I do not say so. He may be a great lawyer,—and very useful. But his +lordship, and his wig, and his woolsack, are tinsel in comparison +with the real power possessed by the editor of a leading newspaper. +If the Lord Chancellor were to go to bed for a month, would he be +much missed?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know, sir. I'm not in the secrets of the Cabinet. I should +think he would."</p> + +<p>"About as much as my grandmother;—but if the Editor of the 'Jupiter' +were to be taken ill, it would work quite a commotion. For myself I +should be glad,—on public grounds,—because I don't like his mode of +business. But it would have an effect,—because he is a leading man."</p> + +<p>"I don't see what all this leads to, Mr. Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"Only to this,—that we who write for the press think that our +calling is recognised, and must be recognised as a profession. Talk +of permanence, Sir Marmaduke, are not the newspapers permanent? Do +not they come out regularly every day,—and more of them, and still +more of them, are always coming out? You do not expect a collapse +among them."</p> + +<p>"There will be plenty of newspapers, I do not doubt;—more than +plenty, perhaps."</p> + +<p>"Somebody must write them,—and the writers will be paid."</p> + +<p>"Anybody could write the most of them, I should say."</p> + +<p>"I wish you would try, Sir Marmaduke. Just try your hand at a leading +article to-night, and read it yourself to-morrow morning."</p> + +<p>"I've a great deal too much to do, Mr. Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"Just so. You have, no doubt, the affairs of your Government to look +to. We are all so apt to ignore the work of our neighbours! It seems +to me that I could go over and govern the Mandarins without the +slightest trouble in the world. But no doubt I am mistaken;—just as +you are about writing for the newspapers."</p> + +<p>"I do not know," said Sir Marmaduke, rising from his chair with +dignity, "that I called here to discuss such matters as these. As it +happens, you, Mr. Stanbury, are not the Governor of the Mandarins, +and I have not the honour to write for the columns of the penny +newspaper with which you are associated. It is therefore useless to +discuss what either of us might do in the position held by the +other."</p> + +<p>"Altogether useless, Sir Marmaduke,—except just for the fun of the +thing."</p> + +<p>"I do not see the fun, Mr. Stanbury. I came here, at your request, to +hear what you might have to urge against the decision which I +expressed to you in reference to my daughter. As it seems that you +have nothing to urge, I will not take up your time further."</p> + +<p>"But I have a great deal to urge, and have urged a great deal."</p> + +<p>"Have you, indeed?"</p> + +<p>"You have complained that my work is not permanent. I have shewn that +it is so permanent that there is no possibility of its coming to an +end. There must be newspapers, and the people trained to write them +must be employed. I have been at it now about two years. You know +what I earn. Could I have got so far in so short a time as a lawyer, +a doctor, a clergyman, a soldier, a sailor, a Government clerk, or in +any of those employments which you choose to call professions? I +think that is urging a great deal. I think it is urging everything."</p> + +<p>"Very well, Mr. Stanbury. I have listened to you, and in a certain +degree I admire your,—your,—your zeal and ingenuity, shall I say."</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean to call for admiration, Sir Marmaduke; but suppose you +say,—good sense and discrimination."</p> + +<p>"Let that pass. You must permit me to remark that your position is +not such as to justify me in trusting my daughter to your care. As my +mind on that matter is quite made up, as is that also of Lady Rowley, +I must ask you to give me your promise that your suit to my daughter +shall be discontinued."</p> + +<p>"What does she say about it, Sir Marmaduke?"</p> + +<p>"What she has said to me has been for my ears, and not for yours."</p> + +<p>"What I say is for her ears and for yours, and for her mother's ears, +and for the ears of any who may choose to hear it. I will never give +up my suit to your daughter till I am forced to do so by a full +conviction that she has given me up. It is best to be plain, Sir +Marmaduke, of course."</p> + +<p>"I do not understand this, Mr. Stanbury."</p> + +<p>"I mean to be quite clear."</p> + +<p>"I have always thought that when a gentleman was told by the head of +a family that he could not be made welcome in that family, it was +considered to be the duty of that gentleman,—as a gentleman,—to +abandon his vain pursuit. I have been brought up with that idea."</p> + +<p>"And I, Sir Marmaduke, have been brought up in the idea that when a +man has won the affections of a woman, it is the duty of that +man,—as a man,—to stick to her through thick and thin; and I mean +to do my duty, according to my idea."</p> + +<p>"Then, sir, I have nothing further to say, but to take my leave. I +must only caution you not to enter my doors." As the passages were +dark and intricate, it was necessary that Stanbury should shew Sir +Marmaduke out, and this he did in silence. When they parted each of +them lifted his hat, and not a word more was said.</p> + +<p>That same night there was a note put into Nora's hands, as she was +following her mother out of one of the theatres. In the confusion she +did not even see the messenger who had handed it to her. Her sister +Lucy saw that she had taken the note, and questioned her about it +afterwards,—with discretion, however, and in privacy. This was the +<span class="nowrap">note:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dearest Love</span>,</p> + +<p>I have seen your father, who is stern,—after the manner +of fathers. What granite equals a parent's flinty bosom! +For myself, I do not prefer clandestine arrangements and +rope ladders; and you, dear, have nothing of the Lydia +about you. But I do like my own way, and like it +especially when you are at the end of the path. It is +quite out of the question that you should go back to those +islands. I think I am justified in already assuming enough +of the husband to declare that such going back must not be +held for a moment in question. My proposition is that you +should authorise me to make such arrangements as may be +needed, in regard to licence, banns, or whatever else, and +that you should then simply walk from the house to the +church and marry me. You are of age, and can do as you +please. Neither your father nor mother can have any right +to stop you. I do not doubt but that your mother would +accompany you, if she were fully satisfied of your +purpose. Write to me to the D. R.</p> + +<p class="ind8">Your own, ever and ever, and always,</p> + +<p class="ind18">H. S.</p> + +<p class="noindent">I shall try and get +this given to you as you leave the +theatre. If it should fall into other hands, I don't much +care. I'm not in the least ashamed of what I am doing; and +I hope that you are not.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p><a name="c72" id="c72"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXII.</h3> +<h4>THE DELIVERY OF THE LAMB.<br /> </h4> + + +<p><img class="left" src="images/ch72a.jpg" width="310" alt="Illustration" /> +It is hoped that a certain quarter of lamb will not have been +forgotten,—a quarter of lamb that was sent as a peace-offering from +Exeter to Nuncombe Putney by the hands of Miss Stanbury's Martha, not +with purposes of corruption, not intended to buy back the allegiance +of Dorothy,—folded delicately and temptingly in one of the best +table napkins, with no idea of bribery, but sent as presents used to +be sent of old in the trains of great ambassadors as signs of +friendship and marks of true respect. Miss Stanbury was, no doubt, +most anxious that her niece should return to her, but was not, +herself, low spirited enough to conceive that a quarter of lamb could +be efficacious in procuring such return. If it might be that +Dorothy's heart could be touched by mention of the weariness of her +aunt's solitary life; and if, therefore, she would return, it would +be very well; but it could not be well so, unless the offer should +come from Dorothy herself. All of which Martha had been made to +understand by her mistress, considerable ingenuity having been +exercised in the matter on each side.</p> + +<p>On her arrival at Lessboro', Martha had hired a fly, and been driven +out to Nuncombe Putney; but she felt, she knew not why, a dislike to +be taken in her carriage to the door of the cottage; and was put down +in the middle of the village, from whence she walked out to Mrs. +Stanbury's abode, with the basket upon her arm. It was a good half +mile, and the lamb was heavy, for Miss Stanbury had suggested that a +bottle of sherry should be put in under the napkin,—and Martha was +becoming tired of her burden, when,—whom should she see on the road +before her but Brooke Burgess! As she said herself afterwards, it +immediately occurred to her, "that all the fat was in the fire." Here +had this young man come down, passing through Exeter without even a +visit to Miss Stanbury, and had clandestinely sought out the young +woman whom he wasn't to marry; and here was the young woman herself +flying in her aunt's face, when one scratch of a pen might ruin them +both! Martha entertained a sacred, awful, overcoming feeling about +her mistress's will. That she was to have something herself she +supposed, and her anxiety was not on that score; but she had heard so +much about it, had realised so fully the great power which Miss +Stanbury possessed, and had had her own feelings so rudely invaded by +alterations in Miss Stanbury's plans, that she had come to entertain +an idea that all persons around her should continually bear that will +in their memory. Hugh had undoubtedly been her favourite, and, could +Martha have dictated the will herself, she would still have made Hugh +the heir; but she had realised the resolution of her mistress so far +as to confess that the bulk of the property was to go back to a +Burgess. But there were very many Burgesses; and here was the one who +had been selected flying in the very face of the testatrix! What was +to be done? Were she to go back and not tell her mistress that she +had seen Brooke Burgess at Nuncombe then,—should the fact be found +out,—would the devoted anger of Miss Stanbury fall upon her own +head? It would be absolutely necessary that she should tell the +story, let the consequences be what they might;—but the +consequences, probably, would be very dreadful. "Mr. Brooke, that is +not you?" she said, as she came up to him, putting her basket down in +the middle of the dusty road.</p> + +<p>"Then who can it be?" said Brooke, giving her his hand to shake.</p> + +<p>"But what do bring you here, Mr. Brooke? Goodness me, what will +missus say?"</p> + +<p>"I shall make that all straight. I'm going back to Exeter to-morrow." +Then there were many questions and many answers. He was sojourning at +Mrs. Crocket's, and had been there for the last two days. "Dear, +dear, dear," she said over and over again. "Deary me, deary me!" and +then she asked him whether it was "all along of Miss Dorothy" that he +had come. Of course, it was all along of Miss Dorothy. Brooke made no +secret about it. He had come down to see Dorothy's mother and sister, +and to say a bit of his own mind about future affairs;—and to see +the beauties of the country. When he talked about the beauties of the +country, Martha looked at him as the people of Lessboro' and Nuncombe +Putney should have looked at Colonel Osborne, when he talked of the +church porch at Cockchaffington. "Beauties of the country, Mr. +Brooke;—you ought to be ashamed of yourself!" said Martha.</p> + +<p>"But I ain't,—the least in the world," said Brooke.</p> + +<p>Then Martha took up her basket, and went on to the cottage, which had +been close in sight during their conversation in the road. She felt +angry with Dorothy. In such matters a woman is always angry with the +woman,—who has probably been quite passive, and rarely with the man, +who is ever the real transgressor. Having a man down after her at +Nuncombe Putney! It had never struck Martha as very horrible that +Brooke Burgess should fall in love with Dorothy in the city;—but +this meeting, in the remoteness of the country, out of sight even of +the village, was almost indecent; and all, too, with Miss Stanbury's +will just, as one might say, on the balance! Dorothy ought to have +buried herself rather than have allowed Brooke to see her at Nuncombe +Putney; and Dorothy's mother and Priscilla must be worse. She trudged +on, however, with her lamb, and soon found herself in the presence of +the three ladies.</p> + +<p>"What,—Martha!" said Dorothy.</p> + +<p>"Yes, miss,—here I am. I'd have been here half-an-hour ago amost, if +I hadn't been stopped on the road."</p> + +<p>"And who stopped you?" asked Priscilla.</p> + +<p>"Why,—Mr. Brooke, of course."</p> + +<p>"And what did Mr. Brooke say to you?" asked Dorothy.</p> + +<p>Martha perceived at once that Dorothy was quite radiant. She told her +mistress that she had never seen Miss Dorothy look half so comely +before. "Laws, ma'am, she brightened up and speckled about, till it +did your heart good to see her in spite of all." But this was some +time afterwards.</p> + +<p>"He didn't say very much," replied Martha, gravely.</p> + +<p>"But I've got very much to tell you," continued Dorothy. "I'm engaged +to be married to Mr. Brooke, and you must congratulate me. It is +settled now, and mamma and my sister know all about it."</p> + +<p>Martha, when she was thus asked directly for congratulation, hardly +knew at once how to express herself. Being fully aware of Miss +Stanbury's objection to the marriage, she could not venture to +express her approbation of it. It was very improper, in Martha's +mind, that any young woman should have a follower, when the "missus" +didn't approve of it. She understood well enough that, in that matter +of followers, privileges are allowed to young ladies which are not +accorded to maid servants. A young lady may do things,—have young +men to walk and talk with them, to dance with them and embrace them, +and perhaps even more than this,—when for half so much a young woman +would be turned into the streets without a character. Martha knew all +this, and knew also that Miss Dorothy, though her mother lived in a +very little cottage, was not altogether debarred, in the matter of +followers, from the privileges of a lady. But yet Miss Dorothy's +position was so very peculiar! Look at that will,—or, rather, at +that embryo will, which might be made any day, which now probably +would be made, and which might affect them both so terribly! People +who have not got money should not fly in the face of those who have. +Such at least was Martha's opinion very strongly. How could she +congratulate Miss Dorothy under the existing circumstances? "I do +hope you will be happy, miss;—that you knows," said Martha, in her +difficulty. "And now, ma'am;—miss, I mean," she added, correcting +herself, in obedience to Miss Stanbury's direct orders about the +present,—"missus has just sent me over with a bit of lamb, and a +letter as is here in the basket, and to ask how you is,—and the +other ladies."</p> + +<p>"We are very much obliged," said Mrs. Stanbury, who had not +understood the point of Martha's speech.</p> + +<p>"My sister is, I'm sure," said Priscilla, who had understood it.</p> + +<p>Dorothy had taken the letter, and had gone aside with it, and was +reading it very carefully. It touched her nearly, and there had come +tears into both her eyes, as she dwelt upon it. There was something +in her aunt's allusion to the condition of unmarried women which came +home to her especially. She knew her aunt's past history, and now she +knew, or hoped that she knew, something of her own future destiny. +Her aunt was desolate, whereas upon her the world smiled most +benignly. Brooke had just informed her that he intended to make her +his wife as speedily as possible,—with her aunt's consent if +possible, but if not, then without it. He had ridiculed the idea of +his being stopped by Miss Stanbury's threats, and had said all this +in such fashion that even Priscilla herself had only listened and +obeyed. He had spoken not a word of his own income, and none of them +had dreamed even of asking him a question. He had been as a god in +the little cottage, and all of them had been ready to fall down and +worship him. Mrs. Stanbury had not known how to treat him with +sufficient deference, and, at the same time, with sufficient +affection. He had kissed them all round, and Priscilla had felt an +elation which was hardly intelligible to herself. Dorothy, who was so +much honoured, had come to enjoy a status in her mother's estimation +very different from that which she had previously possessed, and had +grown to be quite beautiful in her mother's eyes.</p> + +<p>There was once a family of three ancient maiden ladies, much +respected and loved in the town in which they lived. Their manners of +life were well known among their friends, and excited no surprise; +but a stranger to the locality once asked of the elder why Miss +Matilda, the younger, always went first out of the room? "Matilda +once had an offer of marriage," said the dear simple old lady, who +had never been so graced, and who felt that such an episode in life +was quite sufficient to bestow brevet rank. It was believed by Mrs. +Stanbury that Dorothy's honours would be carried further than those +of Miss Matilda, but there was much of the same feeling in the bosom +of the mother towards the fortunate daughter, who, in the eyes of a +man, had seemed goodly enough to be his wife.</p> + +<p>With this swelling happiness round her heart, Dorothy read her aunt's +letter, and was infinitely softened. "I had gotten somehow to love to +see your pretty face." Dorothy had thought little enough of her own +beauty, but she liked being told by her aunt that her face had been +found to be pretty. "I am very desolate and solitary here," her aunt +said; and then had come those words about the state of maiden +women;—and then those other words, about women's duties, and her +aunt's prayer on her behalf. "Dear Dorothy, be not such an one." She +held the letter to her lips and to her bosom, and could hardly +continue its perusal because of her tears. Such prayers from the aged +addressed to the young are generally held in light esteem, but this +adjuration was valued by the girl to whom it was addressed. She put +together the invitation,—or rather the permission accorded to her, +to make a visit to Exeter,—and the intimation in the postscript that +Martha knew her mistress's mind; and then she returned to the +sitting-room, in which Martha was still seated with her mother, and +took the old servant apart. "Martha," she said, "is my aunt happy +now?"</p> + +<p>"Well,—miss."</p> + +<p>"She is strong again; is she not?"</p> + +<p>"Sir Peter says she is getting well; and Mr. Martin—; but Mr. Martin +isn't much account."</p> + +<p>"She eats and drinks again?"</p> + +<p>"Pretty well;—not as it used to be, you know, miss. I tell her she +ought to go somewheres,—but she don't like moving nohow. She never +did. I tell her if she'd go to Dawlish,—just for a week. But she +don't think there's a bed fit to sleep on, nowhere, except just her +own."</p> + +<p>"She would go if Sir Peter told her."</p> + +<p>"She says that these movings are newfangled fashions, and that the +air didn't use to want changing for folk when she was young. I heard +her tell Sir Peter herself, that if she couldn't live at Exeter, she +would die there. She won't go nowheres, Miss Dorothy. She ain't +careful to live."</p> + +<p>"Tell me something, Martha; will you?"</p> + +<p>"What is it, Miss Dorothy?"</p> + +<p>"Be a dear good woman now, and tell me true. Would she be better if I +were with her?"</p> + +<p>"She don't like being alone, miss. I don't know nobody as does."</p> + +<p>"But now, about Mr. Brooke, you know."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr. Brooke! That's it."</p> + +<p>"Of course, Martha, I love him better than anything in all the world. +I can't tell you how it was, but I think I loved him the very first +moment I saw him."</p> + +<p>"Dear, dear, dear!"</p> + +<p>"I couldn't help it, Martha;—but it's no good talking about it, for +of course I shan't try to help it now. Only this,—that I would do +anything in the world for my aunt,—except that."</p> + +<p>"But she don't like it, Miss Dorothy. That is the truth, you know."</p> + +<p>"It can't be helped now, Martha; and of course she'll be told at +once. Shall I go and tell her? I'd go to-day if you think she would +like it."</p> + +<p>"And Mr. Brooke?"</p> + +<p>"He is to go to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"And will you leave him here?"</p> + +<p>"Why not? Nobody will hurt him. I don't mind a bit about having him +with me now. But I can tell you this. When he went away from us once +it made me very unhappy. Would Aunt Stanbury be glad to see me, +Martha?"</p> + +<p>Martha's reserve was at last broken down, and she expressed herself +in strong language. There was nothing on earth her mistress wanted so +much as to have her favourite niece back again. Martha acknowledged +that there were great difficulties about Brooke Burgess, and she did +not see her way clearly through them. Dorothy declared her purpose of +telling her aunt boldly,—at once. Martha shook her head, admiring +the honesty and courage, but doubting the result. She understood +better than did any one else the peculiarity of mind which made her +mistress specially anxious that none of the Stanbury family should +enjoy any portion of the Burgess money, beyond that which she herself +had saved out of the income. There had been moments in which Martha +had hoped that this prejudice might be overcome in favour of Hugh; +but it had become stronger as the old woman grew to be older and more +feeble,—and it was believed now to be settled as Fate. "She'd sooner +give it all to old Barty over the way," Martha had once said, "than +let it go to her own kith and kin. And if she do hate any human +creature, she do hate Barty Burgess." She assented, however, to +Dorothy's proposal; and, though Mrs. Stanbury and Priscilla were +astounded by the precipitancy of the measure they did not attempt to +oppose it.</p> + +<p>"And what am I to do?" said Brooke, when he was told.</p> + +<p>"You'll come to-morrow, of course," said Dorothy.</p> + +<p>"But it may be that the two of us together will be too many for the +dear old lunatic."</p> + +<p>"You shan't call her a lunatic, Brooke. She isn't so much a lunatic +as you are, to run counter to her, and disobey her, and all that kind +of thing."</p> + +<p>"And how about yourself?"</p> + +<p>"How can I help it, Brooke? It is you that say it must be so."</p> + +<p>"Of course it must. Who is to be stayed from doing what is reasonable +because an old woman has a bee on her bonnet. I don't believe in +people's wills."</p> + +<p>"She can do what she likes about it, Brooke."</p> + +<p>"Of course she can, and of course she will. What I mean is that it +never pays to do this or that because somebody may alter his will, or +may make a will, or may not make a will. You become a slave for life, +and then your dead tyrant leaves you a mourning-ring, and grins at +you out of his grave. All the same she'll kick up a row, I fancy, and +you'll have to bear the worst of it."</p> + +<p>"I'll tell her the truth; and if she be very angry, I'll just come +home again. But I think I'll come home to-morrow any way, so that +I'll pass you on the road. That will be best. She won't want us both +together. Only then, Brooke, I shan't see you again."</p> + +<p>"Not till June."</p> + +<p>"And is it to be really in June?"</p> + +<p>"You say you don't like May."</p> + +<p>"You are such a goose, Brooke. It will be May almost to-morrow. I +shall be such a poor wife for you, Brooke. As for getting my things +ready, I shall not bring hardly any things at all. Have you thought +what it is to take a body so very poor?"</p> + +<p>"I own I haven't thought as much about it, Dolly,—as I ought to have +done, perhaps."</p> + +<p>"It is too late now, Brooke."</p> + +<p>"I suppose it is."</p> + +<p>"Quite too late. A week ago I could have borne it. I had almost got +myself to think that it would be better that I should bear it. But +you have come, and banished all the virtue out of my head. I am +ashamed of myself, because I am so unworthy; but I would put up with +that shame rather than lose you now. Brooke, Brooke, I will so try to +be good to you!"</p> + +<p>In the afternoon Martha and Dorothy started together for Exeter, +Brooke and Priscilla accompanying them as far as Mrs. Crocket's, +where the Lessboro' fly was awaiting them. Dorothy said little or +nothing during the walk, nor, indeed, was she very communicative +during the journey into Exeter. She was going to her aunt, instigated +simply by the affection of her full heart; but she was going with a +tale in her mouth which she knew would be very unwelcome. She could +not save herself from feeling that, in having accepted Brooke, and in +having not only accepted him but even fixed the day for her marriage, +she had been ungrateful to her aunt. Had it not been for her aunt's +kindness and hospitality, she would never have seen Brooke Burgess. +And as she had been under her aunt's care at Exeter, she doubted +whether she had not been guilty of some great fault in falling in +love with this man, in opposition as it were to express orders. +Should her aunt still declare that she would in no way countenance +the marriage, that she would still oppose it and use her influence +with Brooke to break it off, then would Dorothy return on the morrow +to her mother's cottage at Nuncombe Putney, so that her lover might +be free to act with her aunt as he might think fit. And should he +yield, she would endeavour,—she would struggle hard, to think that +he was still acting for the best. "I must tell her myself, Martha," +said Dorothy, as they came near to Exeter.</p> + +<p>"Certainly, miss;—only you'll do it to-night."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—at once. As soon after I get there as possible."</p> + + +<p><a name="c73" id="c73"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXIII.</h3> +<h4>DOROTHY RETURNS TO EXETER.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Miss Stanbury perfectly understood that Martha was to come back by +the train reaching Exeter at 7 p.m., and that she might be expected +in the Close about a quarter-of-an-hour after that time. She had been +nervous and anxious all day,—so much so that Mr. Martin had told her +that she must be very careful. "That's all very well," the old woman +had said, "but you haven't got any medicine for my complaint, Mr. +Martin." The apothecary had assured her that the worst of her +complaint was in the east wind, and had gone away begging her to be +very careful. "It is not God's breezes that are hard to any one," the +old lady had said to herself,—"but our own hearts." After her lonely +dinner she had fidgeted about the room, and had rung twice for the +girl, not knowing what order to give when the servant came to her. +She was very anxious about her tea, but would not have it brought to +her till after Martha should have arrived. She was half-minded to +order that a second cup and saucer should be placed there, but she +had not the courage to face the disappointment which would fall upon +her, should the cup and saucer stand there for no purpose. And yet, +should she come, how nice it would be to shew her girl that her old +aunt had been ready for her. Thrice she went to the window after the +cathedral clock had struck seven, to see whether her ambassador was +returning. From her window there was only one very short space of +pathway on which she could have seen her,—and, as it happened, there +came the ring at the door, and no ambassador had as yet been viewed. +Miss Stanbury was immediately off her seat, and out upon the landing. +"Here we are again, Miss Dorothy," said Martha. Then Miss Stanbury +could not restrain herself,—but descended the stairs, moving as she +had never moved since she had first been ill. "My bairn," she said; +"my dearest bairn! I thought that perhaps it might be so. Jane, +another tea-cup and saucer up-stairs." What a pity that she had not +ordered it before! "And get a hot cake, Jane. You will be ever so +hungry, my darling, after your journey."</p> + +<p>"Are you glad to see me, Aunt Stanbury?" said Dorothy.</p> + +<p>"Glad, my pretty one!" Then she put up her hands, and smoothed down +the girl's cheeks, and kissed her, and patted Martha on the back, and +scolded her at the same time for not bringing Miss Dorothy from the +station in a cab. "And what is the meaning of that little bag?" she +said. "You shall go back for the rest yourself, Martha, because it is +your own fault." Martha knew that all this was pleasant enough;—but +then her mistress's moods would sometimes be changed so suddenly! How +would it be when Miss Stanbury knew that Brooke Burgess had been left +behind at Nuncombe Putney?</p> + +<p>"You see I didn't stay to eat any of the lamb," said Dorothy, +smiling.</p> + +<p>"You shall have a calf instead, my dear," said Miss Stanbury, +"because you are a returned prodigal."</p> + +<p>All this was very pleasant, and Miss Stanbury was so happy dispensing +her tea, and the hot cake, and the clotted cream, and was so intent +upon her little methods of caressing and petting her niece, that +Dorothy had no heart to tell her story while the plates and cups were +still upon the table. She had not, perhaps, cared much for the hot +cake, having such a weight upon her mind, but she had seemed to care, +understanding well that she might so best conduce to her aunt's +comfort. Miss Stanbury was a woman who could not bear that the good +things which she had provided for a guest should not be enjoyed. She +could taste with a friend's palate, and drink with a friend's throat. +But when debarred these vicarious pleasures by what seemed to her to +be the caprice of her guests, she would be offended. It had been one +of the original sins of Camilla and Arabella French that they would +declare at her tea-table that they had dined late and could not eat +tea-cake. Dorothy knew all this,—and did her duty;—but with a heavy +heart. There was the story to be told, and she had promised Martha +that it should be told to-night. She was quite aware, too, +independently of her promise, that it was necessary that it should be +told to-night. It was very sad,—very grievous that the dear old +lady's happiness should be disturbed so soon; but it must be done. +When the tea-things were being taken away her aunt was still purring +round her, and saying gentle, loving words. Dorothy bore it as well +as she could,—bore it well, smiling and kissing her aunt's hand, and +uttering now and then some word of affection. But the thing had to be +done; and as soon as the room was quiet for a moment, she jumped up +from her chair and began. "Aunt Stanbury, I must tell you something +at once. Who, do you think, is at Nuncombe Putney?"</p> + +<p>"Not Brooke Burgess?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, he is. He is there now, and is to be here with you to-morrow."</p> + +<p>The whole colour and character of Miss Stanbury's face was changed in +a moment. She had been still purring up to the moment in which this +communication had been made to her. Her gratification had come to her +from the idea that her pet had come back to her from love of her,—as +in very truth had been the case; but now it seemed that Dorothy had +returned to ask for a great favour for herself. And she reflected at +once that Brooke had passed through Exeter without seeing her. If he +was determined to marry without reference to her, he might at any +rate have had the grace to come to her and say so. She, in the +fulness of her heart, had written words of affection to Dorothy;—and +both Dorothy and Brooke had at once taken advantage of her +expressions for their own purposes. Such was her reading of the story +of the day. "He need not trouble himself to come here now," she said.</p> + +<p>"Dear aunt, do not say that."</p> + +<p>"I do say it. He need not trouble himself to come now. When I said +that I should be glad to see you, I did not intend that you should +meet Mr. Burgess under my roof. I did not wish to have you both +together."</p> + +<p>"How could I help coming, when you wrote to me like that?"</p> + +<p>"It is very well,—but he need not come. He knows the way from +Nuncombe to London without stopping at Exeter."</p> + +<p>"Aunt Stanbury, you must let me tell it you all."</p> + +<p>"There is no more to tell, I should think."</p> + +<p>"But there is more. You knew what he thought about me, and what he +wished."</p> + +<p>"He is his own master, my dear;—and you are your own mistress."</p> + +<p>"If you speak to me like that you will kill me, Aunt Stanbury. I did +not think of coming; only when Martha brought your dear letter I +could not help it. But he was coming. He meant to come to-morrow, and +he will. Of course he must defend himself, if you are angry with +him."</p> + +<p>"He need not defend himself at all."</p> + +<p>"I told them, and I told him, that I would only stay one night,—if +you did not wish that we should be here together. You must see him, +Aunt Stanbury. You would not refuse to see him."</p> + +<p>"If you please, my dear, you must allow me to judge whom I will see."</p> + +<p>After that the discussion ceased between them for awhile, and Miss +Stanbury left the room that she might hold a consultation with +Martha. Dorothy went up to her chamber, and saw that everything had +been prepared for her with most scrupulous care. Nothing could be +whiter, neater, cleaner, nicer than was everything that surrounded +her. She had perceived while living under her aunt's roof, how, +gradually, small, delicate feminine comforts had been increased for +her. Martha had been told that Miss Dorothy ought to have this, and +that Miss Dorothy ought to have that; till at last she, who had +hitherto known nothing of the small luxuries that come from an easy +income, had felt ashamed of the prettinesses that had been added to +her. Now she could see at once that infinite care had been used to +make her room bright and smiling,—only in the hope that she would +return. As soon as she saw it all, she sat down on her bed and burst +out into tears. Was it not hard upon her that she should be forced +into such ingratitude! Every comfort prepared for her was a coal of +hot fire upon her head. And yet what had she done that she ought not +to have done? Was it unreasonable that she should have loved this +man, when they two were brought together? And had she even dared to +think of him otherwise than as an acquaintance till he had compelled +her to confess her love? And after that had she not tried to separate +herself from him, so that they two,—her aunt and her lover,—might +be divided by no quarrel? Had not Priscilla told her that she was +right in all that she was doing? Nevertheless, in spite of all this, +she could not refrain from accusing herself of ingratitude towards +her aunt. And she began to think it would have been better for her +now to have remained at home, and have allowed Brooke to come alone +to Exeter than to have obeyed the impulse which had arisen from the +receipt of her aunt's letter. When she went down again she found +herself alone in the room, and she was beginning to think that it was +intended that she should go to bed without again seeing her aunt; but +at last Miss Stanbury came to her, with a sad countenance, but +without that look of wrath which Dorothy knew so well. "My dear," she +said, "it will be better that Mr. Burgess should go up to London +to-morrow. I will see him, of course, if he chooses to come, and +Martha shall meet him at the station and explain it. If you do not +mind, I would prefer that you should not meet him here."</p> + +<p>"I meant only to stay one night, aunt."</p> + +<p>"That is nonsense. If I am to part with either of you, I will part +with him. You are dearer to me than he is. Dorothy, you do not know +how dear to me you are."</p> + +<p>Dorothy immediately fell on her knees at her aunt's feet, and hid her +face in her aunt's lap. Miss Stanbury twined round her fingers the +soft hair which she loved so well,—because it was a grace given by +God and not bought out of a shop,—and caressed the girl's head, and +muttered something that was intended for a prayer. "If he will let +me, aunt, I will give him up," said Dorothy, looking up into her +aunt's face. "If he will say that I may, though I shall love him +always, he may go."</p> + +<p>"He is his own master," said Miss Stanbury. "Of course he is his own +master."</p> + +<p>"Will you let me return to-morrow,—just for a few days,—and then +you can talk to him as you please. I did not mean to come to stay. I +wished him good-bye because I knew that I should not meet him here."</p> + +<p>"You always talk of going away, Dorothy, as soon as ever you are in +the house. You are always threatening me."</p> + +<p>"I will come again, the moment you tell me. If he goes in the +morning, I will be here the same evening. And I will write to him, +Aunt Stanbury, and tell him,—that he is—quite free,—quite +free,—quite free."</p> + +<p>Miss Stanbury made no reply to this, but sat, still playing with her +niece's hair. "I think I will go to bed," she said at last. "It is +past ten. You need not go to Nuncombe, Dorothy. Martha shall meet +him, and he can see me here. But I do not wish him to stay in the +house. You can go over and call on Mrs. MacHugh. Mrs. MacHugh will +take it well of you that you should call on her." Dorothy made no +further opposition to this arrangement, but kissed her aunt, and went +to her chamber.</p> + +<p>How was it all to be for her? For the last two days she had been +radiant with new happiness. Everything had seemed to be settled. Her +lover, in his high-handed way, had declared that in no important +crisis of life would he allow himself to be driven out of his way by +the fear of what an old woman might do in her will. When Dorothy +assured him that not for worlds would she, though she loved him +dearly, injure his material prospects, he had thrown it all aside, +after a grand fashion, that had really made the girl think that all +Miss Stanbury's money was as nothing to his love for her. She and +Priscilla and her mother had been carried away so entirely by +Brooke's oratory as to feel for the time that the difficulties were +entirely conquered. But now the aspect of things was so different! +Whatever Brooke might owe to Miss Stanbury, she, Dorothy, owed her +aunt everything. She would immolate herself,—if Brooke would only +let her. She did not quite understand her aunt's stubborn opposition; +but she knew that there was some great cause for her aunt's feeling +on the matter. There had been a promise made, or an oath sworn, that +the property of the Burgess family should not go into the hands of +any Stanbury. Dorothy told herself that, were she married, she would +be a Stanbury no longer;—that her aunt would still comply with the +obligation she had fixed for herself; but, nevertheless, she was +ready to believe that her aunt might be right. Her aunt had always +declared that it should be so; and Dorothy, knowing this, confessed +to herself that she should have kept her heart under better control. +Thinking of these things, she went to the table, where paper and ink +and pens had all been prepared for her so prettily, and began her +letter to Brooke. "Dearest, dearest Brooke." But then she thought +that this was not a fair keeping of her promise, and she began again. +"My dear Brooke." The letter, however, did not get itself written +that night. It was almost impossible for her to write it. "I think it +will be better for you," she had tried to say, "to be guided by my +aunt." But how could she say this when she did not believe it? It was +her wish to make him understand that she would never think ill of +him, for a moment, if he would make up his mind to abandon her;—but +she could not find the words to express herself,—and she went, at +last, to bed, leaving the half-covered paper upon the table.</p> + +<p>She went to bed, and cried herself to sleep. It had been so sweet to +have a lover,—a man of her own, to whom she could say what she +pleased, from whom she had a right to ask for counsel and protection, +a man who delighted to be near her, and to make much of her. In +comparison with her old mode of living, her old ideas of life, her +life with such a lover was passed in an elysium. She had entered from +barren lands into so rich a paradise! But there is no paradise, as +she now found, without apples which must be eaten, and which lead to +sorrow. She regretted in this hour that she had ever seen Brooke +Burgess. After all, with her aunt's love and care for her, with her +mother and sister near her, with the respect of those who knew her, +why should the lands have been barren, even had there been no +entrance for her into that elysium? And did it not all result in +this,—that the elysium to be desired should not be here; that the +paradise, without the apples, must be waited for till beyond the +grave? It is when things go badly with us here, and for most of us +only then, that we think that we can see through the dark clouds into +the joys of heaven. But at last she slept, and in her dreams Brooke +was sitting with her in Niddon Park with his arm tight clasped round +her waist.</p> + +<p>She slept so soundly, that when a step crept silently into her room, +and when a light was held for awhile over her face, neither the step +nor the light awakened her. She was lying with her head back upon the +pillow, and her arm hung by the bedside, and her lips were open, and +her loose hair was spread upon the pillow. The person who stood there +with the light thought that there never had been a fairer sight. +Everything there was so pure, so sweet, so good! She was one whose +only selfish happiness could come to her from the belief that others +loved her. The step had been very soft, and even the breath of the +intruder was not allowed to pass heavily into the air, but the light +of the candle shone upon the eyelids of the sleeper, and she moved +her head restlessly on the pillow. "Dorothy, are you awake? Can you +speak to me?"</p> + +<p>Then the disturbed girl gradually opened her eyes and gazed upwards, +and raised herself in her bed, and sat wondering. "Is anything the +matter, aunt?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Only the vagaries of an old woman, my pet,—of an old woman who +cannot sleep in her bed."</p> + + +<div class="center"><a name="ip2-183" id="ip2-183"></a> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="4px"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/p2-183.jpg"> + <img src="images/p2-183-t.jpg" width="540" + alt='"Only the vagaries of an old woman."' /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <span class="caption">"Only the vagaries of an old woman."<br /> + Click to <a href="images/p2-183.jpg">ENLARGE</a></span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p>"But what is it, aunt?"</p> + +<p>"Kiss me, dearest." Then with something of slumber still about her, +Dorothy raised herself in her bed, and placed her arm on her aunt's +shoulder and embraced her. "And now for my news," said Miss Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"What news, aunt? It isn't morning yet; is it?"</p> + +<p>"No;—it is not morning. You shall sleep again presently. I have +thought of it, and you shall be Brooke's wife, and I will have it +here, and we will all be friends."</p> + +<p>"What!"</p> + +<p>"You will like that;—will you not?"</p> + +<p>"And you will not quarrel with him? What am I to say? What am I to +do?" She was, in truth, awake now, and, not knowing what she did, she +jumped out of bed, and stood holding her aunt by the arm.</p> + +<p>"It is not a dream," said Miss Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"Are you sure that it is not a dream? And may he come here +to-morrow?"</p> + +<p>"Of course he will come to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"And may I see him, Aunt Stanbury?"</p> + +<p>"Not if you go home, my dear."</p> + +<p>"But I won't go home. And will you tell him? Oh dear, oh dear! Aunt +Stanbury, I do not think that I believe it yet."</p> + +<p>"You will catch cold, my dear, if you stay there trying to believe +it. You have nothing on. Get into bed and believe it there. You will +have time to think of it before the morning." Then Miss Stanbury went +back to her own chamber, and Dorothy was left alone to realise her +bliss.</p> + +<p>She thought of all her life for the last twelve months,—of the first +invitation to Exeter, and the doubts of the family as to its +acceptance, of her arrival and of her own doubts as to the +possibility of her remaining, of Mr. Gibson's courtship and her +aunt's disappointment, of Brooke's coming, of her love and of +his,—and then of her departure back to Nuncombe. After that had come +the triumph of Brooke's visit, and then the terrible sadness of her +aunt's displeasure. But now everything was good and glorious. She did +not care for money herself. She thought that she never could care +much for being rich. But had she made Brooke poor by marrying him, +that must always have been to her matter of regret, if not of +remorse. But now it was all to be smooth and sweet. Now a paradise +was to be opened to her, with no apples which she might not eat;—no +apples which might not, but still must, be eaten. She thought that it +would be impossible that she should sleep again that night; but she +did sleep, and dreamed that Brooke was holding her in Niddon Park, +tighter than ever.</p> + +<p>When the morning came she trembled as she walked down into the +parlour. Might it not still be possible that it was all a dream? Or +what if her aunt should again have changed her purpose? But the first +moment of her aunt's presence told her that there was nothing to +fear. "How did you sleep, Dorothy?" said the old lady.</p> + +<p>"Dear aunt, I do not know. Was it all sleep?"</p> + +<p>"What shall we say to Brooke when he comes?"</p> + +<p>"You shall tell him."</p> + +<p>"No, dearest, you must tell him. And you must say to him that if he +is not good to my girl, and does not love her always, and cling to +her, and keep her from harm, and be in truth her loving husband, I +will hold him to be the most ungrateful of human beings." And before +Brooke came, she spoke again. "I wonder whether he thinks you as +pretty as I do, Dolly?"</p> + +<p>"He never said that he thought me pretty at all."</p> + +<p>"Did he not? Then he shall say so, or he shall not have you. It was +your looks won me first, Dolly,—like an old fool as I am. It is so +pleasant to have a little nature after such a deal of artifice." In +which latter remarks it was quite understood that Miss Stanbury was +alluding to her enemies at Heavitree.</p> + + +<p><a name="c74" id="c74"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXIV.</h3> +<h4>THE LIONESS AROUSED.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Brooke Burgess had been to Exeter and had gone,—for he only remained +there one night,—and everything was apparently settled. It was not +exactly told through Exeter that Miss Stanbury's heir was to be +allowed to marry Miss Stanbury's niece; but Martha knew it, and Giles +Hickbody guessed it, and Dorothy was allowed to tell her mother and +sister, and Brooke himself, in his own careless way, had mentioned +the matter to his uncle Barty. As Miss Stanbury had also told the +secret in confidence to Mrs. MacHugh, it cannot be said that it was +altogether well kept. Four days after Brooke's departure the news +reached the Frenches at Heavitree. It was whispered to Camilla by one +of the shopmen with whom she was still arranging her marriage +trousseau, and was repeated by her to her mother and sister with some +additions which were not intended to be good-natured. "He gets her +and the money together as a bargain—of course," said Camilla. "I +only hope the money won't be found too dear."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he won't get it after all," said Arabella.</p> + +<p>"That would be cruel," replied Camilla. "I don't think that even Miss +Stanbury is so false as that."</p> + +<p>Things were going very badly at Heavitree. There was war there, +almost everlastingly, though such little playful conversations as the +above shewed that there might be an occasional lull in the battle. +Mr. Gibson was not doing his duty. That was clear enough. Even Mrs. +French, when she was appealed to with almost frantic energy by her +younger daughter, could not but acknowledge that he was very remiss +as a lover. And Camilla, in her fury, was very imprudent. That very +frantic energy which induced her to appeal to her mother was, in +itself, proof of her imprudence. She knew that she was foolish, but +she could not control her passion. Twice had she detected Arabella in +receiving notes from Mr. Gibson, which she did not see, and of which +it had been intended that she should know nothing. And once, when she +spent a night away at Ottery St. Mary with a friend,—a visit which +was specially prefatory to marriage, and made in reference to +bridesmaids' dresses,—Arabella had had,—so at least Camilla was +made to believe,—a secret meeting with Mr. Gibson in some of the +lanes which lead down from Heavitree to the Topsham road.</p> + +<p>"I happened to meet him, and spoke two words to him," said Arabella. +"Would you have me cut him?"</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what it is, Bella;—if there is any underhand game +going on that I don't understand, all Exeter shall be on fire before +you shall carry it out."</p> + +<p>Bella made no answer to this, but shrugged her shoulders. Camilla was +almost at a loss to guess what might be the truth. Would not any +sister, so accused on such an occasion, rebut the accusation with +awful wrath? But Arabella simply shrugged her shoulders, and went her +way. It was now the 15th of April, and there wanted but one short +fortnight to their marriage. The man had not the courage to jilt her! +She felt sure that he had not heart enough to do a deed of such +audacity. And her sister, too, was weak and a coward, and would lack +the power to stand on her legs and declare herself to be the +perpetrator of such villany. Her mother, as she knew well, would +always have preferred that her elder daughter should be the bride; +but her mother was not the woman to have the hardihood, now, in the +eleventh hour, to favour such an intrigue. Let her wish be what it +might, she would not be strong enough to carry through the +accomplishment of it. They would all know that that threat of hers of +setting Exeter on fire would be carried out after some fashion that +would not be inadequate to the occasion. A sister, a mother, a +promised lover, all false,—all so damnably, cruelly false! It was +impossible. No history, no novel of most sensational interest, no +wonderful villany that had ever been wrought into prose or poetry, +would have been equal to this. It was impossible. She told herself so +a score of times a day. And yet the circumstances were so terribly +suspicious! Mr. Gibson's conduct as a lover was simply disgraceful to +him as a man and a clergyman. He was full of excuses, which she knew +to be false. He would never come near her if he could help it. When +he was with her, he was as cold as an archbishop both in word and in +action. Nothing would tempt him to any outward manifestation of +affection. He would talk of nothing but the poor women of St. +Peter-cum-Pumpkin in the city, and the fraudulent idleness of a +certain colleague in the cathedral services, who was always shirking +his work. He made her no presents. He never walked with her. He was +always gloomy,—and he had indeed so behaved himself in public that +people were beginning to talk of "poor Mr. Gibson." And yet he could +meet Arabella on the sly in the lanes, and send notes to her by the +green-grocer's boy! Poor Mr. Gibson indeed! Let her once get him well +over the 29th of April, and the people of Exeter might talk about +poor Mr. Gibson if they pleased. And Bella's conduct was more +wonderful almost than that of Mr. Gibson. With all her cowardice, she +still held up her head,—held it perhaps a little higher than was +usual with her. And when that grievous accusation was made against +her,—made and repeated,—an accusation the very thought and sound of +which would almost have annihilated her had there been a decent +feeling in her bosom, she would simply shrug her shoulders and walk +away. "Camilla," she had once said, "you will drive that man mad +before you have done." "What is it to you how I drive him?" Camilla +had answered in her fury. Then Arabella had again shrugged her +shoulders and walked away. Between Camilla and her mother, too, there +had come to be an almost internecine quarrel on a collateral point. +Camilla was still carrying on a vast arrangement which she called the +preparation of her trousseau, but which both Mrs. French and Bella +regarded as a spoliation of the domestic nest, for the proud purposes +of one of the younger birds. And this had grown so fearfully that in +two different places Mrs. French had found herself compelled to +request that no further articles might be supplied to Miss Camilla. +The bride elect had rebelled, alleging that as no fortune was to be +provided for her, she had a right to take with her such things as she +could carry away in her trunks and boxes. Money could be had at the +bank, she said; and, after all, what were fifty pounds more or less +on such an occasion as this? And then she went into a calculation to +prove that her mother and sister would be made so much richer by her +absence, and that she was doing so much for them by her marriage, +that nothing could be more mean in them than that they should +hesitate to supply her with such things as she desired to make her +entrance into Mr. Gibson's house respectable. But Mrs. French was +obdurate, and Mr. Gibson was desired to speak to her. Mr. Gibson, in +fear and trembling, told her that she ought to repress her spirit of +extravagance, and Camilla at once foresaw that he would avail himself +of this plea against her should he find it possible at any time to +avail himself of any plea. She became ferocious, and, turning upon +him, told him to mind his own business. Was it not all for him that +she was doing it? "She was not," she said, "disposed to submit to any +control in such matters from him till he had assumed his legal right +to it by standing with her before the altar." It came, however, to be +known all over Exeter that Miss Camilla's expenditure had been +checked, and that, in spite of the joys naturally incidental to a +wedding, things were not going well with the ladies at Heavitree.</p> + +<p>At last the blow came. Camilla was aware that on a certain morning +her mother had been to Mr. Gibson's house, and had held a long +conference with him. She could learn nothing of what took place +there, for at that moment she had taken upon herself to place herself +on non-speaking terms with her mother in consequence of those +disgraceful orders which had been given to the tradesmen. But Bella +had not been at Mr. Gibson's house at the time, and Camilla, though +she presumed that her own conduct had been discussed in a manner very +injurious to herself, did not believe that any step was being then +arranged which would be positively antagonistic to her own views. The +day fixed was now so very near, that there could, she felt, be no +escape for the victim. But she was wrong.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gibson had been found by Mrs. French in a very excited state on +that occasion. He had wept, and pulled his hair, and torn open his +waistcoat, had spoken of himself as a wretch,—pleading, however, at +the same time, that he was more sinned against than sinning, had +paced about the room with his hands dashing against his brows, and at +last had flung himself prostrate on the ground. The meaning of it all +was, that he had tried very hard, and had found at last that "he +couldn't do it." "I am ready to submit," said he, "to any verdict +that you may pronounce against me, but I should deceive you and +deceive her if I didn't say at once that I can't do it." He went on +to explain that since he had unfortunately entered into his present +engagement with Camilla,—of whose position he spoke in quite a +touching manner,—and since he had found what was the condition of +his own heart and feelings he had consulted a friend,—who, if any +merely human being was capable of advising, might be implicitly +trusted for advice in such a matter,—and that his friend had told +him that he was bound to give up the marriage let the consequences to +himself or to others be what they might. "Although the skies should +fall on me, I cannot stand at the hymeneal altar with a lie in my +mouth," said Mr. Gibson immediately upon his rising from his +prostrate condition on the floor. In such a position as this a +mother's fury would surely be very great! But Mrs. French was hardly +furious. She cried, and begged him to think better of it, and assured +him that Camilla, when she should be calmed down by matrimony, would +not be so bad as she seemed;—but she was not furious. "The truth is, +Mr. Gibson," she said through her tears, "that, after all, you like +Bella best." Mr. Gibson owned that he did like Bella best, and +although no bargain was made between them then and there,—and such +making of a bargain then and there would hardly have been +practicable,—it was understood that Mrs. French would not proceed to +extremities if Mr. Gibson would still make himself forthcoming as a +husband for the advantage of one of the daughters of the family.</p> + +<p>So far Mr. Gibson had progressed towards a partial liberation from +his thraldom with a considerable amount of courage; but he was well +aware that the great act of daring still remained to be done. He had +suggested to Mrs. French that she should settle the matter with +Camilla,—but this Mrs. French had altogether declined to do. It +must, she said, come from himself. If she were to do it, she must +sympathise with her child; and such sympathy would be obstructive of +the future arrangements which were still to be made. "She always knew +that I liked Bella best," said Mr. Gibson,—still sobbing, still +tearing his hair, still pacing the room with his waistcoat torn open. +"I would not advise you to tell her that," said Mrs. French. Then +Mrs. French went home, and early on the following morning it was +thought good by Arabella that she also should pay a visit at Ottery +St. Mary's. "Good-bye, Cammy," said Arabella as she went. "Bella," +said Camilla, "I wonder whether you are a serpent. I do not think you +can be so base a serpent as that." "I declare, Cammy, you do say such +odd things that no one can understand what you mean." And so she +went.</p> + +<p>On that morning Mr. Gibson was walking at an early hour along the +road from Exeter to Cowley, contemplating his position and striving +to arrange his plans. What was he to do, and how was he to do it? He +was prepared to throw up his living, to abandon the cathedral, to +leave the diocese,—to make any sacrifice rather than take Camilla to +his bosom. Within the last six weeks he had learned to regard her +with almost a holy horror. He could not understand by what miracle of +self-neglect he had fallen into so perilous an abyss. He had long +known Camilla's temper. But in those days in which he had been beaten +like a shuttlecock between the Stanburys and the Frenches, he had +lost his head and had done,—he knew not what. "Those whom the God +chooses to destroy, he first maddens," said Mr. Gibson to himself of +himself, throwing himself back upon early erudition and pagan +philosophy. Then he looked across to the river Exe, and thought that +there was hardly water enough there to cover the multiplicity of his +sorrows.</p> + +<p>But something must be done. He had proceeded so far in forming a +resolution, as he reached St. David's Church on his return homewards. +His sagacious friend had told him that as soon as he had altered his +mind, he was bound to let the lady know of it without delay. "You +must remember," said the sagacious friend, "that you will owe her +much,—very much." Mr. Gibson was perplexed in his mind when he +reflected how much he might possibly be made to owe her if she should +decide on appealing to a jury of her countrymen for justice. But +anything would be better than his home at St. Peter's-cum-Pumpkin +with Camilla sitting opposite to him as his wife. Were there not +distant lands in which a clergyman, unfortunate but still energetic, +might find work to do? Was there not all America?—and were there not +Australia, New Zealand, Natal, all open to him? Would not a +missionary career among the Chinese be better for him than St. +Peter's-cum-Pumpkin with Camilla French for his wife? By the time he +had reached home his mind was made up. He would write a letter to +Camilla at once; and he would marry Arabella at once,—on any day +that might be fixed,—on condition that Camilla would submit to her +defeat without legal redress. If legal redress should be demanded, he +would put in evidence the fact that her own mother had been compelled +to caution the tradesmen of the city in regard to her extravagance.</p> + +<p>He did write his letter,—in an agony of spirit. "I sit down, +Camilla, with a sad heart and a reluctant hand," he said,<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent">to communicate to you a fatal +truth. But truth should be +made to prevail, and there is nothing in man so cowardly, +so detrimental, and so unmanly as its concealment. I have +looked into myself, and have inquired of myself, and have +assured myself, that were I to become your husband, I +should not make you happy. It would be of no use for me +now to dilate on the reasons which have convinced me;—but +I am convinced, and I consider it my duty to inform you so +at once. I have been closeted with your mother, and have +made her understand that it is so.</p> + +<p>I have not a word to say in my own justification but +this,—that I am sure I am acting honestly in telling you +the truth. I would not wish to say a word animadverting on +yourself. If there must be blame in this matter, I am +willing to take it all on my own shoulders. But things +have been done of late, and words have been spoken, and +habits have displayed themselves, which would not, I am +sure, conduce to our mutual comfort in this world, or to +our assistance to each other in our struggles to reach the +happiness of the world to come.</p> + +<p>I think that you will agree with me, Camilla, that when a +man or a woman has fallen into such a mistake as that +which I have now made, it is best that it should be +acknowledged. I know well that such a change of +arrangements as that which I now propose will be regarded +most unfavourably. But will not anything be better than +the binding of a matrimonial knot which cannot be again +unloosed, and which we should both regret?</p> + +<p>I do not know that I need add anything further. What can I +add further? Only this;—that I am inflexible. Having +resolved to take this step,—and to bear the evil things +that may be said of me,—for your happiness and for my own +tranquility,—I shall not now relinquish my resolution. I +do not ask you to forgive me. I doubt much whether I shall +ever be quite able to forgive myself. The mistake which I +have made is one which should not have been committed. I +do not ask you to forgive me; but I do ask you to pray +that I may be forgiven.</p> + +<p class="ind6">Yours, with feelings of the truest friendship,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Thomas +Gibson</span>.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>The letter had been very difficult, but he was rather proud of it +than otherwise when it was completed. He had felt that he was writing +a letter which not improbably might become public property. It was +necessary that he should be firm, that he should accuse himself a +little in order that he might excuse himself much, and that he should +hint at causes which might justify the rupture, though he should so +veil them as not to appear to defend his own delinquency by +ungenerous counter-accusation. When he had completed the letter, he +thought that he had done all this rather well, and he sent the +despatch off to Heavitree by the clerk of St. Peter's Church, with +something of that feeling of expressible relief which attends the +final conquest over some fatal and all but insuperable misfortune. He +thought that he was sure now that he would not have to marry Camilla +on the 29th of the month,—and there would probably be a period of +some hours before he would be called upon to hear or read Camilla's +reply.</p> + +<p>Camilla was alone when she received the letter, but she rushed at +once to her mother. "There," said she; "there—I knew that it was +coming!" Mrs. French took the paper into her hands, and gasped, and +gazed at her daughter without speaking. "You knew of it, mother."</p> + +<p>"Yesterday,—when he told me, I knew of it."</p> + +<p>"And Bella knows it."</p> + +<p>"Not a word of it."</p> + +<p>"She does. I am sure she does. But it is all nothing. I will not +accept it. He cannot treat me so. I will drag him there;—but he +shall come."</p> + +<p>"You can't make him, my dear."</p> + +<p>"I will make him. And you would help me, mamma, if you had any +spirit. What,—a fortnight before the time, when the things are all +bought! Look at the presents that have been sent! Mamma, he doesn't +know me. And he never would have done it, if it had not been for +Bella,—never. She had better take care, or there shall be such a +tragedy that nobody ever heard the like. If she thinks that she is +going to be that man's wife,—she is—mistaken." Then there was a +pause for a moment. "Mamma," she said, "I shall go to him at once. I +do not care in the least what anybody may say. I shall—go to +him,—at once." Mrs. French felt that at this moment it was best that +she should be silent.</p> + + +<p><a name="c75" id="c75"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXV.</h3> +<h4>THE ROWLEYS GO OVER THE ALPS.<br /> </h4> + + +<p><img class="left" src="images/ch75a.jpg" width="310" alt="Illustration" /> +By the thirteenth of May the Rowley family had established itself in +Florence, purposing to remain either there or at the baths of Lucca +till the end of June, at which time it was thought that Sir Marmaduke +should begin to make preparations for his journey back to the +Islands. Their future prospects were not altogether settled. It was +not decided whether Lady Rowley should at once return with him, +whether Mrs. Trevelyan should return with him,—nor was it settled +among them what should be the fate of Nora Rowley. Nora Rowley was +quite resolved herself that she would not go back to the Islands, and +had said as much to her mother. Lady Rowley had not repeated this to +Sir Marmaduke, and was herself in doubt as to what might best be +done. Girls are understood by their mothers better than they are by +their fathers. Lady Rowley was beginning to be aware that Nora's +obstinacy was too strong to be overcome by mere words, and that other +steps must be taken if she were to be weaned from her pernicious +passion for Hugh Stanbury. Mr. Glascock was still in Florence. Might +she not be cured by further overtures from Mr. Glascock? The chance +of securing such a son-in-law was so important, so valuable, that no +trouble was too great to be incurred, even though the probability of +success might not be great.</p> + +<p>It must not, however, be supposed that Lady Rowley carried off all +the family to Italy, including Sir Marmaduke, simply in chase of Mr. +Glascock. Anxious as she was on the subject, she was too proud, and +also too well-conditioned, to have suggested to herself such a +journey with such an object. Trevelyan had escaped from Willesden +with the child, and they had heard,—again through Stanbury,—that he +had returned to Italy. They had all agreed that it would be well that +they should leave London for awhile, and see something of the +Continent; and when it was told to them that little Louis was +probably in Florence, that alone was reason enough for them to go +thither. They would go to the city till the heat was too great and +the mosquitoes too powerful, and then they would visit the baths of +Lucca for a month. This was their plan of action, and the cause for +their plan; but Lady Rowley found herself able to weave into it +another little plan of her own of which she said nothing to anybody. +She was not running after Mr. Glascock; but if Mr. Glascock should +choose to run after them,—or her, who could say that any harm had +been done?</p> + +<p>Nora had answered that proposition of her lover's to walk out of the +house in Manchester Street, and get married at the next church, in a +most discreet manner. She had declared that she would be true and +firm, but that she did not wish to draw upon herself the displeasure +of her father and mother. She did not, she said, look upon a +clandestine marriage as a happy resource. But,—this she added at the +end of a long and very sensible letter,—she intended to abide by her +engagement, and she did not intend to go back to the Mandarins. She +did not say what alternative she would choose in the event of her +being unable to obtain her father's consent before his return. She +did not suggest what was to become of her when Sir Marmaduke's leave +of absence should be expired. But her statement that she would not go +back to the islands was certainly made with more substantial vigour, +though, perhaps, with less of reasoning, than any other of the +propositions made in her letter. Then, in her postscript, she told +him that they were all going to Italy. "Papa and mamma think that we +ought to follow poor Mr. Trevelyan. The lawyer says that nothing can +be done while he is away with the boy. We are therefore all going to +start to Florence. The journey is delightful. I will not say whose +presence will be wanting to make it perfect."</p> + +<p>Before they started there came a letter to Nora from Dorothy, which +shall be given entire, because it will tell the reader more of +Dorothy's happiness than would be learned from any other mode of +narrative.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">The Close, Thursday.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dearest Nora</span>,</p> + +<p>I have just had a letter from Hugh, and that makes me feel +that I should like to write to you. Dear Hugh has told me +all about it, and I do so hope that things may come right +and that we may be sisters. He is so good that I do not +wonder that you should love him. He has been the best son +and the best brother in the world, and everybody speaks +well of him,—except my dear aunt, who is prejudiced +because she does not like newspapers. I need not praise +him to you, for I dare say you think quite as well of him +as I do. I cannot tell you all the beautiful things he +says about you, but I dare say he has told them to you +himself.</p> + +<p>I seem to know you so well because Priscilla has talked +about you so often. She says that she knew that you and my +brother were fond of each other because you growled at +each other when you were together at the Clock House, and +never had any civil words to say before people. I don't +know whether growling is a sign of love, but Hugh does +growl sometimes when he is most affectionate. He growls at +me, and I understand him, and I like to be growled at. I +wonder whether you like him to growl at you.</p> + +<p>And now I must tell you something about myself,—because +if you are to be my sister you ought to know it all. I +also am going to be married to a man whom I love,—oh, so +dearly! His name is Mr. Brooke Burgess, and he is a great +friend of my aunt's. At first she did not like our being +engaged, because of some family reason;—but she has got +over that, and nothing can be kinder and nicer than she +is. We are to be married here, some day in June,—the 11th +I think it will be. How I do wish you could have been here +to be my bridesmaid. It would have been so nice to have +had Hugh's sweetheart with me. He is a friend of Hugh's, +and no doubt you will hear all about him. The worst of it +is that we must live in London, because my husband as will +be,—you see I call him mine already,—is in an office +there. And so poor Aunt Stanbury will be left all alone. +It will be very sad, and she is so wedded to Exeter that I +fear we shall not get her up to London.</p> + +<p>I would describe Mr. Burgess to you, only I do not suppose +you would care to hear about him. He is not so tall as +Hugh, but he is a great deal better looking. With you two +the good looks are to be with the wife; but, with us, with +the husband. Perhaps you think Hugh is handsome. We used +to declare that he was the ugliest boy in the country. I +don't suppose it makes very much difference. Brooke is +handsome, but I don't think I should like him the less if +he were ever so ugly.</p> + +<p>Do you remember hearing about the Miss Frenches when you +were in Devonshire? There has come up such a terrible +affair about them. A Mr. Gibson, a clergyman, was going to +marry the younger; but has changed his mind and wants to +take the elder. I think he was in love with her first.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p class="noindent">Dorothy did not say +a word about the little intermediate stage of +attachment to herself.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent">All this is making a +great noise in the city, and some +people think he should be punished severely. It seems to +me that a gentleman ought not to make such a mistake; but +if he does, he ought to own it. I hope they will let him +marry the elder one. Aunt Stanbury says it all comes from +their wearing chignons. I wish you knew Aunt Stanbury, +because she is so good. Perhaps you wear a chignon. I +think Priscilla said that you did. It must not be large, +if you come to see Aunt Stanbury.</p> + +<p>Pray write to me,—and believe that I hope to be your most +affectionate sister,</p> + +<p class="ind12"><span class="smallcaps">Dorothy Stanbury</span>.</p> + +<p class="noindent">P.S.—I am so happy, and +I do so hope that you will be the same.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>This was received only a day before the departure of the Rowleys for +Italy, and was answered by a short note promising that Nora would +write to her correspondent from Florence.</p> + +<p>There could be no doubt that Trevelyan had started with his boy, +fearing the result of the medical or legal interference with his +affairs which was about to be made at Sir Marmaduke's instance. He +had written a few words to his wife, neither commencing nor ending +his note after any usual fashion, telling her that he thought it +expedient to travel, that he had secured the services of a nurse for +the little boy, and that during his absence a certain income would, +as heretofore, be paid to her. He said nothing as to his probable +return, or as to her future life; nor was there anything to indicate +whither he was going. Stanbury, however, had learned from the +faithless and frightened Bozzle that Trevelyan's letters were to be +sent after him to Florence. Mr. Bozzle, in giving this information, +had acknowledged that his employer was "becoming no longer quite +himself under his troubles," and had expressed his opinion that he +ought to be "looked after." Bozzle had made his money; and now, with +a grain of humanity mixed with many grains of faithlessness, +reconciled it to himself to tell his master's secrets to his master's +enemies. What would a counsel be able to say about his conduct in a +court of law? That was the question which Bozzle was always asking +himself as to his own business. That he should be abused by a +barrister to a jury, and exposed as a spy and a fiend, was, he +thought, a matter of course. To be so abused was a part of his +profession. But it was expedient for him in all cases to secure some +loop-hole of apparent duty by which he might in part escape from such +censures. He was untrue to his employer now, because he thought that +his employer ought to be "looked after." He did, no doubt, take a +five-pound note from Hugh Stanbury; but then it was necessary that he +should live. He must be paid for his time. In this way Trevelyan +started for Florence, and within a week afterwards the Rowleys were +upon his track.</p> + +<p>Nothing had been said by Sir Marmaduke to Nora as to her lover since +that stormy interview in which both father and daughter had expressed +their opinions very strongly, and very little had been said by Lady +Rowley. Lady Rowley had spoken more than once of Nora's return to the +Mandarins, and had once alluded to it as a certainty. "But I do not +know that I shall go back," Nora had said. "My dear," the mother had +replied, "unless you are married, I suppose your home must be with +your parents." Nora, having made her protest, did not think it +necessary to persevere, and so the matter was dropped. It was known, +however, that they must all come back to London before they started +for their seat of government, and therefore the subject did not at +present assume its difficult aspect. There was a tacit understanding +among them that everything should be done to make the journey +pleasant to the young mother who was in search of her son; and, in +addition to this, Lady Rowley had her own little understanding, which +was very tacit indeed, that in Mr. Glascock might be found an escape +from one of their great family difficulties.</p> + +<p>"You had better take this, papa," Mrs. Trevelyan had said, when she +received from the office of Mr. Bideawhile a cheque payable to her +order for the money sent to her by her husband's direction.</p> + +<p>"I do not want the man's money," said Sir Marmaduke.</p> + +<p>"But you are going to this place for my sake, papa;—and it is right +that he should bear the expense for his own wife. And, papa, you must +remember always that though his mind is distracted on this horrible +business, he is not a bad man. No one is more liberal or more just +about money." Sir Marmaduke's feelings on the matter were very much +the same as those which had troubled Mr. Outhouse, and he, +personally, refused to touch the money; but his daughter paid her own +share of the expenses of the journey.</p> + +<p>They travelled at their ease, stopping at Paris, and at Geneva, and +at Milan. Lady Rowley thought that she was taken very fast, because +she was allowed to sleep only two nights at each of these places, and +Sir Rowley himself thought that he had achieved something of a +Hannibalian enterprise in taking five ladies and two maids over the +Simplon and down into the plains of Lombardy, with nobody to protect +him but a single courier. He had been a little nervous about it, +being unaccustomed to European travelling, and had not at first +realised the fact that the journey is to be made with less trouble +than one from the Marble Arch to Mile End. "My dears," he said to his +younger daughters, as they were rattling round the steep downward +twists and turns of the great road, "you must sit quite still on +these descents, or you do not know where you may go. The least thing +would overset us." But Lucy and Sophy soon knew better, and became so +intimate with the mountain, under the friendly guidance of their +courier, that before the plains were reached, they were in and out, +and here and there, and up and down, as though they had been bred +among the valleys of the pass. There would come a ringing laugh from +some rock above their head, and Lady Rowley looking up would see +their dresses fluttering on a pinnacle which appeared to her to be +fit only for a bird; and there would be the courier behind them, with +two parasols, and a shawl, and a cloak, and an eye-glass, and a fine +pair of grizzled whiskers. They made an Alpine club of their own, +refusing to admit their father because he would not climb up a rock, +and Nora thought of the letters about it which she would write to her +lover,—only that she had determined that she would not write to him +at all without telling her mother,—and Mrs. Trevelyan would for +moments almost forget that she had been robbed of her child.</p> + +<p>From Milan they went on to Florence, and though they were by that +time quite at home in Italy, and had become critical judges of +Italian inns and Italian railways, they did not find that journey to +be quite so pleasant. There is a romance to us still in the name of +Italy which a near view of many details in the country fails to +realise. Shall we say that a journey through Lombardy is about as +interesting as one through the flats of Cambridgeshire and the fens +of Norfolk? And the station of Bologna is not an interesting spot in +which to spend an hour or two, although it may be conceded that +provisions may be had there much better than any that can be procured +at our own railway stations. From thence they went, still by rail, +over the Apennines, and unfortunately slept during the whole time. +The courier had assured them that if they would only look out they +would see the castles of which they had read in novels; but the day +had been very hot, and Sir Marmaduke had been cross, and Lady Rowley +had been weary, and so not a castle was seen. "Pistoia, me lady, +this," said the courier opening the door;—"to stop half an hour." +"Oh, why was it not Florence?" Another hour and a half! So they all +went to sleep again, and were very tired when they reached the +beautiful city.</p> + +<p>During the next day they rested at their inn, and sauntered through +the Duomo, and broke their necks looking up at the inimitable glories +of the campanile. Such a one as Sir Marmaduke had of course not come +to Florence without introductions. The Foreign Office is always very +civil to its next-door neighbour of the colonies,—civil and cordial, +though perhaps a little patronising. A minister is a bigger man than +a governor; and the smallest of the diplomatic fry are greater swells +than even secretaries in quite important dependencies. The attaché, +though he be unpaid, dwells in a capital, and flirts with a countess. +The governor's right-hand man is confined to an island, and dances +with a planter's daughter. The distinction is quite understood, but +is not incompatible with much excellent good feeling on the part of +the superior department. Sir Marmaduke had come to Florence fairly +provided with passports to Florentine society, and had been mentioned +in more than one letter as the distinguished Governor of the +Mandarins, who had been called home from his seat of government on a +special mission of great importance. On the second day he went out to +call at the embassy and to leave his cards. "Have you been able to +learn whether he is here?" asked Lady Rowley of her husband in a +whisper, as soon as they were alone.</p> + +<p>"Who;—Trevelyan?"</p> + +<p>"I did not suppose you could learn about him, because he would be +hiding himself. But is Mr. Glascock here?"</p> + +<p>"I forgot to ask," said Sir Marmaduke.</p> + +<p>Lady Rowley did not reproach him. It is impossible that any father +should altogether share a mother's anxiety in regard to the marriage +of their daughters. But what a thing it would be! Lady Rowley thought +that she could compound for all misfortunes in other respects, if she +could have a daughter married to the future Lord Peterborough. She +had been told in England that he was faultless,—not very clever, not +very active, not likely to be very famous; but, as a husband, simply +faultless. He was very rich, very good-natured, easily managed, more +likely to be proud of his wife than of himself, addicted to no +jealousies, afflicted by no vices, so respectable in every way that +he was sure to become great as an English nobleman by the very weight +of his virtues. And it had been represented also to Lady Rowley that +this paragon among men had been passionately attached to her +daughter! Perhaps she magnified a little the romance of the story; +but it seemed to her that this greatly endowed lover had rushed away +from his country in despair, because her daughter Nora would not +smile upon him. Now they were, as she hoped, in the same city with +him. But it was indispensable to her success that she should not seem +to be running after him. To Nora, not a word had been said of the +prospect of meeting Mr. Glascock at Florence. Hardly more than a word +had been said to her sister Emily, and that under injunction of +strictest secrecy. It must be made to appear to all the world that +other motives had brought them to Florence,—as, indeed, other +motives had brought them. Not for worlds would Lady Rowley have run +after a man for her daughter; but still, still,—still, seeing that +the man was himself so unutterably in love with her girl, seeing that +he was so fully justified by his position to be in love with any +girl, seeing that such a maximum of happiness would be the result of +such a marriage, she did feel that, even for his sake, she must be +doing a good thing to bring them together! Something, though not much +of all this, she had been obliged to explain to Sir Marmaduke;—and +yet he had not taken the trouble to inquire whether Mr. Glascock was +in Florence!</p> + +<p>On the third day after their arrival, the wife of the British +minister came to call upon Lady Rowley, and the wife of the British +minister was good-natured, easy-mannered, and very much given to +conversation. She preferred talking to listening, and in the course +of a quarter of an hour had told Lady Rowley a good deal about +Florence; but she had not mentioned Mr. Glascock's name. It would +have been so pleasant if the requisite information could have been +obtained without the asking of any direct question on the subject! +But Lady Rowley, who from many years' practice of similar, though +perhaps less distinguished, courtesies on her part, knew well the +first symptom of the coming end of her guest's visit, found that the +minister's wife was about to take her departure without an allusion +to Mr. Glascock. And yet the names had been mentioned of so many +English residents in Florence, who neither in wealth, rank, or +virtue, were competent to hold a candle to that phœnix! She was +forced, therefore, to pluck up courage, and to ask the question. +"Have you had a Mr. Glascock here this spring?" said Lady Rowley.</p> + +<p>"What;—Lord Peterborough's son? Oh, dear, yes. Such a singular +being!"</p> + +<p>Lady Rowley thought that she could perceive that her phœnix +had not made himself agreeable at the embassy. It might perhaps be that +he had buried himself away from society because of his love. "And is +here now?" asked Lady Rowley.</p> + +<p>"I cannot say at all. He is sometimes here and sometimes with his +father at Naples. But when here, he lives chiefly with the Americans. +They say he is going to marry an American girl,—their minister's +niece. There are three of them, I think, and he is to take the +eldest." Lady Rowley asked no more questions, and let her august +visitor go, almost without another word.</p> + + +<p><a name="c76" id="c76"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXVI.</h3> +<h4>"WE SHALL BE SO POOR."<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Mr. Glascock at that moment was not only in Florence, but was +occupying rooms in the very hotel in which the Rowleys were staying. +Lady Rowley, when she heard that he was engaged to marry an American +lady, became suddenly very sick at heart,—sick with a sickness that +almost went beyond her heart. She felt ill, and was glad to be alone. +The rumour might be untrue. Such rumours generally are untrue. But +then, as Lady Rowley knew very well, they generally have some +foundation in truth. Mr. Glascock, if he were not actually engaged to +the American girl, had probably been flirting with her;—and, if so, +where was that picture which Lady Rowley had been painting for +herself of a love-lorn swain to be brought back to the pleasures and +occupations of the world only by the girl of whom he was enamoured? +But still she would not quite give up the project. Mr. Glascock, if +he was in Italy, would no doubt see by the newspapers that Sir +Marmaduke and his family were in Florence,—and would probably come +to them. Then, if Nora would only behave herself, the American girl +might still be conquered.</p> + +<p>During two or three days after this nothing was seen or heard of Mr. +Glascock. Had Lady Rowley thought of mentioning the name to the +waiter at the hotel, she would have learned that he was living in the +next passage; but it did not occur to her to seek information in that +fashion. Nor did she ask direct questions in other quarters about Mr. +Glascock himself. She did, however, make inquiry about Americans +living in Florence,—especially about the American Minister,—and, +before a week had passed overhead, had been introduced to the +Spaldings. Mrs. Spalding was very civil, and invited Lady Rowley and +all the girls and Sir Marmaduke to come to her on her "Fridays." She +received her friends every Friday, and would continue to do so till +the middle of June. She had nieces who would, she said, be so happy +to make the acquaintance of the Miss Rowleys.</p> + +<p>By this time the picture galleries, the churches, and the palaces in +Florence had nearly all been visited. Poor Lady Rowley had dragged +herself wearily from sight to sight, hoping always to meet with Mr. +Glascock, ignorant of the fact that residents in a town do not pass +their mornings habitually in looking after pictures. During this time +inquiries were being made through the police, respecting Trevelyan; +and Sir Marmaduke had obtained information that an English gentleman, +with a little boy, had gone on to Siena, and had located himself +there. There seemed to be but little doubt that this was +Trevelyan,—though nothing had been learned with certainty as to the +gentleman's name. It had been decided that Sir Marmaduke, with his +courier and Mrs. Trevelyan, should go on to Siena, and endeavour to +come upon the fugitive, and they had taken their departure on a +certain morning. On that same day Lady Rowley was walking with Nora +and one of the other girls through the hall of the hotel, when they +were met in full face—by Mr. Glascock! Lady Rowley and Lucy were in +front, and they, of course, did not know the man. Nora had seen him +at once, and in her confusion hardly knew how to bear herself. Mr. +Glascock was passing by her without recognising her,—had passed her +mother and sister, and had so far gone on, that Nora had determined +to make no sign, when he chanced to look up and see who it was that +was so close to him. "Miss Rowley," he said, "who thought of meeting +you in Florence!" Lady Rowley, of course, turned round, and there was +an introduction. Poor Nora, though she knew nothing of her mother's +schemes, was confused and ill at ease. Mr. Glascock was very civil, +but at the same time rather cold. Lady Rowley was all smiles and +courtesy. She had, she said, heard his name from her daughters, and +was very happy to make his acquaintance. Lucy looked on somewhat +astonished to find that the lover whom her sister had been blamed for +rejecting, and who was spoken of with so many encomiums, was so old a +man. Mr. Glascock asked after Mrs. Trevelyan; and Lady Rowley, in a +low, melancholy whisper, told him that they were now all in Florence, +in the hope of meeting Mr. Trevelyan. "You have heard the sad story, +I know, Mr. Glascock,—and therefore I do not mind telling you." Mr. +Glascock acknowledged that he did know the story, and informed her +that he had seen Mr. Trevelyan in Florence within the last ten days. +This was so interesting, that, at Lady Rowley's request, he went with +them up to their rooms, and in this way the acquaintance was made. It +turned out that Mr. Glascock had spoken to Mr. Trevelyan, and that +Trevelyan had told him that he meant for the present to take up his +residence in some small Italian town. "And how was he looking, Mr. +Glascock?"</p> + +<p>"Very ill, Lady Rowley;—very ill, indeed."</p> + +<p>"Do not tell her so, Mr. Glascock. She has gone now with her father +to Siena. We think that he is there, with the boy,—or, at least, +that he may be heard of there. And you;—you are living here?" Mr. +Glascock said that he was living between Naples and Florence,—going +occasionally to Naples, a place that he hated, to see his father, and +coming back at intervals to the capital. Nora sat by, and hardly +spoke a word. She was nicely dressed, with an exquisite little +bonnet, which had been bought as they came through Paris; and Lady +Rowley, with natural pride, felt that if he was ever in love with her +child, that love must come back upon him now. American girls, she had +been told, were hard, and dry, and sharp, and angular. She had seen +some at the Mandarins, with whom she thought it must be impossible +that any Englishman should be in love. There never, surely, had been +an American girl like her Nora. "Are you fond of pictures, Mr. +Glascock?" she asked. Mr. Glascock was not very fond of pictures, and +thought that he was rather tired of them. What was he fond of? Of +sitting at home and doing nothing. That was his reply, at least; and +a very unsatisfactory reply it was, as Lady Rowley could hardly +propose that they should come and sit and do nothing with him. Could +he have been lured into churches or galleries, Nora might have been +once more thrown into his company. Then Lady Rowley took courage, and +asked him whether he knew the Spaldings. They were going to Mrs. +Spalding's that very evening,—she and her daughters. Mr. Glascock +replied that he did know the Spaldings, and that he also should be at +their house. Lady Rowley thought that she discovered something like a +blush about his cheekbones and brow, as he made his answer. Then he +left them, giving his hand to Nora as he went;—but there was nothing +in his manner to justify the slightest hope.</p> + +<p>"I don't think he is nice at all," said Lucy.</p> + +<p>"Don't be so foolish, Lucy," said Lady Rowley angrily.</p> + +<p>"I think he is very nice," said Nora. "He was only talking nonsense +when he said that he liked to sit still and do nothing. He is not at +all an idle man;—at least I am told so."</p> + +<p>"But he is as old as Methuselah," said Lucy.</p> + +<p>"He is between thirty and forty," said Lady Rowley. "Of course we +know that from the peerage." Lady Rowley, however, was wrong. Had she +consulted the peerage, she would have seen that Mr. Glascock was over +forty.</p> + +<p>Nora, as soon as she was alone and could think about it all, felt +quite sure that Mr. Glascock would never make her another offer. This +ought not to have caused her any sorrow, as she was very well aware +that she would not accept him, should he do so. Yet, perhaps, there +was a moment of some feeling akin to disappointment. Of course she +would not have accepted him. How could she? Her faith was so plighted +to Hugh Stanbury that she would be a by-word among women for ever, +were she to be so false. And as she told herself, she had not the +slightest feeling of affection for Mr. Glascock. It was quite out of +the question, and a matter simply for speculation. Nevertheless it +would have been a very grand thing to be Lady Peterborough, and she +almost regretted that she had a heart in her bosom.</p> + +<p>She had become fully aware during that interview that her mother +still entertained hopes, and almost suspected that Lady Rowley had +known something of Mr. Glascock's residence in Florence. She had seen +that her mother had met Mr. Glascock almost as though some such +meeting had been expected, and had spoken to him almost as though she +had expected to have to speak to him. Would it not be better that she +should at once make her mother understand that all this could be of +no avail? If she were to declare plainly that nothing could bring +about such a marriage, would not her mother desist? She almost made +up her mind to do so; but as her mother said nothing to her before +they started for Mr. Spalding's house, neither did she say anything +to her mother. She did not wish to have angry words if they could be +avoided, and she felt that there might be anger and unpleasant words +were she to insist upon her devotion to Hugh Stanbury while this rich +prize was in sight. If her mother should speak to her, then, indeed, +she would declare her own settled purpose; but she would do nothing +to accelerate the evil hour.</p> + +<p>There were but few people in Mrs. Spalding's drawing-room when they +were announced, and Mr. Glascock was not among them. Miss Wallachia +Petrie was there, and in the confusion of the introduction was +presumed by Lady Rowley to be one of the nieces introduced. She had +been distinctly told that Mr. Glascock was to marry the eldest, and +this lady was certainly older than the other two. In this way Lady +Rowley decided that Miss Wallachia Petrie was her daughter's hated +rival, and she certainly was much surprised at the gentleman's taste. +But there is nothing,—nothing in the way of an absurd matrimonial +engagement,—into which a man will not allow himself to be entrapped +by pique. Nora would have a great deal to answer for, Lady Rowley +thought, if the unfortunate man should be driven by her cruelty to +marry such a woman as this one now before her.</p> + +<p>It happened that Lady Rowley soon found herself seated by Miss +Petrie, and she at once commenced her questionings. She intended to +be very discreet, but the subject was too near her heart to allow her +to be altogether silent. "I believe you know Mr. Glascock?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Wallachia, "I do know him." Now the peculiar nasal twang +which our cousins over the water have learned to use, and which has +grown out of a certain national instinct which coerces them to +express themselves with self-assertion;—let the reader go into his +closet and talk through his nose for awhile with steady attention to +the effect which his own voice will have, and he will find that this +theory is correct;—this intonation, which is so peculiar among +intelligent Americans, had been adopted con amore, and, as it were, +taken to her bosom by Miss Petrie. Her ears had taught themselves to +feel that there could be no vitality in speech without it, and that +all utterance unsustained by such tone was effeminate, vapid, +useless, unpersuasive, unmusical,—and English. It was a complaint +frequently made by her against her friends Caroline and Olivia that +they debased their voices, and taught themselves the puling British +mode of speech. "I do know the gentleman," said Wallachia;—and Lady +Rowley shuddered. Could it be that such a woman as this was to reign +over Monkhams, and become the future Lady Peterborough?</p> + +<p>"He told me that he is acquainted with the family," said Lady Rowley. +"He is staying at our hotel, and my daughter knew him very well when +he was living in London."</p> + +<p>"I dare say. I believe that in London the titled aristocrats do hang +pretty much together." It had never occurred to poor Lady Rowley, +since the day in which her husband had been made a knight, at the +advice of the Colonial Minister, in order that the inhabitants of +some island might be gratified by the opportunity of using the title, +that she and her children had thereby become aristocrats. Were her +daughter Nora to marry Mr. Glascock, Nora would become an +aristocrat,—or would, rather, be ennobled,—all which Lady Rowley +understood perfectly.</p> + +<p>"I don't know that London society is very exclusive in that respect," +said Lady Rowley.</p> + +<p>"I guess you are pretty particular," said Miss Petrie, "and it seems +to me you don't have much regard to intellect or erudition,—but fix +things up straight according to birth and money."</p> + +<p>"I hope we are not quite so bad as that," said Lady Rowley. "I do not +know London well myself, as I have passed my life in very distant +places."</p> + +<p>"The distant places are, in my estimation, the best. The further the +mind is removed from the contamination incidental to the centres of +long-established luxury, the more chance it has of developing itself +according to the intention of the Creator, when he bestowed his gifts +of intellect upon us." Lady Rowley, when she heard this eloquence, +could hardly believe that such a man as Mr. Glascock should really be +intent upon marrying such a lady as this who was sitting next to her.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, Nora and the real rival were together, and they also +were talking of Mr. Glascock. Caroline Spalding had said that Mr. +Glascock had spoken to her of Nora Rowley, and Nora acknowledged that +there had been some acquaintance between them in London. "Almost more +than that, I should have thought," said Miss Spalding, "if one might +judge by his manner of speaking of you."</p> + + +<div class="center"><a name="ip2-206" id="ip2-206"></a> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="4px"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/p2-206.jpg"> + <img src="images/p2-206-t.jpg" height="500" + alt="The rivals." /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <span class="caption">The rivals.<br /> + Click to <a href="images/p2-206.jpg">ENLARGE</a></span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p>"He is a little given to be enthusiastic," said Nora, laughing.</p> + +<p>"The least so of all mankind, I should have said. You must know he is +very intimate in this house. It begun in this way;—Olivia and I were +travelling together, and there was—a difficulty, as we say in our +country when three or four gentlemen shoot each other. Then there +came up Mr. Glascock and another gentleman. By-the-bye, the other +gentleman was your brother-in-law."</p> + +<p>"Poor Mr. Trevelyan!"</p> + +<p>"He is very ill;—is he not?"</p> + +<p>"We think so. My sister is with us, you know. That is to say, she is +at Siena to-day."</p> + +<p>"I have heard about him, and it is so sad. Mr. Glascock knows him. As +I said, they were travelling together, when Mr. Glascock came to our +assistance. Since that, we have seen him very frequently. I don't +think he is enthusiastic,—except when he talks of you."</p> + +<p>"I ought to be very proud," said Nora.</p> + +<p>"I think you ought,—as Mr. Glascock is a man whose good opinion is +certainly worth having. Here he is. Mr. Glascock, I hope your ears +are tingling. They ought to do so, because we are saying all manner +of fine things about you."</p> + +<p>"I could not be well spoken of by two on whose good word I should set +a higher value," said he.</p> + +<p>"And whose do you value the most?" said Caroline.</p> + +<p>"I must first know whose eulogium will run the highest."</p> + +<p>Then Nora answered him. "Mr. Glascock, other people may praise you +louder than I can do, but no one will ever do so with more +sincerity." There was a pretty earnestness about her as she spoke, +which Lady Rowley ought to have heard. Mr. Glascock bowed, and Miss +Spalding smiled, and Nora blushed.</p> + +<p>"If you are not overwhelmed now," said Miss Spalding, "you must be so +used to flattery, that it has no longer any effect upon you. You must +be like a drunkard, to whom wine is as water, and who thinks that +brandy is not strong enough."</p> + +<p>"I think I had better go away," said Mr. Glascock, "for fear the +brandy should be watered by degrees." And so he left them.</p> + +<p>Nora had become quite aware, without much process of thinking about +it, that her former lover and this American young lady were very +intimate with each other. The tone of the conversation had shewn that +it was so;—and, then, how had it come to pass that Mr. Glascock had +spoken to this American girl about her,—Nora Rowley? It was evident +that he had spoken of her with warmth, and had done so in a manner to +impress his hearer. For a minute or two they sat together in silence +after Mr. Glascock had left them, but neither of them stirred. Then +Caroline Spalding turned suddenly upon Nora, and took her by the +hand. "I must tell you something," said she, "only it must be a +secret for awhile."</p> + +<p>"I will not repeat it."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, dear. I am engaged to him,—as his wife. He asked me this +very afternoon, and nobody knows it but my aunt. When I had accepted +him, he told me all the story about you. He had very often spoken of +you before, and I had guessed how it must have been. He wears his +heart so open for those whom he loves, that there is nothing +concealed. He had seen you just before he came to me. But perhaps I +am wrong to tell you that now. He ought to have been thinking of you +again at such a time."</p> + +<p>"I did not want him to think of me again."</p> + +<p>"Of course you did not. Of course I am joking. You might have been +his wife if you wished it. He has told me all that. And he especially +wants us to be friends. Is there anything to prevent it?"</p> + +<p>"On my part? Oh, dear, no;—except that you will be such grand folk, +and we shall be so poor."</p> + +<p>"We!" said Caroline, laughing. "I am so glad that there is a 'we.'"</p> + + +<p><a name="c77" id="c77"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXVII.</h3> +<h4>THE FUTURE LADY PETERBOROUGH.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>"If you have not sold yourself for British gold, and for British +acres, and for British rank, I have nothing to say against it," said +Miss Wallachia Petrie that same evening to her friend Caroline +Spalding.</p> + +<p>"You know that I have not sold myself, as you call it," said +Caroline. There had been a long friendship between these two ladies, +and the younger one knew that it behoved her to bear a good deal from +the elder. Miss Petrie was honest, clever, and in earnest. We in +England are not usually favourably disposed to women who take a pride +in a certain antagonism to men in general, and who are anxious to +shew the world that they can get on very well without male +assistance; but there are many such in America who have noble +aspirations, good intellects, much energy, and who are by no means +unworthy of friendship. The hope in regard to all such women,—the +hope entertained not by themselves, but by those who are solicitous +for them,—is that they will be cured at last by a husband and +half-a-dozen children. In regard to Wallachia Petrie there was not, +perhaps, much ground for such hope. She was so positively wedded to +women's rights in general, and to her own rights in particular, that +it was improbable that she should ever succumb to any man;—and where +would be the man brave enough to make the effort? From circumstances +Caroline Spalding had been the beloved of her heart since Caroline +Spalding was a very little girl; and she had hoped that Caroline +would through life have borne arms along with her in that contest +which she was determined to wage against man, and which she always +waged with the greatest animosity against men of the British race. +She hated rank; she hated riches; she hated monarchy;—and with a +true woman's instinct in battle, felt that she had a specially strong +point against Englishmen, in that they submitted themselves to +dominion from a woman monarch. And now the chosen friend of her +youth,—the friend who had copied out all her poetry, who had learned +by heart all her sonnets, who had, as she thought, reciprocated all +her ideas, was going to be married,—and to be married to an English +lord! She had seen that it was coming for some time, and had spoken +out very plainly, hoping that she might still save the brand from the +burning. Now the evil was done; and Caroline Spalding, when she told +her news, knew well that she would have to bear some heavy +reproaches.</p> + +<p>"How many of us are there who never know whether we sell ourselves or +not?" said Wallachia. "The senator who longs for office, and who +votes this way instead of that in order that he may get it, thinks +that he is voting honestly. The minister who calls himself a teacher +of God's word, thinks that it is God's word that he preaches when he +strains his lungs to fill his church. The question is this, +Caroline;—would you have loved the same man had he come to you with +a woodman's axe in his hand or a clerk's quill behind his ear? I +guess not."</p> + +<p>"As to the woodman's axe, Wally, it is very well in theory; +<span class="nowrap">but—"</span></p> + +<p>"Things good in theory, Caroline, will be good also when practised. +You may be sure of that. We dislike theory simply because our +intelligences are higher than our wills. But we will let that pass."</p> + +<p>"Pray let it pass, Wally. Do not preach me sermons to-night. I am so +happy, and you ought to wish me joy."</p> + +<p>"If wishing you joy would get you joy, I would wish it you while I +lived. I cannot be happy that you should be taken from us whither I +shall never see you again."</p> + +<p>"But you are to come to us. I have told him so, and it is settled."</p> + +<p>"No, dear; I shall not do that. What should I be in the glittering +halls of an English baron? Could there be any visiting less fitting, +any admixture less appropriate? Could I who have held up my voice in +the Music Hall of Lacedæmon, amidst the glories of the West, in the +great and free State of Illinois, against the corruption of an +English aristocracy,—could I, who have been listened to by two +thousand of my countrywomen,—and men,—while I spurned the unmanly, +inhuman errors of primogeniture,—could I, think you, hold my tongue +beneath the roof of a feudal lord!" Caroline Spalding knew that her +friend could not hold her tongue, and hesitated to answer. There had +been that fatal triumph of a lecture on the joint rights of men and +women, and it had rendered poor Wallachia Petrie unfit for ordinary +society.</p> + +<p>"You might come there without talking politics, Wally," said +Caroline.</p> + +<p>"No, Caroline; no. I will go into the house of no man in which the +free expression of my opinion is debarred me. I will not sit even at +your table with a muzzled tongue. When you are gone, Caroline, I +shall devote myself to what, after all, must be the work of my life, +and I shall finish the biographical history of our great hero in +verse,—which I hope may at least be not ephemeral. From month to +month I shall send you what I do, and you will not refuse me your +friendly criticism,—and, perhaps, some slight meed of +approbation,—because you are dwelling beneath the shade of a throne. +Oh, Caroline, let it not be a upas tree!"</p> + +<p>The Miss Petries of the world have this advantage,—an advantage +which rarely if ever falls to the lot of a man,—that they are never +convinced of error. Men, let them be ever so much devoted to their +closets, let them keep their work ever so closely veiled from public +scrutiny, still find themselves subjected to criticism, and under the +necessity of either defending themselves or of succumbing. If, +indeed, a man neither speaks, nor writes,—if he be dumb as regards +opinion,—he passes simply as one of the crowd, and is in the way +neither of convincing nor of being convinced; but a woman may speak, +and almost write, as she likes, without danger of being wounded by +sustained conflict. Who would have the courage to begin with such a +one as Miss Petrie, and endeavour to prove to her that she is wrong +from the beginning? A little word of half-dissent, a smile, a shrug, +and an ambiguous compliment which is misunderstood, are all the forms +of argument which can be used against her. Wallachia Petrie, in her +heart of hearts, conceived that she had fairly discussed her great +projects from year to year with indomitable eloquence and +unanswerable truth,—and that none of her opponents had had a leg to +stand upon. And this she believed because the chivalry of men had +given to her sex that protection against which her life was one +continued protest.</p> + +<p>"Here he is," said Caroline, as Mr. Glascock came up to them. "Try +and say a civil word to him, if he speaks about it. Though he is to +be a lord, still he is a man and a brother."</p> + +<p>"Caroline," said the stern monitress, "you are already learning to +laugh at principles which have been dear to you since you left your +mother's breast. Alas, how true it is, 'You cannot touch pitch and +not be defiled.'"</p> + +<p>The further progress of these friendly and feminine amenities was +stopped by the presence of the gentleman who had occasioned them. +"Miss Petrie," said the hero of the hour, "Caroline was to tell you +of my good fortune, and no doubt she has done so."</p> + +<p>"I cannot wait to hear the pretty things he has to say," said +Caroline, "and I must look after my aunt's guests. There is poor +Signor Buonarosci without a soul to say a syllable to him, and I must +go and use my ten Italian words."</p> + +<p>"You are about to take with you to your old country, Mr. Glascock," +said Miss Petrie, "one of the brightest stars in our young American +firmament." There could be no doubt, from the tone of Miss Petrie's +voice, that she now regarded this star, however bright, as one of a +sort which is subjected to falling.</p> + +<p>"I am going to take a very nice young woman," said Mr. Glascock.</p> + +<p>"I hate that word woman, sir, uttered with the half-hidden sneer +which always accompanies its expression from the mouth of a man."</p> + +<p>"Sneer, Miss Petrie!"</p> + +<p>"I quite allow that it is involuntary, and not analysed or understood +by yourselves. If you speak of a dog, you intend to do so with +affection, but there is always contempt mixed with it. The so-called +chivalry of man to woman is all begotten in the same spirit. I want +no favour, but I claim to be your equal."</p> + +<p>"I thought that American ladies were generally somewhat exacting as +to those privileges which chivalry gives them."</p> + +<p>"It is true, sir, that the only rank we know in our country is in +that precedence which man gives to woman. Whether we maintain that, +or whether we abandon it, we do not intend to purchase it at the +price of an acknowledgment of intellectual inferiority. For myself, I +hate chivalry;—what you call chivalry. I can carry my own chair, and +I claim the right to carry it whithersoever I may please."</p> + +<p>Mr. Glascock remained with her for some time, but made no opportunity +for giving that invitation to Monkhams of which Caroline had spoken. +As he said afterwards, he found it impossible to expect her to attend +to any subject so trivial; and when, afterwards, Caroline told him, +with some slight mirth,—the capability of which on such a subject +was coming to her with her new ideas of life,—that, though he was +partly saved as a man and a brother, still he was partly the reverse +as a feudal lord, he began to reflect that Wallachia Petrie would be +a guest with whom he would find it very difficult to make things go +pleasant at Monkhams. "Does she not bully you horribly?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Of course she bullies me," Caroline answered; "and I cannot expect +you to understand as yet how it is that I love her and like her; but +I do. If I were in distress to-morrow, she would give everything she +has in the world to put me right."</p> + +<p>"So would I," said he.</p> + +<p>"Ah, you;—that is a matter of course. That is your business now. And +she would give everything she has in the world to set the world +right. Would you do that?"</p> + +<p>"It would depend on the amount of my faith. If I could believe in the +result, I suppose I should do it."</p> + +<p>"She would do it on the slightest hope that such giving would have +any tendency that way. Her philanthropy is all real. Of course she is +a bore to you."</p> + +<p>"I am very patient."</p> + +<p>"I hope I shall find you so,—always. And, of course, she is +ridiculous—in your eyes. I have learned to see it, and to regret it; +but I shall never cease to love her."</p> + +<p>"I have not the slightest objection. Her lessons will come from over +the water, and mine will come from—where shall I say?—over the +table. If I can't talk her down with so much advantage on my side, I +ought to be made a woman's-right man myself."</p> + +<p>Poor Lady Rowley had watched Miss Petrie and Mr. Glascock during +those moments that they had been together, and had half believed the +rumour, and had half doubted, thinking in the moments of her belief +that Mr. Glascock must be mad, and in the moments of unbelief that +the rumours had been set afloat by the English Minister's wife with +the express intention of turning Mr. Glascock into ridicule. It had +never occurred to her to doubt that Wallachia was the eldest of that +family of nieces. Could it be possible that a man who had known her +Nora, who had undoubtedly loved her Nora,—who had travelled all the +way from London to Nuncombe Putney to ask Nora to be his +wife,—should within twelve months of that time have resolved to +marry a woman whom he must have selected simply as being the most +opposite to Nora of any female human being that he could find? It was +not credible to her; and if it were not true, there might still be a +hope. Nora had met him, and had spoken to him, and it had seemed that +for a moment or two they had spoken as friends. Lady Rowley, when +talking to Mrs. Spalding, had watched them closely; and she had seen +that Nora's eyes had been bright, and that there had been something +between them which was pleasant. Suddenly she found herself close to +Wallachia, and thought that she would trust herself to a word.</p> + +<p>"Have you been long in Florence?" asked Lady Rowley in her softest +voice.</p> + +<p>"A pretty considerable time, ma'am;—that is, since the fall began."</p> + +<p>What a voice;—what an accent;—and what words! Was there a man +living with sufficient courage to take this woman to England, and +shew her to the world as Lady Peterborough?</p> + +<p>"Are you going to remain in Italy for the summer?" continued Lady +Rowley.</p> + +<p>"I guess I shall;—or, perhaps, locate myself in the purer atmosphere +of the Swiss mountains."</p> + +<p>"Switzerland in summer must certainly be much pleasanter."</p> + +<p>"I was thinking at the moment of the political atmosphere," said Miss +Petrie; "for although, certainly, much has been done in this country +in the way of striking off shackles and treading sceptres under foot, +still, Lady Rowley, there remains here that pernicious thing,—a +king. The feeling of the dominion of a single man,—and that of a +single woman is, for aught I know, worse,—with me so clouds the air, +that the breath I breathe fails to fill my lungs." Wallachia, as she +said this, put forth her hand, and raised her chin, and extended her +arm. She paused, feeling that justice demanded that Lady Rowley +should have a right of reply. But Lady Rowley had not a word to say, +and Wallachia Petrie went on. "I cannot adapt my body to the sweet +savours and the soft luxuries of the outer world with any comfort to +my inner self, while the circumstances of the society around me are +oppressive to my spirit. When our war was raging all around me I was +light-spirited as the lark that mounts through the morning sky."</p> + +<p>"I should have thought it was very dreadful," said Lady Rowley.</p> + +<p>"Full of dread, of awe, and of horror, were those fiery days of +indiscriminate slaughter; but they were not days of desolation, +because hope was always there by our side. There was a hope in which +the soul could trust, and the trusting soul is ever light and +buoyant."</p> + +<p>"I dare say it is," said Lady Rowley.</p> + +<p>"But apathy, and serfdom, and kinghood, and dominion, drain the +fountain of its living springs, and the soul becomes like the plummet +of lead, whose only tendency is to hide itself in subaqueous mud and +unsavoury slush."</p> + +<p>Subaqueous mud and unsavoury slush! Lady Rowley repeated the words to +herself as she made good her escape, and again expressed to herself +her conviction that it could not possibly be so. The "subaqueous mud +and unsavoury slush," with all that had gone before it about the soul +was altogether unintelligible to her; but she knew that it was +American buncom of a high order of eloquence, and she told herself +again and again that it could not be so. She continued to keep her +eyes upon Mr. Glascock, and soon saw him again talking to Nora. It +was hardly possible, she thought, that Nora should speak to him with +so much animation, or he to her, unless there was some feeling +between them which, if properly handled, might lead to a renewal of +the old tenderness. She went up to Nora, having collected the other +girls, and said that the carriage was then waiting for them. Mr. +Glascock immediately offered Lady Rowley his arm, and took her down +to the hall. Could it be that she was leaning upon a future +son-in-law? There was something in the thought which made her lay her +weight upon him with a freedom which she would not otherwise have +used. Oh!—that her Nora should live to be Lady Peterborough! We are +apt to abuse mothers for wanting high husbands for their +daughters;—but can there be any point in which the true maternal +instinct can shew itself with more affectionate enthusiasm? This poor +mother wanted nothing for herself from Mr. Glascock. She knew very +well that it was her fate to go back to the Mandarins, and probably +to die there. She knew also that such men as Mr. Glascock, when they +marry beneath themselves in rank and fortune, will not ordinarily +trouble themselves much with their mothers-in-law. There was nothing +desired for herself. Were such a match accomplished, she might, +perhaps, indulge herself in talking among the planters' wives of her +daughter's coronet; but at the present moment there was no idea even +of this in her mind. It was of Nora herself, and of Nora's sisters, +that she was thinking,—for them that she was plotting,—that the one +might be rich and splendid, and the others have some path opened for +them to riches and splendour. Husband-hunting mothers may be +injudicious; but surely they are maternal and unselfish. Mr. Glascock +put her into the carriage, and squeezed her hand;—and then he +squeezed Nora's hand. She saw it, and was sure of it. "I am so glad +you are going to be happy," Nora had said to him before this. "As far +as I have seen her, I like her so much." "If you do not come and +visit her in her own house, I shall think you have no spirit of +friendship," he said. "I will," Nora had replied;—"I will." This had +been said up-stairs, just as Lady Rowley was coming to them, and on +this understanding, on this footing, Mr. Glascock had pressed her +hand.</p> + +<p>As she went home, Lady Rowley's mind was full of doubt as to the +course which it was best that she should follow with her daughter. +She was not unaware how great was the difficulty before her. Hugh +Stanbury's name had not been mentioned since they left London, but at +that time Nora was obstinately bent on throwing herself away upon the +"penny-a-liner." She had never been brought to acknowledge that such +a marriage would be even inappropriate, and had withstood gallantly +the expression of her father's displeasure. But with such a spirit as +Nora's, it might be easier to prevail by silence than by many words. +Lady Rowley was quite sure of this,—that it would be far better to +say nothing further of Hugh Stanbury. Let the cure come, if it might +be possible, from absence and from her daughter's good sense. The +only question was whether it would be wise to say any word about Mr. +Glascock. In the carriage she was not only forbearing but flattering +in her manner to Nora. She caressed her girl's hand and spoke to +her,—as mothers know how to speak when they want to make much of +their girls, and to have it understood that those girls are behaving +as girls should behave. There was to be nobody to meet them to-night, +as it had been arranged that Sir Marmaduke and Mrs. Trevelyan should +sleep at Siena. Hardly a word had been spoken in the carriage; but +up-stairs, in their drawing-room, there came a moment in which Lucy +and Sophie had left them, and Nora was alone with her mother. Lady +Rowley almost knew that it would be most prudent to be silent;—but a +word spoken in season;—how good it is! And the thing was so near to +her that she could not hold her peace. "I must say, Nora," she began, +"that I do like your Mr. Glascock."</p> + +<p>"He is not my Mr. Glascock, mamma," said Nora, smiling.</p> + +<p>"You know what I mean, dear." Lady Rowley had not intended to utter a +word that should appear like pressure on her daughter at this moment. +She had felt how imprudent it would be to do so. But now Nora seemed +to be leading the way herself to such discourse. "Of course, he is +not your Mr. Glascock. You cannot eat your cake and have it, nor can +you throw it away and have it."</p> + +<p>"I have thrown my cake away altogether, and certainly I cannot have +it." She was still smiling as she spoke, and seemed to be quite merry +at the idea of regarding Mr. Glascock as the cake which she had +declined to eat.</p> + +<p>"I can see one thing quite plainly, dear."</p> + +<p>"What is that, mamma?"</p> + +<p>"That in spite of what you have done, you can still have your cake +whenever you choose to take it."</p> + +<p>"Why, mamma, he is engaged to be married!"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Glascock?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Mr. Glascock. It's quite settled. Is it not sad?"</p> + +<p>"To whom is he engaged?" Lady Rowley's solemnity as she asked this +question was piteous to behold.</p> + +<p>"To Miss Spalding,—Caroline Spalding."</p> + +<p>"The eldest of those nieces?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—the eldest."</p> + +<p>"I cannot believe it."</p> + +<p>"Mamma, they both told me so. I have sworn an eternal friendship with +her already."</p> + +<p>"I did not see you speaking to her."</p> + +<p>"But I did talk to her a great deal."</p> + +<p>"And he is really going to marry that dreadful woman?"</p> + +<p>"Dreadful, mamma!"</p> + +<p>"Perfectly awful! She talked to me in a way that I have read about in +books, but which I did not before believe to be possible. Do you mean +that he is going to be married to that hideous old maid,—that +bell-clapper?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, mamma, what slander! I think her so pretty."</p> + +<p>"Pretty!"</p> + +<p>"Very pretty. And, mamma, ought I not to be happy that he should have +been able to make himself so happy? It was quite, quite, quite +impossible that I should have been his wife. I have thought about it +ever so much, and I am so glad of it! I think she is just the girl +that is fit for him."</p> + +<p>Lady Rowley took her candle and went to bed, professing to herself +that she could not understand it. But what did it signify? It was, at +any rate, certain now that the man had put himself out of Nora's +reach, and if he chose to marry a republican virago, with a red nose, +it could now make no difference to Nora. Lady Rowley almost felt a +touch of satisfaction in reflecting on the future misery of his +married life.</p> + + +<p><a name="c78" id="c78"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXVIII.</h3> +<h4>CASALUNGA.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Sir Marmaduke had been told at the Florence post-office that he would +no doubt be able to hear tidings of Trevelyan, and to learn his +address, from the officials in the post-office at Siena. At Florence +he had been introduced to some gentleman who was certainly of +importance,—a superintendent who had clerks under him and who was a +big man. This person had been very courteous to him, and he had gone +to Siena thinking that he would find it easy to obtain Trevelyan's +address,—or to learn that there was no such person there. But at +Siena he and his courier together could obtain no information. They +rambled about the huge cathedral and the picturesque market-place of +that quaint old city for the whole day, and on the next morning after +breakfast they returned to Florence. They had learned nothing. The +young man at the post-office had simply protested that he knew +nothing of the name of Trevelyan. If letters should come addressed to +such a name, he would keep them till they were called for; but, to +the best of his knowledge, he had never seen or heard the name. At +the guard-house of the gendarmerie they could not, or would not, give +him any information, and Sir Marmaduke came back with an impression +that everybody at Siena was ignorant, idiotic, and brutal. Mrs. +Trevelyan was so dispirited as to be ill, and both Sir Marmaduke and +Lady Rowley were disposed to think that the world was all against +them. "You have no conception of the sort of woman that man is going +to marry," said Lady Rowley.</p> + +<p>"What man?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Glascock! A horrid American female, as old almost as I am, who +talks through her nose, and preaches sermons about the rights of +women. It is incredible! And Nora might have had him just for lifting +up her hand." But Sir Marmaduke could not interest himself much about +Mr. Glascock. When he had been told that his daughter had refused the +heir to a great estate and a peerage, it had been matter of regret; +but he had looked upon the affair as done, and cared nothing now +though Mr. Glascock should marry a transatlantic Xantippe. He was +angry with Nora because by her obstinacy she was adding to the +general perplexities of the family, but he could not make comparisons +on Mr. Glascock's behalf between her and Miss Spalding,—as his wife +was doing, either mentally or aloud, from hour to hour. "I suppose it +is too late now," said Lady Rowley, shaking her head.</p> + +<p>"Of course it is too late. The man must marry whom he pleases. I am +beginning to wonder that anybody should ever want to get married. I +am indeed."</p> + +<p>"But what are the girls to do?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know what anybody is to do. Here is a man as mad as a March +hare, and yet nobody can touch him. If it was not for the child, I +should advise Emily to put him out of her head altogether."</p> + +<p>But though Sir Marmaduke could not bring himself to take any interest +in Mr. Glascock's affairs, and would not ask a single question +respecting the fearful American female whom this unfortunate man was +about to translate to the position of an English peeress, yet +circumstances so fell out that before three days were over he and Mr. +Glascock were thrown together in very intimate relations. Sir +Marmaduke had learned that Mr. Glascock was the only Englishman in +Florence to whom Trevelyan had been known, and that he was the only +person with whom Trevelyan had been seen to speak while passing +through the city. In his despair, therefore, Sir Marmaduke had gone +to Mr. Glascock, and it was soon arranged that the two gentlemen +should renew the search at Siena together, without having with them +either Mrs. Trevelyan or the courier. Mr. Glascock knew the ways of +the people better than did Sir Marmaduke, and could speak the +language. He obtained a passport to the good offices of the police of +Siena, and went prepared to demand rather than to ask for assistance. +They started very early, before breakfast, and on arriving at Siena +at about noon, first employed themselves in recruiting exhausted +nature. By the time that they had both declared that the hotel at +Siena was the very worst in all Italy, and that a breakfast without +eatable butter was not to be considered a breakfast at all, they had +become so intimate that Mr. Glascock spoke of his own intended +marriage. He must have done this with the conviction on his mind that +Nora Rowley would have told her mother of his former intention, and +that Lady Rowley would have told Sir Marmaduke; but he did not feel +it to be incumbent on himself to say anything on that subject. He had +nothing to excuse. He had behaved fairly and honourably. It was not +to be expected that he should remain unmarried for ever for the sake +of a girl who had twice refused him. "Of course there are very many +in England," he said, "who will think me foolish to marry a girl from +another country."</p> + +<p>"It is done every day," said Sir Marmaduke.</p> + +<p>"No doubt it is. I admit, however, that I ought to be more careful +than some other persons. There is a title and an estate to be +perpetuated, and I cannot, perhaps, be justified in taking quite so +much liberty as some other men may do; but I think I have chosen a +woman born to have a high position, and who will make her own way in +any society in which she may be placed."</p> + +<p>"I have no doubt she will," said Sir Marmaduke, who had still +sounding in his ears the alarming description which his wife had +given him of this infatuated man's proposed bride. But he would have +been bound to say as much had Mr. Glascock intended to marry as lowly +as did King Cophetua.</p> + +<p>"She is highly educated, gentle-mannered, as sweetly soft as any +English girl I ever met, and very pretty. You have met her, I think."</p> + +<p>"I do not remember that I have observed her."</p> + +<p>"She is too young for me, perhaps," said Mr. Glascock; "but that is a +fault on the right side." Sir Marmaduke, as he wiped his beard after +his breakfast, remembered what his wife had told him about the lady's +age. But it was nothing to him. "She is four-and-twenty, I think," +said Mr. Glascock. If Mr. Glascock chose to believe that his intended +wife was four-and-twenty instead of something over forty, that was +nothing to Sir Marmaduke.</p> + +<p>"The very best age in the world," said he.</p> + +<p>They had sent for an officer of the police, and before they had been +three hours in Siena they had been told that Trevelyan lived about +seven miles from the town, in a small and very remote country house, +which he had hired for twelve months from one of the city hospitals. +He had hired it furnished, and had purchased a horse and small +carriage from a man in the town. To this man they went, and it soon +became evident to them that he of whom they were in search was living +at this house, which was called Casalunga, and was not, as the police +officer told them, on the way to any place. They must leave Siena by +the road for Rome, take a turn to the left about a mile beyond the +city gate, and continue on along the country lane till they saw a +certain round hill to the right. On the top of that round hill was +Casalunga. As the country about Siena all lies in round hills, this +was no adequate description;—but it was suggested that the country +people would know all about it. They got a small open carriage in the +market-place, and were driven out. Their driver knew nothing of +Casalunga, and simply went whither he was told. But by the aid of the +country people they got along over the unmade lanes, and in little +more than an hour were told, at the bottom of the hill, that they +must now walk up to Casalunga. Though the hill was round-topped, and +no more than a hill, still the ascent at last was very steep, and was +paved with stones set edgeway in a manner that could hardly have been +intended to accommodate wheels. When Mr. Glascock asserted that the +signor who lived there had a carriage of his own, the driver +suggested that he must keep it at the bottom of the hill. It was +clearly not his intention to attempt to drive up the ascent, and Sir +Marmaduke and Mr. Glascock were therefore obliged to walk. It was now +in the latter half of May, and there was a blazing Italian sky over +their heads. Mr. Glascock was acclimated to Italian skies, and did +not much mind the work; but Sir Marmaduke, who never did much in +walking, declared that Italy was infinitely hotter than the +Mandarins, and could hardly make his way as far as the house door.</p> + +<p>It seemed to both of them to be a most singular abode for such a man +as Trevelyan. At the top of the hill there was a huge entrance +through a wooden gateway, which seemed to have been constructed with +the intention of defying any intruders not provided with warlike +ammunition. The gates were, indeed, open at the period of their +visit, but it must be supposed that they were intended to be closed +at any rate at night. Immediately on the right, as they entered +through the gates, there was a large barn, in which two men were +coopering wine vats. From thence a path led slanting to the house, of +which the door was shut, and all the front windows blocked with +shutters. The house was very long, and only of one story for a +portion of its length. Over that end at which the door was placed +there were upper rooms, and there must have been space enough for a +large family with many domestics. There was nothing round or near the +residence which could be called a garden, so that its look of +desolation was extreme. There were various large barns and outhouses, +as though it had been intended by the builder that corn and hay and +cattle should be kept there; but it seemed now that there was nothing +there except the empty vats at which the two men were coopering. Had +the Englishmen gone farther into the granary, they would have seen +that there were wine-presses stored away in the dark corners.</p> + +<p>They stopped and looked at the men, and the men halted for a moment +from their work and looked at them; but the men spoke never a word. +Mr. Glascock then asked after Mr. Trevelyan, and one of the coopers +pointed to the house. Then they crossed over to the door, and Mr. +Glascock finding there neither knocker nor bell, first tapped with +his knuckles, and then struck with his stick. But no one came. There +was not a sound in the house, and no shutter was removed. "I don't +believe that there is a soul here," said Sir Marmaduke.</p> + +<p>"We'll not give it up till we've seen it all at any rate," said Mr. +Glascock. And so they went round to the other front.</p> + +<p>On this side of the house the tilled ground, either ploughed or dug +with the spade, came up to the very windows. There was hardly even a +particle of grass to be seen. A short way down the hill there were +rows of olive trees, standing in prim order and at regular distances, +from which hung the vines that made the coopering of the vats +necessary. Olives and vines have pretty names, and call up +associations of landscape beauty. But here they were in no way +beautiful. The ground beneath them was turned up, and brown, and +arid, so that there was not a blade of grass to be seen. On some +furrows the maize or Indian corn was sprouting, and there were +patches of growth of other kinds,—each patch closely marked by its +own straight lines; and there were narrow paths, so constructed as to +take as little room as possible. But all that had been done had been +done for economy, and nothing for beauty. The occupiers of Casalunga +had thought more of the produce of their land than of picturesque or +attractive appearance.</p> + +<p>The sun was blazing fiercely hot, hotter on this side, Sir Marmaduke +thought, even than on the other; and there was not a wavelet of a +cloud in the sky. A balcony ran the whole length of the house, and +under this Sir Marmaduke took shelter at once, leaning with his back +against the wall. "There is not a soul here at all," said he.</p> + +<p>"The men in the barn told us that there was," said Mr. Glascock; +"and, at any rate, we will try the windows." So saying, he walked +along the front of the house, Sir Marmaduke following him slowly, +till they came to a door, the upper half of which was glazed, and +through which they looked into one of the rooms. Two or three of the +other windows in this frontage of the house came down to the ground, +and were made for egress and ingress; but they had all been closed +with shutters, as though the house was deserted. But they now looked +into a room which contained some signs of habitation. There was a +small table with a marble top, on which lay two or three books, and +there were two arm-chairs in the room, with gilded arms and legs, and +a morsel of carpet, and a clock on a shelf over a stove, and—a +rocking-horse. "The boy is here, you may be sure," said Mr. Glascock. +"The rocking-horse makes that certain. But how are we to get at any +one!"</p> + +<p>"I never saw such a place for an Englishman to come and live in +before," said Sir Marmaduke. "What on earth can he do here all day!" +As he spoke the door of the room was opened, and there was Trevelyan +standing before them, looking at them through the window. He wore an +old red English dressing-gown, which came down to his feet, and a +small braided Italian cap on his head. His beard had been allowed to +grow, and he had neither collar nor cravat. His trousers were +unbraced, and he shuffled in with a pair of slippers, which would +hardly cling to his feet. He was paler and still thinner than when he +had been visited at Willesden, and his eyes seemed to be larger, and +shone almost with a brighter brilliancy.</p> + +<p>Mr. Glascock tried to open the door, but found that it was closed. +"Sir Marmaduke and I have come to visit you," said Mr. Glascock, +aloud. "Is there any means by which we can get into the house?" +Trevelyan stood still and stared at them. "We knocked at the front +door, but nobody came," continued Mr. Glascock. "I suppose this is +the way you usually go in and out."</p> + +<p>"He does not mean to let us in," whispered Sir Marmaduke.</p> + +<p>"Can you open this door," said Mr. Glascock, "or shall we go round +again?" Trevelyan had stood still contemplating them, but at last +came forward and put back the bolt. "That is all right," said Mr. +Glascock, entering. "I am sure you will be glad to see Sir +Marmaduke."</p> + +<p>"I should be glad to see him,—or you, if I could entertain you," +said Trevelyan. His voice was harsh and hard, and his words were +uttered with a certain amount of intended grandeur. "Any of the +family would be welcome were it +<span class="nowrap">not—"</span></p> + +<p>"Were it not what?" asked Mr. Glascock.</p> + +<p>"It can be nothing to you, sir, what troubles I have here. This is my +own abode, in which I had flattered myself that I could be free from +intruders. I do not want visitors. I am sorry that you should have +had trouble in coming here, but I do not want visitors. I am very +sorry that I have nothing that I can offer you, Mr. Glascock."</p> + +<p>"Emily is in Florence," said Sir Marmaduke.</p> + +<p>"Who brought her? Did I tell her to come? Let her go back to her +home. I have come here to be free from her, and I mean to be free. If +she wants my money, let her take it."</p> + +<p>"She wants her child," said Mr. Glascock.</p> + +<p>"He is my child," said Trevelyan, "and my right to him is better than +hers. Let her try it in a court of law, and she shall see. Why did +she deceive me with that man? Why has she driven me to this? Look +here, Mr. Glascock;—my whole life is spent in this seclusion, and it +is her fault."</p> + +<p>"Your wife is innocent of all fault, Trevelyan," said Mr. Glascock.</p> + +<p>"Any woman can say as much as that;—and all women do say it. +Yet,—what are they worth?"</p> + +<p>"Do you mean, sir, to take away your wife's character?" said Sir +Marmaduke, coming up in wrath. "Remember that she is my daughter, and +that there are things which flesh and blood cannot stand."</p> + +<p>"She is my wife, sir, and that is ten times more. Do you think that +you would do more for her than I would do,—drink more of Esill? You +had better go away, Sir Marmaduke. You can do no good by coming here +and talking of your daughter. I would have given the world to save +her;—but she would not be saved."</p> + +<p>"You are a slanderer!" said Sir Marmaduke, in his wrath.</p> + +<p>Mr. Glascock turned round to the father, and tried to quiet him. It +was so manifest to him that the balance of the poor man's mind was +gone, that it seemed to him to be ridiculous to upbraid the sufferer. +He was such a piteous sight to behold, that it was almost impossible +to feel indignation against him. "You cannot wonder," said Mr. +Glascock, advancing close to the master of the house, "that the +mother should want to see her only child. You do not wish that your +wife should be the most wretched woman in the world."</p> + +<p>"Am not I the most wretched of men? Can anything be more wretched +than this? Is her life worse than mine? And whose fault was it? Had I +any friend to whom she objected? Was I untrue to her in a single +thought?"</p> + +<p>"If you say that she was untrue, it is a falsehood," said Sir +Marmaduke.</p> + +<p>"You allow yourself a liberty of expression, sir, because you are my +wife's father," said Trevelyan, "which you would not dare to take in +other circumstances."</p> + +<p>"I say that it is a false calumny,—a lie! and I would say so to any +man on earth who should dare to slander my child's name."</p> + +<p>"Your child, sir! She is my wife;—my wife;—my wife!" Trevelyan, as +he spoke, advanced close up to his father-in-law; and at last hissed +out his words, with his lips close to Sir Marmaduke's face. "Your +right in her is gone, sir. She is mine,—mine,—mine! And you see the +way in which she has treated me, Mr. Glascock. Everything I had was +hers; but the words of a grey-haired sinner were sweeter to her than +all my love. I wonder whether you think that it is a pleasant thing +for such a one as I to come out here and live in such a place as +this? I have not a friend,—a companion,—hardly a book. There is +nothing that I can eat or drink. I do not stir out of the house,—and +I am ill;—very ill! Look at me. See what she has brought me to! Mr. +Glascock, on my honour as a man, I never wronged her in a thought or +a word."</p> + +<p>Mr. Glascock had come to think that his best chance of doing any good +was to get Trevelyan into conversation with himself, free from the +interruption of Sir Marmaduke. The father of the injured woman could +not bring himself to endure the hard words that were spoken of his +daughter. During this last speech he had broken out once or twice; +but Trevelyan, not heeding him, had clung to Mr. Glascock's arm. "Sir +Marmaduke," said he, "would you not like to see the boy?"</p> + +<p>"He shall not see the boy," said Trevelyan. "You may see him. He +shall not. What is he that he should have control over me?"</p> + +<p>"This is the most fearful thing I ever heard of," said Sir Marmaduke. +"What are we to do with him?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Glascock whispered a few words to Sir Marmaduke, and then +declared that he was ready to be taken to the child. "And he will +remain here?" asked Trevelyan. A pledge was then given by Sir +Marmaduke that he would not force his way farther into the house, and +the two other men left the chamber together. Sir Marmaduke, as he +paced up and down the room alone, perspiring at every pore, +thoroughly uncomfortable and ill at ease, thought of all the hard +positions of which he had ever read, and that his was harder than +them all. Here was a man married to his daughter, in possession of +his daughter's child, manifestly mad,—and yet he could do nothing to +him! He was about to return to the seat of his government, and he +must leave his own child in this madman's power! Of course, his +daughter could not go with him, leaving her child in this madman's +hands. He had been told that even were he to attempt to prove the man +to be mad in Italy, the process would be slow; and, before it could +be well commenced, Trevelyan would be off with the child elsewhere. +There never was an embarrassment, thought Sir Marmaduke, out of which +it was so impossible to find a clear way.</p> + +<p>In the meantime, Mr. Glascock and Trevelyan were visiting the child. +It was evident that the father, let him be ever so mad, had discerned +the expediency of allowing some one to see that his son was alive and +in health. Mr. Glascock did not know much of children, and could only +say afterwards that the boy was silent and very melancholy, but +clean, and apparently well. It appeared that he was taken out daily +by his father in the cool hours of the morning, and that his father +hardly left him from the time that he was taken up till he was put to +bed. But Mr. Glascock's desire was to see Trevelyan alone, and this +he did after they had left the boy. "And now, Trevelyan," he said, +"what do you mean to do?"</p> + +<p>"To do?"</p> + +<p>"In what way do you propose to live? I want you to be reasonable with +me."</p> + +<p>"They do not treat me reasonably."</p> + +<p>"Are you going to measure your own conduct by that of other people? +In the first place, you should go back to England. What good can you +do here?" Trevelyan shook his head, but remained silent. "You cannot +like this life."</p> + +<p>"No, indeed. But whither can I go now that I shall like to live?"</p> + +<p>"Why not home?"</p> + +<p>"I have no home."</p> + +<p>"Why not go back to England? Ask your wife to join you, and return +with her. She would go at a word." The poor wretch again shook his +head. "I hope you think that I speak as your friend," said Mr. +Glascock.</p> + +<p>"I believe you do."</p> + +<p>"I will say nothing of any imprudence; but you cannot believe that +she has been untrue to you?" Trevelyan would say nothing to this, but +stood silent waiting for Mr. Glascock to continue. "Let her come back +to you—here; and then, as soon as you can arrange it, go to your own +home."</p> + +<p>"Shall I tell you something?" said Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"What is it?"</p> + +<p>He came up close to Mr. Glascock, and put his hand upon his visitor's +shoulder. "I will tell you what she would do at once. I dare say that +she would come to me. I dare say that she would go with me. I am sure +she would. And directly she got me there, she would—say that I +was—mad! She,—my wife, would do it! He,—that furious, ignorant old +man below, tried to do it before. His wife said that I was mad." He +paused a moment, as though waiting for a reply; but Mr. Glascock had +none to make. It had not been his object, in the advice which he had +given, to entrap the poor fellow by a snare, and to induce him so to +act that he should deliver himself up to keepers; but he was well +aware that wherever Trevelyan might be, it would be desirable that he +should be placed for awhile in the charge of some physician. He could +not bring himself at the spur of the moment to repudiate the idea by +which Trevelyan was actuated. "Perhaps you think that she would be +right?" said Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"I am quite sure that she would do nothing that is not for the best," +said Mr. Glascock.</p> + +<p>"I can see it all. I will not go back to England, Mr. Glascock. I +intend to travel. I shall probably leave this and go to—to—to +Greece, perhaps. It is a healthy place, this, and I like it for that +reason; but I shall not stay here. If my wife likes to travel with +me, she can come. But,—to England I will not go."</p> + +<p>"You will let the child go to his mother?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. If she wants to see the child, he is here. If she +will come,—without her father,—she shall see him. She shall not +take him from hence. Nor shall she return to live with me, without +full acknowledgment of her fault, and promises of an amended life. I +know what I am saying, Mr. Glascock, and have thought of these things +perhaps more than you have done. I am obliged to you for coming to +me; but now, if you please, I would prefer to be alone."</p> + +<p>Mr. Glascock, seeing that nothing further could be done, joined Sir +Marmaduke, and the two walked down to their carriage at the bottom of +the hill. Mr. Glascock, as he went, declared his conviction that the +unfortunate man was altogether mad, and that it would be necessary to +obtain some interference on the part of the authorities for the +protection of the child. How this could be done, or whether it could +be done in time to intercept a further flight on the part of +Trevelyan, Mr. Glascock could not say. It was his idea that Mrs. +Trevelyan should herself go out to Casalunga, and try the force of +her own persuasion.</p> + +<p>"I believe that he would murder her," said Sir Marmaduke.</p> + +<p>"He would not do that. There is a glimmer of sense in all his +madness, which will keep him from any actual violence."</p> + + +<p><a name="c79" id="c79"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXIX.</h3> +<h4>"I CAN SLEEP ON THE BOARDS."<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Three days after this there came another carriage to the bottom of +the hill on which Casalunga stood, and a lady got out of it all +alone. It was Emily Trevelyan, and she had come thither from Siena in +quest of her husband and her child. On the previous day Sir +Marmaduke's courier had been at the house with a note from the wife +to the husband, and had returned with an answer, in which Mrs. +Trevelyan was told that, if she would come quite alone, she should +see her child. Sir Marmaduke had been averse to any further +intercourse with the man, other than what might be made in accordance +with medical advice, and, if possible, with government authority. +Lady Rowley had assented to her daughter's wish, but had suggested +that she should at least be allowed to go also,—at any rate, as far +as the bottom of the hill. But Emily had been very firm, and Mr. +Glascock had supported her. He was confident that the man would do no +harm to her, and he was indisposed to believe that any interference +on the part of the Italian Government could be procured in such a +case with sufficient celerity to be of use. He still thought it might +be possible that the wife might prevail over the husband, or the +mother over the father. Sir Marmaduke was at last obliged to yield, +and Mrs. Trevelyan went to Siena with no other companion but the +courier. From Siena she made the journey quite alone; and having +learned the circumstances of the house from Mr. Glascock, she got out +of the carriage, and walked up the hill. There were still the two men +coopering at the vats, but she did not stay to speak to them. She +went through the big gates, and along the slanting path to the door, +not doubting of her way;—for Mr. Glascock had described it all to +her, making a small plan of the premises, and even explaining to her +the position of the room in which her boy and her husband slept. She +found the door open, and an Italian maid-servant at once welcomed her +to the house, and assured her that the signor would be with her +immediately. She was sure that the girl knew that she was the boy's +mother, and was almost tempted to ask questions at once as to the +state of the household; but her knowledge of Italian was slight, and +she felt that she was so utterly a stranger in the land that she +could dare to trust no one. Though the heat was great, her face was +covered with a thick veil. Her dress was black, from head to foot, +and she was as a woman who mourned for her husband. She was led into +the room which her father had been allowed to enter through the +window; and here she sat, in her husband's house, feeling that in no +position in the world could she be more utterly separated from the +interests of all around her. In a few minutes the door was opened, +and her husband was with her, bringing the boy in his hand. He had +dressed himself with some care; but it may be doubted whether the +garments which he wore did not make him appear thinner even and more +haggard than he had looked to be in his old dressing-gown. He had not +shaved himself, but his long hair was brushed back from his forehead, +after a fashion quaint and very foreign to his former ideas of dress. +His wife had not expected that her child would come to her at +once,—had thought that some entreaties would be necessary, some +obedience perhaps exacted from her, before she would be allowed to +see him; and now her heart was softened, and she was grateful to her +husband. But she could not speak to him till she had had the boy in +her arms. She tore off her bonnet, and then clinging to the child, +covered him with kisses. "Louey, my darling! Louey; you remember +mamma?" The child pressed himself close to the mother's bosom, but +spoke never a word. He was cowed and overcome, not only by the +incidents of the moment, but by the terrible melancholy of his whole +life. He had been taught to understand, without actual spoken +lessons, that he was to live with his father, and that the former +woman-given happinesses of his life were at an end. In this second +visit from his mother he did not forget her. He recognised the luxury +of her love; but it did not occur to him even to hope that she might +have come to rescue him from the evil of his days. Trevelyan was +standing by, the while, looking on; but he did not speak till she +addressed him.</p> + +<p>"I am so thankful to you for bringing him to me," she said.</p> + +<p>"I told you that you should see him," he said. "Perhaps it might have +been better that I should have sent him by a servant; but there are +circumstances which make me fear to let him out of my sight."</p> + +<p>"Do you think that I did not wish to see you also? Louis, why do you +do me so much wrong? Why do you treat me with such cruelty?" Then she +threw her arms round his neck, and before he could repulse +her,—before he could reflect whether it would be well that he should +repulse her or not,—she had covered his brow and cheeks and lips +with kisses. "Louis," she said; "Louis, speak to me!"</p> + +<p>"It is hard to speak sometimes," he said.</p> + + +<div class="center"><a name="ip2-229" id="ip2-229"></a> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="4px"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/p2-229.jpg"> + <img src="images/p2-229-t.jpg" width="540" + alt='"It is hard to speak sometimes."' /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <span class="caption">"It is hard to speak sometimes."<br /> + Click to <a href="images/p2-229.jpg">ENLARGE</a></span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p>"You love me, Louis?"</p> + +<p>"Yes;—I love you. But I am afraid of you!"</p> + +<p>"What is it that you fear? I would give my life for you, if you would +only come back to me and let me feel that you believed me to be +true." He shook his head, and began to think,—while she still clung +to him. He was quite sure that her father and mother had intended to +bring a mad doctor down upon him, and he knew that his wife was in +her mother's hands. Should he yield to her now,—should he make her +any promise,—might not the result be that he would be shut up in +dark rooms, robbed of his liberty, robbed of what he loved better +than his liberty,—his power as a man. She would thus get the better +of him and take the child, and the world would say that in this +contest between him and her he had been the sinning one, and she the +one against whom the sin had been done. It was the chief object of +his mind, the one thing for which he was eager, that this should +never come to pass. Let it once be conceded to him from all sides +that he had been right, and then she might do with him almost as she +willed. He knew well that he was ill. When he thought of his child, +he would tell himself that he was dying. He was at some moments of +his miserable existence fearfully anxious to come to terms with his +wife, in order that at his death his boy might not be without a +protector. Were he to die, then it would be better that his child +should be with its mother. In his happy days, immediately after his +marriage, he had made a will, in which he had left his entire +property to his wife for her life, providing for its subsequent +descent to his child,—or children. It had never even occurred to his +poor shattered brain that it would be well for him to alter his will. +Had he really believed that his wife had betrayed him, doubtless he +would have done so. He would have hated her, have distrusted her +altogether, and have believed her to be an evil thing. He had no such +belief. But in his desire to achieve empire, and in the sorrows which +had come upon him in his unsuccessful struggle, his mind had wavered +so frequently, that his spoken words were no true indicators of his +thoughts; and in all his arguments he failed to express either his +convictions or his desires. When he would say something stronger than +he intended, and it would be put to him by his wife, by her father or +mother, or by some friend of hers, whether he did believe that she +had been untrue to him, he would recoil from the answer which his +heart would dictate, lest he should seem to make an acknowledgment +that might weaken the ground upon which he stood. Then he would +satisfy his own conscience by assuring himself that he had never +accused her of such sin. She was still clinging to him now as his +mind was working after this fashion. "Louis," she said, "let it all +be as though there had been nothing."</p> + +<p>"How can that be, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"Not to others;—but to us it can be so. There shall be no word +spoken of the past." Again he shook his head. "Will it not be best +that there should be no word spoken?"</p> + +<p>"'Forgiveness may be spoken with the tongue,'" he said, beginning to +quote from a poem which had formerly been frequent in his hands.</p> + +<p>"Cannot there be real forgiveness between you and me,—between +husband and wife who, in truth, love each other? Do you think that I +would tell you of it again?" He felt that in all that she said there +was an assumption that she had been right, and that he had been +wrong. She was promising to forgive. She was undertaking to forget. +She was willing to take him back to the warmth of her love, and the +comfort of her kindness,—but was not asking to be taken back. This +was what he could not and would not endure. He had determined that if +she behaved well to him, he would not be harsh to her, and he was +struggling to keep up to his resolve. He would accuse her of +nothing,—if he could help it. But he could not say a word that would +even imply that she need forget,—that she should forgive. It was for +him to forgive;—and he was willing to do it, if she would accept +forgiveness. "I will never speak a word, Louis," she said, laying her +head upon his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Your heart is still hardened," he replied slowly.</p> + +<p>"Hard to you?"</p> + +<p>"And your mind is dark. You do not see what you have done. In our +religion, Emily, forgiveness is sure, not after penitence, but with +repentance."</p> + +<p>"What does that mean?"</p> + +<p>"It means this, that though I would welcome you back to my arms with +joy, I cannot do so, till you have—confessed your fault."</p> + +<p>"What fault, Louis? If I have made you unhappy, I do, indeed, grieve +that it has been so."</p> + +<p>"It is of no use," said he. "I cannot talk about it. Do you suppose +that it does not tear me to the very soul to think of it?"</p> + +<p>"What is it that you think, Louis?" As she had been travelling +thither, she had determined that she would say anything that he +wished her to say,—make any admission that might satisfy him. That +she could be happy again as other women are happy, she did not +expect; but if it could be conceded between them that bygones should +be bygones, she might live with him and do her duty, and, at least, +have her child with her. Her father had told her that her husband was +mad; but she was willing to put up with his madness on such terms as +these. What could her husband do to her in his madness that he could +not do also to the child? "Tell me what you want me to say, and I +will say it," she said.</p> + +<p>"You have sinned against me," he said, raising her head gently from +his shoulder.</p> + +<p>"Never!" she exclaimed. "As God is my judge, I never have!" As she +said this, she retreated and took the sobbing boy again into her +arms.</p> + +<p>He was at once placed upon his guard, telling himself that he saw the +necessity of holding by his child. How could he tell? Might there not +be a policeman down from Florence, ready round the house, to seize +the boy and carry him away? Though all his remaining life should be a +torment to him, though infinite plagues should be poured upon his +head, though he should die like a dog, alone, unfriended, and in +despair, while he was fighting this battle of his, he would not give +way. "That is sufficient," he said. "Louey must return now to his own +chamber."</p> + +<p>"I may go with him?"</p> + +<p>"No, Emily. You cannot go with him now. I will thank you to release +him, that I may take him." She still held the little fellow closely +pressed in her arms. "Do not reward me for my courtesy by further +disobedience," he said.</p> + +<p>"You will let me come again?" To this he made no reply. "Tell me that +I may come again."</p> + +<p>"I do not think that I shall remain here long."</p> + +<p>"And I may not stay now?"</p> + +<p>"That would be impossible. There is no accommodation for you."</p> + +<p>"I could sleep on the boards beside his cot," said Mrs. Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"That is my place," he replied. "You may know that he is not +disregarded. With my own hands I tend him every morning. I take him +out myself. I feed him myself. He says his prayers to me. He learns +from me, and can say his letters nicely. You need not fear for him. +No mother was ever more tender with her child than I am with him." +Then he gently withdrew the boy from her arms, and she let her child +go, lest he should learn to know that there was a quarrel between his +father and his mother. "If you will excuse me," he said, "I will not +come down to you again to-day. My servant will see you to your +carriage."</p> + +<p>So he left her; and she, with an Italian girl at her heels, got into +her vehicle, and was taken back to Siena. There she passed the night +alone at the inn, and on the next morning returned to Florence by the +railway.</p> + + +<p><a name="c80" id="c80"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXX.</h3> +<h4>"WILL THEY DESPISE HIM?"<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Gradually the news of the intended marriage between Mr. Glascock and +Miss Spalding spread itself over Florence, and people talked about it +with that energy which subjects of such moment certainly deserve. +That Caroline Spalding had achieved a very great triumph, was, of +course, the verdict of all men and of all women; and I fear that +there was a corresponding feeling that poor Mr. Glascock had been +triumphed over, and as it were, subjugated. In some respects he had +been remiss in his duties as a bachelor visitor to Florence,—as a +visitor to Florence who had manifestly been much in want of a wife. +He had not given other girls a fair chance, but had thrown himself +down at the feet of this American female in the weakest possible +manner. And then it got about the town that he had been refused over +and over again by Nora Rowley. It is too probable that Lady Rowley in +her despair and dismay had been indiscreet, and had told secrets +which should never have been mentioned by her. And the wife of the +English minister, who had some grudges of her own, lifted her +eyebrows and shook her head and declared that all the Glascocks at +home would be outraged to the last degree. "My dear Lady Rowley," she +said, "I don't know whether it won't become a question with them +whether they should issue a commission de lunatico." Lady Rowley did +not know what a commission de lunatico meant, but was quite willing +to regard poor Mr. Glascock as a lunatic. "And there is poor Lord +Peterborough at Naples just at death's door," continued the British +Minister's wife. In this she was perhaps nearly correct; but as Lord +Peterborough had now been in the same condition for many months, as +his mind had altogether gone, and as the doctor declared that he +might live in his present condition for a year, or for years, it +could not fairly be said that Mr. Glascock was acting without due +filial feeling in engaging himself to marry a young lady. "And she +such a creature!" said Lady Rowley, with emphasis. This the British +Minister's wife noticed simply by shaking her head. Caroline Spalding +was undoubtedly a pretty girl; but, as the British Minister's wife +said afterwards, it was not surprising that poor Lady Rowley should +be nearly out of her mind.</p> + +<p>This had occurred a full week after the evening spent at Mr. +Spalding's house; and even yet Lady Rowley had never been put right +as to that mistake of hers about Wallachia Petrie. That other trouble +of hers, and her eldest daughter's journey to Siena, had prevented +them from going out; and though the matter had often been discussed +between Lady Rowley and Nora, there had not as yet come between them +any proper explanation. Nora would declare that the future bride was +very pretty and very delightful; and Lady Rowley would throw up her +hands in despair and protest that her daughter was insane. "Why +should he not marry whom he likes, mamma?" Nora once said, almost +with indignation.</p> + +<p>"Because he will disgrace his family."</p> + +<p>"I cannot understand what you mean, mamma. They are, at any rate, as +good as we are. Mr. Spalding stands quite as high as papa does."</p> + +<p>"She is an American," said Lady Rowley.</p> + +<p>"And her family might say that he is an Englishman," said Nora.</p> + +<p>"My dear, if you do not understand the incongruity between an English +peer and a Yankee—female, I cannot help you. I suppose it is because +you have been brought up within the limited society of a small +colony. If so, it is not your fault. But I had hoped you had been in +Europe long enough to have learned what was what. Do you think, my +dear, that she will look well when she is presented to her Majesty as +Lord Peterborough's wife?"</p> + +<p>"Splendid," said Nora. "She has just the brow for a coronet."</p> + +<p>"Heavens and earth!" said Lady Rowley, throwing up her hands. "And +you believe that he will be proud of her in England?"</p> + +<p>"I am sure he will."</p> + +<p>"My belief is that he will leave her behind him, or that they will +settle somewhere in the wilds of America,—out in Mexico, or +Massachusetts, or the Rocky Mountains. I do not think that he will +have the courage to shew her in London."</p> + +<p>The marriage was to take place in the Protestant church at Florence +early in June, and then the bride and bridegroom were to go over the +Alps, and to remain there subject to tidings as to the health of the +old man at Naples. Mr. Glascock had thrown up his seat in Parliament, +some month or two ago, knowing that he could not get back to his +duties during the present session, and feeling that he would shortly +be called upon to sit in the other House. He was thus free to use his +time and to fix his days as he pleased; and it was certainly clear to +those who knew him, that he was not ashamed of his American bride. He +spent much of his time at the Spaldings' house, and was always to be +seen with them in the Cascine and at the Opera. Mrs. Spalding, the +aunt, was, of course, in great glory. A triumphant, happy, or even +simply a splendid marriage, for the rising girl of a family is a +great glory to the maternal mind. Mrs. Spalding could not but be +aware that the very air around her seemed to breathe congratulations +into her ears. Her friends spoke to her, even on indifferent +subjects, as though everything was going well with her,—better with +her than with anybody else; and there came upon her in these days a +dangerous feeling, that in spite of all the preachings of the +preachers, the next world might perhaps be not so very much better +than this. She was, in fact, the reverse of the medal of which poor +Lady Rowley filled the obverse. And the American Minister was +certainly an inch taller than before, and made longer speeches, being +much more regardless of interruption. Olivia was delighted at her +sister's success, and heard with rapture the description of Monkhams, +which came to her second-hand through her sister. It was already +settled that she was to spend her next Christmas at Monkhams, and +perhaps there might be an idea in her mind that there were other +eldest sons of old lords who would like American brides. Everything +around Caroline Spalding was pleasant,—except the words of Wallachia +Petrie.</p> + +<p>Everything around her was pleasant till there came to her a touch of +a suspicion that the marriage which Mr. Glascock was going to make +would be detrimental to her intended husband in his own country. +There were many in Florence who were saying this besides the wife of +the English Minister and Lady Rowley. Of course Caroline Spalding +herself was the last to hear it, and to her the idea was brought by +Wallachia Petrie. "I wish I could think you would make yourself +happy,—or him," Wallachia had said, croaking.</p> + +<p>"Why should I fail to make him happy?"</p> + +<p>"Because you are not of the same blood, or race, or manners as +himself. They say that he is very wealthy in his own country, and +that those who live around him will look coldly on you."</p> + +<p>"So that he does not look coldly, I do not care how others may look," +said Caroline proudly.</p> + +<p>"But when he finds that he has injured himself by such a marriage in +the estimation of all his friends,—how will it be then?"</p> + +<p>This set Caroline Spalding thinking of what she was doing. She began +to realise the feeling that perhaps she might not be a fit bride for +an English lord's son, and in her agony she came to Nora Rowley for +counsel. After all, how little was it that she knew of the home and +the country to which she was to be carried! She might not, perhaps, +get adequate advice from Nora, but she would probably learn something +on which she could act. There was no one else among the English at +Florence to whom she could speak with freedom. When she mentioned her +fears to her aunt, her aunt of course laughed at her. Mrs. Spalding +told her that Mr. Glascock might be presumed to know his own business +best, and that she, as an American lady of high standing,—the niece +of a minister!—was a fitting match for any Englishman, let him be +ever so much a lord. But Caroline was not comforted by this, and in +her suspense she went to Nora Rowley. She wrote a line to Nora, and +when she called at the hotel, was taken up to her friend's bed-room. +She found great difficulty in telling her story, but she did tell it. +"Miss Rowley," she said, "if this is a silly thing that he is going +to do, I am bound to save him from his own folly. You know your own +country better than I do. Will they think that he has disgraced +himself?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not that," said Nora.</p> + +<p>"Shall I be a load round his neck? Miss Rowley, for my own sake I +would not endure such a position as that, not even though I love him. +But for his sake! Think of that. If I find that people think ill of +him,—because of <span class="nowrap">me—!"</span></p> + +<p>"No one will think ill of him."</p> + +<p>"Is it esteemed needful that such a one as he should marry a woman of +his own rank? I can bear to end it all now; but I shall not be able +to bear his humiliation, and my own despair, if I find that I have +injured him. Tell me plainly,—is it a marriage that he should not +make?" Nora paused for a while before she answered, and as she sat +silent the other girl watched her face carefully. Nora on being thus +consulted, was very careful that her tongue should utter nothing that +was not her true opinion as best she knew how to express it. Her +sympathy would have prompted her to give such an answer as would at +once have made Caroline happy in her mind. She would have been +delighted to have been able to declare that these doubts were utterly +groundless, and this hesitation needless. But she conceived that she +owed it as a duty from one woman to another to speak the truth as she +conceived it on so momentous an occasion, and she was not sure but +that Mr. Glascock would be considered by his friends in England to be +doing badly in marrying an American girl. What she did not remember +was this,—that her very hesitation was in fact an answer, and such +an answer as she was most unwilling to give. "I see that it would be +so," said Caroline Spalding.</p> + +<p>"No;—not that."</p> + +<p>"What then? Will they despise him,—and me?"</p> + +<p>"No one who knows you can despise you. No one who sees you can fail +to admire you." Nora, as she said this, thought of her mother, but +told herself at once that in this matter her mother's judgment had +been altogether destroyed by her disappointment. "What I think will +take place will be this. His family, when first they hear of it, will +be sorry."</p> + +<p>"Then," said Caroline, "I will put an end to it."</p> + +<p>"You can't do that, dear. You are engaged, and you haven't a right. I +am engaged to a man, and all my friends object to it. But I shan't +put an end to it. I don't think I have a right. I shall not do it any +way, however."</p> + +<p>"But if it were for his good?"</p> + +<p>"It couldn't be for his good. He and I have got to go along together +somehow."</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't hurt him," said Caroline.</p> + +<p>"I won't if I can help it, but he has got to take me along with him +any how; and Mr. Glascock has got to take you. If I were you, I +shouldn't ask any more questions."</p> + +<p>"It isn't the same. You said that you were to be poor, but he is very +rich. And I am beginning to understand that these titles of yours are +something like kings' crowns. The man who has to wear them can't do +just as he pleases with them. Noblesse oblige. I can see the meaning +of that, even when the obligation itself is trumpery in its nature. +If it is a man's duty to marry a Talbot because he's a Howard, I +suppose he ought to do his duty." After a pause she went on again. "I +do believe that I have made a mistake. It seemed to be absurd at the +first to think of it, but I do believe it now. Even what you say to +me makes me think it."</p> + +<p>"At any rate you can't go back," said Nora enthusiastically.</p> + +<p>"I will try."</p> + +<p>"Go to himself and ask him. You must leave him to decide it at last. +I don't see how a girl when she is engaged, is to throw a man over +unless he consents. Of course you can throw yourself into the Arno."</p> + +<p>"And get the water into my shoes,—for it wouldn't do much more at +present."</p> + +<p>"And you can—jilt him," said Nora.</p> + +<p>"It would not be jilting him."</p> + +<p>"He must decide that. If he so regards it, it will be so. I advise +you to think no more about it; but if you speak to anybody it should +be to him." This was at last the result of Nora's wisdom, and then +the two girls descended together to the room in which Lady Rowley was +sitting with her other daughters. Lady Rowley was very careful in +asking after Miss Spalding's sister, and Miss Spalding assured her +that Olivia was quite well. Then Lady Rowley made some inquiry about +Olivia and Mr. Glascock, and Miss Spalding assured her that no two +persons were ever such allies, and that she believed that they were +together at this moment investigating some old church. Lady Rowley +simpered, and declared that nothing could be more proper, and +expressed a hope that Olivia would like England. Caroline Spalding, +having still in her mind the trouble that had brought her to Nora, +had not much to say about this. "If she goes again to England I am +sure she will like it," replied Miss Spalding.</p> + +<p>"But of course she is going," said Lady Rowley.</p> + +<p>"Of course she will some day, and of course she'll like it," said +Miss Spalding. "We both of us have been there already."</p> + +<p>"But I mean Monkhams," said Lady Rowley, still simpering.</p> + +<p>"I declare I believe mamma thinks that your sister is to be married +to Mr. Glascock!" said Lucy.</p> + +<p>"And so she is;—isn't she?" said Lady Rowley.</p> + +<p>"Oh, mamma!" said Nora, jumping up. "It is Caroline;—this one, this +one, this one,"—and Nora took her friend by the arm as she +spoke,—"it is this one that is to be Mrs. Glascock."</p> + +<p>"It is a most natural mistake to make," said Caroline.</p> + +<p>Lady Rowley became very red in the face, and was unhappy. "I +declare," she said, "that they told me it was your elder sister."</p> + +<p>"But I have no elder sister," said Caroline, laughing.</p> + +<p>"Of course she is oldest," said Nora,—"and looks to be so, ever so +much. Don't you, Miss Spalding?"</p> + +<p>"I have always supposed so."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand it at all," said Lady Rowley, who had no image +before her mind's eye but that of Wallachia Petrie, and who was +beginning to feel that she had disgraced her own judgment by the +criticisms she had expressed everywhere as to Mr. Glascock's bride. +"I don't understand it at all. Do you mean that both your sisters are +younger than you, Miss Spalding?"</p> + +<p>"I have only got one, Lady Rowley."</p> + +<p>"Mamma, you are thinking of Miss Petrie," said Nora, clapping both +her hands together.</p> + +<p>"I mean the lady that wears the black bugles."</p> + +<p>"Of course you do;—Miss Petrie. Mamma has all along thought that Mr. +Glascock was going to carry away with him the republican Browning!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, mamma, how can you have made such a blunder!" said Sophie +Rowley. "Mamma does make such delicious blunders."</p> + +<p>"Sophie, my dear, that is not a proper way of speaking."</p> + +<p>"But, dear mamma, don't you?"</p> + +<p>"If somebody has told me wrong, that has not been my fault," said +Lady Rowley.</p> + +<p>The poor woman was so evidently disconcerted that Caroline Spalding +was quite unhappy. "My dear Lady Rowley, there has been no fault. And +why shouldn't it have been so? Wallachia is so clever, that it is the +most natural thing in the world to have thought."</p> + +<p>"I cannot say that I agree with you there," said Lady Rowley, +somewhat recovering herself.</p> + +<p>"You must know the whole truth now," said Nora, turning to her +friend, "and you must not be angry with us if we laugh a little at +your poetess. Mamma has been frantic with Mr. Glascock because he has +been going to marry,—whom shall I say,—her edition of you. She has +sworn that he must be insane. When we have sworn how beautiful you +were, and how nice, and how jolly, and all the rest of it,—she has +sworn that you were at least a hundred, and that you had a red nose. +You must admit that Miss Petrie has a red nose."</p> + +<p>"Is that a sin?"</p> + +<p>"Not at all in the woman who has it; but in the man who is going to +marry it,—yes. Can't you see how we have all been at cross-purposes, +and what mamma has been thinking and saying of poor Mr. Glascock? You +mustn't repeat it, of course; but we have had such a battle here +about it. We thought that mamma had lost her eyes and her ears and +her knowledge of things in general. And now it has all come out! You +won't be angry?"</p> + +<p>"Why should I be angry?"</p> + +<p>"Miss Spalding," said Lady Rowley, "I am really unhappy at what has +occurred, and I hope that there may be nothing more said about it. I +am quite sure that somebody told me wrong, or I should not have +fallen into such an error. I beg your pardon,—and Mr. Glascock's!"</p> + +<p>"Beg Mr. Glascock's pardon, certainly," said Lucy.</p> + +<p>Miss Spalding looked very pretty, smiled very gracefully, and coming +up to Lady Rowley to say good-bye, kissed her on her cheeks. This +overcame the spirit of the disappointed mother, and Lady Rowley never +said another word against Caroline Spalding or her marriage. "Now, +mamma, what do you think of her?" said Nora, as soon as Caroline was +gone.</p> + +<p>"Was it odd, my dear, that I should be astonished at his wanting to +marry that other woman?"</p> + +<p>"But, mamma, when we told you that she was young and pretty and +bright!"</p> + +<p>"I thought that you were all demented. I did indeed. I still think it +a pity that he should take an American. I think that Miss Spalding is +very nice, but there are English girls quite as nice-looking as her." +After that there was not another word said by Lady Rowley against +Caroline Spalding.</p> + +<p>Nora, when she thought of it all that night, felt that she had hardly +spoken to Miss Spalding as she should have spoken as to the treatment +in England which would be accorded to Mr. Glascock's wife. She became +aware of the effect which her own hesitation must have had, and +thought that it was her duty to endeavour to remove it. Perhaps, too, +the conversion of her mother had some effect in making her feel that +she had been wrong in supposing that there would be any difficulty in +Caroline's position in England. She had heard so much adverse +criticism from her mother that she had doubted in spite of her own +convictions;—but now it had come to light that Lady Rowley's +criticisms had all come from a most absurd blunder. "Only +fancy;"—she said to herself;—"Miss Petrie coming out as Lady +Peterborough! Poor mamma!" And then she thought of the reception +which would be given to Caroline, and of the place the future Lady +Peterborough would fill in the world, and of the glories of Monkhams! +Resolving that she would do her best to counteract any evil which she +might have done, she seated herself at her desk, and wrote the +following letter to Miss +<span class="nowrap">Spalding:—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My dear +Caroline</span>,</p> + +<p>I am sure you will let me call you so, as had you not felt +towards me like a friend, you would not have come to me +to-day and told me of your doubts. I think that I did not +answer you as I ought to have done when you spoke to me. I +did not like to say anything off-hand, and in that way I +misled you. I feel quite sure that you will encounter +nothing in England as Mr. Glascock's wife to make you +uncomfortable, and that he will have nothing to repent. Of +course Englishmen generally marry Englishwomen; and, +perhaps, there may be some people who will think that such +a prize should not be lost to their countrywomen. But that +will be all. Mr. Glascock commands such universal respect +that his wife will certainly be respected, and I do not +suppose that anything will ever come in your way that can +possibly make you feel that he is looked down upon. I hope +you will understand what I mean.</p> + +<p>As for your changing now, that is quite impossible. If I +were you, I would not say a word about it to any living +being; but just go on,—straight forward,—in your own +way, and take the good the gods provide you,—as the poet +says to the king in the ode. And I think the gods have +provided for you very well,—and for him.</p> + +<p>I do hope that I may see you sometimes. I cannot explain +to you how very much out of your line "we" shall be;—for +of course there is a "we." People are more separated with +us than they are, I suppose, with you. And my "we" is a +very poor man, who works hard at writing in a dingy +newspaper office, and we shall live in a garret and have +brown sugar in our tea, and eat hashed mutton. And I shall +have nothing a year to buy my clothes with. Still I mean +to do it; and I don't mean to be long before I do do it. +When a girl has made up her mind to be married, she had +better go on with it at once, and take it all afterwards +as it may come. Nevertheless, perhaps, we may see each +other somewhere, and I may be able to introduce you to the +dearest, honestest, very best, and most affectionate man +in the world. And he is very, very clever.</p> + +<p class="ind12">Yours very affectionately,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Nora Rowley</span>.</p> + +<p class="noindent">Thursday morning.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + + +<p><a name="c81" id="c81"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXXI.</h3> +<h4>MR. GLASCOCK IS MASTER.<br /> </h4> + + +<p><img class="left" src="images/ch81a.jpg" width="310" alt="Illustration" /> +Caroline Spalding, when she received Nora's letter, was not disposed +to give much weight to it. She declared to herself that the girl's +unpremeditated expression of opinion was worth more than her studied +words. But she was not the less grateful or the less loving towards +her new friend. She thought how nice it would be to have Nora at that +splendid abode in England of which she had heard so much,—but she +thought also that in that splendid abode she herself ought never to +have part or share. If it were the case that this were an unfitting +match, it was clearly her duty to decide that there should be no +marriage. Nora had been quite right in bidding her speak to Mr. +Glascock himself, and to Mr. Glascock she would go. But it was very +difficult for her to determine on the manner in which she would +discuss the subject with him. She thought that she could be firm if +her mind were once made up. She believed that perhaps she was by +nature more firm than he. In all their intercourse together he had +ever yielded to her; and though she had been always pleased and +grateful, there had grown upon her an idea that he was perhaps too +easy,—that he was a man as to whom it was necessary that they who +loved him should see that he was not led away by weakness into folly. +But she would want to learn something from him before her decision +was finally reached, and in this she foresaw a great difficulty. In +her trouble she went to her usual counsellor,—the Republican +Browning. In such an emergency she could hardly have done worse. +"Wally," she said, "we talk about England, and Italy, and France, as +though we knew all about them; but how hard it is to realise the +difference between one's own country and others."</p> + +<p>"We can at least learn a great deal that is satisfactory," said +Wallachia. "About one out of every five Italians can read a book, +about two out of every five Englishmen can read a book. Out of every +five New Englanders four and four-fifths can read a book. I guess +that is knowing a good deal."</p> + +<p>"I don't mean in statistics."</p> + +<p>"I cannot conceive how you are to learn anything about any country +except by statistics. I have just discovered that the number of +illegitimate <span class="nowrap">children—"</span></p> + +<p>"Oh, Wally, I can't talk about that,—not now at least. What I cannot +realise is this,—what sort of a life it is that they will lead at +Monkhams."</p> + +<p>"Plenty to eat and drink, I guess; and you'll always have to go round +in fine clothes."</p> + +<p>"And that will be all?"</p> + +<p>"No;—not all. There will be carriages and horses, and all manner of +people there who won't care much about you. If he is firm,—very +firm;—if he have that firmness which one does not often meet, even +in an American man, he will be able, after a while, to give you a +position as an English woman of rank." It is to be feared that +Wallachia Petrie had been made aware of Caroline's idea as to Mr. +Glascock's want of purpose.</p> + +<p>"And that will be all?"</p> + +<p>"If you have a baby, they'll let you go and see it two or three times +a day. I don't suppose you will be allowed to nurse it, because they +never do in England. You have read what the Saturday Review says. In +every other respect the Saturday Review has been the falsest of all +false periodicals, but I guess it has been pretty true in what it has +said about English women."</p> + +<p>"I wish I knew more about it really."</p> + +<p>"When a man has to leap through a window in the dark, Caroline, of +course he doubts whether the feather bed said to be below will be +soft enough for him."</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't fear the leap for myself, if it wouldn't hurt him. Do +you think it possible that society can be so formed that a man should +lose caste because he doesn't marry just one of his own set?"</p> + +<p>"It has been so all over the world, my dear. If like to like is to be +true anywhere, it should be true in marriage."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—but with a difference. He and I are like to like. We come of +the same race, we speak the same language, we worship the same God, +we have the same ideas of culture and of pleasures. The difference is +one that is not patent to the eye or to the ear. It is a difference +of accidental incident, not of nature or of acquirement."</p> + +<p>"I guess you would find, Caroline, that a jury of English matrons +sworn to try you fairly, would not find you to be entitled to come +among them as one of themselves."</p> + +<p>"And how will that affect him?"</p> + +<p>"Less powerfully than many others, because he is not impassioned. He +is, perhaps—lethargic."</p> + +<p>"No, Wally, he is not lethargic."</p> + +<p>"If you ask me I must speak. It would harass some men almost to +death; it will not do so with him. He would probably find his +happiness best in leaving his old country and coming among your +people."</p> + +<p>The idea of Mr. Glascock,—the future Lord Peterborough,—leaving +England, abandoning Monkhams, deserting his duty in the House of +Lords, and going away to live in an American town, in order that he +might escape the miseries which his wife had brought upon him in his +own country, was more than Caroline could bear. She knew that, at any +rate, it would not come to that. The lord of Monkhams would live at +Monkhams, though the heavens should fall—in regard to domestic +comforts. It was clear to Caroline that Wallachia Petrie had in truth +never brought home to her own imagination the position of an English +peer. "I don't think you understand the people at all," she said +angrily.</p> + +<p>"You think that you can understand them better because you are +engaged to this man!" said Miss Petrie, with well-pronounced irony. +"You have found generally that when the sun shines in your eyes your +sight is improved by it! You think that the love-talk of a few weeks +gives clearer instruction than the laborious reading of many volumes +and thoughtful converse with thinking persons! I hope that you may +find it so, Caroline." So saying Wallachia Petrie walked off in great +dudgeon.</p> + +<p>Miss Petrie, not having learned from her many volumes and her much +converse with thoughtful persons to read human nature aright, was +convinced by this conversation that her friend Caroline was blind to +all results, and was determined to go on with this dangerous +marriage, having the rays of that sun of Monkhams so full upon her +eyes that she could not see at all. She was specially indignant at +finding that her own words had no effect. But, unfortunately, her +words had had much effect; and Caroline, though she had contested her +points, had done so only with the intention of producing her Mentor's +admonitions. Of course it was out of the question that Mr. Glascock +should go and live in Providence, Rhode Island, from which thriving +town Caroline Spalding had come; but, because that was impossible, it +was not the less probable that he might be degraded and made +miserable in his own home. That suggested jury of British matrons was +a frightful conclave to contemplate, and Caroline was disposed to +believe that the verdict given in reference to herself would be +adverse to her. So she sat and meditated, and spoke not a word +further to any one on the subject till she was alone with the man +that she loved.</p> + +<p>Mr. Spalding at this time inhabited the ground floor of a large +palace in the city, from which there was access to a garden which at +this period of the year was green, bright, and shady, and which as +being in the centre of a city was large and luxurious. From one end +of the house there projected a covered terrace, or loggia, in which +there were chairs and tables, sculptured ornaments, busts, and old +monumental relics let into the wall in profusion. It was half chamber +and half garden,—such an adjunct to a house as in our climate would +give only an idea of cold, rheumatism, and a false romance, but under +an Italian sky, is a luxury daily to be enjoyed during most months of +the year. Here Mr. Glascock and Caroline had passed many hours,—and +here they were now seated, late in the evening, while all others of +the family were away. As far as regarded the rooms occupied by the +American Minister, they had the house and garden to themselves, and +there never could come a time more appropriate for the saying of a +thing difficult to be said. Mr. Glascock had heard from his father's +physician, and had said that it was nearly certain now that he need +not go down to Naples again before his marriage. Caroline was +trembling, not knowing how to speak, not knowing how to begin;—but +resolved that the thing should be done. "He will never know you, +Carry," said Mr. Glascock. "It is, perhaps, hardly a sorrow to me, +but it is a regret."</p> + +<p>"It would have been a sorrow perhaps to him had he been able to know +me," said she, taking the opportunity of rushing at her subject.</p> + +<p>"Why so? Of all human beings he was the softest-hearted."</p> + +<p>"Not softer-hearted than you, Charles. But soft hearts have to be +hardened."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean? Am I becoming obdurate?"</p> + +<p>"I am, Charles," she said. "I have got something to say to you. What +will your uncles and aunts and your mother's relations say of me when +they see me at Monkhams?"</p> + +<p>"They will swear to me that you are charming; and then,—when my back +is turned,—they'll pick you to pieces a little among themselves. I +believe that is the way of the world, and I don't suppose that we are +to do better than others."</p> + +<p>"And if you had married an English girl, a Lady Augusta +Somebody,—would they pick her to pieces?"</p> + +<p>"I guess they would, as you say."</p> + +<p>"Just the same?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think anybody escapes, as far as I can see. But that won't +prevent their becoming your bosom friends in a few weeks time."</p> + +<p>"No one will say that you have been wrong to marry an American girl?"</p> + +<p>"Now, Carry, what is the meaning of all this?"</p> + +<p>"Do you know any man in your position who ever did marry an American +girl;—any man of your rank in England?" Mr. Glascock began to think +of the case, and could not at the moment remember any instance. +"Charles, I do not think you ought to be the first."</p> + +<p>"And yet somebody must be first, if the thing is ever to be +done;—and I am too old to wait on the chance of being the second."</p> + +<p>She felt that at the rate she was now progressing she would only run +from one little suggestion to another, and that he, either wilfully +or in sheer simplicity, would take such suggestions simply as jokes; +and she was aware that she lacked the skill to bring the conversation +round gradually to the point which she was bound to reach. She must +make another dash, let it be ever so sudden. Her mode of doing so +would be crude, ugly,—almost vulgar she feared; but she would attain +her object and say what she had to say. When once she had warmed +herself with the heat which argument would produce, then, she was +pretty sure, she would find herself at least as strong as he. "I +don't know that the thing ought to be done at all," she said. During +the last moment or two he had put his arm round her waist; and she, +not choosing to bid him desist from embracing her, but unwilling in +her present mood to be embraced, got up and stood before him. "I have +thought, and thought, and thought, and feel that it should not be +done. In marriage, like should go to like." She despised herself for +using Wallachia's words, but they fitted in so usefully, that she +could not refrain from them. "I was wrong not to know it before, but +it is better to know it now, than not to have known it till too late. +Everything that I hear and see tells me that it would be so. If you +were simply an Englishman, I would go anywhere with you; but I am not +fit to be the wife of an English lord. The time would come when I +should be a disgrace to you, and then I should die."</p> + +<p>"I think I should go near dying myself," said he, "if you were a +disgrace to me." He had not risen from his chair, and sat calmly +looking up into her face.</p> + +<p>"We have made a mistake, and let us unmake it," she continued. "I +will always be your friend. I will correspond with you. I will come +and see your wife."</p> + +<p>"That will be very kind!"</p> + +<p>"Charles, if you laugh at me, I shall be angry with you. It is right +that you should look to your future life, as it is right that I +should do so also. Do you think that I am joking? Do you suppose that +I do not mean it?"</p> + +<p>"You have taken an extra dose this morning of Wallachia Petrie, and +of course you mean it."</p> + +<p>"If you think that I am speaking her mind and not my own, you do not +know me."</p> + +<p>"And what is it you propose?" he said, still keeping his seat and +looking calmly up into her face.</p> + +<p>"Simply that our engagement should be over."</p> + +<p>"And why?"</p> + +<p>"Because it is not a fitting one for you to have made. I did not +understand it before, but now I do. It will not be good for you to +marry an American girl. It will not add to your happiness, and may +destroy it. I have learned, at last, to know how much higher is your +position than mine."</p> + +<p>"And I am to be supposed to know nothing about it?"</p> + +<p>"Your fault is only this,—that you have been too generous. I can be +generous also."</p> + +<p>"Now, look here, Caroline, you must not be angry with me if on such a +subject I speak plainly. You must not even be angry if I laugh a +little."</p> + +<p>"Pray do not laugh at me!—not now."</p> + +<p>"I must a little, Carry. Why am I to be supposed to be so ignorant of +what concerns my own happiness and my own duties? If you will not sit +down, I will get up, and we will take a turn together." He rose from +his seat, but they did not leave the covered terrace. They moved on +to the extremity, and then he stood hemming her in against a marble +table in the corner. "In making this rather wild proposition, have +you considered me at all?"</p> + +<p>"I have endeavoured to consider you, and you only."</p> + +<p>"And how have you done it? By the aid of some misty, far-fetched +ideas respecting English society, for which you have no basis except +your own dreams,—and by the fantasies of a rabid enthusiast."</p> + +<p>"She is not rabid," said Caroline earnestly; "other people think just +the same."</p> + +<p>"My dear, there is only one person whose thinking on this subject is +of any avail, and I am that person. Of course, I can't drag you into +church to be married, but practically you can not help yourself from +being taken there now. As there need be no question about our +marriage,—which is a thing as good as +<span class="nowrap">done—"</span></p> + +<p>"It is not done at all," said Caroline.</p> + +<p>"I feel quite satisfied you will not jilt me, and as I shall insist +on having the ceremony performed, I choose to regard it as a +certainty. Passing that by, then, I will go on to the results. My +uncles, and aunts, and cousins, and the people you talk of, were very +reasonable folk when I last saw them, and quite sufficiently alive to +the fact that they had to regard me as the head of their family. I do +not doubt that we shall find them equally reasonable when we get +home; but should they be changed, should there be any sign shewn that +my choice of a wife had occasioned displeasure,—such displeasure +would not affect you."</p> + +<p>"But it would affect you."</p> + +<p>"Not at all. In my own house I am master,—and I mean to continue to +be so. You will be mistress there, and the only fear touching such a +position is that it may be recognised by others too strongly. You +have nothing to fear, Carry."</p> + +<p>"It is of you I am thinking."</p> + +<p>"Nor have I. What if some old women, or even some young women, should +turn up their noses at the wife I have chosen, because she has not +been chosen from among their own countrywomen, is that to be a cause +of suffering to us? Can not we rise above that,—lasting as it would +do for a few weeks, a month or two perhaps,—say a year,—till my +Caroline shall have made herself known? I think that we are strong +enough to live down a trouble so light." He had come close to her as +he was speaking, and had again put his arm round her waist. She tried +to escape from his embrace,—not with persistency, not with the +strength which always suffices for a woman when the embrace is in +truth a thing to be avoided, but clutching at his fingers with hers, +pressing them rather than loosening their grasp. "No, Carry," he +continued; "we have got to go through with it now, and we will try +and make the best of it. You may trust me that we shall not find it +difficult,—not, at least, on the ground of your present fears. I can +bear a heavier burden than you will bring upon me."</p> + +<p>"I know that I ought to prove to you that I am right," she said, +still struggling with his hand.</p> + +<p>"And I know that you can prove nothing of the kind. Dearest, it is +fixed between us now, and do not let us be so silly as to raise +imaginary difficulties. Of course you would have to marry me, even if +there were cause for such fears. If there were any great cause, still +the game would be worth the candle. There could be no going back, let +the fear be what it might. But there need be no fear if you will only +love me." She felt that he was altogether too strong for her,—that +she had mistaken his character in supposing that she could be more +firm than he. He was so strong that he treated her almost as a +child;—and yet she loved him infinitely the better for so treating +her. Of course, she knew now that her objection, whether true or +unsubstantial, could not avail. As he stood with his arm round her, +she was powerless to contradict him in anything. She had so far +acknowledged this that she no longer struggled with him, but allowed +her hand to remain quietly within his. If there was no going back +from this bargain that had been made,—why, then, there was no need +for combating. And when he stooped over and kissed her lips, she had +not a word to say. "Be good to me," he said, "and tell me that I am +right."</p> + +<p>"You must be master, I suppose, whether you are right or wrong. A man +always thinks himself entitled to his own way."</p> + +<p>"Why, yes. When he has won the battle, he claims his captive. Now, +the truth is this, I have won the battle, and your friend, Miss +Petrie, has lost it. I hope she will understand that she has been +beaten at last out of the field." As he said this, he heard a step +behind them, and turning round saw Wallachia there almost before he +could drop his arm.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry that I have intruded on you," she said very grimly.</p> + +<p>"Not in the least," said Mr. Glascock. "Caroline and I have had a +little dispute, but we have settled it without coming to blows."</p> + +<p>"I do not suppose that an English gentleman ever absolutely strikes a +lady," said Wallachia Petrie.</p> + +<p>"Not except on strong provocation," said Mr. Glascock. "In reference +to wives, a stick is allowed as big as your thumb."</p> + +<p>"I have heard that it is so by the laws of England," said Wallachia.</p> + +<p>"How can you be so ridiculous, Wally!" said Caroline. "There is +nothing that you would not believe."</p> + +<p>"I hope that it may never be true in your case," said Wallachia.</p> + +<p>A couple of days after this Miss Spalding found that it was +absolutely necessary that she should explain the circumstances of her +position to Nora. She had left Nora with the purpose of performing a +very high-minded action, of sacrificing herself for the sake of her +lover, of giving up all her golden prospects, and of becoming once +again the bosom friend of Wallachia Petrie, with this simple +consolation for her future life,—that she had refused to marry an +English nobleman because the English nobleman's condition was +unsuited to her. It would have been an episode in female life in +which pride might be taken;—but all that was now changed. She had +made her little attempt,—had made it, as she felt, in a very languid +manner, and had found herself treated as a child for doing so. Of +course she was happy in her ill success; of course she would have +been broken-hearted had she succeeded. But, nevertheless, she was +somewhat lowered in her own esteem, and it was necessary that she +should acknowledge the truth to the friend whom she had consulted. A +day or two had passed before she found herself alone with Nora, but +when she did so she confessed her failure at once.</p> + +<p>"You told him all, then?" said Nora.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, I told him all. That is, I could not really tell him. When +the moment came I had no words."</p> + +<p>"And what did he say?"</p> + +<p>"He had words enough. I never knew him to be eloquent before."</p> + +<p>"He can speak out if he likes," said Nora.</p> + +<p>"So I have found,—with a vengeance. Nobody was ever so put down as I +was. Don't you know that there are times when it does not seem to be +worth your while to put out your strength against an adversary? So it +was with him. He just told me that he was my master, and that I was +to do as he bade me."</p> + +<p>"And what did you say?"</p> + +<p>"I promised to be a good girl," said Caroline, "and not to pretend to +have any opinion of my own ever again. And so we kissed, and were +friends."</p> + +<p>"I dare say there was a kiss, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Of course there was;—and he held me in his arms, and comforted me, +and told me how to behave;—just as you would do a little girl. It's +all over now, of course; and if there be a mistake, it is his fault. +I feel that all responsibility is gone from myself, and that for all +the rest of my life I have to do just what he tells me."</p> + +<p>"And what says the divine Wallachia?"</p> + +<p>"Poor Wally! She says nothing, but she thinks that I am a castaway +and a recreant. I am a recreant, I know;—but yet I think that I was +right. I know I could not help myself."</p> + +<p>"Of course you were right, my dear," said the sage Nora. "If you had +the notion in your head, it was wise to get rid of it; but I knew how +it would be when you spoke to him."</p> + +<p>"You were not so weak when he came to you."</p> + +<p>"That was altogether another thing. It was not arranged in heaven +that I was to become his captive."</p> + +<p>After that Wallachia Petrie never again tried her influence on her +former friend, but admitted to herself that the evil was done, and +that it could not be remedied. According to her theory of life, +Caroline Spalding had been wrong, and weak,—had shewn herself to be +comfort-loving and luxuriously-minded, had looked to get her +happiness from soft effeminate pleasures rather than from rational +work and the useful, independent exercise of her own intelligence. In +the privacy of her little chamber Wallachia Petrie shed,—not +absolute tears,—but many tearful thoughts over her friend. It was to +her a thing very terrible that the chosen one of her heart should +prefer the career of an English lord's wife to that of an American +citizeness, with all manner of capability for female voting, female +speech-making, female poetising, and, perhaps, female political +action before her. It was a thousand pities! "You may take a horse to +water,"—said Wallachia to herself, thinking of the ever-freshly +springing fountain of her own mind, at which Caroline Spalding would +always have been made welcome freely to quench her thirst,—"but you +cannot make him drink if he be not athirst." In the future she would +have no friend. Never again would she subject herself to the disgrace +of such a failure. But the sacrifice was to be made, and she knew +that it was bootless to waste her words further on Caroline Spalding. +She left Florence before the wedding, and returned alone to the land +of liberty. She wrote a letter to Caroline explaining her conduct, +and Caroline Spalding shewed the letter to her husband,—as one that +was both loving and eloquent.</p> + +<p>"Very loving and very eloquent," he said. "But, nevertheless, one +does think of sour grapes."</p> + +<p>"There I am sure you wrong her," said Caroline.</p> + + +<p><a name="c82" id="c82"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXXII.</h3> +<h4>MRS. FRENCH'S CARVING KNIFE.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>During these days there were terrible doings at Exeter. Camilla had +sworn that if Mr. Gibson did not come to, there should be a tragedy, +and it appeared that she was inclined to keep her word. Immediately +after the receipt of her letter from Mr. Gibson she had had an +interview with that gentleman in his lodgings, and had asked him his +intentions. He had taken measures to fortify himself against such an +attack; but, whatever those measures were, Camilla had broken through +them. She had stood before him as he sat in his arm-chair, and he had +been dumb in her presence. It had perhaps been well for him that the +eloquence of her indignation had been so great that she had hardly +been able to pause a moment for a reply. "Will you take your letter +back again?" she had said. "I should be wrong to do that," he had +lisped out in reply, "because it is true. As a Christian minister I +could not stand with you at the altar with a lie in my mouth." In no +other way did he attempt to excuse himself,—but that, twice +repeated, filled up all the pause which she made for him.</p> + + +<div class="center"><a name="ip2-251" id="ip2-251"></a> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="4px"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/p2-251.jpg"> + <img src="images/p2-251-t.jpg" width="540" + alt="Camilla's wrath." /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <span class="caption">Camilla's wrath.<br /> + Click to <a href="images/p2-251.jpg">ENLARGE</a></span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p>There never had been such a case before,—so impudent, so cruel, so +gross, so uncalled for, so unmanly, so unnecessary, so unjustifiable, +so damnable,—so sure of eternal condemnation! All this she said to +him with loud voice, and clenched fist, and starting +eyes,—regardless utterly of any listeners on the stairs, or of +outside passers in the street. In very truth she was moved to a +sublimity of indignation. Her low nature became nearly poetic under +the wrong inflicted upon her. She was almost tempted to tear him with +her hands, and inflict upon him at the moment some terrible vengeance +which should be told of for ever in the annals of Exeter. A man so +mean as he, so weak, so cowardly, one so little of a hero;—that he +should dare to do it, and dare to sit there before her, and to say +that he would do it! "Your gown shall be torn off your back, sir, and +the very boys of Exeter shall drag you through the gutters!" To this +threat he said nothing, but sat mute, hiding his face in his hands. +"And now tell me this, sir;—is there anything between you and +Bella?" But there was no voice in reply. "Answer my question, sir. I +have a right to ask it." Still he said not a word. "Listen to me. +Sooner than that you and she should be man and wife, I would stab +her! Yes, I would;—you poor, paltry, lying, cowardly creature!" She +remained with him for more than half an hour, and then banged out of +the room flashing back a look of scorn at him as she went. Martha, +before that day was over, had learned the whole story from Mr. +Gibson's cook, and had told her mistress.</p> + +<p>"I did not think he had so much spirit in him," was Miss Stanbury's +answer. Throughout Exeter the great wonder arising from the crisis +was the amount of spirit which had been displayed by Mr. Gibson.</p> + +<p>When he was left alone he shook himself, and began to think that if +there were danger that such interviews might occur frequently he had +better leave Exeter for good. As he put his hand over his forehead, +he declared to himself that a very little more of that kind of thing +would kill him. When a couple of hours had passed over his head he +shook himself again, and sat down and wrote a letter to his intended +mother-in-law.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p>I do not mean to complain [he said], God knows I have no +right; but I cannot stand a repetition of what has +occurred just now. If your younger daughter comes to see +me again I must refuse to see her, and shall leave the +town. I am ready to make what reparation may be possible +for the mistake into which I have fallen.</p> + +<p class="ind18">T. G.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p>Mrs. French was no doubt much afraid of her younger daughter, but she +was less afraid of her than were other people. Familiarity, they say, +breeds contempt; and who can be so familiar with a child as its +parent? She did not in her heart believe that Camilla would murder +anybody, and she fully realised the conviction that, even after all +that was come and gone, it would be better that one of her daughters +should have a husband than that neither should be so blessed. If only +Camilla could be got out of Exeter for a few months,—how good a +thing it would be for them all! She had a brother in Gloucester,—if +only he could be got to take Camilla for a few months! And then, too, +she knew that if the true rights of her two daughters were strictly +and impartially examined, Arabella's claim was much stronger than any +that Camilla could put forward to the hand of Mr. Gibson.</p> + +<p>"You must not go there again, Camilla," the mother said.</p> + +<p>"I shall go whenever I please," replied the fury.</p> + +<p>"Now, Camilla, we may as well understand each other. I will not have +it done. If I am provoked, I will send to your uncle at Gloucester." +Now the uncle at Gloucester was a timber merchant, a man with +protuberant eyes and a great square chin,—known to be a very stern +man indeed, and not at all afraid of young women.</p> + +<p>"What do I care for my uncle? My uncle would take my part."</p> + +<p>"No, he would not. The truth is, Camilla, you interfered with Bella +first."</p> + +<p>"Mamma, how dare you say so!"</p> + +<p>"You did, my dear. And these are the consequences."</p> + +<p>"And you mean to say that she is to be Mrs. Gibson?"</p> + +<p>"I say nothing about that. But I do not see why they shouldn't be +married if their hearts are inclined to each other."</p> + +<p>"I will die first!"</p> + +<p>"Your dying has nothing to do with it, Camilla."</p> + +<p>"And I will kill her!"</p> + +<p>"If you speak to me again in that way I will write to your uncle at +Gloucester. I have done the best I could for you both, and I will not +bear such treatment."</p> + +<p>"And how am I treated?"</p> + +<p>"You should not have interfered with your sister."</p> + +<p>"You are all in a conspiracy together," shouted Camilla, "you are! +There never was anybody so badly treated,—never,—never,—never! +What will everybody say of me?"</p> + +<p>"They will pity you, if you will be quiet."</p> + +<p>"I don't want to be pitied;—I won't be pitied. I wish I could +die,—and I will die! Anybody else would, at any rate, have had their +mother and sister with them!" Then she burst into a flood of real, +true, womanly tears.</p> + +<p>After this there was a lull at Heavitree for a few days. Camilla did +not speak to her sister, but she condescended to hold some +intercourse with her mother, and to take her meals at the family +table. She did not go out of the house, but she employed herself in +her own room, doing no one knew what, with all that new clothing and +household gear which was to have been transferred in her train to Mr. +Gibson's house. Mrs. French was somewhat uneasy about the new +clothing and household gear, feeling that, in the event of Bella's +marriage, at least a considerable portion of it must be transferred +to the new bride. But it was impossible at the present moment to open +such a subject to Camilla;—it would have been as a proposition to a +lioness respecting the taking away of her whelps. Nevertheless, the +day must soon come in which something must be said about the clothing +and household gear. All the property that had been sent into the +house at Camilla's orders could not be allowed to remain as Camilla's +perquisites, now that Camilla was not to be married. "Do you know +what she is doing, my dear?" said Mrs. French to her elder daughter.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps she is picking out the marks," said Bella.</p> + +<p>"I don't think she would do that as yet," said Mrs. French.</p> + +<p>"She might just as well leave it alone," said Bella, feeling that one +of the two letters would do for her. But neither of them dared to +speak to her of her occupation in these first days of her despair.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gibson in the meantime remained at home, or only left his house +to go to the Cathedral or to visit the narrow confines of his little +parish. When he was out he felt that everybody looked at him, and it +seemed to him that people whispered about him when they saw him at +his usual desk in the choir. His friends passed him merely bowing to +him, and he was aware that he had done that which would be regarded +by every one around him as unpardonable. And yet,—what ought he to +have done? He acknowledged to himself that he had been very foolish, +mad,—quite demented at the moment,—when he allowed himself to think +it possible that he should marry Camilla French. But having found out +how mad he had been at that moment, having satisfied himself that to +live with her as his wife would be impossible, was he not right to +break the engagement? Could anything be so wicked as marrying a woman +whom he—hated? Thus he tried to excuse himself; but yet he knew that +all the world would condemn him. Life in Exeter would be impossible, +if no way to social pardon could be opened for him. He was willing to +do anything within bounds in mitigation of his offence. He would give +up fifty pounds a year to Camilla for his life,—or he would marry +Bella. Yes; he would marry Bella at once,—if Camilla would only +consent, and give up that idea of stabbing some one. Bella French was +not very nice in his eyes; but she was quiet, he thought, and it +might be possible to live with her. Nevertheless, he told himself +over and over again that the manner in which unmarried men with +incomes were set upon by ladies in want of husbands was very +disgraceful to the country at large. That mission to Natal which had +once been offered to him would have had charms for him now, of which +he had not recognised the force when he rejected it.</p> + +<p>"Do you think that he ever was really engaged to her?" Dorothy said +to her aunt. Dorothy was now living in a seventh heaven of happiness, +writing love-letters to Brooke Burgess every other day, and devoting +to this occupation a number of hours of which she ought to have been +ashamed; making her purchases for her wedding,—with nothing, +however, of the magnificence of a Camilla,—but discussing everything +with her aunt, who urged her on to extravagances which seemed beyond +the scope of her own economical ideas; settling, or trying to settle, +little difficulties which perplexed her somewhat, and wondering at +her own career. She could not of course be married without the +presence of her mother and sister, and her aunt,—with something of a +grim courtesy,—had intimated that they should be made welcome to the +house in the Close for the special occasion. But nothing had been +said about Hugh. The wedding was to be in the Cathedral, and Dorothy +had a little scheme in her head for meeting her brother among the +aisles. He would no doubt come down with Brooke, and nothing perhaps +need be said about it to Aunt Stanbury. But still it was a trouble. +Her aunt had been so good that Dorothy felt that no step should be +taken which would vex the old woman. It was evident enough that when +permission had been given for the visit of Mrs. Stanbury and +Priscilla, Hugh's name had been purposely kept back. There had been +no accidental omission. Dorothy, therefore, did not dare to mention +it,—and yet it was essential for her happiness that he should be +there. At the present moment Miss Stanbury's intense interest in the +Stanbury wedding was somewhat mitigated by the excitement occasioned +by Mr. Gibson's refusal to be married. Dorothy was so shocked that +she could not bring herself to believe the statement that had reached +them through Martha.</p> + +<p>"Of course he was engaged to her. We all knew that," said Miss +Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"I think there must have been some mistake," said Dorothy. "I don't +see how he could do it."</p> + +<p>"There is no knowing what people can do, my dear, when they're hard +driven. I suppose we shall have a lawsuit now, and he'll have to pay +ever so much money. Well, well, well! see what a deal of trouble you +might have saved!"</p> + +<p>"But he'd have done the same to me, aunt;—only, you know, I never +could have taken him. Isn't it better as it is, aunt? Tell me."</p> + +<p>"I suppose young women always think it best when they can get their +own ways. An old woman like me has only got to do what she is bid."</p> + +<p>"But this was best, aunt;—was it not?"</p> + +<p>"My dear, you've had your way, and let that be enough. Poor Camilla +French is not allowed to have hers at all. Dear, dear, dear! I didn't +think the man would ever have been such a fool to begin with;—or +that he would ever have had the heart to get out of it afterwards." +It astonished Dorothy to find that her aunt was not loud in +reprobation of Mr. Gibson's very dreadful conduct.</p> + +<p>In the meantime Mrs. French had written to her brother at Gloucester. +The maid-servant, in making Miss Camilla's bed, and in "putting the +room to rights," as she called it,—which description probably was +intended to cover the circumstances of an accurate search,—had +discovered, hidden among some linen,—a carving knife! such a knife +as is used for the cutting up of fowls; and, after two days' +interval, had imparted the discovery to Mrs. French. Instant visit +was made to the pantry, and it was found that a very aged but +unbroken and sharply-pointed weapon was missing. Mrs. French at once +accused Camilla, and Camilla, after some hesitation, admitted that it +might be there. Molly, she said, was a nasty, sly, wicked thing, to +go looking in her drawers, and she would never leave anything +unlocked again. The knife, she declared, had been taken up-stairs, +because she had wanted something very sharp to cut,—the bones of her +stays. The knife was given up, but Mrs. French thought it best to +write to her brother, Mr. Crump. She was in great doubt about sundry +matters. Had the carving knife really pointed to a domestic +tragedy;—and if so, what steps ought a poor widow to take with such +a daughter? And what ought to be done about Mr. Gibson? It ran +through Mrs. French's mind that unless something were done at once, +Mr. Gibson would escape scot free. It was her wish that he should yet +become her son-in-law. Poor Bella was entitled to her chance. But if +Bella was to be disappointed,—from fear of carving knives, or for +other reasons,—then there came the question whether Mr. Gibson +should not be made to pay in purse for the mischief he had done. With +all these thoughts and doubts running through her head, Mrs. French +wrote to her brother at Gloucester.</p> + +<p>There came back an answer from Mr. Crump, in which that gentleman +expressed a very strong idea that Mr. Gibson should be prosecuted for +damages with the utmost virulence, and with the least possible delay. +No compromise should be accepted. Mr. Crump would himself come to +Exeter and see the lawyer as soon as he should be told that there was +a lawyer to be seen. As to the carving knife, Mr. Crump was of +opinion that it did not mean anything. Mr. Crump was a gentleman who +did not believe in strong romance, but who had great trust in all +pecuniary claims. The Frenches had always been genteel. The late +Captain French had been an officer in the army, and at ordinary times +and seasons the Frenches were rather ashamed of the Crump connection. +But now the timber merchant might prove himself to be a useful +friend.</p> + +<p>Mrs. French shewed her brother's letter to Bella,—and poor Bella was +again sore-hearted, seeing that nothing was said in it of her claims. +"It will be dreadful scandal to have it all in the papers!" said +Bella.</p> + +<p>"But what can we do?"</p> + +<p>"Anything would be better than that," said Bella. "And you don't want +to punish Mr. Gibson, mamma."</p> + +<p>"But, my dear, you see what your uncle says. What can I do, except go +to him for advice?"</p> + +<p>"Why don't you go to Mr. Gibson yourself, mamma?"</p> + +<p>But nothing was said to Camilla about Mr. Crump;—nothing as yet. +Camilla did not love Mr. Crump, but there was no other house except +that of Mr. Crump's at Gloucester to which she might be sent, if it +could be arranged that Mr. Gibson and Bella should be made one. Mrs. +French took her eldest daughter's advice, and went to Mr. +Gibson;—taking Mr. Crump's letter in her pocket. For herself she +wanted nothing,—but was it not the duty of her whole life to fight +for her daughters? Poor woman! If somebody would only have taught her +how that duty might best be done, she would have endeavoured to obey +the teaching. "You know I do not want to threaten you," she said to +Mr. Gibson; "but you see what my brother says. Of course I wrote to +my brother. What could a poor woman do in such circumstances except +write to her brother?"</p> + +<p>"If you choose to set the bloodhounds of the law at me, of course you +can," said Mr. Gibson.</p> + +<p>"I do not want to go to law at all;—God knows I do not!" said Mrs. +French. Then there was a pause. "Poor dear Bella!" ejaculated Mrs. +French.</p> + +<p>"Dear Bella!" echoed Mr. Gibson.</p> + +<p>"What do you mean to do about Bella?" asked Mrs. French.</p> + +<p>"I sometimes think that I had better take poison and have done with +it!" said Mr. Gibson, feeling himself to be very hard pressed.</p> + + +<p><a name="c83" id="c83"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXXIII.</h3> +<h4>BELLA VICTRIX.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Mr. Crump arrived at Exeter. Camilla was not told of his coming till +the morning of the day on which he arrived; and then the tidings were +communicated, because it was necessary that a change should be made +in the bed-rooms. She and her sister had separate rooms when there +was no visitor with them, but now Mr. Crump must be accommodated. +There was a long consultation between Bella and Mrs. French, but at +last it was decided that Bella should sleep with her mother. There +would still be too much of the lioness about Camilla to allow of her +being regarded as a safe companion through the watches of the night. +"Why is Uncle Jonas coming now?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"I thought it better to ask him," said Mrs. French.</p> + +<p>After a long pause, Camilla asked another question. "Does Uncle Jonas +mean to see Mr. Gibson?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose he will," said Mrs. French.</p> + +<p>"Then he will see a low, mean fellow;—the lowest, meanest fellow +that ever was heard of! But that won't make much difference to Uncle +Jonas. I wouldn't have him now, if he was to ask me ever so;—that I +wouldn't!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Crump came, and kissed his sister and two nieces. The embrace +with Camilla was not very affectionate. "So your Joe has been and +jilted you?" said Uncle Jonas;—"it's like one of them clergymen. +They say so many prayers, they think they may do almost anything +afterwards. Another man would have had his head punched."</p> + +<p>"The less talk there is about it the better," said Camilla.</p> + +<p>On the following day Mr. Crump called by appointment on Mr. Gibson, +and remained closeted with that gentleman for the greater portion of +the morning. Camilla knew well that he was going, and went about the +house like a perturbed spirit during his absence. There was a look +about her that made them all doubt whether she was not, in truth, +losing her mind. Her mother more than once went to the pantry to see +that the knives were right; and, as regarded that sharp-pointed +weapon, was careful to lock it up carefully out of her daughter's +way. Mr. Crump had declared himself willing to take Camilla back to +Gloucester, and had laughed at the obstacles which his niece might, +perhaps, throw in the way of such an arrangement. "She mustn't have +much luggage;—that is all," said Mr. Crump. For Mr. Crump had been +made aware of the circumstances of the trousseau. About three o'clock +Mr. Crump came back from Mr. Gibson's, and expressed a desire to be +left alone with Camilla. Mrs. French was prepared for everything; and +Mr. Crump soon found himself with his younger niece.</p> + +<p>"Camilla, my dear," said he, "this has been a bad business."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what business you mean, Uncle Jonas."</p> + +<p>"Yes, you do, my dear;—you know. And I hope it won't come too late +to prove to you that young women shouldn't be too keen in setting +their caps at the gentlemen. It's better for them to be hunted, than +to hunt."</p> + +<p>"Uncle Jonas, I will not be insulted."</p> + +<p>"Stick to that, my dear, and you won't get into a scrape again. Now, +look here. This man can never be made to marry you, anyhow."</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't touch him with a pair of tongs, if he were kneeling at my +feet!"</p> + +<p>"That's right; stick to that. Of course, you wouldn't now, after all +that has come and gone. No girl with any spirit would."</p> + +<p>"He's a coward and a thief, and he'll be—damned for what he has +done, some of these days!"</p> + +<p>"T-ch, t-ch, t-ch! That isn't a proper way for a young lady to talk. +That's cursing and swearing."</p> + +<p>"It isn't cursing and swearing;—it's what the Bible says."</p> + +<p>"Then we'll leave him to the Bible. In the meantime, Mr. Gibson wants +to marry some one else, and that can't hurt you."</p> + +<p>"He may marry whom he likes;—but he shan't marry Bella—that's all!"</p> + +<p>"It is Bella that he means to marry."</p> + +<p>"Then he won't. I'll forbid the banns. I'll write to the bishop. I'll +go to the church and prevent its being done. I'll make such a noise +in the town that it can't be done. It's no use your looking at me +like that, Uncle Jonas. I've got my own feelings, and he shall never +marry Bella. It's what they have been intending all through, and it +shan't be done!"</p> + +<p>"It will be done."</p> + +<p>"Uncle Jonas, I'll stab her to the heart, and him too, before I'll +see it done! Though I were to be killed the next day, I would. Could +you bear it?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not a young woman. Now, I'll tell you what I want you to do."</p> + +<p>"I'll not do anything."</p> + +<p>"Just pack up your things, and start with me to Gloucester +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"I—won't!"</p> + +<p>"Then you'll be carried, my dear. I'll write to your aunt, to say +that you're coming; and we'll be as jolly as possible when we get you +home."</p> + +<p>"I won't go to Gloucester, Uncle Jonas. I won't go away from Exeter. +I won't let it be done. She shall never, never, never be that man's +wife!"</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, on the day but one after this, Camilla French did go to +Gloucester. Before she went, however, things had to be done in that +house which almost made Mrs. French repent that she had sent for so +stern an assistant. Camilla was at last told, in so many words, that +the things which she had prepared for her own wedding must be given +up for the wedding of her sister; and it seemed that this item in the +list of her sorrows troubled her almost more than any other. She +swore that whither she went there should go the dresses, and the +handkerchiefs, and the hats, the bonnets, and the boots. "Let her +have them," Bella had pleaded. But Mr. Crump was inexorable. He had +looked into his sister's affairs, and found that she was already in +debt. To his practical mind, it was an absurdity that the unmarried +sister should keep things that were wholly unnecessary, and that the +sister that was to be married should be without things that were +needed. There was a big trunk, of which Camilla had the key, but +which, unfortunately for her, had been deposited in her mother's +room. Upon this she sat, and swore that nothing should move her but a +promise that her plunder should remain untouched. But there came this +advantage from the terrible question of the wedding raiments,—that +in her energy to keep possession of them, she gradually abandoned her +opposition to her sister's marriage. She had been driven from one +point to another till she was compelled at last to stand solely upon +her possessions. "Perhaps we had better let her keep them," said Mrs. +French. "Trash and nonsense!" said Mr. Crump. "If she wants a new +frock, let her have it; as for the sheets and tablecloths, you'd +better keep them yourself. But Bella must have the rest."</p> + +<p>It was found on the eve of the day on which she was told that she was +to depart that she had in truth armed herself with a dagger or clasp +knife. She actually displayed it when her uncle told her to come away +from the chest on which she was sitting. She declared that she would +defend herself there to the last gasp of her life; but of course the +knife fell from her hand the first moment that she was touched. "I +did think once that she was going to make a poke at me," Mr. Crump +said afterwards; "but she had screamed herself so weak that she +couldn't do it."</p> + +<p>When the morning came, she was taken to the fly and driven to the +station without any further serious outbreak. She had even +condescended to select certain articles, leaving the rest of the +hymeneal wealth behind her. Bella, early on that morning of +departure, with great humility, implored her sister to forgive her; +but no entreaties could induce Camilla to address one gracious word +to the proposed bride. "You've been cheating me all along!" she said; +and that was the last word she spoke to poor Bella.</p> + +<p>She went, and the field was once more open to the amorous Vicar of +St. Peter's-cum-Pumpkin. It is astonishing how the greatest +difficulties will sink away, and become as it were nothing, when they +are encountered face to face. It is certain that Mr. Gibson's +position had been one most trying to the nerves. He had speculated on +various modes of escape;—a curacy in the north of England would be +welcome, or the duties of a missionary in New Zealand,—or death. To +tell the truth, he had, during the last week or two, contemplated +even a return to the dominion of Camilla. That there should ever +again be things pleasant for him in Exeter seemed to be quite +impossible. And yet, on the evening of the day but one after the +departure of Camilla, he was seated almost comfortably with his own +Arabella! There is nothing that a man may not do, nothing that he may +not achieve, if he have only pluck enough to go through with it.</p> + +<p>"You do love me?" Bella said to him. It was natural that she should +ask him; but it would have been better perhaps if she had held her +tongue. Had she spoken to him about his house, or his income, or the +servants, or the duties of his parish church, it would have been +easier for him to make a comfortable reply.</p> + +<p>"Yes;—I love you," he replied; "of course I love you. We have always +been friends, and I hope things will go straight now. I have had a +great deal to go through, Bella, and so have you;—but God will +temper the wind to the shorn lambs." How was the wind to be tempered +for the poor lamb who had gone forth shorn down to the very skin!</p> + +<p>Soon after this Mrs. French returned to the room, and then there was +no more romance. Mrs. French had by no means forgiven Mr. Gibson all +the trouble he had brought into the family, and mixed a certain +amount of acrimony with her entertainment of him. She dictated to +him, treated him with but scant respect, and did not hesitate to let +him understand that he was to be watched very closely till he was +actually and absolutely married. The poor man had in truth no further +idea of escape. He was aware that he had done that which made it +necessary that he should bear a great deal, and that he had no right +to resent suspicion. When a day was fixed in June on which he should +be married at the church of Heavitree, and it was proposed that he +should be married by banns, he had nothing to urge to the contrary. +And when it was also suggested to him by one of the prebendaries of +the Cathedral that it might be well for him to change his clerical +duties for a period with the vicar of a remote parish in the north of +Cornwall,—so as to be out of the way of remark from those whom he +had scandalised by his conduct,—he had no objection to make to that +arrangement. When Mrs. MacHugh met him in the Close, and told him +that he was a gay Lothario, he shook his head with a melancholy +self-abasement, and passed on without even a feeling of anger. "When +they smite me on the right cheek, I turn unto them my left," he said +to himself, when one of the cathedral vergers remarked to him that +after all he was going to be married, at last. Even Bella became +dominant over him, and assumed with him occasionally the air of one +who had been injured.</p> + +<p>Bella wrote a touching letter to her sister;—a letter that ought to +have touched Camilla, begging for forgiveness, and for one word of +sisterly love. Camilla answered the letter, but did not send a word +of sisterly love. "According to my way of thinking, you have been a +nasty sly thing, and I don't believe you'll ever be happy. As for +him, I'll never speak to him again." That was nearly the whole of her +letter. "You must leave it to time," said Mrs. French wisely; "she'll +come round some day." And then Mrs. French thought how bad it would +be for her if the daughter who was to be her future companion did not +"come round" some day.</p> + +<p>And so it was settled that they should be married in Heavitree +Church,—Mr. Gibson and his first love,—and things went on pretty +much as though nothing had been done amiss. The gentleman from +Cornwall came down to take Mr. Gibson's place at St. +Peter's-cum-Pumpkin, while his duties in the Cathedral were +temporarily divided among the other priest-vicars,—with some amount +of grumbling on their part. Bella commenced her modest preparations +without any of the éclat which had attended Camilla's operations, but +she felt more certainty of ultimate success than had ever fallen to +Camilla's lot. In spite of all that had come and gone, Bella never +feared again that Mr. Gibson would be untrue to her. In regard to +him, it must be doubted whether Nemesis ever fell upon him with a +hand sufficiently heavy to punish him for the great sins which he had +manifestly committed. He had encountered a bad week or two, and there +had been days in which, as has been said, he thought of Natal, of +ecclesiastical censures, and even of annihilation; but no real +punishment seemed to fall upon him. It may be doubted whether, when +the whole arrangement was settled for him, and when he heard that +Camilla had yielded to the decrees of Fate, he did not rather flatter +himself on being a successful man of intrigue,—whether he did not +take some glory to himself for his good fortune with women, and pride +himself amidst his self-reproaches for the devotion which had been +displayed for him by the fair sex in general. It is quite possible +that he taught himself to believe that at one time Dorothy Stanbury +was devotedly in love with him, and that when he reckoned up his sins +she was one of those in regard to whom he accounted himself to have +been a sinner. The spirit of intrigue with women, as to which men +will flatter themselves, is customarily so vile, so mean, so vapid a +reflection of a feeling, so aimless, resultless, and utterly +unworthy! Passion exists and has its sway. Vice has its +votaries,—and there is, too, that worn-out longing for vice, +"prurient, yet passionless, cold-studied lewdness," which drags on a +feeble continuance with the aid of money. But the commonest folly of +man in regard to women is a weak taste for intrigue, with little or +nothing on which to feed it;—a worse than feminine aptitude for male +coquetry, which never ascends beyond a desire that somebody shall +hint that there is something peculiar; and which is shocked and +retreats backwards into its boots when anything like a consequence +forces itself on the apprehension. Such men have their glory in their +own estimation. We remember how Falstaff flouted the pride of his +companion whose victory in the fields of love had been but little +glorious. But there are victories going now-a-days so infinitely less +glorious, that Falstaff's page was a Lothario, a very Don Juan, in +comparison with the heroes whose praises are too often sung by their +own lips. There is this recompense,—that their defeats are always +sung by lips louder than their own. Mr. Gibson, when he found that he +was to escape apparently unscathed,—that people standing respectably +before the world absolutely dared to whisper words to him of +congratulation on this third attempt at marriage within little more +than a year, took pride to himself, and bethought himself that he was +a gay deceiver. He believed that he had selected his wife,—and that +he had done so in circumstances of peculiar difficulty! Poor Mr. +Gibson,—we hardly know whether most to pity him, or the unfortunate, +poor woman who ultimately became Mrs. Gibson.</p> + +<p>"And so Bella French is to be the fortunate woman after all," said +Miss Stanbury to her niece.</p> + +<p>"It does seem to me to be so odd," said Dorothy. "I wonder how he +looked when he proposed it."</p> + +<p>"Like a fool,—as he always does."</p> + +<p>Dorothy refrained from remarking that Miss Stanbury had not always +thought that Mr. Gibson looked like a fool, but the idea occurred to +her mind. "I hope they will be happy at last," she said.</p> + +<p>"Pshaw! Such people can't be happy, and can't be unhappy. I don't +suppose it much matters which he marries, or whether he marries them +both, or neither. They are to be married by banns, they say,—at +Heavitree."</p> + +<p>"I don't see anything bad in that."</p> + +<p>"Only Camilla might step out and forbid them," said Aunt Stanbury. "I +almost wish she would."</p> + +<p>"She has gone away, aunt,—to an uncle who lives at Gloucester."</p> + +<p>"It was well to get her out of the way, no doubt. They'll be married +before you now, Dolly."</p> + +<p>"That won't break my heart, aunt."</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose there'll be much of a wedding. They haven't anybody +belonging to them, except that uncle at Gloucester." Then there was a +pause. "I think it is a nice thing for friends to collect together at +a wedding," continued Aunt Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"I think it is," said Dorothy, in the mildest, softest voice.</p> + +<p>"I suppose we must make room for that black sheep of a brother of +yours, Dolly,—or else you won't be contented."</p> + +<p>"Dear, dear, dearest aunt!" said Dorothy, falling down on her knees +at her aunt's feet.</p> + + +<p><a name="c84" id="c84"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXXIV.</h3> +<h4>SELF-SACRIFICE.<br /> </h4> + + +<p><img class="left" src="images/ch84a.jpg" width="310" alt="Illustration" /> +Trevelyan, when his wife had left him, sat for hours in silence +pondering over his own position and hers. He had taken his child to +an upper room, in which was his own bed and the boy's cot, and before +he seated himself, he spread out various toys which he had been at +pains to purchase for the unhappy little fellow,—a regiment of +Garibaldian soldiers, all with red shirts, and a drum to give the +regiment martial spirit, and a soft fluffy Italian ball, and a +battledore and a shuttlecock,—instruments enough for juvenile joy, +if only there had been a companion with whom the child could use +them. But the toys remained where the father had placed them, almost +unheeded, and the child sat looking out of the window, melancholy, +silent, and repressed. Even the drum did not tempt him to be noisy. +Doubtless he did not know why he was wretched, but he was fully +conscious of his wretchedness. In the meantime the father sat +motionless, in an old worn-out but once handsome leathern arm-chair, +with his eyes fixed against the opposite wall, thinking of the wreck +of his life.</p> + +<p>Thought deep, correct, continued, and energetic is quite compatible +with madness. At this time Trevelyan's mind was so far unhinged, his +ordinary faculties were so greatly impaired, that they who declared +him to be mad were justified in their declaration. His condition was +such that the happiness and welfare of no human being,—not even his +own,—could safely be entrusted to his keeping. He considered himself +to have been so injured by the world, to have been the victim of so +cruel a conspiracy among those who ought to have been his friends, +that there remained nothing for him but to flee away from them and +remain in solitude. But yet, through it all, there was something +approaching to a conviction that he had brought his misery upon +himself by being unlike to other men; and he declared to himself over +and over again that it was better that he should suffer than that +others should be punished. When he was alone his reflections +respecting his wife were much juster than were his words when he +spoke either with her, or to others, of her conduct. He would declare +to himself not only that he did not believe her to have been false to +him, but that he had never accused her of such crime. He had demanded +from her obedience, and she had been disobedient. It had been +incumbent upon him,—so ran his own ideas, as expressed to himself in +these long unspoken soliloquies,—to exact obedience, or at least +compliance, let the consequences be what they might. She had refused +to obey or even to comply, and the consequences were very grievous. +But, though he pitied himself with a pity that was feminine, yet he +acknowledged to himself that her conduct had been the result of his +own moody temperament. Every friend had parted from him. All those to +whose counsels he had listened, had counselled him that he was wrong. +The whole world was against him. Had he remained in England, the +doctors and lawyers among them would doubtless have declared him to +be mad. He knew all this, and yet he could not yield. He could not +say that he had been wrong. He could not even think that he had been +wrong as to the cause of the great quarrel. He was one so miserable +and so unfortunate,—so he thought,—that even in doing right he had +fallen into perdition!</p> + +<p>He had had two enemies, and between them they had worked his ruin. +These were Colonel Osborne and Bozzle. It may be doubted whether he +did not hate the latter the more strongly of the two. He knew now +that Bozzle had been untrue to him, but his disgust did not spring +from that so much as from the feeling that he had defiled himself by +dealing with the man. Though he was quite assured that he had been +right in his first cause of offence, he knew that he had fallen from +bad to worse in every step that he had taken since. Colonel Osborne +had marred his happiness by vanity, by wicked intrigue, by a devilish +delight in doing mischief; but he, he himself, had consummated the +evil by his own folly. Why had he not taken Colonel Osborne by the +throat, instead of going to a low-born, vile, mercenary spy for +assistance? He hated himself for what he had done;—and yet it was +impossible that he should yield.</p> + +<p>It was impossible that he should yield;—but it was yet open to him +to sacrifice himself. He could not go back to his wife and say that +he was wrong; but he could determine that the destruction should fall +upon him and not upon her. If he gave up his child and then +died,—died, alone, without any friend near him, with no word of love +in his ears, in that solitary and miserable abode which he had found +for himself,—then it would at least be acknowledged that he had +expiated the injury that he had done. She would have his wealth, his +name, his child to comfort her,—and would be troubled no longer by +demands for that obedience which she had sworn at the altar to give +him, and which she had since declined to render to him. Perhaps there +was some feeling that the coals of fire would be hot upon her head +when she should think how much she had received from him and how +little she had done for him. And yet he loved her, with all his +heart, and would even yet dream of bliss that might be possible with +her,—had not the terrible hand of irresistible Fate come between +them and marred it all. It was only a dream now. It could be no more +than a dream. He put out his thin wasted hands and looked at them, +and touched the hollowness of his own cheeks, and coughed that he +might hear the hacking sound of his own infirmity, and almost took +glory in his weakness. It could not be long before the coals of fire +would be heaped upon her head.</p> + +<p>"Louey," he said at last, addressing the child who had sat for an +hour gazing through the window without stirring a limb or uttering a +sound; "Louey, my boy, would you like to go back to mamma?" The child +turned round on the floor, and fixed his eyes on his father's face, +but made no immediate reply. "Louey, dear, come to papa and tell him. +Would it be nice to go back to mamma?" And he stretched out his hand +to the boy. Louey got up, and approached slowly and stood between his +father's knees. "Tell me, darling;—you understand what papa says?"</p> + +<p>"Altro!" said the boy, who had been long enough among Italian +servants to pick up the common words of the language. Of course he +would like to go back. How indeed could it be otherwise?</p> + +<p>"Then you shall go to her, Louey."</p> + +<p>"To-day, papa?"</p> + +<p>"Not to-day, nor to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"But the day after?"</p> + +<p>"That is sufficient. You shall go. It is not so bad with you that one +day more need be a sorrow to you. You shall go,—and then you will +never see your father again!" Trevelyan as he said this drew his +hands away so as not to touch the child. The little fellow had put +out his arm, but seeing his father's angry gesture had made no +further attempt at a caress. He feared his father from the bottom of +his little heart, and yet was aware that it was his duty to try to +love papa. He did not understand the meaning of that last threat, but +slunk back, passing his untouched toys, to the window, and there +seated himself again, filling his mind with the thought that when two +more long long days should have crept by, he should once more go to +his mother.</p> + +<p>Trevelyan had tried his best to be soft and gentle to his child. All +that he had said to his wife of his treatment of the boy had been +true to the letter. He had spared no personal trouble, he had done +all that he had known how to do, he had exercised all his +intelligence to procure amusement for the boy;—but Louey had hardly +smiled since he had been taken from his mother. And now that he was +told that he was to go and never see his father again, the tidings +were to him simply tidings of joy. "There is a curse upon me," said +Trevelyan; "it is written down in the book of my destiny that nothing +shall ever love me!"</p> + +<p>He went out from the house, and made his way down by the narrow path +through the olives and vines to the bottom of the hill in front of +the villa. It was evening now, but the evening was very hot, and +though the olive trees stood in long rows, there was no shade. Quite +at the bottom of the hill there was a little sluggish muddy brook, +along the sides of which the reeds grew thickly and the dragon-flies +were playing on the water. There was nothing attractive in the spot, +but he was weary, and sat himself down on the dry hard bank which had +been made by repeated clearing of mud from the bottom of the little +rivulet. He sat watching the dragon-flies as they made their short +flights in the warm air, and told himself that of all God's creatures +there was not one to whom less power of disporting itself in God's +sun was given than to him. Surely it would be better for him that he +should die, than live as he was now living without any of the joys of +life. The solitude of Casalunga was intolerable to him, and yet there +was no whither that he could go and find society. He could travel if +he pleased. He had money at command, and, at any rate as yet, there +was no embargo on his personal liberty. But how could he travel +alone,—even if his strength might suffice for the work? There had +been moments in which he had thought that he would be happy in the +love of his child,—that the companionship of an infant would suffice +for him if only the infant would love him. But all such dreams as +that were over. To repay him for his tenderness his boy was always +dumb before him. Louey would not prattle as he had used to do. He +would not even smile, or give back the kisses with which his father +had attempted to win him. In mercy to the boy he would send him back +to his mother;—in mercy to the boy if not to the mother also. It was +in vain that he should look for any joy in any quarter. Were he to +return to England, they would say that he was mad!</p> + + +<div class="center"><a name="ip2-268" id="ip2-268"></a> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="4px"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/p2-268.jpg"> + <img src="images/p2-268-t.jpg" height="500" + alt="Trevelyan at Casalunga." /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <span class="caption">Trevelyan at Casalunga.<br /> + Click to <a href="images/p2-268.jpg">ENLARGE</a></span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p>He lay there by the brook-side till the evening was far advanced, and +then he arose and slowly returned to the house. The labour of +ascending the hill was so great to him that he was forced to pause +and hold by the olive trees as he slowly performed his task. The +perspiration came in profusion from his pores, and he found himself +to be so weak that he must in future regard the brook as being beyond +the tether of his daily exercise. Eighteen months ago he had been a +strong walker, and the snow-bound paths of Swiss mountains had been a +joy to him. He paused as he was slowly dragging himself on, and +looked up at the wretched, desolate, comfortless abode which he +called his home. Its dreariness was so odious to him that he was +half-minded to lay himself down where he was, and let the night air +come upon him and do its worst. In such case, however, some Italian +doctor would be sent down who would say that he was mad. Above all +the things, and to the last, he must save himself from that +degradation.</p> + +<p>When he had crawled up to the house, he went to his child, and found +that the woman had put the boy to bed. Then he was angry with himself +in that he himself had not seen to this, and kept up his practice of +attending the child to the last. He would, at least, be true to his +resolution, and prepare for the boy's return to his mother. Not +knowing how otherwise to manage it, he wrote that night the following +note to Mr. <span class="nowrap">Glascock;—</span><br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">Casalunga, Thursday night.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">My dear Sir</span>,</p> + +<p>Since you last were considerate enough to call upon me I +have resolved to take a step in my affairs which, though +it will rob me of my only remaining gratification, will +tend to lessen the troubles under which Mrs. Trevelyan is +labouring. If she desires it, as no doubt she does, I will +consent to place our boy again in her custody,—trusting +to her sense of honour to restore him to me should I +demand it. In my present unfortunate position I cannot +suggest that she should come for the boy. I am unable to +support the excitement occasioned by her presence. I will, +however, deliver up my darling either to you, or to any +messenger sent by you whom I can trust. I beg heartily to +apologise for the trouble I am giving you, and to +subscribe myself yours very faithfully,</p> + +<p class="ind15"><span class="smallcaps">Louis Trevelyan</span>.</p> + +<p class="noindent">The Hon. C. Glascock.</p> + +<p class="noindent">P.S.—It is as well, +perhaps, that I should explain that I +must decline to receive any visit from Sir Marmaduke +Rowley. Sir Marmaduke has insulted me grossly on each +occasion on which I have seen him since his return home.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + + +<p><a name="c85" id="c85"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXXV.</h3> +<h4>THE BATHS OF LUCCA.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>June was now far advanced, and the Rowleys and the Spaldings had +removed from Florence to the Baths of Lucca. Mr. Glascock had +followed in their wake, and the whole party were living at the Baths +in one of those hotels in which so many English and Americans are +wont to congregate in the early weeks of the Italian summer. The +marriage was to take place in the last week of the month; and all the +party were to return to Florence for the occasion,—with the +exception of Sir Marmaduke and Mrs. Trevelyan. She was altogether +unfitted for wedding joys, and her father had promised to bear her +company when the others left her. Mr. Glascock and Caroline Spalding +were to be married in Florence, and were to depart immediately from +thence for some of the cooler parts of Switzerland. After that Sir +Marmaduke and Lady Rowley were to return to London with their +daughters, preparatory to that dreary journey back to the Mandarins; +and they had not even yet resolved what they had better do respecting +that unfortunate man who was living in seclusion on the hill-top near +Siena. They had consulted lawyers and doctors in Florence, but it had +seemed that everybody there was afraid of putting the law in force +against an Englishman. Doubtless there was a law in respect to the +custody of the insane; and it was admitted that if Trevelyan were +dangerously mad something could be done; but it seemed that nobody +was willing to stir in such a case as that which now existed. +Something, it was said, might be done at some future time; but the +difficulties were so great that nothing could be done now.</p> + +<p>It was very sad, because it was necessary that some decision should +be made as to the future residence of Mrs. Trevelyan and of Nora. +Emily had declared that nothing should induce her to go to the +Islands with her father and mother unless her boy went with her. +Since her journey to Casalunga she had also expressed her +unwillingness to leave her husband. Her heart had been greatly +softened towards him, and she had declared that where he remained, +there would she remain,—as near to him as circumstances would admit. +It might be that at last her care would be necessary for his comfort. +He supplied her with means of living, and she would use these means +as well as she might be able in his service.</p> + +<p>Then there had arisen the question of Nora's future residence. And +there had come troubles and storms in the family. Nora had said that +she would not go back to the Mandarins, but had not at first been +able to say where or how she would live. She had suggested that she +might stay with her sister, but her father had insisted that she +could not live on the income supplied by Trevelyan. Then, when +pressed hard, she had declared that she intended to live on Hugh +Stanbury's income. She would marry him at once,—with her father's +leave, if she could get it, but without it if it needs must be so. +Her mother told her that Hugh Stanbury was not himself ready for her; +he had not even proposed so hasty a marriage, nor had he any home +fitted for her. Lady Rowley, in arguing this, had expressed no assent +to the marriage, even as a distant arrangement, but had thought thus +to vanquish her daughter by suggesting small but insuperable +difficulties. On a sudden, however, Lady Rowley found that all this +was turned against her, by an offer that came direct from Mr. +Glascock. His Caroline, he said, was very anxious that Nora should +come to them at Monkhams as soon as they had returned home from +Switzerland. They intended to be there by the middle of August, and +would hurry there sooner, if there was any intermediate difficulty +about finding a home for Nora. Mr. Glascock said nothing about Hugh +Stanbury; but, of course, Lady Rowley understood that Nora had told +all her troubles and hopes to Caroline, and that Caroline had told +them to her future husband. Lady Rowley, in answer to this, could +only say that she would consult her husband.</p> + +<p>There was something very grievous in the proposition to Lady Rowley. +If Nora had not been self-willed and stiff-necked beyond the usual +self-willedness and stiff-neckedness of young women she might have +been herself the mistress of Monkhams. It was proposed now that she +should go there to wait till a poor man should have got together +shillings enough to buy a few chairs and tables, and a bed to lie +upon! The thought of this was very bitter. "I cannot think, Nora, how +you could have the heart to go there," said Lady Rowley.</p> + +<p>"I cannot understand why not, mamma. Caroline and I are friends, and +surely he and I need not be enemies. He has never injured me; and if +he does not take offence, why should I?"</p> + +<p>"If you don't see it, I can't help it," said Lady Rowley.</p> + +<p>And then Mrs. Spalding's triumph was terrible to Lady Rowley. Mrs. +Spalding knew nothing of her future son-in-law's former passion, and +spoke of her Caroline as having achieved triumphs beyond the reach of +other girls. Lady Rowley bore it, never absolutely telling the tale +of her daughter's fruitless victory. She was too good at heart to +utter the boast;—but it was very hard to repress it. Upon the whole +she would have preferred that Mr. Glascock and his bride should not +have become the fast friends of herself and her family. There was +more of pain than of pleasure in the alliance. But circumstances had +been too strong for her. Mr. Glascock had been of great use in +reference to Trevelyan, and Caroline and Nora had become attached to +each other almost on their first acquaintance. Here they were +together at the Baths of Lucca, and Nora was to be one of the four +bridesmaids. When Sir Marmaduke was consulted about this visit to +Monkhams, he became fretful, and would give no answer. The marriage, +he said, was impossible, and Nora was a fool. He could give her no +allowance more than would suffice for her clothes, and it was madness +for her to think of stopping in England. But he was so full of cares +that he could come to no absolute decision on this matter. Nora, +however, had come to a very absolute decision.</p> + +<p>"Caroline," she said, "if you will have me, I will go to Monkhams."</p> + +<p>"Of course we will have you. Has not Charles said how delighted he +would be?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes,—your Charles," said Nora, laughing.</p> + +<p>"He is mine now, dear. You must not expect him to change his mind +again. I gave him the chance, you know, and he would not take it. +But, Nora, come to Monkhams, and stay as long as it suits. I have +talked it all over with him, and we both agree that you shall have a +home there. You shall be just like a sister. Olivia is coming too +after a bit; but he says there is room for a dozen sisters. Of course +it will be all right with Mr. Stanbury after a while." And so it was +settled among them that Nora Rowley should find a home at Monkhams, +if a home in England should be wanted for her.</p> + +<p>It wanted but four days to that fixed for the marriage at Florence, +and but six to that on which the Rowleys were to leave Italy for +England, when Mr. Glascock received Trevelyan's letter. It was +brought to him as he was sitting at a late breakfast in the garden of +the hotel; and there were present at the moment not only all the +Spalding family, but the Rowleys also. Sir Marmaduke was there and +Lady Rowley, and the three unmarried daughters; but Mrs. Trevelyan, +as was her wont, had remained alone in her own room. Mr. Glascock +read the letter, and read it again, without attracting much +attention. Caroline, who was of course sitting next to him, had her +eyes upon him, and could see that the letter moved him; but she was +not curious, and at any rate asked no question. He himself understood +fully how great was the offer made,—how all-important to the +happiness of the poor mother,—and he was also aware, or thought that +he was aware, how likely it might be that the offer would be +retracted. As regarded himself, a journey from the Baths at Lucca to +Casalunga and back before his marriage, would be a great infliction +on his patience. It was his plan to stay where he was till the day +before his marriage, and then to return to Florence with the rest of +the party. All this must be altered, and sudden changes must be made, +if he decided on going to Siena himself. The weather now was very +hot, and such a journey would be most disagreeable to him. Of course +he had little schemes in his head, little amatory schemes for +prænuptial enjoyment, which, in spite of his mature years, were +exceedingly agreeable to him. The chestnut woods round the Baths of +Lucca are very pleasant in the early summer, and there were +excursions planned in which Caroline would be close to his +side,—almost already his wife. But, if he did not go, whom could he +send? It would be necessary at least that he should consult her, the +mother of the child, before any decision was formed.</p> + +<p>At last he took Lady Rowley aside, and read to her the letter. She +understood at once that it opened almost a heaven of bliss to her +daughter;—and she understood also how probable it might be that that +wretched man, with his shaken wits, should change his mind. "I think +I ought to go," said Mr. Glascock.</p> + +<p>"But how can you go now?"</p> + +<p>"I can go," said he. "There is time for it. It need not put off my +marriage,—to which of course I could not consent. I do not know whom +I could send."</p> + +<p>"Monnier could go," said Lady Rowley, naming the courier.</p> + +<p>"Yes;—he could go. But it might be that he would return without the +child, and then we should not forgive ourselves. I will go, Lady +Rowley. After all, what does it signify? I am a little old, I +sometimes think, for this philandering. You shall take this letter to +your daughter, and I will explain it all to Caroline."</p> + +<p>Caroline had not a word to say. She could only kiss him, and promise +to make him what amends she could when he came back. "Of course you +are right," she said. "Do you think that I would say a word against +it, even though the marriage were to be postponed?"</p> + +<p>"I should;—a good many words. But I will be back in time for that, +and will bring the boy with me."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Trevelyan, when her husband's letter was read to her, was almost +overcome by the feelings which it excited. In her first paroxysm of +joy she declared that she would herself go to Siena, not for her +child's sake, but for that of her husband. She felt at once that the +boy was being given up because of the father's weakness,—because he +felt himself to be unable to be a protector to his son,—and her +woman's heart was melted with softness as she thought of the +condition of the man to whom she had once given her whole heart. +Since then, doubtless, her heart had revolted from him. Since that +time there had come hours in which she had almost hated him for his +cruelty to her. There had been moments in which she had almost cursed +his name because of the aspersion which it had seemed that he had +thrown upon her. But this was now forgotten, and she remembered only +his weakness. "Mamma," she said, "I will go. It is my duty to go to +him." But Lady Rowley withheld her, explaining that were she to go, +the mission might probably fail in its express purpose. "Let Louey be +sent to us first," said Lady Rowley, "and then we will see what can +be done afterwards."</p> + +<p>And so Mr. Glascock started, taking with him a maid-servant who might +help him with the charge of the child. It was certainly very hard +upon him. In order to have time for his journey to Siena and back, +and time also to go out to Casalunga, it was necessary that he should +leave the Baths at five in the morning. "If ever there was a hero of +romance, you are he!" said Nora to him.</p> + +<p>"The heroes of life are so much better than the heroes of romance," +said Caroline.</p> + +<p>"That is a lesson from the lips of the American Browning," said Mr. +Glascock. "Nevertheless, I think I would rather ride a charge against +a Paynim knight in Palestine than get up at half-past four in the +morning."</p> + +<p>"We will get up too, and give the knight his coffee," said Nora. They +did get up, and saw him off; and when Mr. Glascock and Caroline +parted with a lover's embrace, Nora stood by as a sister might have +done. Let us hope that she remembered that her own time was coming.</p> + +<p>There had been a promise given by Nora, when she left London, that +she would not correspond with Hugh Stanbury while she was in Italy, +and this promise had been kept. It may be remembered that Hugh had +made a proposition to his lady-love, that she should walk out of the +house one fine morning, and get herself married without any reference +to her father's or her mother's wishes. But she had not been willing +to take upon herself as yet independence so complete as this would +have required. She had assured her lover that she did mean to marry +him some day, even though it should be in opposition to her father, +but that she thought that the period for filial persuasion was not +yet over; and then, in explaining all this to her mother, she had +given a promise neither to write nor to receive letters during the +short period of her sojourn in Italy. She would be an obedient child +for so long;—but, after that, she must claim the right to fight her +own battle. She had told her lover that he must not write; and, of +course, she had not written a word herself. But now, when her mother +threw it in her teeth that Stanbury would not be ready to marry her, +she thought that an unfair advantage was being taken of her,—and of +him. How could he be expected to say that he was ready,—deprived as +he was of the power of saying anything at all?</p> + +<p>"Mamma," she said, the day before they went to Florence, "has papa +fixed about your leaving England yet? I suppose you'll go now on the +last Saturday in July?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose we shall, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Has not papa written about the berths?"</p> + +<p>"I believe he has, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Because he ought to know who are going. I will not go."</p> + +<p>"You will not, Nora. Is that a proper way of speaking?"</p> + +<p>"Dear mamma, I mean it to be proper. I hope it is proper. But is it +not best that we should understand each other? All my life depends on +my going or my staying now. I must decide."</p> + +<p>"After what has passed, you do not, I suppose, mean to live in Mr. +Glascock's house?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. I mean to live with,—with,—with my husband. Mamma, +I promised not to write, and I have not written. And he has not +written,—because I told him not. Therefore, nothing is settled. But +it is not fair to throw it in my teeth that nothing is settled."</p> + +<p>"I have thrown nothing in your teeth, Nora."</p> + +<p>"Papa talks sneeringly about chairs and tables. Of course, I know +what he is thinking of. As I cannot go with him to the Mandarins, I +think I ought to be allowed to look after the chairs and tables."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"That you should absolve me from my promise, and let me write to Mr. +Stanbury. I do not want to be left without a home."</p> + +<p>"You cannot wish to write to a gentleman and ask him to marry you!"</p> + +<p>"Why not? We are engaged. I shall not ask him to marry me,—that is +already settled; but I shall ask him to make arrangements."</p> + +<p>"Your papa will be very angry if you break your word to him."</p> + +<p>"I will write, and show you the letter. Papa may see it, and if he +will not let it go, it shall not go. He shall not say that I broke my +word. But, mamma, I will not go out to the Islands. I should never +get back again, and I should be broken-hearted." Lady Rowley had +nothing to say to this; and Nora went and wrote her letter. "Dear +Hugh," the letter ran, "Papa and mamma leave England on the last +Saturday in July. I have told mamma that I cannot return with them. +Of course, you know why I stay. Mr. Glascock is to be married the day +after to-morrow, and they have asked me to go with them to Monkhams +some time in August. I think I shall do so, unless Emily wants me to +remain with her. At any rate, I shall try to be with her till I go +there. You will understand why I tell you all this. Papa and mamma +know that I am writing. It is only a business letter, and, therefore, +I shall say no more, except that I am ever and always +yours,—<span class="smallcaps">Nora</span>." +"There," she said, handing her letter to her mother, "I think that +that ought to be sent. If papa chooses to prevent its going, he can."</p> + +<p>Lady Rowley, when she handed the letter to her husband, recommended +that it should be allowed to go to its destination. She admitted +that, if they sent it, they would thereby signify their consent to +her engagement;—and she alleged that Nora was so strong in her will, +and that the circumstances of their journey out to the Antipodes were +so peculiar, that it was of no avail for them any longer to oppose +the match. They could not force their daughter to go with them. "But +I can cast her off from me, if she be disobedient," said Sir +Marmaduke. Lady Rowley, however, had no desire that her daughter +should be cast off, and was aware that Sir Marmaduke, when it came to +the point of casting off, would be as little inclined to be stern as +she was herself. Sir Marmaduke, still hoping that firmness would +carry the day, and believing that it behoved him to maintain his +parental authority, ended the discussion by keeping possession of the +letter, and saying that he would take time to consider the matter. +"What security have we that he will ever marry her, if she does +stay?" he asked the next morning. Lady Rowley had no doubt on this +score, and protested that her opposition to Hugh Stanbury arose +simply from his want of income. "I should never be justified," said +Sir Marmaduke, "if I were to go and leave my girl as it were in the +hands of a penny-a-liner." The letter, in the end, was not sent; and +Nora and her father hardly spoke to each other as they made their +journey back to Florence together.</p> + +<p>Emily Trevelyan, before the arrival of that letter from her husband, +had determined that she would not leave Italy. It had been her +purpose to remain somewhere in the neighbourhood of her husband and +child; and to overcome her difficulties,—or be overcome by them, as +circumstances might direct. Now her plans were again changed,—or, +rather, she was now without a plan. She could form no plan till she +should again see Mr. Glascock. Should her child be restored to her, +would it not be her duty to remain near her husband? All this made +Nora's line of conduct the more difficult for her. It was +acknowledged that she could not remain in Italy. Mrs. Trevelyan's +position would be most embarrassing; but as all her efforts were to +be used towards a reconciliation with her husband, and as his state +utterly precluded the idea of a mixed household,—of any such a +family arrangement as that which had existed in Curzon Street,—Nora +could not remain with her. Mrs. Trevelyan herself had declared that +she would not wish it. And, in that case, where was Nora to bestow +herself when Sir Marmaduke and Lady Rowley had sailed? Caroline +offered to curtail those honeymoon weeks in Switzerland, but it was +impossible to listen to an offer so magnanimous and so unreasonable. +Nora had a dim romantic idea of sharing Priscilla's bed-room in that +small cottage near Nuncombe Putney, of which she had heard, and of +there learning lessons in strict economy;—but of this she said +nothing. The short journey from the Baths of Lucca to Florence was +not a pleasant one, and the Rowley family were much disturbed as they +looked into the future. Lodgings had now been taken for them, and +there was the great additional doubt whether Mrs. Trevelyan would +find her child there on her arrival.</p> + +<p>The Spaldings went one way from the Florence station, and the Rowleys +another. The American Minister had returned to the city some days +previously,—drawn there nominally by pleas of business, but, in +truth, by the necessities of the wedding breakfast,—and he met them +at the station. "Has Mr. Glascock come back?" Nora was the first to +ask. Yes;—he had come. He had been in the city since two o'clock, +and had been up at the American Minister's house for half a minute. +"And has he brought the child?" asked Caroline, relieved of doubt on +her own account. Mr. Spalding did not know;—indeed, he had not +interested himself quite so intently about Mrs. Trevelyan's little +boy, as had all those who had just returned from the Baths. Mr. +Glascock had said nothing to him about the child, and he had not +quite understood why such a man should have made a journey to Siena, +leaving his sweetheart behind him, just on the eve of his marriage. +He hurried his women-kind into their carriage, and they were driven +away; and then Sir Marmaduke was driven away with his women-kind. +Caroline Spalding had perhaps thought that Mr. Glascock might have +been there to meet her.</p> + + +<p><a name="c86" id="c86"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXXVI.</h3> +<h4>MR. GLASCOCK AS NURSE.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>A message had been sent by the wires to Trevelyan, to let him know +that Mr. Glascock was himself coming for the boy. Whether such +message would or would not be sent out to Casalunga Mr. Glascock had +been quite ignorant;—but it could, at any rate, do no harm. He did +feel it hard as in this hot weather he made the journey, first to +Florence, and then on to Siena. What was he to the Rowleys, or to +Trevelyan himself, that such a job of work should fall to his lot at +such a period of his life? He had been very much in love with Nora, +no doubt; but, luckily for him, as he thought, Nora had refused him. +As for Trevelyan,—Trevelyan had never been his friend. As for Sir +Marmaduke,—Sir Marmaduke was nothing to him. He was almost angry +even with Mrs. Trevelyan as he arrived tired, heated, and very dusty, +at Siena. It was his purpose to sleep at Siena that night, and to go +out to Casalunga early the next morning. If the telegram had not been +forwarded, he would send a message on that evening. On inquiry, +however, he found that the message had been sent, and that the paper +had been put into the Signore's own hand by the Sienese messenger. +Then he got into some discourse with the landlord about the strange +gentleman at Casalunga. Trevelyan was beginning to become the subject +of gossip in the town, and people were saying that the stranger was +very strange indeed. The landlord thought that if the Signore had any +friends at all, it would be well that such friends should come and +look after him. Mr. Glascock asked if Mr. Trevelyan was ill. It was +not only that the Signore was out of health,—so the landlord +heard,—but that he was also somewhat— And then the landlord touched +his head. He eat nothing, and went nowhere, and spoke to no one; and +the people at the hospital to which Casalunga belonged were beginning +to be uneasy about their tenant. Perhaps Mr. Glascock had come to +take him away. Mr. Glascock explained that he had not come to take +Mr. Trevelyan away,—but only to take away a little boy that was with +him. For this reason he was travelling with a maid-servant,—a fact +for which Mr. Glascock clearly thought it necessary that he should +give an intelligible and credible explanation. The landlord seemed to +think that the people at the hospital would have been much rejoiced +had Mr. Glascock intended to take Mr. Trevelyan away also.</p> + +<p>He started after a very early breakfast, and found himself walking up +over the stone ridges to the house between nine and ten in the +morning. He himself had sat beside the driver and had put the maid +inside the carriage. He had not deemed it wise to take an undivided +charge of the boy even from Casalunga to Siena. At the door of the +house, as though waiting for him, he found Trevelyan, not dirty as he +had been before, but dressed with much appearance of smartness. He +had a brocaded cap on his head, and a shirt with a laced front, and a +worked waistcoat, and a frock coat, and coloured bright trousers. Mr. +Glascock knew at once that all the clothes which he saw before him +had been made for Italian and not for English wear; and could almost +have said that they had been bought in Siena and not in Florence. "I +had not intended to impose this labour on you, Mr. Glascock," +Trevelyan said, raising his cap to salute his visitor.</p> + +<p>"For fear there might be mistakes, I thought it better to come +myself," said Mr. Glascock. "You did not wish to see Sir Marmaduke?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not Sir Marmaduke," said Trevelyan, with a look of anger +that was almost grotesque.</p> + +<p>"And you thought it better that Mrs. Trevelyan should not come."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—I thought it better;—but not from any feeling of anger +towards her. If I could welcome my wife here, Mr. Glascock, without a +risk of wrath on her part, I should be very happy to receive her. I +love my wife, Mr. Glascock. I love her dearly. But there have been +misfortunes. Never mind. There is no reason why I should trouble you +with them. Let us go in to breakfast. After your drive you will have +an appetite."</p> + +<p>Poor Mr. Glascock was afraid to decline to sit down to the meal which +was prepared for him. He did mutter something about having already +eaten, but Trevelyan put this aside with a wave of his hand as he led +the way into a spacious room, in which had been set out a table with +almost a sumptuous banquet. The room was very bare and comfortless, +having neither curtains nor matting, and containing not above half a +dozen chairs. But an effort had been made to give it an air of +Italian luxury. The windows were thrown open, down to the ground, and +the table was decorated with fruits and three or four long-necked +bottles. Trevelyan waved with his hand towards an arm-chair, and Mr. +Glascock had no alternative but to seat himself. He felt that he was +sitting down to breakfast with a madman; but if he did not sit down, +the madman might perhaps break out into madness. Then Trevelyan went +to the door and called aloud for Catarina. "In these remote places," +said he, "one has to do without the civilisation of a bell. Perhaps +one gains as much in quiet as one loses in comfort." Then Catarina +came with hot meats and fried potatoes, and Mr. Glascock was +compelled to help himself.</p> + +<p>"I am but a bad trencherman myself," said Trevelyan, "but I shall +lament my misfortune doubly if that should interfere with your +appetite." Then he got up and poured out wine into Mr. Glascock's +glass. "They tell me that it comes from the Baron's vineyard," said +Trevelyan, alluding to the wine-farm of Ricasoli, "and that there is +none better in Tuscany. I never was myself a judge of the grape, but +this to me is as palatable as any of the costlier French wines. How +grand a thing would wine really be, if it could make glad the heart +of man. How truly would one worship Bacchus if he could make one's +heart to rejoice. But if a man have a real sorrow, wine will not wash +it away,—not though a man were drowned in it, as Clarence was."</p> + +<p>Mr. Glascock hitherto had spoken hardly a word. There was an attempt +at joviality about this breakfast,—or, at any rate, of the usual +comfortable luxury of hospitable entertainment,—which, coming as it +did from Trevelyan, almost locked his lips. He had not come there to +be jovial or luxurious, but to perform a most melancholy mission; and +he had brought with him his saddest looks, and was prepared for a few +sad words. Trevelyan's speech, indeed, was sad enough, but Mr. +Glascock could not take up questions of the worship of Bacchus at +half a minute's warning. He eat a morsel, and raised his glass to his +lips, and felt himself to be very uncomfortable. It was necessary, +however, that he should utter a word. "Do you not let your little boy +come in to breakfast?" he said.</p> + +<p>"He is better away," said Trevelyan gloomily.</p> + +<p>"But as we are to travel together," said Mr. Glascock, "we might as +well make acquaintance."</p> + +<p>"You have been a little hurried with me on that score," said +Trevelyan. "I wrote certainly with a determined mind, but things have +changed somewhat since then."</p> + +<p>"You do not mean that you will not send him?"</p> + +<p>"You have been somewhat hurried with me, I say. If I remember +rightly, I named no time, but spoke of the future. Could I have +answered the message which I received from you, I would have +postponed your visit for a week or so."</p> + +<p>"Postponed it! Why,—I am to be married the day after to-morrow. It +was just as much as I was able to do, to come here at all." Mr. +Glascock now pushed his chair back from the table, and prepared +himself to speak up. "Your wife expects her child now, and you will +break her heart by refusing to send him."</p> + +<p>"Nobody thinks of my heart, Mr. Glascock."</p> + +<p>"But this is your own offer."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it was my own offer, certainly. I am not going to deny my own +words, which have no doubt been preserved in testimony against me."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Trevelyan, what do you mean?" Then, when he was on the point of +boiling over with passion, Mr. Glascock remembered that his companion +was not responsible for his expressions. "I do hope you will let the +child go away with me," he said. "You cannot conceive the state of +his mother's anxiety, and she will send him back at once if you +demand it."</p> + +<p>"Is that to be in good faith?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly, in good faith. I would lend myself to nothing, Mr. +Trevelyan, that was not said and done in good faith."</p> + +<p>"She will not break her word, excusing herself, because I am—mad?"</p> + +<p>"I am sure that there is nothing of the kind in her mind."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not now; but such things grow. There is no iniquity, no +breach of promise, no treason that a woman will not excuse to +herself,—or a man either,—by the comfortable self-assurance that +the person to be injured is—mad. A hound without a friend is not so +cruelly treated. The outlaw, the murderer, the perjurer has surer +privileges than the man who is in the way, and to whom his friends +can point as being—mad!" Mr. Glascock knew or thought that he knew +that his host in truth was mad, and he could not, therefore, answer +this tirade by an assurance that no such idea was likely to prevail. +"Have they told you, I wonder," continued Trevelyan, "how it was +that, driven to force and an ambuscade for the recovery of my own +child, I waylaid my wife and took him from her? I have done nothing +to forfeit my right as a man to the control of my own family. I +demanded that the boy should be sent to me, and she paid no attention +to my words. I was compelled to vindicate my own authority; and then, +because I claimed the right which belongs to a father, they said that +I was—mad! Ay, and they would have proved it, too, had I not fled +from my country and hidden myself in this desert. Think of that, Mr. +Glascock! Now they have followed me here,—not out of love for me; +and that man whom they call a governor comes and insults me; and my +wife promises to be good to me, and says that she will forgive and +forget! Can she ever forgive herself her own folly, and the cruelty +that has made shipwreck of my life? They can do nothing to me here; +but they would entice me home because there they have friends, and +can fee doctors,—with my own money,—and suborn lawyers, and put me +away,—somewhere in the dark, where I shall be no more heard of among +men! As you are a man of honour, Mr. Glascock,—tell me; is it not +so?"</p> + +<p>"I know nothing of their plans,—beyond this, that you wrote me word +that you would send them the boy."</p> + +<p>"But I know their plans. What you say is true. I did write you +word,—and I meant it. Mr. Glascock, sitting here alone from morning +to night, and lying down from night till morning, without +companionship, without love, in utter misery, I taught myself to feel +that I should think more of her than of myself."</p> + +<p>"If you are so unhappy here, come back yourself with the child. Your +wife would desire nothing better."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—and submit to her, and her father, and her mother. No,—Mr. +Glascock; never, never. Let her come to me."</p> + +<p>"But you will not receive her."</p> + +<p>"Let her come in a proper spirit, and I will receive her. She is the +wife of my bosom, and I will receive her with joy. But if she is to +come to me and tell me that she forgives me,—forgives me for the +evil that she has done,—then, sir, she had better stay away. Mr. +Glascock, you are going to be married. Believe me,—no man should +submit to be forgiven by his wife. Everything must go astray if that +be done. I would rather encounter their mad doctors, one of them +after another till they had made me mad;—I would encounter anything +rather than that. But, sir, you neither eat nor drink, and I fear +that my speech disturbs you."</p> + +<p>It was like enough that it may have done so. Trevelyan, as he had +been speaking, had walked about the room, going from one extremity to +the other with hurried steps, gesticulating with his arms, and every +now and then pushing back with his hands the long hair from off his +forehead. Mr. Glascock was in truth very much disturbed. He had come +there with an express object; but, whenever he mentioned the child, +the father became almost rabid in his wrath. "I have done very well, +thank you," said Mr. Glascock. "I will not eat any more, and I +believe I must be thinking of going back to Siena."</p> + +<p>"I had hoped you would spend the day with me, Mr. Glascock."</p> + +<p>"I am to be married, you see, in two days; and I must be in Florence +early to-morrow. I am to meet my—wife, as she will be, and the +Rowleys, and your wife. Upon my word I can't stay. Won't you just say +a word to the young woman and let the boy be got ready?"</p> + +<p>"I think not;—no, I think not."</p> + +<p>"And am I to have had all this journey for nothing? You will have +made a fool of me in writing to me."</p> + +<p>"I intended to be honest, Mr. Glascock."</p> + +<p>"Stick to your honesty, and send the boy back to his mother. It will +be better for you, Trevelyan."</p> + +<p>"Better for me! Nothing can be better for me. All must be worst. It +will be better for me, you say; and you ask me to give up the last +drop of cold water wherewith I can touch my parched lips. Even in my +hell I had so much left to me of a limpid stream, and you tell me +that it will be better for me to pour it away. You may take him, Mr. +Glascock. The woman will make him ready for you. What matters it +whether the fiery furnace be heated seven times, or only six;—in +either degree the flames are enough! You may take him;—you may take +him." So saying, Trevelyan walked out of the window, leaving Mr. +Glascock seated in his chair. He walked out of the window and went +down among the olive trees. He did not go far, however, but stood +with his arm round the stem of one of them, playing with the shoots +of a vine with his hand. Mr. Glascock followed him to the window and +stood looking at him for a few moments. But Trevelyan did not turn or +move. There he stood gazing at the pale, cloudless, heat-laden, +motionless sky, thinking of his own sorrows, and remembering too, +doubtless, with the vanity of a madman, that he was probably being +watched in his reverie.</p> + +<p>Mr. Glascock was too practical a man not to make the most of the +offer that had been made to him, and he went back among the passages +and called for Catarina. Before long he had two or three women with +him, including her whom he had brought from Florence, and among them +Louey was soon made to appear, dressed for his journey, together with +a small trunk in which were his garments. It was quite clear that the +order for his departure had been given before that scene at the +breakfast-table, and that Trevelyan had not intended to go back from +his promise. Nevertheless Mr. Glascock thought it might be as well to +hurry his departure, and he turned back to say the shortest possible +word of farewell to Trevelyan in the garden. But when he got to the +window, Trevelyan was not to be found among the olive trees. Mr. +Glascock walked a few steps down the hill, looking for him, but +seeing nothing of him, returned to the house. The elder woman said +that her master had not been there, and Mr. Glascock started with his +charge. Trevelyan was manifestly mad, and it was impossible to treat +him as a sane man would have been treated. Nevertheless, Mr. Glascock +felt much compunction in carrying the child away without a final kiss +or word of farewell from its father. But it was not to be so. He had +got into the carriage with the child, having the servant seated +opposite to him,—for he was moved by some undefinable fear which +made him determine to keep the boy close to him, and he had not, +therefore, returned to the driver's seat,—when Trevelyan appeared +standing by the road-side at the bottom of the hill. "Would you take +him away from me without one word!" said Trevelyan bitterly.</p> + +<p>"I went to look for you but you were gone," said Mr. Glascock.</p> + +<p>"No, sir, I was not gone. I am here. It is the last time that I shall +ever gladden my eyes with his brightness. Louey, my love, will you +come to your father?" Louey did not seem to be particularly willing +to leave the carriage, but he made no loud objection when Mr. +Glascock held him up to the open space above the door. The child had +realised the fact that he was to go, and did not believe that his +father would stop him now; but he was probably of opinion that the +sooner the carriage began to go on the better it would be for him. +Mr. Glascock, thinking that his father intended to kiss him over the +door, held him by his frock; but the doing of this made Trevelyan +very angry. "Am I not to be trusted with my own child in my arms?" +said he. "Give him to me, sir. I begin to doubt now whether I am +right to deliver him to you." Mr. Glascock immediately let go his +hold of the boy's frock and leaned back in the carriage. "Louey will +tell papa that he loves him before he goes?" said Trevelyan. The poor +little fellow murmured something, but it did not please his father, +who had him in his arms. "You are like the rest of them, Louey," he +said; "because I cannot laugh and be gay, all my love for you is +nothing;—nothing! You may take him. He is all that I have;—all that +I have;—and I shall never see him again!" So saying he handed the +child into the carriage, and sat himself down by the side of the road +to watch till the vehicle should be out of sight. As soon as the last +speck of it had vanished from his sight, he picked himself up, and +dragged his slow footsteps back to the house.</p> + +<p>Mr. Glascock made sundry attempts to amuse the child, with whom he +had to remain all that night at Siena; but his efforts in that line +were not very successful. The boy was brisk enough, and happy, and +social by nature; but the events, or rather the want of events of the +last few months, had so cowed him, that he could not recover his +spirits at the bidding of a stranger. "If I have any of my own," said +Mr. Glascock to himself, "I hope they will be of a more cheerful +disposition."</p> + +<p>As we have seen, he did not meet Caroline at the station,—thereby +incurring his lady-love's displeasure for the period of +half-a-minute; but he did meet Mrs. Trevelyan almost at the door of +Sir Marmaduke's lodgings. "Yes, Mrs. Trevelyan; he is here."</p> + +<p>"How am I ever to thank you for such goodness?" said she. "And Mr. +Trevelyan;—you saw him?"</p> + +<p>"Yes:—I saw him."</p> + +<p>Before he could answer her further she was up-stairs, and had her +child in her arms. It seemed to be an age since the boy had been +stolen from her in the early spring in that unknown, dingy street +near Tottenham Court Road. Twice she had seen her darling since +that,—twice during his captivity; but on each of these occasions she +had seen him as one not belonging to herself, and had seen him under +circumstances which had robbed the greeting of almost all its +pleasure. But now he was her own again, to take whither she would, to +dress and to undress, to feed, to coax, to teach, and to caress. And +the child lay close up to her as she hugged him, putting up his +little cheek to her chin, and burying himself happily in her embrace. +He had not much as yet to say, but she could feel that he was +contented.</p> + +<p>Mr. Glascock had promised to wait for her a few minutes,—even at the +risk of Caroline's displeasure,—and Mrs. Trevelyan ran down to him +as soon as the first craving of her mother's love was satisfied. Her +boy would at any rate be safe with her now, and it was her duty to +learn something of her husband. It was more than her duty;—if only +her services might be of avail to him. "And you say he was well?" she +asked. She had taken Mr. Glascock apart, and they were alone +together, and he had determined that he would tell her the truth.</p> + +<p>"I do not know that he is ill,—though he is pale and altered beyond +belief."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—I saw that."</p> + +<p>"I never knew a man so thin and haggard."</p> + +<p>"My poor Louis!"</p> + +<p>"But that is not the worst of it."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, Mr. Glascock?"</p> + +<p>"I mean that his mind is astray, and that he should not be left +alone. There is no knowing what he might do. He is so much more alone +there than he would be in England. There is not a soul who could +interfere."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean that you think—that he is in danger—from himself?"</p> + +<p>"I would not say so, Mrs. Trevelyan; but who can tell? I am sure of +this,—that he should not be left alone. If it were only because of +the misery of his life, he should not be left alone."</p> + +<p>"But what can I do? He would not even see papa."</p> + +<p>"He would see you."</p> + +<p>"But he would not let me guide him in anything. I have been to him +twice, and he breaks out,—as if I were—a bad woman."</p> + +<p>"Let him break out. What does it matter?"</p> + +<p>"Am I to own to a falsehood,—and such a falsehood?"</p> + +<p>"Own to anything, and you will conquer him at once. That is what I +think. You will excuse what I say, Mrs. Trevelyan."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Glascock, you have been such a friend! What should we have +done without you!"</p> + +<p>"You cannot take to heart the words that come from a disordered +reason. In truth, he believes no ill of you."</p> + +<p>"But he says so."</p> + +<p>"It is hard to know what he says. Declare that you will submit to +him, and I think that he will be softened towards you. Try to bring +him back to his own country. It may be that were he to—die there, +alone, the memory of his loneliness would be heavy with you in after +days." Then, having so spoken, he rushed off, declaring, with a +forced laugh, that Caroline Spalding would never forgive him.</p> + +<p>The next day was the day of the wedding, and Emily Trevelyan was left +all alone. It was of course out of the question that she should join +any party the purport of which was to be festive. Sir Marmaduke went +with some grumbling, declaring that wine and severe food in the +morning were sins against the plainest rules of life. And the three +Rowley girls went, Nora officiating as one of the bridesmaids. But +Mrs. Trevelyan was left with her boy, and during the day she was +forced to resolve what should be the immediate course of her life. +Two days after the wedding her family would return to England. It was +open to her to go with them, and to take her boy with her. But a few +days since how happy she would have been could she have been made to +believe that such a mode of returning would be within her power! But +now she felt that she might not return and leave that poor, suffering +wretch behind her. As she thought of him she tried to interrogate +herself in regard to her feelings. Was it love, or duty, or +compassion which stirred her? She had loved him as fondly as any +bright young woman loves the man who is to take her away from +everything else, and make her a part of his house and of himself. She +had loved him as Nora now loved the man whom she worshipped and +thought to be a god, doing godlike work in the dingy recesses of the +D. R. office. Emily Trevelyan was forced to tell herself that all +that was over with her. Her husband had shown himself to be weak, +suspicious, unmanly,—by no means like a god. She had learned to feel +that she could not trust her comfort in his hands,—that she could +never know what his thoughts of her might be. But still he was her +husband, and the father of her child; and though she could not dare +to look forward to happiness in living with him, she could understand +that no comfort would be possible to her were she to return to +England and to leave him to perish alone at Casalunga. Fate seemed to +have intended that her life should be one of misery, and she must +bear it as best she might.</p> + +<p>The more she thought of it, however, the greater seemed to be her +difficulties. What was she to do when her father and mother should +have left her? She could not go to Casalunga if her husband would not +give her entrance; and if she did go, would it be safe for her to +take her boy with her? Were she to remain in Florence she would be +hardly nearer to him for any useful purpose than in England; and even +should she pitch her tent at Siena, occupying there some desolate set +of huge apartments in a deserted palace, of what use could she be to +him? Could she stay there if he desired her to go; and was it +probable that he would be willing that she should be at Siena while +he was living at Casalunga,—no more than two leagues distant? How +should she begin her work; and if he repulsed her, how should she +then continue it?</p> + +<p>But during these wedding hours she did make up her mind as to what +she would do for the present. She would certainly not leave Italy +while her husband remained there. She would for a while keep her +rooms in Florence, and there should her boy abide. But from time to +time,—twice a week perhaps,—she would go down to Siena and +Casalunga, and there form her plans in accordance with her husband's +conduct. She was his wife, and nothing should entirely separate her +from him, now that he so sorely wanted her aid.</p> + + +<p><a name="c87" id="c87"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXXVII.</h3> +<h4>MR. GLASCOCK'S MARRIAGE COMPLETED.<br /> </h4> + + +<p><img class="left" src="images/ch87a.jpg" width="310" alt="Illustration" /> +The Glascock marriage was a great affair in Florence;—so much so, +that there were not a few who regarded it as a strengthening of +peaceful relations between the United States and the United Kingdom, +and who thought that the Alabama claims and the question of +naturalisation might now be settled with comparative ease. An English +lord was about to marry the niece of an American Minister to a +foreign court. The bridegroom was not, indeed, quite a lord as yet, +but it was known to all men that he must be a lord in a very short +time, and the bride was treated with more than usual bridal honours +because she belonged to a legation. She was not, indeed, an +ambassador's daughter, but the niece of a daughterless ambassador, +and therefore almost as good as a daughter. The wives and daughters +of other ambassadors, and the other ambassadors themselves, of +course, came to the wedding; and as the palace in which Mr. Spalding +had apartments stood alone, in a garden, with a separate carriage +entrance, it seemed for all wedding purposes as though the whole +palace were his own. The English Minister came, and his +wife,—although she had never quite given over turning up her nose at +the American bride whom Mr. Glascock had chosen for himself. It was +such a pity, she said, that such a man as Mr. Glascock should marry a +young woman from Providence, Rhode Island. Who in England would know +anything of Providence, Rhode Island? And it was so expedient, in her +estimation, that a man of family should strengthen himself by +marrying a woman of family. It was so necessary, she declared, that a +man when marrying should remember that his child would have two +grandfathers, and would be called upon to account for four +great-grandfathers. Nevertheless Mr. Glascock was—Mr. Glascock; and, +let him marry whom he would, his wife would be the future Lady +Peterborough. Remembering this, the English Minister's wife gave up +the point when the thing was really settled, and benignly promised to +come to the breakfast with all the secretaries and attachés belonging +to the legation, and all the wives and daughters thereof. What may a +man not do, and do with éclat, if he be heir to a peer and have +plenty of money in his pocket?</p> + +<p>Mr. and Mrs. Spalding were covered with glory on the occasion; and +perhaps they did not bear their glory as meekly as they should have +done. Mrs. Spalding laid herself open to some ridicule from the +British Minister's wife because of her inability to understand with +absolute clearness the condition of her niece's husband in respect to +his late and future seat in Parliament, to the fact of his being a +commoner and a nobleman at the same time, and to certain information +which was conveyed to her, surely in a most unnecessary manner, that +if Mr. Glascock were to die before his father her niece would never +become Lady Peterborough, although her niece's son, if she had one, +would be the future lord. No doubt she blundered, as was most +natural; and then the British Minister's wife made the most of the +blunders; and when once Mrs. Spalding ventured to speak of Caroline +as her ladyship, not to the British Minister's wife, but to the +sister of one of the secretaries, a story was made out of it which +was almost as false as it was ill-natured. Poor Caroline was spoken +of as her ladyship backward and forwards among the ladies of the +legation in a manner which might have vexed her had she known +anything about it; but, nevertheless, all the ladies prepared their +best flounces to go to the wedding. The time would soon come when she +would in truth be a "ladyship," and she might be of social use to any +one of the ladies in question.</p> + +<p>But Mr. Spalding was, for the time, the most disturbed of any of the +party concerned. He was a tall, thin, clever Republican of the +North,—very fond of hearing himself talk, and somewhat apt to take +advantage of the courtesies of conversation for the purpose of making +unpardonable speeches. As long as there was any give and take going +on in the mêlée of words he would speak quickly and with energy, +seizing his chances among others; but the moment he had established +his right to the floor,—as soon as he had won for himself the +position of having his turn at the argument, he would dole out his +words with considerable slowness, raise his hand for oratorial +effect, and proceed as though Time were annihilated. And he would go +further even than this, for,—fearing by experience the escape of his +victims,—he would catch a man by the button-hole of his coat, or +back him ruthlessly into the corner of a room, and then lay on to him +without quarter. Since the affair with Mr. Glascock had been settled, +he had talked an immensity about England,—not absolutely taking +honour to himself because of his intended connection with a lord, but +making so many references to the aristocratic side of the British +constitution as to leave no doubt on the minds of his hearers as to +the source of his arguments. In old days, before all this was +happening, Mr. Spalding, though a courteous man in his personal +relations, had constantly spoken of England with the bitter +indignation of the ordinary American politician. England must be made +to disgorge. England must be made to do justice. England must be +taught her place in the world. England must give up her claims. In +hot moments he had gone further, and had declared that England must +be—whipped. He had been specially loud against that aristocracy of +England which, according to a figure of speech often used by him, was +always feeding on the vitals of the people. But now all this was very +much changed. He did not go the length of expressing an opinion that +the House of Lords was a valuable institution; but he discussed +questions of primogeniture and hereditary legislation, in reference +to their fitness for countries which were gradually emerging from +feudal systems, with an equanimity, an impartiality, and a +perseverance which soon convinced those who listened to him where he +had learned his present lessons, and why. "The conservative nature of +your institutions, sir," he said to poor Sir Marmaduke at the Baths +of Lucca a very few days before the marriage, "has to be studied with +great care before its effects can be appreciated in reference to a +people who, perhaps, I may be allowed to say, have more in their +composition of constitutional reverence than of educated +intelligence." Sir Marmaduke, having suffered before, had endeavoured +to bolt; but the American had caught him and pinned him, and the +Governor of the Mandarins was impotent in his hands. "The position of +the great peer of Parliament is doubtless very splendid, and may be +very useful," continued Mr. Spalding, who was intending to bring +round his argument to the evil doings of certain scandalously +extravagant young lords, and to offer a suggestion that in such cases +a committee of aged and respected peers should sit and decide whether +a second son, or some other heir should not be called to the +inheritance both of the title and the property. But Mrs. Spalding had +seen the sufferings of Sir Marmaduke, and had rescued him. "Mr. +Spalding," she had said, "it is too late for politics, and Sir +Marmaduke has come out here for a holiday." Then she took her husband +by the arm, and led him away helpless.</p> + +<p>In spite of these drawbacks to the success,—if ought can be said to +be a drawback on success of which the successful one is +unconscious,—the marriage was prepared with great splendour, and +everybody who was anybody in Florence was to be present. There were +only to be four bridesmaids, Caroline herself having strongly +objected to a greater number. As Wallachia Petrie had fled at the +first note of preparation for these trivial and unpalatable +festivities, another American young lady was found; and the sister of +the English secretary of legation, who had so maliciously spread that +report about her "ladyship," gladly agreed to be the fourth.</p> + +<p>As the reader will remember, the whole party from the Baths of Lucca +reached Florence only the day before the marriage, and Nora at the +station promised to go up to Caroline that same evening. "Mr. +Glascock will tell me about the little boy," said Caroline; "but I +shall be so anxious to hear about your sister." So Nora crossed the +bridge after dinner, and went up to the American Minister's palatial +residence. Caroline was then in the loggia, and Mr. Glascock was with +her; and for a while they talked about Emily Trevelyan and her +misfortunes. Mr. Glascock was clearly of opinion that Trevelyan would +soon be either in an asylum or in his grave. "I could not bring +myself to tell your sister so," he said; "but I think your father +should be told,—or your mother. Something should be done to put an +end to that fearful residence at Casalunga." Then by degrees the +conversation changed itself to Nora's prospects; and Caroline, with +her friend's hand in hers, asked after Hugh Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"You will not mind speaking before him,—will you?" said Caroline, +putting her hand on her own lover's arm.</p> + +<p>"Not unless he should mind it," said Nora, smiling. She had meant +nothing beyond a simple reply to her friend's question, but he took +her words in a different sense, and blushed as he remembered his +visit to Nuncombe Putney.</p> + +<p>"He thinks almost more of your happiness than he does of mine," said +Caroline; "which isn't fair, as I am sure that Mr. Stanbury will not +reciprocate the attention. And now, dear, when are we to see you?"</p> + +<p>"Who on earth can say?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose Mr. Stanbury would say something,—only he is not here."</p> + +<p>"And papa won't send my letter," said Nora.</p> + +<p>"You are sure that you will not go out to the Islands with him?"</p> + +<p>"Quite sure," said Nora. "I have made up my mind so far as that."</p> + +<p>"And what will your sister do?"</p> + +<p>"I think she will stay. I think she will say good-bye to papa and +mamma here in Florence."</p> + +<p>"I am quite of opinion that she should not leave her husband alone in +Italy," said Mr. Glascock.</p> + +<p>"She has not told us with certainty," said Nora; "but I feel sure +that she will stay. Papa thinks she ought to go with them to London."</p> + +<p>"Your papa seems to have two very intractable daughters," said +Caroline.</p> + +<p>"As for me," declared Nora, solemnly, "nothing shall make me go back +to the Islands,—unless Mr. Stanbury should tell me to do so."</p> + +<p>"And they start at the end of July?"</p> + +<p>"On the last Saturday."</p> + +<p>"And what will you do then, Nora?"</p> + +<p>"I believe there are casual wards that people go to."</p> + +<p>"Casual wards!" said Caroline.</p> + +<p>"Miss Rowley is condescending to poke her fun at you," said Mr. +Glascock.</p> + +<p>"She is quite welcome, and shall poke as much as she likes; only we +must be serious now. If it be necessary, we will get back by the end +of July;—won't we, Charles?"</p> + +<p>"You will do nothing of the kind," said Nora. "What!—give up your +honeymoon to provide me with board and lodgings! How can you suppose +that I am so selfish or so helpless? I would go to my aunt, Mrs. +Outhouse."</p> + +<p>"We know that that wouldn't do," said Caroline. "You might as well be +in Italy as far as Mr. Stanbury is concerned."</p> + +<p>"If Miss Rowley would go to Monkhams, she might wait for us," +suggested Mr. Glascock. "Old Mrs. Richards is there; and though of +course she would be <span class="nowrap">dull—"</span></p> + +<p>"It is quite unnecessary," said Nora. "I shall take a two-pair back +in a respectable feminine quarter, like any other young woman who +wants such accommodation, and shall wait there till my young man can +come and give me his arm to church. That is about the way we shall do +it. I am not going to give myself any airs, Mr. Glascock, or make any +difficulties. Papa is always talking to me about chairs and tables +and frying-pans, and I shall practise to do with as few of them as +possible. As I am headstrong about having my young man,—and I own +that I am headstrong about that,—I guess I've got to fit myself for +that sort of life." And Nora, as she said this, pronounced her words +with something of a nasal twang, imitating certain countrywomen of +her friend's.</p> + +<p>"I like to hear you joking about it, Nora; because your voice is so +cheery and you are so bright when you joke. But, nevertheless, one +has to be reasonable, and to look the facts in the face. I don't see +how you are to be left in London alone, and you know that your aunt +Mrs. Outhouse,—or at any rate your uncle,—would not receive you +except on receiving some strong anti-Stanbury pledge."</p> + +<p>"I certainly shall not give an anti-Stanbury pledge."</p> + +<p>"And, therefore, that is out of the question. You will have a +fortnight or three weeks in London, in all the bustle of their +departure, and I declare I think that at the last moment you will go +with them."</p> + +<p>"Never!—unless he says so."</p> + +<p>"I don't see how you are even to meet—'him,' and talk it over."</p> + +<p>"I'll manage that. My promise not to write lasts only while we are in +Italy."</p> + +<p>"I think we had better get back to England, Charles, and take pity on +this poor destitute one."</p> + +<p>"If you talk of such a thing I will swear that I will never go to +Monkhams. You will find that I shall manage it. It may be that I +shall do something very shocking,—so that all your patronage will +hardly be able to bring me round afterwards; but I will do something +that will serve my purpose. I have not gone so far as this to be +turned back now." Nora, as she spoke of having "gone so far," was +looking at Mr. Glascock, who was seated in an easy arm-chair close to +the girl whom he was to make his wife on the morrow, and she was +thinking, no doubt, of the visit which he had made to Nuncombe +Putney, and of the first irretrievable step which she had taken when +she told him that her love was given to another. That had been her +Rubicon. And though there had been periods with her since the passing +of it, in which she had felt that she had crossed it in vain, that +she had thrown away the splendid security of the other bank without +obtaining the perilous object of her ambition,—though there had been +moments in which she had almost regretted her own courage and noble +action, still, having passed the river, there was nothing for her but +to go on to Rome. She was not going to be stopped now by the want of +a house in which to hide herself for a few weeks. She was without +money, except so much as her mother might be able, almost +surreptitiously, to give her. She was without friends to help +her,—except these who were now with her, whose friendship had come +to her in so singular a manner, and whose power to aid her at the +present moment was cruelly curtailed by their own circumstances. +Nothing was settled as to her own marriage. In consequence of the +promise that had been extorted from her that she should not +correspond with Stanbury, she knew nothing of his present wishes or +intention. Her father was so offended by her firmness that he would +hardly speak to her. And it was evident to her that her mother, +though disposed to yield, was still in hopes that her daughter, in +the press and difficulty of the moment, would allow herself to be +carried away with the rest of the family to the other side of the +world. She knew all this,—but she had made up her mind that she +would not be carried away. It was not very pleasant, the thought that +she would be obliged at last to ask her young man, as she called him, +to provide for her; but she would do that and trust herself +altogether in his hands sooner than be taken to the Antipodes. "I can +be very resolute if I please, my dear," she said, looking at +Caroline. Mr. Glascock almost thought that she must have intended to +address him.</p> + +<p>They sat there discussing the matter for some time through the long, +cool, evening hours, but nothing could be settled further,—except +that Nora would write to her friend as soon as her affairs had begun +to shape themselves after her return to England. At last Caroline +went into the house, and for a few minutes Mr. Glascock was alone +with Nora. He had remained, determining that the moment should come, +but now that it was there he was for awhile unable to say the words +that he wished to utter. At last he spoke. "Miss Rowley, Caroline is +so eager to be your friend."</p> + +<p>"I know she is, and I do love her so dearly. But, without joke, Mr. +Glascock, there will be as it were a great gulf between us."</p> + +<p>"I do not know that there need be any gulf, great or little. But I +did not mean to allude to that. What I want to say is this. My +feelings are not a bit less warm or sincere than hers. You know of +old that I am not very good at expressing myself."</p> + +<p>"I know nothing of the kind."</p> + +<p>"There is no such gulf as what you speak of. All that is mostly gone +by, and a nobleman in England, though he has advantages as a +gentleman, is no more than a gentleman. But that has nothing to do +with what I am saying now. I shall never forget my journey to +Devonshire. I won't pretend to say now that I regret its result."</p> + +<p>"I am quite sure you don't."</p> + +<p>"No; I do not;—though I thought then that I should regret it always. +But remember this, Miss Rowley,—that you can never ask me to do +anything that I will not, if possible, do for you. You are in some +little difficulty now."</p> + +<p>"It will disappear, Mr. Glascock. Difficulties always do."</p> + +<p>"But we will do anything that we are wanted to do; and should a +certain event take <span class="nowrap">place—"</span></p> + +<p>"It will take place some day."</p> + +<p>"Then I hope that we may be able to make Mr. Stanbury and his wife +quite at home at Monkhams." After that he took Nora's hand and kissed +it, and at that moment Caroline came back to them.</p> + +<p>"To-morrow, Mr. Glascock," she said, "you will, I believe, be at +liberty to kiss everybody; but to-day you should be more discreet."</p> + +<p>It was generally admitted among the various legations in Florence +that there had not been such a wedding in the City of Flowers since +it had become the capital of Italia. Mr. Glascock and Miss Spalding +were married in the chapel of the legation,—a legation chapel on the +ground floor having been extemporised for the occasion. This greatly +enhanced the pleasantness of the thing, and saved the necessity of +matrons and bridesmaids packing themselves and their finery into +close fusty carriages. A portion of the guests attended in the +chapel, and the remainder, when the ceremony was over, were found +strolling about the shady garden. The whole affair of the breakfast +was very splendid and lasted some hours. In the midst of this the +bride and bridegroom were whisked away with a pair of grey horses to +the railway station, and before the last toast of the day had been +proposed by the Belgian Councillor of Legation, they were half way up +the Apennines on their road to Bologna. Mr. Spalding behaved himself +like a man on the occasion. Nothing was spared in the way of expense, +and when he made that celebrated speech, in which he declared that +the republican virtue of the New World had linked itself in a happy +alliance with the aristocratic splendour of the Old, and went on with +a simile about the lion and the lamb, everybody accepted it with good +humour in spite of its being a little too long for the occasion.</p> + +<p>"It has gone off very well, mamma; has it not?" said Nora, as she +returned home with her mother to her lodgings.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear; much, I fancy, as these things generally do."</p> + +<p>"I thought it was so nice. And she looked so very well. And he was so +pleasant, and so much like a gentleman;—not noisy, you know,—and +yet not too serious."</p> + +<p>"I dare say, my love."</p> + +<p>"It is easy enough, mamma, for a girl to be married, for she has +nothing to do but to wear her clothes and look as pretty as she can. +And if she cries and has a red nose it is forgiven her. But a man has +so difficult a part to play. If he tries to carry himself as though +it were not a special occasion, he looks like a fool that way; and if +he is very special, he looks like a fool the other way. I thought Mr. +Glascock did it very well."</p> + +<p>"To tell you the truth, my dear, I did not observe him."</p> + +<p>"I did,—narrowly. He hadn't tied his cravat at all nicely."</p> + +<p>"How you could think of his cravat, Nora, with such memories as you +must have, and such regrets, I cannot understand."</p> + +<p>"Mamma, my memories of Mr. Glascock are pleasant memories, and as for +regrets,—I have not one. Can I regret, mamma, that I did not marry a +man whom I did not love,—and that I rejected him when I knew that I +loved another? You cannot mean that, mamma."</p> + +<p>"I know this;—that I was thinking all the time how proud I should +have been, and how much more fortunate he would have been, had you +been standing there instead of that American young woman." As she +said this Lady Rowley burst into tears, and Nora could only answer +her mother by embracing her. They were alone together, their party +having been too large for one carriage, and Sir Marmaduke having +taken his two younger daughters. "Of course I feel it," said Lady +Rowley, through her tears. "It would have been such a position for my +child! And that young man,—without a shilling in the world; and +writing in that way, just for bare bread!" Nora had nothing more to +say. A feeling that in herself would have been base, was simply +affectionate and maternal in her mother. It was impossible that she +should make her mother see it as she saw it.</p> + +<p>There was but one intervening day and then the Rowleys returned to +England. There had been, as it were, a tacit agreement among them +that, in spite of all their troubles, their holiday should be a +holiday up to the time of the Glascock marriage. Then must commence +at once the stern necessity of their return home,—home, not only to +England, but to those antipodean islands from which it was too +probable that some of them might never come back. And the +difficulties in their way seemed to be almost insuperable. First of +all there was to be the parting from Emily Trevelyan. She had +determined to remain in Florence, and had written to her husband +saying that she would do so, and declaring her willingness to go out +to him, or to receive him in Florence at any time and in any manner +that he might appoint. She had taken this as a first step, intending +to go to Casalunga very shortly, even though she should receive no +answer from him. The parting between her and her mother and father +and sisters was very bitter. Sir Marmaduke, as he had become +estranged from Nora, had grown to be more and more gentle and loving +with his elder daughter, and was nearly overcome at the idea of +leaving her in a strange land, with a husband near her, mad, and yet +not within her custody. But he could do nothing,—could hardly say a +word,—toward opposing her. Though her husband was mad, he supplied +her with the means of living; and when she said that it was her duty +to be near him, her father could not deny it. The parting came. "I +will return to you the moment you send to me," were Nora's last words +to her sister. "I don't suppose I shall send," said Emily. "I shall +try to bear it without assistance."</p> + +<p>Then the journey from Italy to England was made without much +gratification or excitement, and the Rowley family again found +themselves at Gregg's Hotel.</p> + + +<p><a name="c88" id="c88"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXXVIII.</h3> +<h4>CROPPER AND BURGESS.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>We must now go back to Exeter and look after Mr. Brooke Burgess and +Miss Dorothy Stanbury. It is rather hard upon readers that they +should be thus hurried from the completion of hymeneals at Florence, +to the preparations for other hymeneals in Devonshire; but it is the +nature of a complex story to be entangled with many weddings towards +its close. In this little history there are, we fear, three or four +more to come. We will not anticipate by alluding prematurely to Hugh +Stanbury's treachery, or death,—or the possibility that he after all +may turn out to be the real descendant of the true Lord Peterborough +and the actual inheritor of the title and estate of Monkhams, nor +will we speak of Nora's certain fortitude under either of these +emergencies. But the instructed reader must be aware that Camilla +French ought to have a husband found for her; that Colonel Osborne +should be caught in some matrimonial trap,—as, how otherwise should +he be fitly punished?—and that something should be at least +attempted for Priscilla Stanbury, who from the first has been +intended to be the real heroine of these pages. That Martha should +marry Giles Hickbody, and Barty Burgess run away with Mrs. MacHugh, +is of course evident to the meanest novel-expounding capacity; but +the fate of Brooke Burgess and of Dorothy will require to be evolved +with some delicacy and much detail.</p> + +<p>There was considerable difficulty in fixing the day. In the first +place Miss Stanbury was not very well,—and then she was very +fidgety. She must see Brooke again before the day was fixed, and +after seeing Brooke she must see her lawyer. "To have a lot of money +to look after is more plague than profit, my dear," she said to +Dorothy one day; "particularly when you don't quite know what you +ought to do with it." Dorothy had always avoided any conversation +with her aunt about money since the first moment in which she had +thought of accepting Brooke Burgess as her husband. She knew that her +aunt had some feeling which made her averse to the idea that any +portion of the property which she had inherited should be enjoyed by +a Stanbury after her death, and Dorothy, guided by this knowledge, +had almost convinced herself that her love for Brooke was treason +either against him or against her aunt. If, by engaging herself to +him, she should rob him of his inheritance, how bitter a burden to +him would her love have been! If, on the other hand, she should +reward her aunt for all that had been done for her by forcing +herself, a Stanbury, into a position not intended for her, how base +would be her ingratitude! These thoughts had troubled her much, and +had always prevented her from answering any of her aunt's chance +allusions to the property. For her, things had at last gone very +right. She did not quite know how it had come about, but she was +engaged to marry the man she loved. And her aunt was, at any rate, +reconciled to the marriage. But when Miss Stanbury declared that she +did not know what to do about the property, Dorothy could only hold +her tongue. She had had plenty to say when it had been suggested to +her that the marriage should be put off yet for a short while, and +that, in the meantime, Brooke should come again to Exeter. She swore +that she did not care for how long it was put off,—only that she +hoped it might not be put off altogether. And as for Brooke's coming, +that, for the present, would be very much nicer than being married +out of hand at once. Dorothy, in truth, was not at all in a hurry to +be married, but she would have liked to have had her lover always +coming and going. Since the courtship had become a thing permitted, +she had had the privilege of welcoming him twice at the house in the +Close; and that running down to meet him in the little front parlour, +and the getting up to make his breakfast for him as he started in the +morning, were among the happiest epochs of her life. And then, as +soon as ever the breakfast was eaten, and he was gone, she would sit +down to write him a letter. Oh, those letters, so beautifully +crossed, more than one of which was copied from beginning to end +because some word in it was not thought to be sweet enough;—what a +heaven of happiness they were to her! The writing of the first had +disturbed her greatly, and she had almost repented of the privilege +before it was ended; but with the first and second the difficulties +had disappeared; and, had she not felt somewhat ashamed of the +occupation, she could have sat at her desk and written him letters +all day. Brooke would answer them, with fair regularity, but in a +most cursory manner,—sending seven or eight lines in return for two +sheets fully crossed; but this did not discompose her in the least. +He was worked hard at his office, and had hundreds of other things to +do. He, too, could say,—so thought Dorothy,—more in eight lines +than she could put into as many pages.</p> + +<p>She was quite happy when she was told that the marriage could not +take place till August, but that Brooke must come again in July. +Brooke did come in the first week of July, and somewhat horrified +Dorothy by declaring to her that Miss Stanbury was unreasonable.</p> + +<p>"If I insist upon leaving London so often for a day or two," said he, +"how am I to get anything like leave of absence when the time comes?" +In answer to this Dorothy tried to make him understand that business +should not be neglected, and that, as far as she was concerned, she +could do very well without that trip abroad which he had proposed for +her. "I'm not going to be done in that way," said Brooke. "And now +that I am here she has nothing to say to me. I've told her a dozen +times that I don't want to know anything about her will, and that +I'll take it all for granted. There is something to be settled on +you, that she calls her own."</p> + +<p>"She is so generous, Brooke."</p> + +<p>"She is generous enough, but she is very whimsical. She is going to +make her whole will over again, and now she wants to send some +message to Uncle Barty. I don't know what it is yet, but I am to take +it. As far as I can understand, she has sent all the way to London +for me, in order that I may take a message across the Close."</p> + +<p>"You talk as though it were very disagreeable, coming to Exeter," +said Dorothy, with a little pout.</p> + +<p>"So it is,—very disagreeable."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Brooke!"</p> + +<p>"Very disagreeable if our marriage is to be put off by it. I think it +will be so much nicer making love somewhere on the Rhine than having +snatches of it here, and talking all the time about wills and +tenements and settlements." As he said this, with his arm round her +waist and his face quite close to hers,—shewing thereby that he was +not altogether averse even to his present privileges,—she forgave +him.</p> + +<p>On that same afternoon, just before the banking hours were over, +Brooke went across to the house of Cropper and Burgess, having first +been closeted for nearly an hour with his aunt,—and, as he went, his +step was sedate and his air was serious. He found his uncle Barty, +and was not very long in delivering his message. It was to this +effect,—that Miss Stanbury particularly wished to see Mr. +Bartholomew Burgess on business, at some hour on that afternoon or +that evening. Brooke himself had been made acquainted with the +subject in regard to which this singular interview was desired; but +it was not a part of his duty to communicate any information +respecting it. It had been necessary that his consent to certain +arrangements should be asked before the invitation to Barty Burgess +could be given; but his present mission was confined to an authority +to give the invitation.</p> + +<p>Old Mr. Burgess was much surprised, and was at first disposed to +decline the proposition made by the "old harridan," as he called her. +He had never put any restraint on his language in talking of Miss +Stanbury with his nephew, and was not disposed to do so now, because +she had taken a new vagary into her head. But there was something in +his nephew's manner which at last induced him to discuss the matter +rationally.</p> + +<p>"And you don't know what it's all about?" said Uncle Barty.</p> + +<p>"I can't quite say that. I suppose I do know pretty well. At any +rate, I know enough to think that you ought to come. But I must not +say what it is."</p> + +<p>"Will it do me or anybody else any good?"</p> + +<p>"It can't do you any harm. She won't eat you."</p> + +<p>"But she can abuse me like a pickpocket, and I should return it, and +then there would be a scolding match. I always have kept out of her +way, and I think I had better do so still."</p> + +<p>Nevertheless Brooke prevailed,—or rather the feeling of curiosity +which was naturally engendered prevailed. For very, very many years +Barty Burgess had never entered or left his own house of business +without seeing the door of that in which Miss Stanbury lived,—and he +had never seen that door without a feeling of detestation for the +owner of it. It would, perhaps, have been a more rational feeling on +his part had he confined his hatred to the memory of his brother, by +whose will Miss Stanbury had been enriched, and he had been, as he +thought, impoverished. But there had been a contest, and litigation, +and disputes, and contradictions, and a long course of those +incidents in life which lead to rancour and ill blood, after the +death of the former Brooke Burgess; and, as the result of all this, +Miss Stanbury held the property and Barty Burgess held his hatred. He +had never been ashamed of it, and had spoken his mind out to all who +would hear him. And, to give Miss Stanbury her due, it must be +admitted that she had hardly been behind him in the warmth of her +expression,—of which old Barty was well aware. He hated, and knew +that he was hated in return. And he knew, or thought that he knew, +that his enemy was not a woman to relent because old age and weakness +and the fear of death were coming on her. His enemy, with all her +faults, was no coward. It could not be that now at the eleventh hour +she should desire to reconcile him by any act of tardy justice,—nor +did he wish to be reconciled at this the eleventh hour. His hatred +was a pleasant excitement to him. His abuse of Miss Stanbury was a +chosen recreation. His unuttered daily curse, as he looked over to +her door, was a relief to him. Nevertheless he would go. As Brooke +had said,—no harm could come of his going. He would go, and at least +listen to her proposition.</p> + +<p>About seven in the evening his knock was heard at the door. Miss +Stanbury was sitting in the small up-stairs parlour, dressed in her +second best gown, and was prepared with considerable stiffness and +state for the occasion. Dorothy was with her, but was desired in a +quick voice to hurry away the moment the knock was heard, as though +old Barty would have jumped from the hall door into the room at a +bound. Dorothy collected herself with a little start, and went +without a word. She had heard much of Barty Burgess, but had never +spoken to him, and was subject to a feeling of great awe when she +would remember that the grim old man of whom she had heard so much +evil would soon be her uncle. According to arrangement, Mr. Burgess +was shewn up-stairs by his nephew. Barty Burgess had been born in +this very house, but had not been inside the walls of it for more +than thirty years. He also was somewhat awed by the occasion, and +followed his nephew without a word. Brooke was to remain at hand, so +that he might be summoned should he be wanted; but it had been +decided by Miss Stanbury that he should not be present at the +interview. As soon as her visitor entered the room she rose in a +stately way, and curtseyed, propping herself with one hand upon the +table as she did so. She looked him full in the face meanwhile, and +curtseying a second time asked him to seat himself in a chair which +had been prepared for him. She did it all very well, and it may be +surmised that she had rehearsed the little scene, perhaps more than +once, when nobody was looking at her. He bowed, and walked round to +the chair and seated himself; but finding that he was so placed that +he could not see his neighbour's face, he moved his chair. He was not +going to fight such a duel as this with the disadvantage of the sun +in his eyes.</p> + + +<div class="center"><a name="ip2-302" id="ip2-302"></a> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="4px"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/p2-302.jpg"> + <img src="images/p2-302-t.jpg" height="500" + alt="Barty Burgess." /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <span class="caption">Barty Burgess.<br /> + Click to <a href="images/p2-302.jpg">ENLARGE</a></span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p>Hitherto there had hardly been a word spoken. Miss Stanbury had +muttered something as she was curtseying, and Barty Burgess had made +some return. Then she began: "Mr. Burgess," she said, "I am indebted +to you for your complaisance in coming here at my request." To this +he bowed again. "I should not have ventured thus to trouble you were +it not that years are dealing more hardly with me than they are with +you, and that I could not have ventured to discuss a matter of deep +interest otherwise than in my own room." It was her room now, +certainly, by law; but Barty Burgess remembered it when it was his +mother's room, and when she used to give them all their meals +there,—now so many, many years ago! He bowed again, and said not a +word. He knew well that she could sooner be brought to her point by +his silence than by his speech.</p> + +<p>She was a long time coming to her point. Before she could do so she +was forced to allude to times long past, and to subjects which she +found it very difficult to touch without saying that which would +either belie herself, or seem to be severe upon him. Though she had +prepared herself, she could hardly get the words spoken, and she was +greatly impeded by the obstinacy of his silence. But at last her +proposition was made to him. She told him that his nephew, Brooke, +was about to be married to her niece, Dorothy; and that it was her +intention to make Brooke her heir in the bulk of the property which +she had received under the will of the late Mr. Brooke Burgess. +"Indeed," she said, "all that I received at your brother's hands +shall go back to your brother's family unimpaired." He only bowed, +and would not say a word. Then she went on to say that it had at +first been a matter to her of deep regret that Brooke should have set +his affections upon her niece, as there had been in her mind a strong +desire that none of her own people should enjoy the reversion of the +wealth, which she had always regarded as being hers only for the term +of her life; but that she had found that the young people had been so +much in earnest, and that her own feeling had been so near akin to a +prejudice, that she had yielded. When this was said Barty smiled +instead of bowing, and Miss Stanbury felt that there might be +something worse even than his silence. His smile told her that he +believed her to be lying. Nevertheless she went on. She was not fool +enough to suppose that the whole nature of the man was to be changed +by a few words from her. So she went on. The marriage was a thing +fixed, and she was thinking of settlements, and had been talking to +lawyers about a new will.</p> + +<p>"I do not know that I can help you," said Barty, finding that a +longer pause than usual made some word from him absolutely necessary.</p> + +<p>"I am going on to that, and I regret that my story should detain you +so long, Mr. Burgess." And she did go on. She had, she said, made +some saving out of her income. She was not going to trouble Mr. +Burgess with this matter,—only that she might explain to him that +what she would at once give to the young couple, and what she would +settle on Dorothy after her own death, would all come from such +savings, and that such gifts and bequests would not diminish the +family property. Barty again smiled as he heard this, and Miss +Stanbury in her heart likened him to the devil in person. But still +she went on. She was very desirous that Brooke Burgess should come +and live at Exeter. His property would be in the town and the +neighbourhood. It would be a seemly thing,—such were her +words,—that he should occupy the house that had belonged to his +grandfather and his great-grandfather; and then, moreover,—she +acknowledged that she spoke selfishly,—she dreaded the idea of being +left alone for the remainder of her own years. Her proposition at +last was uttered. It was simply this, that Barty Burgess should give +to his nephew, Brooke, his share in the bank.</p> + +<p>"I am damned, if I do!" said Barty Burgess, rising up from his chair.</p> + +<p>But before he had left the room he had agreed to consider the +proposition. Miss Stanbury had of course known that any such +suggestion coming from her without an adequate reason assigned, would +have been mere idle wind. She was prepared with such adequate reason. +If Mr. Burgess could see his way to make the proposed transfer of his +share of the bank business, she, Miss Stanbury, would hand over to +him, for his life, a certain proportion of the Burgess property which +lay in the city, the income of which would exceed that drawn by him +from the business. Would he, at his time of life, take that for doing +nothing which he now got for working hard? That was the meaning of +it. And then, too, as far as the portion of the property went,—and +it extended to the houses owned by Miss Stanbury on the bank side of +the Close,—it would belong altogether to Barty Burgess for his life. +"It will simply be this, Mr. Burgess;—that Brooke will be your +heir,—as would be natural."</p> + +<p>"I don't know that it would be at all natural," said he. "I should +prefer to choose my own heir."</p> + +<p>"No doubt, Mr. Burgess,—in respect to your own property," said Miss +Stanbury.</p> + +<p>At last he said that he would think of it, and consult his partner; +and then he got up to take his leave. "For myself," said Miss +Stanbury, "I would wish that all animosities might be buried."</p> + +<p>"We can say that they are buried," said the grim old man,—"but +nobody will believe us."</p> + +<p>"What matters,—if we could believe it ourselves?"</p> + +<p>"But suppose we didn't. I don't believe that much good can come from +talking of such things, Miss Stanbury. You and I have grown too old +to swear a friendship. I will think of this thing, and if I find that +it can be made to suit without much difficulty, I will perhaps +entertain it." Then the interview was over, and old Barty made his +way down-stairs, and out of the house. He looked over to the +tenements in the Close which were offered to him, every circumstance +of each one of which he knew, and felt that he might do worse. Were +he to leave the bank, he could not take his entire income with him, +and it had been long said of him that he ought to leave it. The +Croppers, who were his partners,—and whom he had never loved,—would +be glad to welcome in his place one of the old family who would have +money; and then the name would be perpetuated in Exeter, which, even +to Barty Burgess, was something.</p> + +<p>On that night the scheme was divulged to Dorothy, and she was in +ecstasies. London had always sounded bleak and distant and terrible +to her; and her heart had misgiven her at the idea of leaving her +aunt. If only this thing might be arranged! When Brooke spoke the +next morning of returning at once to his office, he was rebuked by +both the ladies. What was the Ecclesiastical Commission Office to any +of them, when matters of such importance were concerned? But Brooke +would not be talked out of his prudence. He was very willing to be +made a banker at Exeter, and to go to school again and learn banking +business; but he would not throw up his occupation in London till he +knew that there was another ready for him in the country. One day +longer he spent in Exeter, and during that day he was more than once +with his uncle. He saw also the Messrs. Cropper, and was considerably +chilled by the manner in which they at first seemed to entertain the +proposition. Indeed, for a couple of hours he thought that the scheme +must be abandoned. It was pointed out to him that Mr. Barty Burgess's +life would probably be short, and that he—Barty—had but a small +part of the business at his disposal. But gradually a way to terms +was seen,—not quite so simple as that which Miss Stanbury had +suggested; and Brooke, when he left Exeter, did believe it possible +that he, after all, might become the family representative in the old +banking-house of the Burgesses.</p> + +<p>"And how long will it take, Aunt Stanbury?" Dorothy asked.</p> + +<p>"Don't you be impatient, my dear."</p> + +<p>"I am not the least impatient; but of course I want to tell mamma and +Priscilla. It will be so nice to live here and not go up to London. +Are we to stay here,—in this very house?"</p> + +<p>"Have you not found out yet that Brooke will be likely to have an +opinion of his own on such things?"</p> + +<p>"But would you wish us to live here, aunt?"</p> + +<p>"I hardly know, dear. I am a foolish old woman, and cannot say what I +would wish. I cannot bear to be alone."</p> + +<p>"Of course we will stay with you."</p> + +<p>"And yet I should be jealous if I were not mistress of my own house."</p> + +<p>"Of course you will be mistress."</p> + +<p>"I believe, Dolly, that it would be better that I should die. I have +come to feel that I can do more good by going out of the world than +by remaining in it." Dorothy hardly answered this in words, but sat +close by her aunt, holding the old woman's hand and caressing it, and +administering that love of which Miss Stanbury had enjoyed so little +during her life and which had become so necessary to her.</p> + +<p>The news about the bank arrangements, though kept of course as a +great secret, soon became common in Exeter. It was known to be a good +thing for the firm in general that Barty Burgess should be removed +from his share of the management. He was old-fashioned, unpopular, +and very stubborn; and he and a certain Mr. Julius Cropper, who was +the leading man among the Croppers, had not always been comfortable +together. It was at first hinted that old Miss Stanbury had been +softened by sudden twinges of conscience, and that she had confessed +to some terrible crime in the way of forgery, perjury, or perhaps +worse, and had relieved herself at last by making full restitution. +But such a rumour as this did not last long or receive wide credence. +When it was hinted to such old friends as Sir Peter Mancrudy and Mrs. +MacHugh, they laughed it to scorn,—and it did not exist even in the +vague form of an undivulged mystery for above three days. Then it was +asserted that old Barty had been found to have no real claim to any +share in the bank, and that he was to be turned out at Miss +Stanbury's instance;—that he was to be turned out, and that Brooke +had been acknowledged to be the owner of the Burgess share of her +business. Then came the fact that old Barty had been bought out, and +that the future husband of Miss Stanbury's niece was to be the junior +partner. A general feeling prevailed at last that there had been +another great battle between Miss Stanbury and old Barty, and that +the old maid had prevailed now as she had done in former days.</p> + +<p>Before the end of July the papers were in the lawyer's hands, and all +the terms had been fixed. Brooke came down again and again, to +Dorothy's great delight, and displayed considerable firmness in the +management of his own interest. If Fate intended to make him a banker +in Exeter instead of a clerk in the Ecclesiastical Commission Office, +he would be a banker after a respectable fashion. There was more than +one little struggle between him and Mr. Julius Cropper, which ended +in accession of respect on the part of Mr. Cropper for his new +partner. Mr. Cropper had thought that the establishment might best be +known to the commercial world of the West of England as "Croppers' +Bank;" but Brooke had been very firm in asserting that if he was to +have anything to do with it the old name should be maintained.</p> + +<p>"It's to be 'Cropper and Burgess,'" he said to Dorothy one afternoon. +"They fought hard for 'Cropper, Cropper, and Burgess;'—but I +wouldn't stand more than one Cropper."</p> + +<p>"Of course not," said Dorothy, with something almost of scorn in her +voice. By this time Dorothy had gone very deeply into banking +business.</p> + + +<p><a name="c89" id="c89"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER LXXXIX.</h3> +<h4>"I WOULDN'T DO IT, IF I WAS YOU."<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Miss Stanbury at this time was known all through Exeter to be very +much altered from the Miss Stanbury of old;—or even from the Miss +Stanbury of two years since. The Miss Stanbury of old was a stalwart +lady who would play her rubber of whist five nights a week, and could +hold her own in conversation against the best woman in Exeter,—not +to speak of her acknowledged superiority over every man in that city. +Now she cared little for the glories of debate; and though she still +liked her rubber, and could wake herself up to the old fire in the +detection of a revoke or the claim for a second trick, her rubbers +were few and far between, and she would leave her own house on an +evening only when all circumstances were favourable, and with many +precautions against wind and water. Some said that she was becoming +old, and that she was going out like the snuff of a candle. But Sir +Peter Mancrudy declared that she might live for the next fifteen +years, if she would only think so herself. "It was true," Sir Peter +said, "that in the winter she had been ill, and that there had been +danger as to her throat during the east winds of the spring;—but +those dangers had passed away, and, if she would only exert herself, +she might be almost as good a woman as ever she had been." Sir Peter +was not a man of many words, or given to talk frequently of his +patients; but it was clearly Sir Peter's opinion that Miss Stanbury's +mind was ill at ease. She had become discontented with life, and +therefore it was that she cared no longer for the combat of tongues, +and had become cold even towards the card-table. It was so in truth; +and yet perhaps the lives of few men or women had been more innocent, +and few had struggled harder to be just in their dealings and +generous in their thoughts.</p> + +<p>There was ever present to her mind an idea of failure and a fear lest +she had been mistaken in her views throughout her life. No one had +ever been more devoted to peculiar opinions, or more strong in the +use of language for their expression; and she was so far true to +herself, that she would never seem to retreat from the position she +had taken. She would still scorn the new fangles of the world around +her, and speak of the changes which she saw as all tending to evil. +But, through it all, there was an idea present to herself that it +could not be God's intention that things should really change for the +worse, and that the fault must be in her, because she had been unable +to move as others had moved. She would sit thinking of the +circumstances of her own life and tell herself that with her +everything had failed. She had loved, but had quarrelled with her +lover; and her love had come to nothing—but barren wealth. She had +fought for her wealth and had conquered;—and had become hard in the +fight, and was conscious of her own hardness. In the early days of +her riches and power she had taken her nephew by the hand,—and had +thrown him away from her because he would not dress himself in her +mirror. She had believed herself to be right, and would not, even +now, tell herself that she had been wrong; but there were doubts, and +qualms of conscience, and an uneasiness,—because her life had been a +failure. Now she was seeking to appease her self-accusations by +sacrificing everything for the happiness of her niece and her chosen +hero; but as she went on with the work she felt that all would be in +vain, unless she could sweep herself altogether from off the scene. +She had told herself that if she could bring Brooke to Exeter, his +prospects would be made infinitely brighter than they would be in +London, and that she in her last days would not be left utterly +alone. But as the prospect of her future life came nearer to her, she +saw, or thought that she saw, that there was still failure before +her. Young people would not want an old woman in the house with +them;—even though the old woman would declare that she would be no +more in the house than a tame cat. And she knew herself also too well +to believe that she could make herself a tame cat in the home that +had so long been subject to her dominion. Would it not be better that +she should go away somewhere,—and die?</p> + +<p>"If Mr. Brooke is to come here," Martha said to her one day, "we +ought to begin and make the changes, ma'am."</p> + +<p>"What changes? You are always wanting to make changes."</p> + +<p>"If they was never made till I wanted them they'd never be made, +ma'am. But if there is to be a married couple there should be things +proper. Anyways, ma'am, we ought to know;—oughtn't we?"</p> + +<p>The truth of this statement was so evident that Miss Stanbury could +not contradict it. But she had not even yet made up her mind. Ideas +were running through her head which she knew to be very wild, but of +which she could not divest herself. "Martha," she said, after a +while, "I think I shall go away from this myself."</p> + +<p>"Leave the house, ma'am?" said Martha, awestruck.</p> + +<p>"There are other houses in the world, I suppose, in which an old +woman can live and die."</p> + +<p>"There is houses, ma'am, of course."</p> + +<p>"And what is the difference between one and another?"</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't do it, ma'am, if I was you. I wouldn't do it if it was +ever so. Sure the house is big enough for Mr. Brooke and Miss Dorothy +along with you. I wouldn't go and make such change as that;—I +wouldn't indeed, ma'am." Martha spoke out almost with eloquence, so +much expression was there in her face. Miss Stanbury said nothing +more at the moment, beyond signifying her indisposition to make up +her mind to anything at the present moment. Yes;—the house was big +enough as far as rooms were concerned; but how often had she heard +that an old woman must always be in the way, if attempting to live +with a newly-married couple? If a mother-in-law be unendurable, how +much more so one whose connection would be less near? She could keep +her own house no doubt, and let them go elsewhere; but what then +would come of her old dream, that Burgess, the new banker in the +city, should live in the very house that had been inhabited by the +Burgesses, the bankers of old? There was certainly only one way out +of all these troubles, and that way would be that she should—go from +them and be at rest.</p> + +<p>Her will had now been drawn out and completed for the third or fourth +time, and she had made no secret of its contents either with Brooke +or Dorothy. The whole estate she left to Brooke, including the houses +which were to become his after his uncle's death; and in regard to +the property she had made no further stipulation. "I might have +settled it on your children," she said to him, "but in doing so I +should have settled it on hers. I don't know why an old woman should +try to interfere with things after she has gone. I hope you won't +squander it, Brooke."</p> + +<p>"I shall be a steady old man by that time," he said.</p> + +<p>"I hope you'll be steady at any rate. But there it is, and God must +direct you in the use of it, if He will. It has been a burthen to me; +but then I have been a solitary old woman." Half of what she had +saved she proposed to give Dorothy on her marriage, and for doing +this arrangements had already been made. There were various other +legacies, and the last she announced was one to her nephew, Hugh. "I +have left him a thousand pounds," she said to Dorothy,—"so that he +may remember me kindly at last." As to this, however, she exacted a +pledge that no intimation of the legacy was to be made to Hugh. Then +it was that Dorothy told her aunt that Hugh intended to marry Nora +Rowley, one of the ladies who had been at the Clock House during the +days in which her mother had lived in grandeur; and then it was also +that Dorothy obtained leave to invite Hugh to her own wedding. "I +hope she will be happier than her sister," Miss Stanbury said, when +she heard of the intended marriage.</p> + +<p>"It wasn't Mrs. Trevelyan's fault, you know, aunt."</p> + +<p>"I say nothing about anybody's fault; but this I do say, that it was +a very great misfortune. I fought all that battle with your sister +Priscilla, and I don't mean to fight it again, my dear. If Hugh +marries the young lady, I hope she will be more happy than her +sister. There can be no harm in saying that."</p> + +<p>Dorothy's letter to her brother shall be given, because it will +inform the reader of all the arrangements as they were made up to +that time, and will convey the Exeter news respecting various persons +with whom our story is concerned.<br /> </p> + + +<blockquote> +<p class="jright">The Close, July 20th, 186—.</p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="smallcaps">Dear Hugh</span>,—</p> + +<p>The day for my marriage is now fixed, and I wish with all +my heart that it was the same with you. Pray give my love +to Nora. It seems so odd that, though she was living for a +while with mamma at Nuncombe Putney, I never should have +seen her yet. I am very glad that Brooke has seen her, and +he declares that she is quite <span class="u">magnificently +beautiful</span>. Those are his own words.</p> + +<p>We are to be married on the 10th of August, a Wednesday, +and now comes my great news. Aunt Stanbury says that you +are to come and stay in the house. She bids me tell you so +with her love; and that you can have a room as long as you +like. <span class="u">Of course you must come.</span> +In the first place, you +must because you are to give me away, and Brooke wouldn't +have me if I wasn't given away properly; and then it will +make me so happy that you and Aunt Stanbury should be +friends again. You can stay as long as you like, but, of +course, you must come the day before the wedding. We are +to be married in the Cathedral, and there are to be two +clergymen, but I don't yet know who they will be;—not Mr. +Gibson, certainly, as you were good enough to suggest.</p> + +<p>Mr. Gibson is married to Arabella French, and they have +gone away somewhere into Cornwall. Camilla has come back, +and I have seen her once. She looked ever so fierce, as +though she intended to declare that she didn't mind what +anybody may think. They say that she still protests that +she never will speak to her sister again.</p> + +<p>I was introduced to Mr. Barty Burgess the other day. +Brooke was here, and we met him in the Close. I hardly +knew what he said to me, I was so frightened; but Brooke +said that he meant to be civil, and that he is going to +send me a present. I have got a quantity of things +already, and yesterday Mrs. MacHugh sent me such a +beautiful cream-jug. If you'll come in time on the 9th, +you shall see them all before they are put away.</p> + +<p>Mamma and Priscilla are to be here, and they will come on +the 9th also. Poor, dear mamma is, I know, terribly +flurried about it, and so is Aunt Stanbury. It is so long +since they have seen each other. I don't think Priscilla +feels it the same way, because she is so brave. Do you +remember when it was first proposed that I should come +here? I am so glad I came,—because of Brooke. He will +come on the 9th, quite early, and I do so hope you will +come with him.</p> + +<p class="ind10">Yours most affectionately,</p> + +<p class="ind12"><span class="smallcaps">Dorothy +Stanbury</span>.</p> + +<p class="noindent">Give my best, best love to Nora.<br /> </p> +</blockquote> + + +<p><a name="c90" id="c90"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XC.</h3> +<h4>LADY ROWLEY CONQUERED.<br /> </h4> + + +<p><img class="left" src="images/ch90a.jpg" width="310" alt="Illustration" /> +When the Rowleys were back in London, and began to employ themselves +on the terrible work of making ready for their journey to the +Islands, Lady Rowley gradually gave way about Hugh Stanbury. She had +become aware that Nora would not go back with them,—unless under an +amount of pressure which she would find it impossible to use. And if +Nora did not go out to the Islands, what was to become of her unless +she married this man? Sir Marmaduke, when all was explained to him, +declared that a girl must do what her parents ordered her to do. +"Other girls live with their fathers and mothers, and so must she." +Lady Rowley endeavoured to explain that other girls lived with their +fathers and mothers, because they found themselves in established +homes from which they are not disposed to run away; but Nora's +position was, as she alleged, very different. Nora's home had +latterly been with her sister, and it was hardly to be expected that +the parental authority should not find itself impaired by the +interregnum which had taken place. Sir Marmaduke would not see the +thing in the same light, and was disposed to treat his daughter with +a high hand. If she would not do as she was bidden, she should no +longer be daughter of his. In answer to this Lady Rowley could only +repeat her conviction that Nora would not go out to the Mandarins; +and that as for disinheriting her, casting her off, cursing her, and +the rest,—she had no belief in such doings at all. "On the stage +they do such things as that," she said; "and, perhaps, they used to +do it once in reality. But you know that it's out of the question, +now. Fancy your standing up and cursing at the dear girl, just as we +are all starting from Southampton!" Sir Marmaduke knew as well as his +wife that it would be impossible, and only muttered something about +the "dear girl" behaving herself with great impropriety.</p> + +<p>They were all aware that Nora was not going to leave England, because +no berth had been taken for her on board the ship, and because, while +the other girls were preparing for their long voyage, no preparations +were made for her. Of course she was not going. Sir Marmaduke would +probably have given way altogether immediately on his return to +London, had he not discussed the matter with his friend Colonel +Osborne. It became, of course, his duty to make some inquiry as to +the Stanbury family, and he knew that Osborne had visited Mrs. +Stanbury when he made his unfortunate pilgrimage to the porch of +Cockchaffington Church. He told Osborne the whole story of Nora's +engagement, telling also that other most heart-breaking tale of her +conduct in regard to Mr. Glascock, and asked the Colonel what he +thought about the Stanburys. Now the Colonel did not hold the +Stanburys in high esteem. He had met Hugh, as the reader may perhaps +remember, and had had some intercourse with the young man, which had +not been quite agreeable to him, on the platform of the railway +station at Exeter. And he had also heard something of the ladies at +Nuncombe Putney during his short sojourn at the house of Mrs. +Crocket. "My belief is, they are beggars," said Colonel Osborne.</p> + +<p>"I suppose so," said Sir Marmaduke, shaking his head.</p> + +<p>"When I went over to call on Emily,—that time I was at +Cockchaffington, you know, when Trevelyan made himself such a +<span class="nowrap">d——</span> +fool,—I found the mother and sister living in a decentish house +enough; but it wasn't their house."</p> + +<p>"Not their own, you mean?"</p> + +<p>"It was a place that Trevelyan had got this young man to take for +Emily, and they had merely gone there to be with her. They had been +living in a little bit of a cottage; a sort of a place that any—any +ploughman would live in. Just that kind of cottage."</p> + +<p>"Goodness gracious!"</p> + +<p>"And they've gone to another just like it;—so I'm told."</p> + +<p>"And can't he do anything better for them than that?" asked Sir +Marmaduke.</p> + +<p>"I know nothing about him. I have met him, you know. He used to be +with Trevelyan;—that was when Nora took a fancy for him, of course. +And I saw him once down in Devonshire, when I must say he behaved +uncommonly badly,—doing all he could to foster Trevelyan's stupid +jealousy."</p> + +<p>"He has changed his mind about that, I think."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps he has; but he behaved very badly then. Let him shew up his +income;—that, I take it, is the question in such a case as this. His +father was a clergyman, and therefore I suppose he must be considered +to be a gentleman. But has he means to support a wife, and keep up a +house in London? If he has not, that is an end to it, I should say."</p> + +<p>But Sir Marmaduke could not see his way to any such end, and, +although he still looked black upon Nora, and talked to his wife of +his determination to stand no contumacy, and hinted at cursing, +disinheriting, and the like, he began to perceive that Nora would +have her own way. In his unhappiness he regretted this visit to +England, and almost thought that the Mandarins were a pleasanter +residence than London. He could do pretty much as he pleased there, +and could live quietly, without the trouble which encountered him now +on every side.</p> + +<p>Nora, immediately on her return to London, had written a note to +Hugh, simply telling him of her arrival and begging him to come and +see her. "Mamma," she said, "I must see him, and it would be nonsense +to say that he must not come here. I have done what I have said I +would do, and you ought not to make difficulties." Lady Rowley +declared that Sir Marmaduke would be very angry if Hugh were admitted +without his express permission. "I don't want to do anything in the +dark," continued Nora, "but of course I must see him. I suppose it +will be better that he should come to me than that I should go to +him?" Lady Rowley quite understood the threat that was conveyed in +this. It would be much better that Hugh should come to the hotel, and +that he should be treated then as an accepted lover. She had come to +that conclusion. But she was obliged to vacillate for awhile between +her husband and her daughter. Hugh came of course, and Sir Marmaduke, +by his wife's advice, kept out of the way. Lady Rowley, though she +was at home, kept herself also out of the way, remaining above with +her two other daughters. Nora thus achieved the glory and happiness +of receiving her lover alone.</p> + +<p>"My own true girl!" he said, speaking with his arms still round her +waist.</p> + +<p>"I am true enough; but whether I am your own,—that is another +question."</p> + +<p>"You mean to be?"</p> + +<p>"But papa doesn't mean it. Papa says that you are nobody, and that +you haven't got an income; and thinks that I had better go back and +be an old maid at the Mandarins."</p> + +<p>"And what do you think yourself, Nora?"</p> + +<p>"What do I think? As far as I can understand, young ladies are not +allowed to think at all. They have to do what their papas tell them. +That will do, Hugh. You can talk without taking hold of me."</p> + +<p>"It is such a time since I have had a hold of you,—as you call it."</p> + +<p>"It will be much longer before you can do so again, if I go back to +the Islands with papa. I shall expect you to be true, you know; and +it will be ten years at the least before I can hope to be home +again."</p> + +<p>"I don't think you mean to go, Nora."</p> + +<p>"But what am I to do? That idea of yours of walking out to the next +church and getting ourselves married sounds very nice and +independent, but you know that it is not practicable."</p> + +<p>"On the other hand, I know it is."</p> + +<p>"It is not practicable for me, Hugh. Of all things in the world I +don't want to be a Lydia. I won't do anything that anybody shall ever +say that your wife ought not to have done. Young women when they are +married ought to have their papas' and mammas' consent. I have been +thinking about it a great deal for the last month or two, and I have +made up my mind to that."</p> + +<p>"What is it all to come to, then?"</p> + +<p>"I mean to get papa's consent. That is what it is to come to."</p> + +<p>"And if he is obstinate?"</p> + +<p>"I shall coax him round at last. When the time for going comes, he'll +yield then."</p> + +<p>"But you will not go with them?" As he asked this he came to her and +tried again to take her by the waist; but she retreated from him, and +got herself clear from his arm. "If you are afraid of me, I shall +know that you think it possible that we may be parted."</p> + +<p>"I am not a bit afraid of you, Hugh."</p> + +<p>"Nora, I think you ought to tell me something definitely."</p> + +<p>"I think I have been definite enough, sir. You may be sure of this, +however;—I will not go back to the Islands."</p> + +<p>"Give me your hand on that."</p> + +<p>"There is my hand. But, remember;—I had told you just as much +before. I don't mean to go back. I mean to stay here. I mean;—but I +do not think I will tell you all the things I mean to do."</p> + +<p>"You mean to be my wife?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly;—some day, when the difficulty about the chairs and +tables can settle itself. The real question now is,—what am I to do +with myself when papa and mamma are gone?"</p> + +<p>"Become Mrs. H. Stanbury at once. Chairs and tables! You shall have +chairs and tables as many as you want. You won't be too proud to live +in lodgings for a few months?"</p> + +<p>"There must be preliminaries, Hugh,—even for lodgings, though they +may be very slender. Papa goes in less than three weeks now, and +mamma has got something else to think of than my marriage garments. +And then there are all manner of difficulties, money difficulties and +others, out of which I don't see my way yet." Hugh began to +asseverate that it was his business to help her through all money +difficulties as well as others; but she soon stopped his eloquence. +"It will be by-and-by, Hugh, and I hope you'll support the burden +like a man; but just at present there is a hitch. I shouldn't have +come over at all;—I should have stayed with Emily in Italy, had I +not thought that I was bound to see you."</p> + +<p>"My own darling!"</p> + +<p>"When papa goes, I think that I had better go back to her."</p> + +<p>"I'll take you!" said Hugh, picturing to himself all the pleasures of +such a tour together over the Alps.</p> + +<p>"No you won't, because that would be improper. When we travel +together we must go Darby and Joan fashion, as man and wife. I think +I had better go back to Emily, because her position there is so +terrible. There must come some end to it, I suppose soon. He will be +better, or he will become so bad that,—that medical interference +will be unavoidable. But I do not like that she should be alone. She +gave me a home when she had one;—and I must always remember that I +met you there." After this there was of course another attempt with +Hugh's right arm, which on this occasion was not altogether +unsuccessful. And then she told him of her friendship for Mr. +Glascock's wife, and of her intention at some future time to visit +them at Monkhams.</p> + + +<div class="center"><a name="ip2-317" id="ip2-317"></a> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="4px"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/p2-317.jpg"> + <img src="images/p2-317-t.jpg" height="500" + alt='"I must always remember + that I met you there."' /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <span class="caption">"I must always remember that I met you there."<br /> + Click to <a href="images/p2-317.jpg">ENLARGE</a></span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p>"And see all the glories that might have been your own," he said.</p> + +<p>"And think of the young man who has robbed me of them all! And you +are to go there too, so that you may see what you have done. There +was a time, Hugh, when I was very nearly pleasing all my friends and +shewing myself to be a young lady of high taste and noble +fortune,—and an obedient, good girl."</p> + +<p>"And why didn't you?"</p> + +<p>"I thought I would wait just a little longer. +Because,—because,—because—. Oh, Hugh, how cross you were to me +afterwards when you came down to Nuncombe and would hardly speak to +me!"</p> + +<p>"And why didn't I speak to you?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. Because you were cross, and surly, and thinking of +nothing but your tobacco, I believe. Do you remember how we walked to +Niddon, and you hadn't a word for anybody?"</p> + +<p>"I remember I wanted you to go down to the river with me, and you +wouldn't go."</p> + +<p>"You asked me only once, and I did so long to go with you. Do you +remember the rocks in the river? I remember the place as though I saw +it now; and how I longed to jump from one stone to another. Hugh, if +we are ever married, you must take me there, and let me jump on those +stones."</p> + +<p>"You pretended that you could not think of wetting your feet."</p> + +<p>"Of course I pretended,—because you were so cross, and so cold. Oh, +dear! I wonder whether you will ever know it all."</p> + +<p>"Don't I know it all now?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose you do, nearly. There is mighty little of a secret in it, +and it is the same thing that is going on always. Only it seems so +strange to me that I should ever have loved any one so dearly,—and +that for next to no reason at all. You never made yourself very +charming that I know of;—did you?"</p> + +<p>"I did my best. It wasn't much, I dare say."</p> + +<p>"You did nothing, sir,—except just let me fall in love with you. And +you were not quite sure that you would let me do that."</p> + +<p>"Nora, I don't think you do understand."</p> + +<p>"I do;—perfectly. Why were you cross with me, instead of saying one +nice word when you were down at Nuncombe? I do understand."</p> + +<p>"Why was it?"</p> + +<p>"Because you did not think well enough of me to believe that I would +give myself to a man who had no fortune of his own. I know it now, +and I knew it then; and therefore I wouldn't dabble in the river with +you. But it's all over now, and we'll go and get wet together like +dear little children, and Priscilla shall scold us when we come +back."</p> + +<p>They were alone in the sitting-room for more than an hour, and Lady +Rowley was patient up-stairs as mothers will be patient in such +emergencies. Sophie and Lucy had gone out and left her; and there she +remained telling herself, as the weary minutes went by, that as the +thing was to be, it was well that the young people should be +together. Hugh Stanbury could never be to her what Mr. Glascock would +have been,—a son-in-law to sit and think about, and dream of, and be +proud of,—whose existence as her son-in-law would in itself have +been a happiness to her out in her banishment at the other side of +the world; but nevertheless it was natural to her, as a soft-hearted +loving mother with many daughters, that any son-in-law should be dear +to her. Now that she had gradually brought herself round to believe +in Nora's marriage, she was disposed to make the best of Hugh, to +remember that he was certainly a clever man, that he was an honest +fellow, and that she had heard of him as a good son and a kind +brother, and that he had behaved well in reference to her Emily and +Trevelyan. She was quite willing now that Hugh should be happy, and +she sat there thinking that the time was very long, but still waiting +patiently till she should be summoned. "You must let me go for mamma +for a moment," Nora said. "I want you to see her and make yourself a +good boy before her. If you are ever to be her son-in-law, you ought +to be in her good graces." Hugh declared that he would do his best, +and Nora fetched her mother.</p> + +<p>Stanbury found some difficulty in making himself a "good boy" in Lady +Rowley's presence; and Lady Rowley herself, for some time, felt very +strongly the awkwardness of the meeting. She had never formally +recognised the young man as her daughter's accepted suitor, and was +not yet justified in doing so by any permission from Sir Marmaduke; +but, as the young people had been for the last hour or two alone +together, with her connivance and sanction, it was indispensable that +she should in some way signify her parental adherence to the +arrangement. Nora began by talking about Emily, and Trevelyan's +condition and mode of living were discussed. Then Lady Rowley said +something about their coming journey, and Hugh, with a lucky blunder, +spoke of Nora's intended return to Italy. "We don't know how that may +be," said Lady Rowley. "Her papa still wishes her to go back with +us."</p> + +<p>"Mamma, you know that that is impossible," said Nora.</p> + +<p>"Not impossible, my love."</p> + +<p>"But she will not go back," said Hugh. "Lady Rowley, you would not +propose to separate us by such a distance as that?"</p> + +<p>"It is Sir Marmaduke that you must ask."</p> + +<p>"Mamma, mamma!" exclaimed Nora, rushing to her mother's side, "it is +not papa that we must ask,—not now. We want you to be our friend. +Don't we, Hugh? And, mamma, if you will really be our friend, of +course, papa will come round."</p> + +<p>"My dear Nora!"</p> + +<p>"You know he will, mamma; and you know that you mean to be good and +kind to us. Of course I can't go back to the Islands with you. How +could I go so far and leave him behind? He might have half-a-dozen +wives before I could get back to +<span class="nowrap">him—"</span></p> + +<p>"If you have not more trust in him than that—!"</p> + +<p>"Long engagements are awful bores," said Hugh, finding it to be +necessary that he also should press forward his argument.</p> + +<p>"I can trust him as far as I can see him," said Nora, "and therefore +I do not want to lose sight of him altogether."</p> + +<p>Lady Rowley of course gave way and embraced her accepted son-in-law. +After all it might have been worse. He saw his way clearly, he said, +to making six hundred a year, and did not at all doubt that before +long he would do better than that. He proposed that they should be +married some time in the autumn, but was willing to acknowledge that +much must depend on the position of Trevelyan and his wife. He would +hold himself ready at any moment, he said, to start to Italy, and +would do all that could be done by a brother. Then Lady Rowley gave +him her blessing, and kissed him again,—and Nora kissed him too, and +hung upon him, and did not push him away at all when his arm crept +round her waist. And that feeling came upon him which must surely be +acknowledged by all engaged young men when they first find themselves +encouraged by mammas in the taking of liberties which they have +hitherto regarded as mysteries to be hidden, especially from maternal +eyes,—that feeling of being a fine fat calf decked out with ribbons +for a sacrifice.</p> + + +<p><a name="c91" id="c91"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XCI.</h3> +<h4>FOUR O'CLOCK IN THE MORNING.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Another week went by and Sir Marmaduke had even yet not surrendered. +He quite understood that Nora was not to go back to the Islands. And +had visited Mr. and Mrs. Outhouse at St. Diddulph's in order to +secure a home for her there, if it might be possible. Mr. Outhouse +did not refuse, but gave the permission in such a fashion as to make +it almost equal to a refusal. "He was," he said, "much attached to +his niece Nora, but he had heard that there was a love affair." Sir +Marmaduke, of course, could not deny the love affair. There was +certainly a love affair of which he did not personally approve, as +the gentleman had no fixed income and as far as he could understand +no fixed profession. "Such a love affair," thought Mr. Outhouse, "was +a sort of thing that he didn't know how to manage at all. If Nora +came to him, was the young man to visit at the house, or was he not?" +Then Mrs. Outhouse said something as to the necessity of an +anti-Stanbury pledge on Nora's part, and Sir Marmaduke found that +that scheme must be abandoned. Mrs. Trevelyan had written from +Florence more than once or twice, and in her last letter had said +that she would prefer not to have Nora with her. She was at that time +living in lodgings at Siena and had her boy there also. She saw her +husband every other day; but nevertheless,—according to her +statements,—her visits to Casalunga were made in opposition to his +wishes. He had even expressed a desire that she should leave Siena +and return to England. He had once gone so far as to say that if she +would do so, he would follow her. But she clearly did not believe +him, and in all her letters spoke of him as one whom she could not +regard as being under the guidance of reason. She had taken her child +with her once or twice to the house, and on the first occasion +Trevelyan had made much of his son, had wept over him, and professed +that in losing him he had lost his only treasure; but after that he +had not noticed the boy, and latterly she had gone alone. She thought +that perhaps her visits cheered him, breaking the intensity of his +solitude; but he never expressed himself gratified by them, never +asked her to remain at the house, never returned with her into Siena, +and continually spoke of her return to England as a step which must +be taken soon,—and the sooner the better. He intended to follow her, +he said; and she explained very fully how manifest was his wish that +she should go, by the temptation to do so which he thought that he +held out by this promise. He had spoken, on every occasion of her +presence with him, of Sir Marmaduke's attempt to prove him to be a +madman; but declared that he was afraid of no one in England, and +would face all the lawyers in Chancery Lane and all the doctors in +Savile Row. Nevertheless, so said Mrs. Trevelyan, he would +undoubtedly remain at Casalunga till after Sir Marmaduke should have +sailed. He was not so mad but that he knew that no one else would be +so keen to take steps against him as would Sir Marmaduke. As for his +health, her account of him was very sad. "He seemed," she said, "to +be withering away." His hand was mere skin and bone. His hair and +beard so covered his thin long cheeks, that there was nothing left of +his face but his bright, large, melancholy eyes. His legs had become +so frail and weak that they would hardly bear his weight as he +walked; and his clothes, though he had taken a fancy to throw aside +all that he had brought with him from England, hung so loose about +him that they seemed as though they would fall from him. Once she had +ventured to send out to him from Siena a doctor to whom she had been +recommended in Florence; but he had taken the visit in very bad part, +had told the gentleman that he had no need for any medical services, +and had been furious with her, because of her offence in having sent +such a visitor. He had told her that if ever she ventured to take +such a liberty again, he would demand the child back, and refuse her +permission inside the gates of Casalunga. "Don't come, at any rate, +till I send for you," Mrs. Trevelyan said in her last letter to her +sister. "Your being here would do no good, and would, I think, make +him feel that he was being watched. My hope is, at last, to get him +to return with me. If you were here, I think this would be less +likely. And then why should you be mixed up with such unutterable +sadness and distress more than is essentially necessary? My health +stands wonderfully well, though the heat here is very great. It is +cooler at Casalunga than in the town,—of which I am glad for his +sake. He perspires so profusely that it seems to me he cannot stand +the waste much longer. I know he will not go to England as long as +papa is there;—but I hope that he may be induced to do so by slow +stages as soon as he knows that papa has gone. Mind you send me a +newspaper, so that he may see it stated in print that papa has +sailed."</p> + +<p>It followed as one consequence of these letters from Florence that +Nora was debarred from the Italian scheme as a mode of passing her +time till some house should be open for her reception. She had +suggested to Hugh that she might go for a few weeks to Nuncombe +Putney, but he had explained to her the nature of his mother's +cottage, and had told her that there was no hole there in which she +could lay her head. "There never was such a forlorn young woman," she +said. "When papa goes I shall literally be without shelter." There +had come a letter from Mrs. Glascock,—at least it was signed +Caroline Glascock, though another name might have been used,—dated +from Milan, saying that they were hurrying back to Naples even at +that season of the year, because Lord Peterborough was dead. "And she +is Lady Peterborough!" said Lady Rowley, unable to repress the +expression of the old regrets. "Of course she is Lady Peterborough, +mamma; what else should she be?—though she does not so sign +herself." "We think," said the American peeress, "that we shall be at +Monkhams before the end of August, and Charles says that you are to +come just the same. There will be nobody else there, of course, +because of Lord Peterborough's death." "I saw it in the paper," said +Sir Marmaduke, "and quite forgot to mention it."</p> + +<p>That same evening there was a long family discussion about Nora's +prospects. They were all together in the gloomy sitting-room at +Gregg's Hotel, and Sir Marmaduke had not yielded. The ladies had +begun to feel that it would be well not to press him to yield. +Practically he had yielded. There was now no question of cursing and +of so-called disinheritance. Nora was to remain in England, of course +with the intention of being married to Hugh Stanbury; and the +difficulty consisted in the need of an immediate home for her. It +wanted now but twelve days to that on which the family were to sail +from Southampton, and nothing had been settled. "If papa will allow +me something ever so small, and will trust me, I will live alone in +lodgings," said Nora.</p> + +<p>"It is the maddest thing I ever heard," said Sir Marmaduke.</p> + +<p>"Who would take care of you, Nora?" asked Lady Rowley.</p> + +<p>"And who would walk about with you?" said Lucy.</p> + +<p>"I don't see how it would be possible to live alone like that," said +Sophie.</p> + +<p>"Nobody would take care of me, and nobody would walk about with me, +and I could live alone very well," said Nora. "I don't see why a +young woman is to be supposed to be so absolutely helpless as all +that comes to. Of course it won't be very nice,—but it need not be +for long."</p> + +<p>"Why not for long?" asked Sir Marmaduke.</p> + +<p>"Not for very long," said Nora.</p> + +<p>"It does not seem to me," said Sir Marmaduke, after a considerable +pause, "that this gentleman himself is so particularly anxious for +the match. I have heard no day named, and no rational proposition +made."</p> + +<p>"Papa, that is unfair, most unfair,—and ungenerous."</p> + +<p>"Nora," said her mother, "do not speak in that way to your father."</p> + +<p>"Mamma, it is unfair. Papa accuses Mr. Stanbury of being,—being +lukewarm and untrue,—of not being in earnest."</p> + +<p>"I would rather that he were not in earnest," said Sir Marmaduke.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Stanbury is ready at any time," continued Nora. "He would have +the banns at once read, and marry me in three weeks,—if I would let +him."</p> + +<p>"Good gracious, Nora!" exclaimed Lady Rowley.</p> + +<p>"But I have refused to name any day, or to make any arrangement, +because I did not wish to do so before papa had given his consent. +That is why things are in this way. If papa will but let me take a +room till I can go to Monkhams, I will have everything arranged from +there. You can trust Mr. Glascock for that, and you can trust her."</p> + +<p>"I suppose your papa will make you some allowance," said Lady Rowley.</p> + +<p>"She is entitled to nothing, as she has refused to go to her proper +home," said Sir Marmaduke.</p> + +<p>The conversation, which had now become very disagreeable, was not +allowed to go any further. And it was well that it should be +interrupted. They all knew that Sir Marmaduke must be brought round +by degrees, and that both Nora and Lady Rowley had gone as far as was +prudent at present. But all trouble on this head was suddenly ended +for this evening by the entrance of the waiter with a telegram. It +was addressed to Lady Rowley, and she opened it with trembling +hands,—as ladies always do open telegrams. It was from Emily +Trevelyan. "Louis is much worse. Let somebody come to me. Hugh +Stanbury would be the best."</p> + +<p>In a few minutes they were so much disturbed that no one quite knew +what should be done at once. Lady Rowley began by declaring that she +would go herself. Sir Marmaduke of course pointed out that this was +impossible, and suggested that he would send a lawyer. Nora professed +herself ready to start immediately on the journey, but was stopped by +a proposition from her sister Lucy that in that case Hugh Stanbury +would of course go with her. Lady Rowley asked whether Hugh would go, +and Nora asserted that he would go immediately as a matter of course. +She was sure he would go, let the people at the D. R. say what they +might. According to her there was always somebody at the call of the +editor of the D. R. to do the work of anybody else, when anybody else +wanted to go away. Sir Marmaduke shook his head, and was very uneasy. +He still thought that a lawyer would be best, feeling, no doubt, that +if Stanbury's services were used on such an occasion, there must be +an end of all opposition to the marriage. But before half-an-hour was +over Stanbury was sent for. The boots of the hotel went off in a cab +to the office of the D. R. with a note from Lady Rowley. "Dear Mr. +Stanbury,—We have had a telegram from Emily, and want to see you, +<span class="u">at once</span>. Please come. We shall +sit up and wait for you till you do come.—E. R."</p> + +<p>It was very distressing to them because, let the result be what it +might, it was all but impossible that Mrs. Trevelyan should be with +them before they had sailed, and it was quite out of the question +that they should now postpone their journey. Were Stanbury to start +by the morning train on the following day, he could not reach Siena +till the afternoon of the fourth day; and let the result be what it +might when he arrived there, it would be out of the question that +Emily Trevelyan should come back quite at once, or that she should +travel at the same speed. Of course they might hear again by +telegram, and also by letter; but they could not see her, or have any +hand in her plans. "If anything were to happen, she might have come +with us," said Lady Rowley.</p> + +<p>"It is out of the question," said Sir Marmaduke gloomily. "I could +not give up the places I have taken."</p> + +<p>"A few days more would have done it."</p> + +<p>"I don't suppose she would wish to go," said Nora. "Of course she +would not take Louey there. Why should she? And then I don't suppose +he is so ill as that."</p> + +<p>"There is no saying," said Sir Marmaduke. It was very evident that, +whatever might be Sir Marmaduke's opinion, he had no +strongly-developed wish for his son-in-law's recovery.</p> + +<p>They all sat up waiting for Hugh Stanbury till eleven, twelve, one, +and two o'clock at night. The "boots" had returned, saying that Mr. +Stanbury had not been at the office of the newspaper, but that, +according to information received, he certainly would be there that +night. No other address had been given to the man, and the note had +therefore of necessity been left at the office. Sir Marmaduke became +very fretful, and was evidently desirous of being liberated from his +night watch. But he could not go himself, and shewed his impatience +by endeavouring to send the others away. Lady Rowley replied for +herself that she should certainly remain in her corner on the sofa +all night, if it were necessary; and as she slept very soundly in her +corner, her comfort was not much impaired. Nora was pertinacious in +refusing to go to bed. "I should only go to my own room, papa, and +remain there," she said. "Of course I must speak to him before he +goes." Sophie and Lucy considered that they had as much right to sit +up as Nora, and submitted to be called geese and idiots by their +father.</p> + +<p>Sir Marmaduke had arisen with a snort from a short slumber, and had +just sworn that he and everybody else should go to bed, when there +came a ring at the front-door bell. The trusty boots had also +remained up, and in two minutes Hugh Stanbury was in the room. He had +to make his excuses before anything else could be said. When he +reached the D. R. office between ten and eleven, it was absolutely +incumbent on him to write a leading article before he left it. He had +been in the reporter's gallery of the House all the evening, and he +had come away laden with his article. "It was certainly better that +we should remain up, than that the whole town should be +disappointed," said Sir Marmaduke, with something of a sneer.</p> + +<p>"It is so very, very good of you to come," said Nora.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, it is," said Lady Rowley; "but we were quite sure you would +come." Having kissed and blessed him as her son-in-law, Lady Rowley +was now prepared to love him almost as well as though he had been +Lord Peterborough.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps, Mr. Stanbury, we had better show you this telegram," said +Sir Marmaduke, who had been standing with the scrap of paper in his +hand since the ring of the bell had been heard. Hugh took the message +and read it. "I do not know what should have made my daughter mention +your name," continued Sir Marmaduke;—"but as she has done so, and as +perhaps the unfortunate invalid himself may have alluded to you, we +thought it best to send for you."</p> + +<p>"No doubt it was best, Sir Marmaduke."</p> + +<p>"We are so situated that I cannot go. It is absolutely necessary that +we should leave town for Southampton on Friday week. The ship sails +on Saturday."</p> + +<p>"I will go as a matter of course," said Hugh. "I will start at +once,—at any time. To tell the truth, when I got Lady Rowley's note, +I thought that it was to be so. Trevelyan and I were very intimate at +one time, and it may be that he will receive me without displeasure."</p> + +<p>There was much to be discussed, and considerable difficulty in the +discussion. This was enhanced, too, by the feeling in the minds of +all of them that Hugh and Sir Marmaduke would not meet +again,—probably for many years. Were they to part now on terms of +close affection, or were they to part almost as strangers? Had Lucy +and Sophie not persistently remained up, Nora would have faced the +difficulty, and taken the bull by the horns, and asked her father to +sanction her engagement in the presence of her lover. But she could +not do it before so many persons, even though the persons were her +own nearest relatives. And then there arose another embarrassment. +Sir Marmaduke, who had taught himself to believe that Stanbury was so +poor as hardly to have the price of a dinner in his +pocket,—although, in fact, our friend Hugh was probably the richer +man of the two,—said something about defraying the cost of the +journey. "It is taken altogether on our behalf," said Sir Marmaduke. +Hugh became red in the face, looked angry, and muttered a word or two +about Trevelyan being the oldest friend he had in the world,—"even +if there were nothing else." Sir Marmaduke felt ashamed of +himself,—without cause, indeed, for the offer was natural,—said +nothing further about it; but appeared to be more stiff and ungainly +than ever.</p> + +<p>The Bradshaw was had out and consulted, and nearly half an hour was +spent in poring over that wondrous volume. It is the fashion to abuse +Bradshaw,—we speak now especially of Bradshaw the +Continental,—because all the minutest details of the autumn tour, +just as the tourist thinks that it may be made, cannot be made patent +to him at once without close research amidst crowded figures. After +much experience we make bold to say that Bradshaw knows more, and +will divulge more in a quarter of an hour, of the properest mode of +getting from any city in Europe to any other city more than fifty +miles distant, than can be learned in that first city in a single +morning with the aid of a courier, a carriage, a pair of horses, and +all the temper that any ordinary tourist possesses. The Bradshaw was +had out, and it was at last discovered that nothing could be gained +in the journey from London to Siena by starting in the morning. +Intending as he did to travel through without sleeping on the road, +Stanbury could not do better than leave London by the night mail +train, and this he determined to do. But when that was arranged, then +came the nature of his commission. What was he to do? No commission +could be given to him. A telegram should be sent to Emily the next +morning to say that he was coming; and then he would hurry on and +take his orders from her.</p> + +<p>They were all in doubt, terribly in doubt, whether the aggravated +malady of which the telegram spoke was malady of the mind or of the +body. If of the former nature then the difficulty might be very great +indeed; and it would be highly expedient that Stanbury should have +some one in Italy to assist him. It was Nora who suggested that he +should carry a letter of introduction to Mr. Spalding, and it was she +who wrote it. Sir Marmaduke had not foregathered very closely with +the English Minister, and nothing was said of assistance that should +be peculiarly British. Then, at last, about three or four in the +morning came the moment for parting. Sir Marmaduke had suggested that +Stanbury should dine with them on the next day before he started, but +Hugh had declined, alleging that as the day was at his command it +must be devoted to the work of providing for his absence. In truth, +Sir Marmaduke had given the invitation with a surly voice, and Hugh, +though he was ready to go to the North Pole for any others of the +family, was at the moment in an aggressive mood of mind towards Sir +Marmaduke.</p> + +<p>"I will send a message directly I get there," he said, holding Lady +Rowley by the hand, "and will write fully,—to you,—immediately."</p> + +<p>"God bless you, my dear friend!" said Lady Rowley, crying.</p> + +<p>"Good night, Sir Marmaduke," said Hugh.</p> + +<p>"Good night, Mr. Stanbury."</p> + +<p>Then he gave a hand to the two girls, each of whom, as she took it, +sobbed, and looked away from Nora. Nora was standing away from them, +by herself, and away from the door, holding on to her chair, and with +her hands clasped together. She had prepared nothing,—not a word, or +an attitude, not a thought, for his farewell. But she had felt that +it was coming, and had known that she must trust to him for a cue for +her own demeanour. If he could say adieu with a quiet voice, and +simply with a touch of the hand, then would she do the same,—and +endeavour to think no worse of him. Nor had he prepared anything; but +when the moment came he could not leave her after that fashion. He +stood a moment hesitating, not approaching her, and merely called her +by her name,—"Nora!" For a moment she was still; for a moment she +held by her chair; and then she rushed into his arms. He did not much +care for her father now, but kissed her hair and her forehead, and +held her closely to his bosom. "My own, own Nora!"</p> + +<p>It was necessary that Sir Marmaduke should say something. There was +at first a little scene between all the women, during which he +arranged his deportment. "Mr. Stanbury," he said, "let it be so. I +could wish for my child's sake, and also for your own, that your +means of living were less precarious." Hugh accepted this simply as +an authority for another embrace, and then he allowed them all to go +to bed.</p> + + +<p><a name="c92" id="c92"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XCII.</h3> +<h4>TREVELYAN DISCOURSES ON LIFE.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Stanbury made his journey without pause or hindrance till he reached +Florence, and as the train for Siena made it necessary that he should +remain there for four or five hours, he went to an inn, and dressed +and washed himself, and had a meal, and was then driven to Mr. +Spalding's house. He found the American Minister at home, and was +received with cordiality; but Mr. Spalding could tell him little or +nothing about Trevelyan. They went up to Mrs. Spalding's room, and +Hugh was told by her that she had seen Mrs. Trevelyan once since her +niece's marriage, and that then she had represented her husband as +being very feeble. Hugh, in the midst of his troubles, was amused by +a second and a third, perhaps by a fourth, reference to "Lady +Peterborough." Mrs. Spalding's latest tidings as to the Trevelyans +had been received through "Lady Peterborough" from Nora Rowley. "Lady +Peterborough" was at the present moment at Naples, but was expected +to pass north through Florence in a day or two. They, the Spaldings +themselves, were kept in Florence in this very hot weather by this +circumstance. They were going up to the Tyrolese mountains for a few +weeks as soon as "Lady Peterborough" should have left them for +England. "Lady Peterborough" would have been so happy to make Mr. +Stanbury's acquaintance, and to have heard something direct from her +friend Nora. Then Mrs. Spalding smiled archly, showing thereby that +she knew all about Hugh Stanbury and his relation to Nora Rowley. +From all which, and in accordance with the teaching which we +got,—alas, now many years ago,—from a great master on the subject, +we must conclude that poor, dear Mrs. Spalding was a snob. +Nevertheless, with all deference to the memory of that great master, +we think that Mrs. Spalding's allusions to the success in life +achieved by her niece were natural and altogether pardonable; and +that reticence on the subject,—a calculated determination to abstain +from mentioning a triumph which must have been very dear to +her,—would have betrayed on the whole a condition of mind lower than +that which she exhibited. While rank, wealth, and money are held to +be good things by all around us, let them be acknowledged as such. It +is natural that a mother should be as proud when her daughter marries +an Earl's heir as when her son becomes Senior Wrangler; and when we +meet a lady in Mrs. Spalding's condition who purposely abstains from +mentioning the name of her titled daughter, we shall be disposed to +judge harshly of the secret workings of that lady's thoughts on the +subject. We prefer the exhibition, which we feel to be natural. Mr. +Spalding got our friend by the button-hole, and was making him a +speech on the perilous condition in which Mrs. Trevelyan was placed; +but Stanbury, urged by the circumstances of his position, pulled out +his watch, pleaded the hour, and escaped.</p> + +<p>He found Mrs. Trevelyan waiting for him at the station at Siena. He +would hardly have known her,—not from any alteration that was +physically personal to herself, not that she had become older in +face, or thin, or grey, or sickly,—but that the trouble of her life +had robbed her for the time of that brightness of apparel, of that +pride of feminine gear, of that sheen of high-bred womanly bearing +with which our wives and daughters are so careful to invest +themselves. She knew herself to be a wretched woman, whose work in +life now was to watch over a poor prostrate wretch, and who had +thrown behind her all ideas of grace and beauty. It was not quickly +that this condition had come upon her. She had been unhappy at +Nuncombe Putney; but unhappiness had not then told upon the outward +woman. She had been more wretched still at St. Diddulph's, and all +the outward circumstances of life in her uncle's parsonage had been +very wearisome to her; but she had striven against it all, and the +sheen and outward brightness had still been there. After that her +child had been taken from her, and the days which she had passed in +Manchester Street had been very grievous;—but even yet she had not +given way. It was not till her child had been brought back to her, +and she had seen the life which her husband was living, and that her +anger,—hot anger,—had been changed to pity, and that with pity love +had returned, it was not till this point had come in her sad life +that her dress became always black and sombre, that a veil habitually +covered her face, that a bonnet took the place of the jaunty hat that +she had worn, and that the prettinesses of her life were lain aside. +"It is very good of you to come," she said; "very good. I hardly knew +what to do, I was so wretched. On the day that I sent he was so bad +that I was obliged to do something." Stanbury, of course, inquired +after Trevelyan's health, as they were being driven up to Mrs. +Trevelyan's lodgings. On the day on which she had sent the telegram +her husband had again been furiously angry with her. She had +interfered, or had endeavoured to interfere, in some arrangements as +to his health and comfort, and he had turned upon her with an order +that the child should be at once sent back to him, and that she +should immediately quit Siena. "When I said that Louey could not be +sent,—and who could send a child into such keeping,—he told me that +I was the basest liar that ever broke a promise, and the vilest +traitor that had ever returned evil for good. I was never to come to +him again,—never; and the gate of the house would be closed against +me if I appeared there."</p> + +<p>On the next day she had gone again, however, and had seen him, and +had visited him on every day since. Nothing further had been said +about the child, and he had now become almost too weak for violent +anger. "I told him you were coming, and though he would not say so, I +think he is glad of it. He expects you to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"I will go this evening, if he will let me."</p> + +<p>"Not to-night. I think he goes to bed almost as the sun sets. I am +never there myself after four or five in the afternoon. I told him +that you should be there to-morrow,—alone. I have hired a little +carriage, and you can take it. He said specially that I was not to +come with you. Papa goes certainly on next Saturday?" It was a +Saturday now,—this day on which Stanbury had arrived at Siena.</p> + +<p>"He leaves town on Friday."</p> + +<p>"You must make him believe that. Do not tell him suddenly, but bring +it in by degrees. He thinks that I am deceiving him. He would go back +if he knew that papa were gone."</p> + +<p>They spent a long evening together, and Stanbury learned all that +Mrs. Trevelyan could tell him of her husband's state. There was no +doubt, she said, that his reason was affected; but she thought the +state of his mind was diseased in a ratio the reverse of that of his +body, and that when he was weakest in health, then were his ideas the +most clear and rational. He never now mentioned Colonel Osborne's +name, but would refer to the affairs of the last two years as though +they had been governed by an inexorable Fate which had utterly +destroyed his happiness without any fault on his part. "You may be +sure," she said, "that I never accuse him. Even when he says terrible +things of me,—which he does,—I never excuse myself. I do not think +I should answer a word, if he called me the vilest thing on earth." +Before they parted for the night many questions were of course asked +about Nora, and Hugh described the condition in which he and she +stood to each other. "Papa has consented, then?"</p> + +<p>"Yes,—at four o'clock in the morning,—just as I was leaving them."</p> + +<p>"And when is it to be?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing has been settled, and I do not as yet know where she will go +to when they leave London. I think she will visit Monkhams when the +Glascock people return to England."</p> + +<p>"What an episode in life,—to go and see the place, when it might all +now have been hers!"</p> + +<p>"I suppose I ought to feel dreadfully ashamed of myself for having +marred such promotion," said Hugh.</p> + +<p>"Nora is such a singular girl;—so firm, so headstrong, so good, and +so self-reliant that she will do as well with a poor man as she would +have done with a rich. Shall I confess to you that I did wish that +she should accept Mr. Glascock, and that I pressed it on her very +strongly? You will not be angry with me?"</p> + +<p>"I am only the more proud of her;—and of myself."</p> + +<p>"When she was told of all that he had to give in the way of wealth +and rank, she took the bit between her teeth and would not be turned +an inch. Of course she was in love."</p> + +<p>"I hope she may never regret it;—that is all."</p> + +<p>"She must change her nature first. Everything she sees at Monkhams +will make her stronger in her choice. With all her girlish ways, she +is like a rock;—nothing can move her."</p> + +<p>Early on the next morning Hugh started alone for Casalunga, having +first, however, seen Mrs. Trevelyan. He took out with him certain +little things for the sick man's table;—as to which, however, he was +cautioned to say not a word to the sick man himself. And it was +arranged that he should endeavour to fix a day for Trevelyan's return +to England. That was to be the one object in view. "If we could get +him to England," she said, "he and I would, at any rate, be together, +and gradually he would be taught to submit himself to advice." Before +ten in the morning, Stanbury was walking up the hill to the house, +and wondering at the dreary, hot, hopeless desolation of the spot. It +seemed to him that no one could live alone in such a place, in such +weather, without being driven to madness. The soil was parched and +dusty, as though no drop of rain had fallen there for months. The +lizards, glancing in and out of the broken walls, added to the +appearance of heat. The vegetation itself was of a faded yellowish +green, as though the glare of the sun had taken the fresh colour out +of it. There was a noise of grasshoppers and a hum of flies in the +air, hardly audible, but all giving evidence of the heat. Not a human +voice was to be heard, nor the sound of a human foot, and there was +no shelter; but the sun blazed down full upon everything. He took off +his hat, and rubbed his head with his handkerchief as he struck the +door with his stick. Oh God, to what misery had a little folly +brought two human beings who had had every blessing that the world +could give within their reach!</p> + +<p>In a few minutes he was conducted through the house, and found +Trevelyan seated in a chair under the verandah which looked down upon +the olive trees. He did not even get up from his seat, but put out +his left hand and welcomed his old friend. "Stanbury," he said, "I am +glad to see you,—for auld lang syne's sake. When I found out this +retreat, I did not mean to have friends round me here. I wanted to +try what solitude was;—and, by heaven, I've tried it!" He was +dressed in a bright Italian dressing-gown or woollen +paletot,—Italian, as having been bought in Italy, though, doubtless, +it had come from France,—and on his feet he had green worked +slippers, and on his head a brocaded cap. He had made but little +other preparation for his friend in the way of dressing. His long +dishevelled hair came down over his neck, and his beard covered his +face. Beneath his dressing-gown he had on a night-shirt and drawers, +and was as dirty in appearance as he was gaudy in colours. "Sit down +and let us two moralise," he said. "I spend my life here doing +nothing,—nothing,—nothing; while you cudgel your brain from day to +day to mislead the British public. Which of us two is taking the +nearest road to the devil?"</p> + +<p>Stanbury seated himself in a second arm-chair, which there was there +in the verandah, and looked as carefully as he dared to do at his +friend. There could be no mistake as to the restless gleam of that +eye. And then the affected air of ease, and the would-be cynicism, +and the pretence of false motives, all told the same story. "They +used to tell us," said Stanbury, "that idleness is the root of all +evil."</p> + +<p>"They have been telling us since the world began so many lies, that I +for one have determined never to believe anything again. Labour leads +to greed, and greed to selfishness, and selfishness to treachery, and +treachery straight to the devil,—straight to the devil. Ha, my +friend, all your leading articles won't lead you out of that. What's +the news? Who's alive? Who dead? Who in? Who out? What think you of a +man who has not seen a newspaper for two months; and who holds no +conversation with the world further than is needed for the cooking of +his polenta and the cooling of his modest wine-flask?"</p> + +<p>"You see your wife sometimes," said Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"My wife! Now, my friend, let us drop that subject. Of all topics of +talk it is the most distressing to man in general, and I own that I +am no exception to the lot. Wives, Stanbury, are an evil, more or +less necessary to humanity, and I own to being one who has not +escaped. The world must be populated, though for what reason one does +not see. I have helped,—to the extent of one male bantling; and if +you are one who consider population desirable, I will express my +regret that I should have done no more."</p> + +<p>It was very difficult to force Trevelyan out of this humour, and it +was not till Stanbury had risen apparently to take his leave that he +found it possible to say a word as to his mission there. "Don't you +think you would be happier at home?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Where is my home, Sir Knight of the midnight pen?"</p> + +<p>"England is your home, Trevelyan."</p> + +<p>"No, sir; England was my home once; but I have taken the liberty +accorded to me by my Creator of choosing a new country. Italy is now +my nation, and Casalunga is my home."</p> + +<p>"Every tie you have in the world is in England."</p> + +<p>"I have no tie, sir;—no tie anywhere. It has been my study to untie +all the ties; and, by Jove, I have succeeded. Look at me here. I have +got rid of the trammels pretty well,—haven't I?—have unshackled +myself, and thrown off the paddings, and the wrappings, and the +swaddling clothes. I have got rid of the conventionalities, and can +look Nature straight in the face. I don't even want the Daily Record, +Stanbury;—think of that!"</p> + +<p>Stanbury paced the length of the terrace, and then stopped for a +moment down under the blaze of the sun, in order that he might think +how to address this philosopher. "Have you heard," he said at last, +"that I am going to marry your sister-in-law, Nora Rowley?"</p> + +<p>"Then there will be two more full-grown fools in the world certainly, +and probably an infinity of young fools coming afterwards. Excuse me, +Stanbury, but this solitude is apt to make one plain-spoken."</p> + +<p>"I got Sir Marmaduke's sanction the day before I left."</p> + +<p>"Then you got the sanction of an illiterate, ignorant, +self-sufficient, and most contemptible old man; and much good may it +do you."</p> + +<p>"Let him be what he may, I was glad to have it. Most probably I shall +never see him again. He sails from Southampton for the Mandarins on +this day week."</p> + +<p>"He does,—does he? May the devil sail along with him!—that is all I +say. And does my much-respected and ever-to-be-beloved mother-in-law +sail with him?"</p> + +<p>"They all return together,—except Nora."</p> + +<p>"Who remains to comfort you? I hope you may be comforted;—that is +all. Don't be too particular. Let her choose her own friends, and go +her own gait, and have her own way, and do you be blind and deaf and +dumb and properly submissive; and it may be that she'll give you your +breakfast and dinner in your own house,—so long as your hours don't +interfere with her pleasures. If she should even urge you beside +yourself by her vanity, folly, and disobedience,—so that at last you +are driven to express your feeling,—no doubt she will come to you +after a while and tell you with the sweetest condescension that she +forgives you. When she has been out of your house for a twelvemonth +or more, she will offer to come back to you, and to forget +everything,—on condition that you will do exactly as she bids you +for the future."</p> + +<p>This attempt at satire, so fatuous, so plain, so false, together with +the would-be jaunty manner of the speaker, who, however, failed +repeatedly in his utterances from sheer physical exhaustion, was +excessively painful to Stanbury. What can one do at any time with a +madman? "I mentioned my marriage," said he, "to prove my right to +have an additional interest in your wife's happiness."</p> + +<p>"You are quite welcome, whether you marry the other one or +not;—welcome to take any interest you please. I have got beyond all +that, Stanbury;—yes, by Jove, a long way beyond all that."</p> + +<p>"You have not got beyond loving your wife, and your child, +Trevelyan?"</p> + +<p>"Upon my word, yes;—I think I have. There may be a grain of weakness +left, you know. But what have you to do with my love for my wife?"</p> + +<p>"I was thinking more just now of her love for you. There she is at +Siena. You cannot mean that she should remain there?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not. What the deuce is there to keep her there?"</p> + +<p>"Come with her then to England."</p> + +<p>"Why should I go to England with her? Because you bid me, or because +she wishes it,—or simply because England is the most damnable, +puritanical, God-forgotten, and stupid country on the face of the +globe? I know no other reason for going to England. Will you take a +glass of wine, Stanbury?" Hugh declined the offer. "You will excuse +me," continued Trevelyan; "I always take a glass of wine at this +hour." Then he rose from his chair, and helped himself from a +cupboard that was near at hand. Stanbury, watching him as he filled +his glass, could see that his legs were hardly strong enough to carry +him. And Stanbury saw, moreover, that the unfortunate man took two +glasses out of the bottle. "Go to England indeed. I do not think much +of this country; but it is, at any rate, better than England."</p> + +<p>Hugh perceived that he could do nothing more on the present occasion. +Having heard so much of Trevelyan's debility, he had been astonished +to hear the man speak with so much volubility and attempts at +high-flown spirit. Before he had taken the wine he had almost sunk +into his chair, but still he had continued to speak with the same +fluent would-be cynicism. "I will come and see you again," said Hugh, +getting up to take his departure.</p> + +<p>"You might as well save your trouble, Stanbury; but you can come if +you please, you know. If you should find yourself locked out, you +won't be angry. A hermit such as I am must assume privileges."</p> + +<p>"I won't be angry," said Hugh, good humouredly.</p> + +<p>"I can smell what you are come about," said Trevelyan. "You and my +wife want to take me away from here among you, and I think it best to +stay here. I don't want much for myself, and why should I not live +here? My wife can remain at Siena if she pleases, or she can go to +England if she pleases. She must give me the same liberty;—the same +liberty,—the same liberty." After this he fell a-coughing violently, +and Stanbury thought it better to leave him. He had been at Casalunga +about two hours, and did not seem as yet to have done any good. He +had been astonished both by Trevelyan's weakness, and by his +strength; by his folly, and by his sharpness. Hitherto he could see +no way for his future sister-in-law out of her troubles.</p> + +<p>When he was with her at Siena, he described what had taken place with +all the accuracy in his power. "He has intermittent days," said +Emily. "To-morrow he will be in quite another frame of +mind,—melancholy, silent perhaps, and self-reproachful. We will both +go to-morrow, and we shall find probably that he has forgotten +altogether what has passed to-day between you and him."</p> + +<p>So their plans for the morrow were formed.</p> + + +<p><a name="c93" id="c93"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XCIII.</h3> +<h4>"SAY THAT YOU FORGIVE ME."<br /> </h4> + + +<p><img class="left" src="images/ch93a.jpg" width="310" alt="Illustration" /> +On the following day, again early in the morning, Mrs. Trevelyan and +Stanbury were driven out to Casalunga. The country people along the +road knew the carriage well, and the lady who occupied it, and would +say that the English wife was going to see her mad husband. Mrs. +Trevelyan knew that these words were common in the people's mouths, +and explained to her companion how necessary it would be to use these +rumours, to aid her in putting some restraint over her husband even +in this country, should they fail in their effort to take him to +England. She saw the doctor in Siena constantly, and had learned from +him how such steps might be taken. The measure proposed would be +slow, difficult, inefficient, and very hard to set aside, if once +taken;—but still it might be indispensable that something should be +done. "He would be so much worse off here than he would be at home," +she said;—"if we could only make him understand that it would be +so." Then Stanbury asked about the wine. It seemed that of late +Trevelyan had taken to drink freely, but only of the wine of the +country. But the wine of the country in these parts is sufficiently +stimulating, and Mrs. Trevelyan acknowledged that hence had arisen a +further cause of fear.</p> + +<p>They walked up the hill together, and Mrs. Trevelyan, now well +knowing the ways of the place, went round at once to the front +terrace. There he was, seated in his arm-chair, dressed in the same +way as yesterday, dirty, dishevelled, and gaudy with various colours; +but Stanbury could see at once that his mood had greatly changed. He +rose slowly, dragging himself up out of his chair, as they came up to +him, but shewing as he did so,—and perhaps somewhat assuming,—the +impotency of querulous sickness. His wife went to him, and took him +by the hand, and placed him back in his chair. He was weak, he said, +and had not slept, and suffered from the heat; and then he begged her +to give him wine. This she did, half filling for him a tumbler, of +which he swallowed the contents greedily. "You see me very poorly, +Stanbury,—very poorly," he said, seeming to ignore all that had +taken place on the previous day.</p> + +<p>"You want change of climate, old fellow," said Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"Change of everything;—I want change of everything," he said. "If I +could have a new body and a new mind, and a new soul!"</p> + +<p>"The mind and soul, dear, will do well enough, if you will let us +look after the body," said his wife, seating herself on a stool near +his feet. Stanbury, who had settled beforehand how he would conduct +himself, took out a cigar and lighted it;—and then they sat together +silent, or nearly silent, for half an hour. She had said that if Hugh +would do so, Trevelyan would soon become used to the presence of his +old friend, and it seemed that he had already done so. More than +once, when he coughed, his wife fetched him some drink in a cup, +which he took from her without a word. And Stanbury the while went on +smoking in silence.</p> + +<p>"You have heard, Louis," she said at last, "that, after all, Nora and +Mr. Stanbury are going to be married?"</p> + +<p>"Ah;—yes; I think I was told of it. I hope you may be happy, +Stanbury;—happier than I have been." This was unfortunate, but +neither of the visitors winced, or said a word.</p> + +<p>"It will be a pity that papa and mamma cannot be present at the +wedding," said Mrs. Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"If I had to do it again, I should not regret your father's absence; +I must say that. He has been my enemy. Yes, Stanbury,—my enemy. I +don't care who hears me say so. I am obliged to stay here, because +that man would swear every shilling I have away from me if I were in +England. He would strive to do so, and the struggle in my state of +health would be too much for me."</p> + +<p>"But Sir Marmaduke sails from Southampton this very week," said +Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"I don't know. He is always sailing, and always coming back again. I +never asked him for a shilling in my life, and yet he has treated me +as though I were his bitterest enemy."</p> + +<p>"He will trouble you no more now, Louis," said Mrs. Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"He cannot trouble you again. He will have left England before you +can possibly reach it."</p> + +<p>"He will have left other traitors behind him,—though none as bad as +himself," said Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>Stanbury, when his cigar was finished, rose and left the husband and +wife together on the terrace. There was little enough to be seen at +Casalunga, but he strolled about looking at the place. He went into +the huge granary, and then down among the olive trees, and up into +the sheds which had been built for beasts. He stood and teased the +lizards, and listened to the hum of the insects, and wiped away the +perspiration which rose to his brow even as he was standing. And all +the while he was thinking what he would do next, or what say next, +with the view of getting Trevelyan away from the place. Hitherto he +had been very tender with him, contradicting him in nothing, taking +from him good humouredly any absurd insult which he chose to offer, +pressing upon him none of the evil which he had himself occasioned, +saying to him no word that could hurt either his pride or his +comfort. But he could not see that this would be efficacious for the +purpose desired. He had come thither to help Nora's sister in her +terrible distress, and he must take upon himself to make some plan +for giving this aid. When he had thought of all this and made his +plan, he sauntered back round the house on to the terrace. She was +still there, sitting at her husband's feet, and holding one of his +hands in hers. It was well that the wife should be tender, but he +doubted whether tenderness would suffice.</p> + +<p>"Trevelyan," he said, "you know why I have come over here?"</p> + +<p>"I suppose she told you to come," said Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>"Well; yes; she did tell me. I came to try and get you back to +England. If you remain here, the climate and solitude together will +kill you."</p> + +<p>"As for the climate, I like it;—and as for solitude, I have got used +even to that."</p> + +<p>"And then there is another thing," said Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"What is that?" asked Trevelyan, starting.</p> + +<p>"You are not safe here."</p> + +<p>"How not safe?"</p> + +<p>"She could not tell you, but I must." His wife was still holding his +hand, and he did not at once attempt to withdraw it; but he raised +himself in his chair, and fixed his eyes fiercely on Stanbury. "They +will not let you remain here quietly," said Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"Who will not?"</p> + +<p>"The Italians. They are already saying that you are not fit to be +alone; and if once they get you into their hands,—under some Italian +medical board, perhaps into some Italian asylum, it might be years +before you could get out,—if ever. I have come to tell you what the +danger is. I do not know whether you will believe me."</p> + +<p>"Is it so?" he said, turning to his wife.</p> + +<p>"I believe it is, Louis."</p> + +<p>"And who has told them? Who has been putting them up to it?" Now his +hand had been withdrawn. "My God, am I to be followed here too with +such persecution as this?"</p> + +<p>"Nobody has told them,—but people have eyes."</p> + +<p>"Liar, traitor, fiend!—it is you!" he said, turning upon his wife.</p> + +<p>"Louis, as I hope for mercy, I have said not a word to any one that +could injure you."</p> + +<p>"Trevelyan, do not be so unjust, and so foolish," said Stanbury. "It +is not her doing. Do you suppose that you can live here like this and +give rise to no remarks? Do you think that people's eyes are not +open, and that their tongues will not speak? I tell you, you are in +danger here."</p> + +<p>"What am I to do? Where am I to go? Can not they let me stay till I +die? Whom am I hurting here? She may have all my money, if she wants +it. She has got my child."</p> + +<p>"I want nothing, Louis, but to take you where you may be safe and +well."</p> + +<p>"Why are you afraid of going to England?" Stanbury asked.</p> + +<p>"Because they have threatened to put me—in a madhouse."</p> + +<p>"Nobody ever thought of so treating you," said his wife.</p> + +<p>"Your father did,—and your mother. They told me so."</p> + +<p>"Look here, Trevelyan. Sir Marmaduke and Lady Rowley are gone. They +will have sailed, at least, before we can reach England. Whatever may +have been either their wishes or their power, they can do nothing +now. Here something would be done,—very soon; you may take my word +for that. If you will return with me and your wife, you shall choose +your own place of abode. Is not that so, Emily?"</p> + +<p>"He shall choose everything. His boy will be with him, and I will be +with him, and he shall be contradicted in nothing. If he only knew my +heart towards him!"</p> + +<p>"You hear what she says, Trevelyan?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; I hear her."</p> + +<p>"And you believe her?"</p> + +<p>"I'm not so sure of that. Stanbury, how should you like to be locked +up in a madhouse and grin through the bars till your heart was +broken? It would not take long with me, I know."</p> + +<p>"You shall never be locked up;—never be touched," said his wife.</p> + +<p>"I am very harmless here," he said, almost crying; "very harmless. I +do not think anybody here will touch me," he added, afterwards. "And +there are other places. There are other places. My God, that I should +be driven about the world like this!" The conference was ended by his +saying that he would take two days to think of it, and by his then +desiring that they would both leave him. They did so, and descended +the hill together, knowing that he was watching them,—that he would +watch them till they were out of sight from the gate;—for, as Mrs. +Trevelyan said, he never came down the hill now, knowing that the +labour of ascending it was too much for him. When they were at the +carriage they were met by one of the women of the house, and strict +injunctions were given to her by Mrs. Trevelyan to send on word to +Siena if the Signore should prepare to move. "He cannot go far +without my knowing it," said she, "because he draws his money in +Siena, and lately I have taken to him what he wants. He has not +enough with him for a long journey." For Stanbury had suggested that +he might be off to seek another residence in another country, and +that they would find Casalunga vacant when they reached it on the +following Tuesday. But he told himself almost immediately,—not +caring to express such an opinion to Emily,—that Trevelyan would +hardly have strength even to prepare for such a journey by himself.</p> + +<p>On the intervening day, the Monday, Stanbury had no occupation +whatever, and he thought that since he was born no day had ever been +so long. Siena contains many monuments of interest, and much that is +valuable in art,—having had a school of painting of its own, and +still retaining in its public gallery specimens of its school, of +which as a city it is justly proud. There are palaces there to be +beaten for gloomy majesty by none in Italy. There is a cathedral +which was to have been the largest in the world, and than which few +are more worthy of prolonged inspection. The town is old, and quaint, +and picturesque, and dirty, and attractive,—as it becomes a town in +Italy to be. But in July all such charms are thrown away. In July +Italy is not a land of charms to an Englishman. Poor Stanbury did +wander into the cathedral, and finding it the coolest place in the +town, went to sleep on a stone step. He was awoke by the voice of the +priests as they began to chant the vespers. The good-natured Italians +had let him sleep, and would have let him sleep till the doors were +closed for the night. At five he dined with Mrs. Trevelyan, and then +endeavoured to while away the evening thinking of Nora with a pipe in +his mouth. He was standing in this way at the hotel gateway, when, on +a sudden, all Siena was made alive by the clatter of an open carriage +and four on its way through the town to the railway. On looking up, +Stanbury saw Lord Peterborough in the carriage,—with a lady whom he +did not doubt to be Lord Peterborough's wife. He himself had not been +recognised, but he slowly followed the carriage to the railway +station. After the Italian fashion, the arrival was three-quarters of +an hour before the proper time, and Stanbury had full opportunity of +learning their news and telling his own. They were coming up from +Rome, and thought it preferable to take the route by Siena than to +use the railway through the Maremma; and they intended to reach +Florence that night.</p> + +<p>"And do you think he is really mad?" asked Lady Peterborough.</p> + +<p>"He is undoubtedly so mad as to be unfit to manage anything for +himself, but he is not in such a condition that any one would wish to +see him put into confinement. If he were raving mad there would be +less difficulty, though there might be more distress."</p> + +<p>A great deal was said about Nora, and both Lord Peterborough and his +wife insisted that the marriage should take place at Monkhams. "We +shall be home now in less than three weeks," said Caroline, "and she +must come to us at once. But I will write to her from Florence, and +tell her how we saw you smoking your pipe under the archway. Not that +my husband knew you in the least."</p> + +<p>"Upon my word no," said the husband,—"one didn't expect to find you +here. Good-bye. I hope you may succeed in getting him home. I went to +him once, but could do very little." Then the train started, and +Stanbury went back to Mrs. Trevelyan.</p> + +<p>On the next day Stanbury went out to Casalunga alone. He had +calculated, on leaving England, that if any good might be done at +Siena it could be done in three days, and that he would have been +able to start on his return on the Wednesday morning,—or on +Wednesday evening at the latest. But now there did not seem to be any +chance of that;—and he hardly knew how to guess when he might get +away. He had sent a telegram to Lady Rowley after his first visit, in +which he had simply said that things were not at all changed at +Casalunga, and he had written to Nora each day since his arrival. His +stay was prolonged at great expense and inconvenience to himself; and +yet it was impossible that he should go and leave his work half +finished. As he walked up the hill to the house he felt very angry +with Trevelyan, and prepared himself to use hard words and dreadful +threats. But at the very moment of his entrance on the terrace, +Trevelyan professed himself ready to go to England. "That's right, +old fellow," said Hugh. "I am so glad." But in expressing his joy he +had hardly noticed Trevelyan's voice and appearance.</p> + +<p>"I might as well go," he said. "It matters little where I am, or +whether they say that I am mad or sane."</p> + +<p>"When we have you over there, nobody shall say a word that is +disagreeable."</p> + +<p>"I only hope that you may not have the trouble of burying me on the +road. You don't know, Stanbury, how ill I am. I cannot eat. If I were +at the bottom of that hill, I could no more walk up it than I could +fly. I cannot sleep, and at night my bed is wet through with +perspiration. I can remember nothing,—nothing but what I ought to +forget."</p> + +<p>"We'll put you on to your legs again when we get you to your own +climate."</p> + +<p>"I shall be a poor traveller,—a poor traveller; but I will do my +best."</p> + +<p>When would he start? That was the next question. Trevelyan asked for +a week, and Stanbury brought him down at last to three days. They +would go to Florence by the evening train on Friday, and sleep there. +Emily should come out and assist him to arrange his things on the +morrow. Having finished so much of his business, Stanbury returned to +Siena.</p> + +<p>They both feared that he might be found on the next day to have +departed from his intention; but no such idea seemed to have occurred +to him. He gave instructions as to the notice to be served on the +agent from the Hospital as to his house, and allowed Emily to go +among his things and make preparations for the journey. He did not +say much to her; and when she attempted, with a soft half-uttered +word, to assure him that the threat of Italian interference, which +had come from Stanbury, had not reached Stanbury from her, he simply +shook his head sadly. She could not understand whether he did not +believe her, or whether he simply wished that the subject should be +dropped. She could elicit no sign of affection from him, nor would he +willingly accept such from her;—but he allowed her to prepare for +the journey, and never hinted that his purpose might again be liable +to change. On the Friday, Emily with her child, and Hugh with all +their baggage, travelled out on the road to Casalunga, thinking it +better that there should be no halt in the town on their return. At +Casalunga, Hugh went up the hill with the driver, leaving Mrs. +Trevelyan in the carriage. He had been out at the house before in the +morning, and had given all necessary orders;—but still at the last +moment he thought that there might be failure. But Trevelyan was +ready, having dressed himself up with a laced shirt, and changed his +dressing-gown for a blue frock-coat, and his brocaded cap for a Paris +hat, very pointed before and behind, and closely turned up at the +sides. But Stanbury did not in the least care for his friend's dress. +"Take my arm," he said, "and we will go down, fair and easy. Emily +would not come up because of the heat." He suffered himself to be +led, or almost carried down the hill; and three women, and the +coachman, and an old countryman who worked on the farm, followed with +the luggage. It took about an hour and a half to pack the things; but +at last they were all packed, and corded, and bound together with +sticks, as though it were intended that they should travel in that +form to Moscow. Trevelyan the meanwhile sat on a chair which had been +brought out for him from one of the cottages, and his wife stood +beside him with her boy. "Now then we are ready," said Stanbury. And +in that way they bade farewell to Casalunga. Trevelyan sat speechless +in the carriage, and would not even notice the child. He seemed to be +half dreaming and to fix his eyes on vacancy. "He appears to think of +nothing now," Emily said that evening to Stanbury. But who can tell +how busy and how troubled are the thoughts of a madman!</p> + +<p>They had now succeeded in their object of inducing their patient to +return with them to England; but what were they to do with him when +they had reached home with him? They rested only a night at Florence; +but they found their fellow-traveller so weary, that they were unable +to get beyond Bologna on the second day. Many questions were asked of +him as to where he himself would wish to take up his residence in +England; but it was found almost impossible to get an answer. Once he +suggested that he would like to go back to Mrs. Fuller's cottage at +Willesden, from whence they concluded that he would wish to live +somewhere out of London. On his first day's journey, he was moody and +silent,—wilfully assuming the airs of a much-injured person. He +spoke hardly at all, and would notice nothing that was said to him by +his wife. He declared once that he regarded Stanbury as his keeper, +and endeavoured to be disagreeable and sullenly combative; but on the +second day, he was too weak for this, and accepted, without +remonstrance, the attentions that were paid to him. At Bologna they +rested a day, and from thence both Stanbury and Mrs. Trevelyan wrote +to Nora. They did not know where she might be now staying, but the +letters, by agreement, were addressed to Gregg's Hotel. It was +suggested that lodgings, or, if possible, a small furnished house, +should be taken in the neighbourhood of Mortlake, Richmond, or +Teddington, and that a telegram as well as a letter should be sent to +them at the Paris hotel. As they could not travel quick, there might +be time enough for them in this way to know whither they should go on +their reaching London.</p> + +<p>They stayed a day at Bologna, and then they went on again,—to Turin, +over the mountains to Chambery, thence to Dijon, and on to Paris. At +Chambery they remained a couple of days, fancying that the air there +was cool, and that the delay would be salutary to the sick man. At +Turin, finding that they wanted further assistance, they had hired a +courier, and at last Trevelyan allowed himself to be carried in and +out of the carriages and up and down the hotel stairs almost as +though he were a child. The delay was terribly grievous to Stanbury, +and Mrs. Trevelyan, perceiving this more than once, begged him to +leave them, and to allow her to finish the journey with the aid of +the courier. But this he could not do. He wrote letters to his +friends at the D. R. office, explaining his position as well as he +could, and suggesting that this and that able assistant should +enlighten the British people on this and that subject, which +would,—in the course of nature, as arranged at the D. R. +office,—have fallen into his hands. He and Mrs. Trevelyan became as +brother and sister to each other on their way home,—as, indeed, it +was natural that they should do. Were they doing right or wrong in +this journey that they were taking? They could not conceal from +themselves that the labour was almost more than the poor wretch could +endure; and that it might be, as he himself had suggested, that they +would be called on to bury him on the road. But that residence at +Casalunga had been so terrible,—the circumstances of it, including +the solitude, sickness, madness, and habits of life of the wretched +hermit, had been so dangerous,—the probability of interference on +the part of some native authority so great, and the chance of the +house being left in Trevelyan's possession so small, that it had +seemed to him that they had no other alternative; and yet, how would +it be if they were killing him by the toil of travelling? From +Chambery, they made the journey to Paris in two days, and during that +time Trevelyan hardly opened his mouth. He slept much, and ate better +than he had done in the hotter climate on the other side of the Alps.</p> + +<p>They found a telegram at Paris, which simply contained the promise of +a letter for the next day. It had been sent by Nora, before she had +gone out on her search. But it contained one morsel of strange +information; "Lady Milborough is going with me." On the next day they +got a letter, saying that a cottage had been taken, furnished, +between Richmond and Twickenham. Lady Milborough had known of the +cottage, and everything would be ready then. Nora would herself meet +them at the station in London, if they would, as she proposed, stay a +night at Dover. They were to address to her at Lady Milborough's +house, in Eccleston Square. In that case, she would have a carriage +for them at the Victoria Station, and would go down with them at once +to the cottage.</p> + +<p>There were to be two days more of weary travelling, and then they +were to be at home again. She and he would have a house together as +husband and wife, and the curse of their separation would, at any +rate, be over. Her mind towards him had changed altogether since the +days in which she had been so indignant, because he had set a +policeman to watch over her. All feeling of anger was over with her +now. There is nothing that a woman will not forgive a man, when he is +weaker than she is herself.</p> + +<p>The journey was made first to Dover, and then to London. Once, as +they were making their way through the Kentish hop-fields, he put out +his hand feebly, and touched hers. They had the carriage to +themselves, and she was down on her knees before him instantly. "Oh, +Louis! Oh, Louis! say that you forgive me!" What could a woman do +more than that in her mercy to a man?</p> + +<p>"Yes;—yes; yes," he said; "but do not talk now; I am so tired."</p> + + +<p><a name="c94" id="c94"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XCIV.</h3> +<h4>A REAL CHRISTIAN.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>In the meantime the Rowleys were gone. On the Monday after the +departure of Stanbury for Italy, Lady Rowley had begun to look the +difficulty about Nora in the face, and to feel that she must do +something towards providing the poor girl with a temporary home. +Everybody had now agreed that she was to marry Hugh Stanbury as soon +as Hugh Stanbury could be ready, and it was not to be thought of that +she should be left out in the world as one in disgrace or under a +cloud. But what was to be done? Sir Marmaduke was quite incapable of +suggesting anything. He would make her an allowance, and leave her a +small sum of ready money;—but as to residence, he could only suggest +again and again that she should be sent to Mrs. Outhouse. Now Lady +Rowley was herself not very fond of Mrs. Outhouse, and she was aware +that Nora herself was almost as averse to St. Diddulph's as she was +to the Mandarins. Nora already knew that she had the game in her own +hands. Once when in her presence her father suggested the near +relationship and prudent character and intense respectability of Mrs. +Outhouse, Nora, who was sitting behind Sir Marmaduke, shook her head +at her mother, and Lady Rowley knew that Nora would not go to St. +Diddulph's. This was the last occasion on which that proposition was +discussed.</p> + +<p>Throughout all the Trevelyan troubles Lady Milborough had continued +to shew a friendly anxiety on behalf of Emily Trevelyan. She had +called once or twice on Lady Rowley, and Lady Rowley had of course +returned the visits. She had been forward in expressing her belief +that in truth the wife had been but little if at all to blame, and +had won her way with Lady Rowley, though she had never been a +favourite with either of Lady Rowley's daughters. Now, in her +difficulty, Lady Rowley went to Lady Milborough, and returned with an +invitation that Nora should come to Eccleston Square, either till +such time as she might think fit to go to Monkhams, or till Mrs. +Trevelyan should have returned, and should be desirous of having her +sister with her. When Nora first heard of this she almost screamed +with surprise, and, if the truth must be told, with disappointment +also.</p> + +<p>"She never liked me, mamma."</p> + +<p>"Then she is so much more good-natured."</p> + +<p>"But I don't want to go to her merely because she is good-natured +enough to receive a person she dislikes. I know she is very good. I +know she would sacrifice herself for anything she thought right. But, +mamma, she is such a bore!"</p> + +<p>But Lady Rowley would not be talked down, even by Nora, in this +fashion. Nora was somewhat touched with an idea that it would be a +fine independent thing to live alone, if it were only for a week or +two, just because other young ladies never lived alone. Perhaps there +was some half-formed notion in her mind that permission to do so was +part of the reward due to her for having refused to marry a lord. +Stanbury was in some respects a Bohemian, and it would become her, +she thought, to have a little practice herself in the Bohemian line. +She had, indeed, declined a Bohemian marriage, feeling strongly +averse to encounter the loud displeasure of her father and +mother;—but as long as everything was quite proper, as long as there +should be no running away, or subjection of her name to scandal, she +considered that a little independence would be useful and agreeable. +She had looked forward to sitting up at night alone by a single +tallow candle, to stretching a beefsteak so as to last her for two +days' dinners, and perhaps to making her own bed. Now, there would +not be the slightest touch of romance in a visit to Lady Milborough's +house in Eccleston Square, at the end of July. Lady Rowley, however, +was of a different opinion, and spoke her mind plainly. "Nora, my +dear, don't be a fool. A young lady like you can't go and live in +lodgings by herself. All manner of things would be said. And this is +such a very kind offer! You must accept it,—for Hugh's sake. I have +already said that you would accept it."</p> + +<p>"But she will be going out of town."</p> + +<p>"She will stay till you can go to Monkhams,—if Emily is not back +before then. She knows all about Emily's affairs; and if she does +come back,—which I doubt, poor thing,—Lady Milborough and you will +be able to judge whether you should go to her." So it was settled, +and Nora's Bohemian Castle in the Air fell into shatters.</p> + +<p>The few remaining days before the departure to Southampton passed +quickly, but yet sadly. Sir Marmaduke had come to England expecting +pleasure,—and with that undefined idea which men so employed always +have on their return home that something will turn up which will make +their going back to that same banishment unnecessary. What Governor +of Hong-Kong, what Minister to Bogota, what General of the Forces at +the Gold Coast, ever left the scene of his official or military +labours without a hope, which was almost an expectation, that a +grateful country would do something better for him before the period +of his return should have arrived? But a grateful country was doing +nothing better for Sir Marmaduke, and an ungrateful Secretary of +State at the Colonial Office would not extend the term during which +he could regard himself as absent on special service. How thankful he +had been when first the tidings reached him that he was to come home +at the expense of the Crown, and without diminution of his official +income! He had now been in England for five months, with a per diem +allowance, with his very cabs paid for him, and he was discontented, +sullen, and with nothing to comfort him but his official grievance, +because he could not be allowed to extend his period of special +service more than two months beyond the time at which those special +services were in truth ended! There had been a change of Ministry in +the last month, and he had thought that a Conservative Secretary of +State would have been kinder to him. "The Duke says I can stay three +months with leave of absence;—and have half my pay stopped. I wonder +whether it ever enters into his august mind that even a Colonial +Governor must eat and drink." It was thus he expressed his great +grievance to his wife. "The Duke," however, had been as inexorable as +his predecessor, and Sir Rowley, with his large family, was too wise +to remain to the detriment of his pocket. In the meantime the clerks +in the office, who had groaned in spirit over the ignorance displayed +in his evidence before the committee, were whispering among +themselves that he ought not to be sent back to his seat of +government at all.</p> + +<p>Lady Rowley also was disappointed and unhappy. She had expected so +much pleasure from her visit to her daughter, and she had received so +little! Emily's condition was very sad, but in her heart of hearts +perhaps she groaned more bitterly over all that Nora had lost, than +she did over the real sorrows of her elder child. To have had the cup +at her lip, and then not to have tasted it! And she had the solace of +no communion in this sorrow. She had accepted Hugh Stanbury as her +son-in-law, and not for worlds would she now say a word against him +to any one. She had already taken him to her heart, and she loved +him. But to have had it almost within her grasp to have had a lord, +the owner of Monkhams, for her son-in-law! Poor Lady Rowley!</p> + +<p>Sophie and Lucy, too, were returning to their distant and dull +banishment without any realisation of their probable but unexpressed +ambition. They made no complaint, but yet it was hard on them that +their sister's misfortune should have prevented them from +going,—almost to a single dance. Poor Sophie and poor Lucy! They +must go, and we shall hear no more about them. It was thought well +that Nora should not go down with them to Southampton. What good +would her going do? "God bless you, my darling," said the mother, as +she held her child in her arms.</p> + +<p>"Good-bye, dear mamma."</p> + +<p>"Give my best love to Hugh, and tell him that I pray him with my last +word to be good to you." Even then she was thinking of Lord +Peterborough, but the memory of what might have been was buried deep +in her mind.</p> + +<p>"Nora, tell me all about it," said Lucy.</p> + +<p>"There will be nothing to tell," said Nora.</p> + +<p>"Tell it all the same," said Lucy. "And bring Hugh out to write a +book of travels about the Mandarins. Nobody has ever written a book +about the Mandarins." So they parted; and when Sir Marmaduke and his +party were taken off in two cabs to the Waterloo Station, Nora was +taken in one cab to Eccleston Square.</p> + +<p>It may be doubted whether any old lady since the world began ever did +a more thoroughly Christian and friendly act than this which was now +being done by Lady Milborough. It was the end of July, and she would +already have been down in Dorsetshire, but for her devotion to this +good deed. For, in truth, what she was doing was not occasioned by +any express love for Nora Rowley. Nora Rowley was all very well, but +Nora Rowley towards her had been flippant, impatient, and, indeed, +not always so civil as a young lady should be to the elderly friends +of her married sister. But to Lady Milborough it had seemed to be +quite terrible that a young girl should be left alone in the world, +without anybody to take care of her. Young ladies, according to her +views of life, were fragile plants that wanted much nursing before +they could be allowed to be planted out in the gardens of the world +as married women. When she heard from Lady Rowley that Nora was +engaged to marry Hugh Stanbury,—"You know all about Lord +Peterborough, Lady Milborough; but it is no use going back to that +now,—is it? And Mr. Stanbury has behaved so exceedingly well in +regard to poor Louis,"—when Lady Milborough heard this, and heard +also that Nora was talking of going to live by herself—in +lodgings—she swore to herself, like a goodly Christian woman, as she +was, that such a thing must not be. Eccleston Square in July and +August is not pleasant, unless it be to an inhabitant who is +interested in the fag-end of the parliamentary session. Lady +Milborough had no interest in politics,—had not much interest even +in seeing the social season out to its dregs. She ordinarily remained +in London till the beginning or middle of July, because the people +with whom she lived were in the habit of doing so;—but as soon as +ever she had fixed the date of her departure, that day to her was a +day of release. On this occasion the day had been fixed,—and it was +unfixed, and changed, and postponed, because it was manifest to Lady +Milborough that she could do good by remaining for another fortnight. +When she made the offer she said nothing of her previous +arrangements. "Lady Rowley, let her come to me. As soon as her friend +Lady Peterborough is at Monkhams, she can go there."</p> + +<p>Thus it was that Nora found herself established in Eccleston Square. +As she took her place in Lady Milborough's drawing-rooms, she +remembered well a certain day, now two years ago, when she had first +heard of the glories of Monkhams in that very house. Lady Milborough, +as good-natured then as she was now, had brought Mr. Glascock and +Nora together, simply because she had heard that the gentleman +admired the young lady. Nora, in her pride, had resented this as +interference,—had felt that the thing had been done, and, though she +had valued the admiration of the man, had ridiculed the action of the +woman. As she thought of it now she was softened by gratitude. She +had not on that occasion been suited with a husband, but she had +gained a friend. "My dear," said Lady Milborough, as at her request +Nora took off her hat, "I am afraid that the parties are mostly +over,—that is, those I go to; but we will drive out every day, and +the time won't be so very long."</p> + +<p>"It won't be long for me, Lady Milborough;—but I cannot but know how +terribly I am putting you out."</p> + +<p>"I am never put out, Miss Rowley," said the old lady, "as long as I +am made to think that what I do is taken in good part."</p> + +<p>"Indeed, indeed it shall be taken in good part," said Nora,—"indeed +it shall." And she swore a solemn silent vow of friendship for the +dear old woman.</p> + +<p>Then there came letters and telegrams from Chambery, Dijon, and +Paris, and the joint expedition in search of the cottage was made to +Twickenham. It was astonishing how enthusiastic and how loving the +elder and the younger lady were together before the party from Italy +had arrived in England. Nora had explained everything about +herself,—how impossible it had been for her not to love Hugh +Stanbury; how essential it had been for her happiness and self-esteem +that she should refuse Mr. Glascock; how terrible had been the +tragedy of her sister's marriage. Lady Milborough spoke of the former +subject with none of Lady Rowley's enthusiasm, but still with an +evident partiality for her own rank, which almost aroused Nora to +indignant eloquence. Lady Milborough was contented to acknowledge +that Nora might be right, seeing that her heart was so firmly fixed; +but she was clearly of opinion that Mr. Glascock, being Mr. Glascock, +had possessed a better right to the prize in question than could have +belonged to any man who had no recognised position in the world. +Seeing that her heart had been given away, Nora was no doubt right +not to separate her hand from her heart; but Lady Milborough was of +opinion that young ladies ought to have their hearts under better +control, so that the men entitled to the prizes should get them. It +was for the welfare of England at large that the eldest sons of good +families should marry the sweetest, prettiest, brightest, and most +lovable girls of their age. It is a doctrine on behalf of which very +much may be said.</p> + +<p>On that other matter, touching Emily Trevelyan, Lady Milborough +frankly owned that she had seen early in the day that he was the one +most in fault. "I must say, my dear," she said, "that I very greatly +dislike your friend, Colonel Osborne."</p> + +<p>"I am sure that he meant not the slightest harm,—no more than she +did."</p> + +<p>"He was old enough, and ought to have known better. And when the +first hint of an uneasiness in the mind of Louis was suggested to +him, his feelings as a gentleman should have prompted him to remove +himself. Let the suspicion have been ever so absurd, he should have +removed himself. Instead of that, he went after her,—into +Devonshire."</p> + +<p>"He went to see other friends, Lady Milborough."</p> + +<p>"I hope it may have been so;—I hope it may have been so. But he +should have cut off his hand before he rang at the door of the house +in which she was living. You will understand, my dear, that I acquit +your sister altogether. I did so all through, and said the same to +poor Louis when he came to me. But Colonel Osborne should have known +better. Why did he write to her? Why did he go to St. Diddulph's? Why +did he let it be thought that,—that she was especially his friend. +Oh dear; oh dear; oh dear! I am afraid he is a very bad man."</p> + +<p>"We had known him so long, Lady Milborough."</p> + +<p>"I wish you had never known him at all. Poor Louis! If he had only +done what I told him at first, all might have been well. 'Go to +Naples, with your wife,' I said. 'Go to Naples.' If he had gone to +Naples, there would have been no journeys to Siena, no living at +Casalunga, no separation. But he didn't seem to see it in the same +light. Poor dear Louis. I wish he had gone to Naples when I told +him."</p> + +<p>While they were going backwards and forwards, looking at the cottage +at Twickenham and trying to make things comfortable there for the +sick man, Lady Milborough hinted to Nora that it might be distasteful +to Trevelyan, in his present condition, to have even a sister-in-law +staying in the house with him. There was a little chamber which Nora +had appropriated to herself, and at first it seemed to be taken for +granted that she should remain there at least till the 10th of +August, on which day Lady Peterborough had signified that she and her +husband would be ready to receive their visitor. But Lady Milborough +slept on the suggestion, and on the next morning hinted her +disapprobation. "You shall take them down in the carriage, and their +luggage can follow in a cab;—but the carriage can bring you back. +You will see how things are then."</p> + +<p>"Dear Lady Milborough, you would go out of town at once if I left +you."</p> + +<p>"And I shall not go out of town if you don't leave me. What +difference does it make to an old woman like me? I have got no lover +coming to look for me, and all I have to do is to tell my +daughter-in-law that I shall not be there for another week or so. +Augusta is very glad to have me, but she is the wisest woman in the +world, and can get on very well without me."</p> + +<p>"And as I am the silliest, I cannot."</p> + +<p>"You shall put it in that way if you like it, my dear. Girls in your +position often do want assistance. I dare say you think me very +straight-laced, but I am quite sure Mr. Stanbury will be grateful to +me. As you are to be married from Monkhams, it will be quite well +that you should pass thither through my house as an intermediate +resting-place, after leaving your father and mother." By all which +Lady Milborough intended to express an opinion that the value of the +article which Hugh Stanbury would receive at the altar would be +enhanced by the distinguished purity of the hands through which it +had passed before it came into his possession;—in which opinion she +was probably right as regarded the price put upon the article by the +world at large, though it may perhaps be doubted whether the +recipient himself would be of the same opinion.</p> + +<p>"I hope you know that I am grateful, whatever he may be," said Nora, +after a pause.</p> + +<p>"I think that you take it as it is meant, and that makes me quite +comfortable."</p> + +<p>"Lady Milborough, I shall love you for ever and ever. I don't think I +ever knew anybody so good as you are,—or so nice."</p> + +<p>"Then I shall be more than comfortable," said Lady Milborough. After +that there was an embrace, and the thing was settled.</p> + + +<p><a name="c95" id="c95"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XCV.</h3> +<h4>TREVELYAN BACK IN ENGLAND.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>Nora, with Lady Milborough's carriage, and Lady Milborough's coach +and footman, and with a cab ready for the luggage close behind the +carriage, was waiting at the railway station when the party from +Dover arrived. She soon saw Hugh upon the platform, and ran to him +with her news. They had not a word to say to each other of +themselves, so anxious were they both respecting Trevelyan. "We got a +bed-carriage for him at Dover," said Hugh; "and I think he has borne +the journey pretty well;—but he feels the heat almost as badly as in +Italy. You will hardly know him when you see him." Then, when the +rush of passengers was gone, Trevelyan was brought out by Hugh and +the courier, and placed in Lady Milborough's carriage. He just smiled +as his eye fell upon Nora, but he did not even put out his hand to +greet her.</p> + +<p>"I am to go in the carriage with him," said his wife.</p> + +<p>"Of course you are,—and so will I and Louey. I think there will be +room: it is so large. There is a cab for all the things. Dear Emily, +I am so glad to see you."</p> + +<p>"Dearest Nora! I shall be able to speak to you by-and-by, but you +must not be angry with me now. How good you have been."</p> + +<p>"Has not she been good? I don't understand about the cottage. It +belongs to some friend of hers; and I have not been able to say a +word about the rent. It is so nice;—and looks upon the river. I hope +that he will like it."</p> + +<p>"You will be with us?"</p> + +<p>"Not just at first. Lady Milborough thinks I had better not,—that he +will like it better. I will come down almost every day, and will stay +if you think he will like it."</p> + +<p>These few words were said while the men were putting Trevelyan into +the carriage. And then another arrangement was made. Hugh hired a +second cab, in which he and the courier made a part of the +procession; and so they all went to Twickenham together. Hugh had not +yet learned that he would be rewarded by coming back alone with Nora +in the carriage.</p> + +<p>The cottage by the River Thames, which, as far as the party knew, was +nameless, was certainly very much better than the house on the top of +the hill at Casalunga. And now, at last, the wife would sleep once +more under the same roof with her husband, and the separation would +be over. "I suppose that is the Thames," said Trevelyan; and they +were nearly the only words he spoke in Nora's hearing that evening. +Before she started on her return journey, the two sisters were +together for a few minutes, and each told her own budget of news in +short, broken fragments. There was not much to tell. "He is so weak," +said Mrs. Trevelyan, "that he can do literally nothing. He can hardly +speak. When we give him wine, he will say a few words, and his mind +seems then to be less astray than it was. I have told him just simply +that it was all my doing,—that I have been in fault all through, and +every now and then he will say a word, to shew me that he remembers +that I have confessed."</p> + +<p>"My poor Emily!"</p> + +<p>"It was better so. What does it all matter? He had suffered so, that +I would have said worse than that to give him relief. The pride has +gone out of me so, that I do not regard what anybody may say. Of +course, it will be said that I—went astray, and that he forgave me."</p> + +<p>"Nobody will say that, dearest; nobody. Lady Milborough is quite +aware how it all was."</p> + +<p>"What does it signify? There are things in life worse even than a bad +name."</p> + +<p>"But he does not think it?"</p> + +<p>"Nora, his mind is a mystery to me. I do not know what is in it. +Sometimes I fancy that all facts have been forgotten, and that he +merely wants the childish gratification of being assured that he is +the master. Then, again, there come moments, in which I feel sure +that suspicion is lurking within him, that he is remembering the +past, and guarding against the future. When he came into this house, +a quarter of an hour ago, he was fearful lest there was a mad doctor +lurking about to pounce on him. I can see in his eye that he had some +such idea. He hardly notices Louey,—though there was a time, even at +Casalunga, when he would not let the child out of his sight."</p> + +<p>"What will you do now?"</p> + +<p>"I will try to do my duty;—that is all."</p> + +<p>"But you will have a doctor?"</p> + +<p>"Of course. He was content to see one in Paris, though he would not +let me be present. Hugh saw the gentleman afterwards, and he seemed +to think that the body was worse than the mind." Then Nora told her +the name of a doctor whom Lady Milborough had suggested, and took her +departure along with Hugh in the carriage.</p> + +<p>In spite of all the sorrow that they had witnessed and just left, +their journey up to London was very pleasant. Perhaps there is no +period so pleasant among all the pleasant periods of love-making as +that in which the intimacy between the lovers is so assured, and the +coming event so near, as to produce and to endure conversation about +the ordinary little matters of life;—what can be done with the +limited means at their mutual disposal; how that life shall be begun +which they are to lead together; what idea each has of the other's +duties; what each can do for the other; what each will renounce for +the other. There was a true sense of the delight of intimacy in the +girl who declared that she had never loved her lover so well as when +she told him how many pairs of stockings she had got. It is very +sweet to gaze at the stars together; and it is sweet to sit out among +the haycocks. The reading of poetry together, out of the same book, +with brows all close, and arms all mingled, is very sweet. The +pouring out of the whole heart in written words, which the writer +knows would be held to be ridiculous by any eyes, and any ears, and +any sense, but the eyes and ears and sense of the dear one to whom +they are sent, is very sweet;—but for the girl who has made a shirt +for the man that she loves, there has come a moment in the last +stitch of it, sweeter than any that stars, haycocks, poetry, or +superlative epithets have produced. Nora Rowley had never as yet been +thus useful on behalf of Hugh Stanbury. Had she done so, she might +perhaps have been happier even than she was during this +journey;—but, without the shirt, it was one of the happiest moments +of her life. There was nothing now to separate them but their own +prudential scruples;—and of them it must be acknowledged that Hugh +Stanbury had very few. According to his shewing, he was as well +provided for matrimony as the gentleman in the song, who came out to +woo his bride on a rainy night. In live stock he was not so well +provided as the Irish gentleman to whom we allude; but in regard to +all other provisions for comfortable married life, he had, or at a +moment's notice could have, all that was needed. Nora could live just +where she pleased;—not exactly in Whitehall Gardens or Belgrave +Square; but the New Road, Lupus Street, Montague Place, the North +Bank, or Kennington Oval, with all their surrounding crescents, +terraces, and rows, offered, according to him, a choice so wide, +either for lodgings or small houses, that their only embarrassment +was in their riches. He had already insured his life for a thousand +pounds, and, after paying yearly for that, and providing a certain +surplus for saving, five hundred a year was the income on which they +were to commence the world. "Of course, I wish it were five thousand +for your sake," he said; "and I wish I were a Cabinet Minister, or a +duke, or a brewer; but, even in heaven, you know all the angels can't +be archangels." Nora assured him that she would be quite content with +virtues simply angelic. "I hope you like mutton-chops and potatoes; I +do," he said. Then she told him of her ambition about the beef-steak, +acknowledging that, as it must now be shared between two, the +glorious idea of putting a part of it away in a cupboard must be +abandoned. "I don't believe in beef-steaks," he said. "A beef-steak +may mean anything. At our club, a beef-steak is a sumptuous and +expensive luxury. Now, a mutton-chop means something definite, and +must be economical."</p> + +<p>"Then we will have the mutton-chops at home," said Nora, "and you +shall go to your club for the beef-steak."</p> + +<p>When they reached Eccleston Square, Nora insisted on taking Hugh +Stanbury up to Lady Milborough. It was in vain that he pleaded that +he had come all the way from Dover on a very dusty day,—all the way +from Dover, including a journey in a Hansom cab to Twickenham and +back, without washing his hands and face. Nora insisted that Lady +Milborough was such a dear, good, considerate creature, that she +would understand all that, and Hugh was taken into her presence. "I +am delighted to see you, Mr. Stanbury," said the old lady, "and hope +you will think that Nora is in good keeping."</p> + +<p>"She has been telling me how very kind you have been to her. I do not +know where she could have bestowed herself if you had not received +her."</p> + +<p>"There, Nora;—I told you he would say so. I won't tell tales, Mr. +Stanbury; but she had all manner of wild plans which I knew you +wouldn't approve. But she is very amiable, and if she will only +submit to you as well as she does to +<span class="nowrap">me—"</span></p> + +<p>"I don't mean to submit to him at all, Lady Milborough;—of course +not. I am going to marry for liberty."</p> + +<p>"My dear, what you say, you say in joke; but a great many young women +of the present day do, I really believe, go up to the altar and +pronounce their marriage vows, with the simple idea that as soon as +they have done so, they are to have their own way in everything. And +then people complain that young men won't marry! Who can wonder at +it?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think the young men think much about the obedience," said +Nora. "Some marry for money, and some for love. But I don't think +they marry to get a slave."</p> + +<p>"What do you say, Mr. Stanbury?" asked the old lady.</p> + +<p>"I can only assure you that I shan't marry for money," said he.</p> + +<p>Two or three days after this Nora left her friend in Eccleston +Square, and domesticated herself for awhile with her sister. Mrs. +Trevelyan declared that such an arrangement would be comfortable for +her, and that it was very desirable now, as Nora would so soon be +beyond her reach. Then Lady Milborough was enabled to go to +Dorsetshire, which she did not do, however, till she had presented +Nora with the veil which she was to wear on the occasion of her +wedding. "Of course I cannot see it, my dear, as it is to take place +at Monkhams; but you must write and tell me the day;—and I will +think of you. And you, when you put on the veil, must think of me." +So they parted, and Nora knew that she had made a friend for life.</p> + + +<div class="center"><a name="ip2-358" id="ip2-358"></a> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="4px"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/p2-358.jpg"> + <img src="images/p2-358-t.jpg" height="500" + alt="Nora's veil." /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <span class="caption">Nora's veil.<br /> + Click to <a href="images/p2-358.jpg">ENLARGE</a></span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p>When she first took her place in the house at Twickenham as a +resident, Trevelyan did not take much notice of her;—but, after +awhile, he would say a few words to her, especially when it might +chance that she was with him in her sister's absence. He would speak +of dear Emily, and poor Emily, and shake his head slowly, and talk of +the pity of it. "The pity of it, Iago; oh, the pity of it," he said +once. The allusion to her was so terrible that she almost burst out +in anger, as she would have done formerly. She almost told him that +he had been as wrong throughout as was the jealous husband in the +play whose words he quoted, and that his jealousy, if continued, was +likely to be as tragical. But she restrained herself, and kept close +to her needle,—making, let us hope, an auspicious garment for Hugh +Stanbury. "She has seen it now," he continued; "she has seen it now." +Still she went on with her hemming in silence. It certainly could not +be her duty to upset at a word all that her sister had achieved. "You +know that she has confessed?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"Pray, pray do not talk about it, Louis."</p> + +<p>"I think you ought to know," he said. Then she rose from her seat and +left the room. She could not stand it, even though he were mad,—even +though he were dying!</p> + +<p>She went to her sister and repeated what had been said. "You had +better not notice it," said Emily. "It is only a proof of what I told +you. There are times in which his mind is as active as ever it was, +but it is active in so terrible a direction!"</p> + +<p>"I cannot sit and hear it. And what am I to say when he asks me a +question as he did just now? He said that you had confessed."</p> + +<p>"So I have. Do none confess but the guilty? What is all that we have +read about the Inquisition and the old tortures? I have had to learn +that torturing has not gone out of the world;—that is all."</p> + +<p>"I must go away if he says the same thing to me so again."</p> + +<p>"That is nonsense, Nora. If I can bear it, cannot you? Would you have +me drive him into violence again by disputing with him upon such a +subject?"</p> + +<p>"But he may recover;—and then he will remember what you have said."</p> + +<p>"If he recovers altogether he will suspect nothing. I must take my +chance of that. You cannot suppose that I have not thought about it. +I have often sworn to myself that though the world should fall around +me, nothing should make me acknowledge that I had ever been untrue to +my duty as a married woman, either in deed, or word, or thought. I +have no doubt that the poor wretches who were tortured in their cells +used to make the same resolutions as to their confessions. But yet, +when their nails were dragged out of them, they would own to +anything. My nails have been dragged out, and I have been willing to +confess anything. When he talks of the pity of it, of course I know +what he means. There has been something, some remainder of a feeling, +which has still kept him from asking me that question. May God, in +his mercy, continue to him that feeling!"</p> + +<p>"But you would answer truly?"</p> + +<p>"How can I say what I might answer when the torturer is at my nails? +If you knew how great was the difficulty to get him away from that +place in Italy and bring him here; and what it was to feel that one +was bound to stay near him, and that yet one was impotent,—and to +know that even that refuge must soon cease for him, and that he might +have gone out and died on the road-side, or have done anything which +the momentary strength of madness might have dictated,—if you could +understand all this, you would not be surprised at my submitting to +any degradation which would help to bring him here."</p> + +<p>Stanbury was often down at the cottage, and Nora could discuss the +matter better with him than with her sister. And Stanbury could learn +more thoroughly from the physician who was now attending Trevelyan +what was the state of the sick man, than Emily could do. According to +the doctor's idea there was more of ailment in the body than in the +mind. He admitted that his patient's thoughts had been forced to +dwell on one subject till they had become distorted, untrue, +jaundiced, and perhaps mono-maniacal; but he seemed to doubt whether +there had ever been a time at which it could have been decided that +Trevelyan was so mad as to make it necessary that the law should +interfere to take care of him. A man,—so argued the doctor,—need +not be mad because he is jealous, even though his jealousy be ever so +absurd. And Trevelyan, in his jealousy, had done nothing cruel, +nothing wasteful, nothing infamous. In all this Nora was very little +inclined to agree with the doctor, and thought nothing could be more +infamous than Trevelyan's conduct at the present moment,—unless, +indeed, he could be screened from infamy by that plea of madness. But +then there was more behind. Trevelyan had been so wasted by the kind +of life which he had led, and possessed by nature stamina so +insufficient to resist such debility, that it was very doubtful +whether he would not sink altogether before he could be made to begin +to rise. But one thing was clear. He should be contradicted in +nothing. If he chose to say that the moon was made of green cheese, +let it be conceded to him that the moon was made of green cheese. +Should he make any other assertion equally removed from the truth, +let it not be contradicted. Who would oppose a man with one foot in +the grave?</p> + +<p>"Then, Hugh, the sooner I am at Monkhams the better," said Nora, who +had again been subjected to inuendoes which had been unendurable to +her. This was on the 7th of August, and it still wanted three days to +that on which the journey to Monkhams was to be made.</p> + +<p>"He never says anything to me on the subject," said Hugh.</p> + +<p>"Because you have made him afraid of you. I almost think that Emily +and the doctor are wrong in their treatment, and that it would be +better to stand up to him and tell him the truth." But the three days +passed away, and Nora was not driven to any such vindication of her +sister's character towards her sister's husband.</p> + + +<p><a name="c96" id="c96"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XCVI.</h3> +<h4>MONKHAMS.<br /> </h4> + + +<p><img class="left" src="images/ch96a.jpg" width="310" alt="Illustration" /> +On the 10th of August Nora Rowley left the cottage by the river-side +at Twickenham, and went down to Monkhams. The reader need hardly be +told that Hugh brought her up from Twickenham and sent her off in the +railway carriage. They agreed that no day could be fixed for their +marriage till something further should be known of Trevelyan's state. +While he was in his present condition such a marriage could not have +been other than very sad. Nora, when she left the cottage, was still +very bitter against her brother-in-law, quoting the doctor's opinion +as to his sanity, and expressing her own as to his conduct under that +supposition. She also believed that he would rally in health, and was +therefore, on that account, less inclined to pity him than was his +wife. Emily Trevelyan of course saw more of him than did her sister, +and understood better how possible it was that a man might be in such +a condition as to be neither mad nor sane;—not mad, so that all +power over his own actions need be taken from him; nor sane, so that +he must be held to be accountable for his words and thoughts. +Trevelyan did nothing, and attempted to do nothing, that could injure +his wife and child. He submitted himself to medical advice. He did +not throw away his money. He had no Bozzle now waiting at his heels. +He was generally passive in his wife's hands as to all outward +things. He was not violent in rebuke, nor did he often allude to +their past unhappiness. But he still maintained, by a word spoken +every now and then, that he had been right throughout in his contest +with his wife,—and that his wife had at last acknowledged that it +was so. She never contradicted him, and he became bolder and bolder +in his assertions, endeavouring on various occasions to obtain some +expression of an assent from Nora. But Nora would not assent, and he +would scowl at her, saying words, both in her presence and behind her +back, which implied that she was his enemy. "Why not yield to him?" +her sister said the day before she went. "I have yielded, and your +doing so cannot make it worse."</p> + +<p>"I can't do it. It would be false. It is better that I should go +away. I cannot pretend to agree with him, when I know that his mind +is working altogether under a delusion." When the hour for her +departure came, and Hugh was waiting for her, she thought that it +would be better that she should go, without seeing Trevelyan. "There +will only be more anger," she pleaded. But her sister would not be +contented that she should leave the house in this fashion, and urged +at last, with tears running down her cheeks, that this might possibly +be the last interview between them.</p> + +<p>"Say a word to him in kindness before you leave us," said Mrs. +Trevelyan. Then Nora went up to her brother-in-law's bed-side, and +told him that she was going, and expressed a hope that he might be +stronger when she returned. And as she did so she put her hand upon +the bed-side, intending to press his in token of affection. But his +face was turned from her, and he seemed to take no notice of her. +"Louis," said his wife, "Nora is going to Monkhams. You will say +good-bye to her before she goes?"</p> + +<p>"If she be not my enemy, I will," said he.</p> + +<p>"I have never been your enemy, Louis," said Nora, "and certainly I am +not now."</p> + +<p>"She had better go," he said. "It is very little more that I expect +of any one in this world;—but I will recognise no one as my friend +who will not acknowledge that I have been sinned against during the +last two years;—sinned against cruelly and utterly." Emily, who was +standing at the bed-head, shuddered as she heard this, but made no +reply. Nor did Nora speak again, but crept silently out of the +room;—and in half a minute her sister followed her.</p> + +<p>"I feared how it would be," said Nora.</p> + +<p>"We can only do our best. God knows that I try to do mine."</p> + +<p>"I do not think you will ever see him again," said Hugh to her in the +train.</p> + +<p>"Would you have had me act otherwise? It is not that it would have +been a lie. I would not have minded that to ease the shattered +feelings of one so infirm and suffering as he. In dealing with mad +people I suppose one must be false. But I should have been accusing +her; and it may be that he will get well, and it might be that he +would then remember what I had said."</p> + +<p>At the station near Monkhams she was met by Lady Peterborough in the +carriage. A tall footman in livery came on to the platform to shew +her the way and to look after her luggage, and she could not fail to +remember that the man might have been her own servant, instead of +being the servant of her who now sat in Lord Peterborough's carriage. +And when she saw the carriage, and her ladyship's great bay horses, +and the glittering harness, and the respectably responsible coachman, +and the arms on the panel, she smiled to herself at the sight of +these first outward manifestations of the rank and wealth of the man +who had once been her lover. There are men who look as though they +were the owners of bay horses and responsible coachmen and family +blazons,—from whose outward personal appearance, demeanour, and tone +of voice, one would expect a following of liveries and a magnificence +of belongings; but Mr. Glascock had by no means been such a man. It +had suited his taste to keep these things in abeyance, and to place +his pride in the oaks and elms of his park rather than in any of +those appanages of grandeur which a man may carry about with him. He +could talk of his breed of sheep on an occasion, but he never talked +of his horses; and though he knew his position and all its glories as +well as any nobleman in England, he was ever inclined to hang back a +little in going out of a room, and to bear himself as though he were +a small personage in the world. Some perception of all this came +across Nora's mind as she saw the equipage, and tried to reflect, at +a moment's notice, whether the case might have been different with +her, had Mr. Glascock worn a little of his tinsel outside when she +first met him. Of course she told herself that had he worn it all on +the outside, and carried it ever so gracefully, it could have made no +difference.</p> + +<p>It was very plain, however, that, though Mr. Glascock did not like +bright feathers for himself, he chose that his wife should wear them. +Nothing could be prettier than the way in which Caroline Spalding, +whom we first saw as she was about to be stuck into the interior of +the diligence, at St. Michel, now filled her carriage as Lady +Peterborough. The greeting between them was very affectionate, and +there was a kiss in the carriage, even though the two pretty hats, +perhaps, suffered something. "We are so glad to have you at last," +said Lady Peterborough. "Of course we are very quiet; but you won't +mind that." Nora declared that no house could be too quiet for her, +and then said something of the melancholy scene which she had just +left. "And no time is fixed for your own marriage? But of course it +has not been possible. And why should you be in a hurry? We quite +understand that this is to be your home till everything has arranged +itself." There was a drive of four or five miles before they reached +the park gates, and nothing could be kinder or more friendly than was +the new peeress; but Nora told herself that there was no forgetting +that her friend was a peeress. She would not be so ill-conditioned as +to suggest to herself that her friend patronised her;—and, indeed, +had she done so, the suggestion would have been false;—but she could +not rid herself of a certain sensation of external inferiority, and +of a feeling that the superiority ought to be on her side, as all +this might have been hers,—only that she had not thought it worth +her while to accept it. As these ideas came into her mind, she hated +herself for entertaining them; and yet, come they would. While she +was talking about her emblematic beef-steak with Hugh, she had no +regret, no uneasiness, no conception that any state of life could be +better for her than that state in which an emblematic beef-steak was +of vital importance; but she could not bring her mind to the same +condition of unalloyed purity while sitting with Lady Peterborough in +Lord Peterborough's carriage. And for her default in this respect she +hated herself.</p> + +<p>"This is the beginning of the park," said her friend.</p> + +<p>"And where is the house?"</p> + +<p>"You can't see the house for ever so far yet; it is two miles off. +There is about a mile before you come to the gates, and over a mile +afterwards. One has a sort of feeling when one is in that one can't +get out,—it is so big." In so speaking, it was Lady Peterborough's +special endeavour to state without a boast facts which were +indifferent, but which must be stated.</p> + +<p>"It is very magnificent," said Nora. There was in her voice the +slightest touch of sarcasm, which she would have given the world not +to have uttered; but it had been irrepressible.</p> + +<p>Lady Peterborough understood it instantly, and forgave it, not +attributing to it more than its true meaning, acknowledging to +herself that it was natural. "Dear Nora," she said,—not knowing what +to say, blushing as she spoke,—"the magnificence is nothing; but the +man's love is everything."</p> + +<p>Nora shook herself, and determined that she would behave well. The +effort should be made, and the required result should be produced by +it. "The magnificence, as an adjunct, is a great deal," she said; +"and for his sake, I hope that you enjoy it."</p> + +<p>"Of course I enjoy it."</p> + +<p>"Wallachia's teachings and preachings have all been thrown to the +wind, I hope."</p> + +<p>"Not quite all. Poor dear Wally! I got a letter from her the other +day, which she began by saying that she would attune her +correspondence to my changed condition in life. I understood the +reproach so thoroughly! And, when she told me little details of +individual men and women, and of things she had seen, and said not a +word about the rights of women, or even of politics generally, I felt +that I was a degraded creature in her sight. But, though you laugh at +her, she did me good,—and will do good to others. Here we are inside +Monkhams, and now you must look at the avenue."</p> + +<p>Nora was now rather proud of herself. She had made the effort, and it +had been successful; and she felt that she could speak naturally, and +express her thoughts honestly. "I remember his telling me about the +avenue the first time I ever saw him;—and here it is. I did not +think then that I should ever live to see the glories of Monkhams. +Does it go all the way like this to the house?"</p> + +<p>"Not quite;—where you see the light at the end the road turns to the +right, and the house is just before you. There are great iron gates, +and terraces, and wondrous paraphernalia before you get up to the +door. I can tell you Monkhams is quite a wonder. I have to shut +myself up every Wednesday morning, and hand the house over to Mrs. +Crutch, the housekeeper, who comes out in a miraculous brown silk +gown, to shew it to visitors. On other days, you'll find Mrs. Crutch +quite civil and useful;—but on Wednesdays, she is majestic. Charles +always goes off among his sheep on that day, and I shut myself up +with a pile of books in a little room. You will have to be imprisoned +with me. I do so long to peep at the visitors."</p> + +<p>"And I dare say they want to peep at you."</p> + +<p>"I proposed at first to shew them round myself;—but Charles wouldn't +let me."</p> + +<p>"It would have broken Mrs. Crutch's heart."</p> + +<p>"That's what Charles said. He thinks that Mrs. Crutch tells them that +I'm locked up somewhere, and that that gives a zest to the search. +Some people from Nottingham once did break into old Lady +Peterborough's room, and the shew was stopped for a year. There was +such a row about it! It prevented Charles coming up for the county. +But he wouldn't have got in; and therefore it was lucky, and saved +money."</p> + +<p>By this time Nora was quite at her ease; but still there was before +her the other difficulty, of meeting Lord Peterborough. They were +driven out of the avenue, and round to the right, and through the +iron gate, and up to the huge front door. There, upon the top step, +was standing Lord Peterborough, with a billycock hat and a very old +shooting coat, and nankeen trousers, which were considerably too +short for him. It was one of the happinesses of his life to dress +just as he pleased as he went about his own place; and it certainly +was his pleasure to wear older clothes than any one else in his +establishment. "Miss Rowley," he said, coming forward to give her a +hand out of the carriage, "I am delighted that you should see +Monkhams at last."</p> + +<p>"You see I have kept you to your promise. Caroline has been telling +me everything about it; but she is not quite a complete guide as yet. +She does not know where the seven oaks are. Do you remember telling +me of the seven oaks?"</p> + +<p>"Of course I do. They are five miles off;—at Clatton farm, Carry. I +don't think you have been near Clatton yet. We will ride there +to-morrow." And thus Nora Rowley was made at home at Monkhams.</p> + +<p>She was made at home, and after a week or two she was very happy. She +soon perceived that her host was a perfect gentleman, and as such, a +man to be much loved. She had probably never questioned the fact, +whether Mr. Glascock was a gentleman or not, and now she did not +analyse it. It probably never occurred to her, even at the present +time, to say to herself that he was certainly that thing, so +impossible of definition, and so capable of recognition; but she knew +that she had to do with one whose presence was always pleasant to +her, whose words and acts towards her extorted her approbation, whose +thoughts seemed to her to be always good and manly. Of course she had +not loved him, because she had previously known Hugh Stanbury. There +could be no comparison between the two men. There was a brightness +about Hugh which Lord Peterborough could not rival. +Otherwise,—except for this reason,—it seemed to her to be +impossible that any young woman should fail to love Lord Peterborough +when asked to do so.</p> + +<p>About the middle of September there came a very happy time for her, +when Hugh was asked down to shoot partridges,—in the doing of which, +however, all his brightness did not bring him near in excellence to +his host. Lord Peterborough had been shooting partridges all his +life, and shot them with a precision which excited Hugh's envy. To +own the truth, Stanbury did not shoot well, and was treated rather +with scorn by the gamekeeper; but in other respects he spent three or +four of the happiest days of his life. He had his work to do, and +after the second day over the stubbles, declared that the exigencies +of the D. R. were too severe to enable him to go out with his gun +again; but those rambles about the park with Nora, for which, among +the exigencies of the D. R., he did find opportunity, were never to +be forgotten.</p> + +<p>"Of course I remember that it might have been mine," she said, +sitting with him under an old, hollow, withered sloping stump of an +oak, which still, however, had sufficient of a head growing from one +edge of the trunk to give them the shade they wanted; "and if you +wish me to own to regrets,—I will."</p> + +<p>"It would kill me, I think, if you did; and yet I cannot get it out +of my head that if it had not been for me your rank and position in +life might have been so—so suitable to you."</p> + +<p>"No, Hugh; there you're wrong. I have thought about it a good deal, +too; and I know very well that the cold beef-steak in the cupboard is +the thing for me. Caroline will do very well here. She looks like a +peeress, and bears her honours grandly; but they will never harden +her. I, too, could have been magnificent with fine feathers. Most +birds are equal to so much as that. I fancy that I could have looked +the part of the fine English lady, and could have patronised +clergymen's wives in the country, could have held my own among my +peers in London, and could have kept Mrs. Crutch in order; but it +would have hardened me, and I should have learned to think that to be +a lady of fashion was everything."</p> + +<p>"I do not believe a bit of it."</p> + +<p>"It is better as it is, Hugh;—for me at least. I had always a sort +of conviction that it would be better, though I had a longing to play +the other part. Then you came, and you have saved me. Nevertheless, +it is very nice, Hugh, to have the oaks to sit under." Stanbury +declared that it was very nice.</p> + + +<div class="center"><a name="ip2-367" id="ip2-367"></a> +<table style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="4px"> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <a href="images/p2-367.jpg"> + <img src="images/p2-367-t.jpg" height="500" + alt="Monkhams." /></a> + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td align="center"> + <span class="caption">Monkhams.<br /> + Click to <a href="images/p2-367.jpg">ENLARGE</a></span> + </td> + </tr> +</table> +</div> + + +<p>But still nothing was settled about the wedding. Trevelyan's +condition was so uncertain that it was very difficult to settle +anything. Though nothing was said on the subject between Stanbury and +Mrs. Trevelyan, and nothing written between Nora and her sister, it +could not but be remembered that should Trevelyan die, his widow +would require a home with them. They were deterred from choosing a +house by this reflection, and were deterred from naming a day also by +the consideration that were they to do so, Trevelyan's state might +still probably prevent it. But this was arranged, that if Trevelyan +lived through the winter, or even if he should not live, their +marriage should not be postponed beyond the end of March. Till that +time Lord Peterborough would remain at Monkhams, and it was +understood that Nora's invitation extended to that period.</p> + +<p>"If my wife does not get tired of you, I shall not," Lord +Peterborough said to Nora. "The thing is that when you do go we shall +miss you so terribly." In September, too, there happened another +event which took Stanbury to Exeter, and all needful particulars as +to that event shall be narrated in the next chapter.</p> + + +<p><a name="c97" id="c97"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XCVII.</h3> +<h4>MRS. BROOKE BURGESS.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>It may be doubted whether there was a happier young woman in England +than Dorothy Stanbury when that September came which was to make her +the wife of Mr. Brooke Burgess, the new partner in the firm of +Cropper and Burgess. Her early aspirations in life had been so low, +and of late there had come upon her such a succession of soft showers +of success,—mingled now and then with slight threatenings of storms +which had passed away,—that the Close at Exeter seemed to her to +have become a very Paradise. Her aunt's temper had sometimes been to +her as the threat of a storm, and there had been the Gibson marriage +treaty, and the short-lived opposition to the other marriage treaty +which had seemed to her to be so very preferable; but everything had +gone at last as though she had been Fortune's favourite,—and now had +come this beautiful arrangement about Cropper and Burgess, which +would save her from being carried away to live among strangers in +London! When she first became known to us on her coming to Exeter, in +compliance with her aunt's suggestion, she was timid, silent, and +altogether without self-reliance. Even they who knew her best had +never guessed that she possessed a keen sense of humour, a nice +appreciation of character, and a quiet reticent wit of her own, under +that staid and frightened demeanour. Since her engagement with Brooke +Burgess it seemed to those who watched her that her character had +become changed, as does that of a flower when it opens itself in its +growth. The sweet gifts of nature within became visible, the petals +sprang to view, and the leaves spread themselves, and the sweet scent +was felt upon the air. Had she remained at Nuncombe, it is probable +that none would ever have known her but her sister. It was necessary +to this flower that it should be warmed by the sun of life, and +strengthened by the breezes of opposition, and filled by the showers +of companionship, before it could become aware of its own loveliness. +Dorothy was one who, had she remained ever unseen in the retirement +of her mother's village cottage, would have lived and died ignorant +of even her own capabilities for enjoyment. She had not dreamed that +she could win a man's love,—had hardly dreamed till she had lived at +Exeter that she had love of her own to give back in return. She had +not known that she could be firm in her own opinion, that she could +laugh herself and cause others to laugh, that she could be a lady and +know that other women were not so, that she had good looks of her own +and could be very happy when told of them by lips that she loved. The +flower that blows the quickest is never the sweetest. The fruit that +ripens tardily has ever the finest flavour. It is often the same with +men and women. The lad who talks at twenty as men should talk at +thirty, has seldom much to say worth the hearing when he is forty; +and the girl who at eighteen can shine in society with composure, has +generally given over shining before she is a full-grown woman. With +Dorothy the scent and beauty of the flower, and the flavour of the +fruit, had come late; but the fruit will keep, and the flower will +not fall to pieces with the heat of an evening.</p> + +<p>"How marvellously your bride has changed since she has been here," +said Mrs. MacHugh to Miss Stanbury. "We thought she couldn't say boo +to a goose at first; but she holds her own now among the best of +'em."</p> + +<p>"Of course she does;—why shouldn't she? I never knew a Stanbury yet +that was a fool."</p> + +<p>"They are a wonderful family, of course," said Mrs. MacHugh; "but I +think that of all of them she is the most wonderful. Old Barty said +something to her at my house yesterday that wasn't intended to be +kind."</p> + +<p>"When did he ever intend to be kind?"</p> + +<p>"But he got no change out of her. 'The Burgesses have been in Exeter +a long time,' she said, 'and I don't see why we should not get on at +any rate as well as those before us.' Barty grunted and growled and +slunk away. He thought she would shake in her shoes when he spoke to +her."</p> + +<p>"He has never been able to make a Stanbury shake in her shoes yet," +said the old lady.</p> + +<p>Early in September, Dorothy went to Nuncombe Putney to spend a week +with her mother and sister at the cottage. She had insisted on this, +though Priscilla had hinted, somewhat unnecessarily, that Dorothy, +with her past comforts and her future prospects, would find the +accommodation at the cottage very limited. "I suppose you and I, +Pris, can sleep in the same bed, as we always did," she said, with a +tear in each eye. Then Priscilla had felt ashamed of herself, and had +bade her come.</p> + +<p>"The truth is, Dolly," said the elder sister, "that we feel so unlike +marrying and giving in marriage at Nuncombe, that I'm afraid you'll +lose your brightness and become dowdy, and grim, and misanthropic, as +we are. When mamma and I sit down to what we call dinner, I always +feel that there is a grace hovering in the air different to that +which she says."</p> + +<p>"And what is it, Pris?"</p> + +<p>"Pray, God, don't quite starve us, and let everybody else have +indigestion. We don't say it out loud, but there it is; and the +spirit of it might damp the orange blossoms."</p> + +<p>She went of course, and the orange blossoms were not damped. She had +long walks with her sister round by Niddon and Ridleigh, and even as +far distant as Cockchaffington, where much was said about that wicked +Colonel as they stood looking at the porch of the church. "I shall be +so happy," said Dorothy, "when you and mother come to us. It will be +such a joy to me that you should be my guests."</p> + +<p>"But we shall not come."</p> + +<p>"Why not, Priscilla?"</p> + +<p>"I know it will be so. Mamma will not care for going, if I do not +go."</p> + +<p>"And why should you not come?"</p> + +<p>"For a hundred reasons, all of which you know, Dolly. I am stiff, +impracticable, ill-conditioned, and very bad at going about visiting. +I am always thinking that other people ought to have indigestion, and +perhaps I might come to have some such feeling about you and Brooke."</p> + +<p>"I should not be at all afraid of that."</p> + +<p>"I know that my place in the world is here, at Nuncombe Putney. I +have a pride about myself, and think that I never did wrong but +once,—when I let mamma go into that odious Clock House. It is a bad +pride, and yet I'm proud of it. I haven't got a gown fit to go and +stay with you, when you become a grand lady in Exeter. I don't doubt +you'd give me any sort of gown I wanted."</p> + +<p>"Of course I would. Ain't we sisters, Pris?"</p> + +<p>"I shall not be so much your sister as he will be your husband. +Besides, I hate to take things. When Hugh sends money, and for +mamma's sake it is accepted, I always feel uneasy while it lasts, and +think that that plague of an indigestion ought to come upon me also. +Do you remember the lamb that came when you went away? It made me so +sick."</p> + +<p>"But, Priscilla;—isn't that morbid?"</p> + +<p>"Of course it is. You don't suppose I really think it grand. I am +morbid. But I am strong enough to live on, and not get killed by the +morbidity. Heaven knows how much more there may be of it;—forty +years, perhaps, and probably the greater portion of that absolutely +<span class="nowrap">alone;—"</span></p> + +<p>"No;—you'll be with us then,—if it should come."</p> + +<p>"I think not, Dolly. Not to have a hole of my own would be +intolerable to me. But, as I was saying, I shall not be unhappy. To +enjoy life, as you do, is I suppose out of the question for me. But I +have a satisfaction when I get to the end of the quarter and find +that there is not half-a-crown due to any one. Things get dearer and +dearer, but I have a comfort even in that. I have a feeling that I +should like to bring myself to the straw a day." Of course there were +offers made of aid,—offers which were rather prayers,—and plans +suggested of what might be done between Brooke and Hugh; but +Priscilla declared that all such plans were odious to her. "Why +should you be unhappy about us?" she continued. "We will come and see +you,—at least I will,—perhaps once in six months, and you shall pay +for the railway ticket; only I won't stay, because of the gown."</p> + +<p>"Is not that nonsense, Pris?"</p> + +<p>"Just at present it is, because mamma and I have both got new gowns +for the wedding. Hugh sent them, and ever so much money to buy +bonnets and gloves."</p> + +<p>"He is to be married himself soon,—down at a place called Monkhams. +Nora is staying there."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—with a lord," said Priscilla. "We sha'n't have to go there, at +any rate."</p> + +<p>"You liked Nora when she was here?"</p> + +<p>"Very much;—though I thought her self-willed. But she is not +worldly, and she is conscientious. She might have married that lord +herself if she would. I do like her. When she comes to you at Exeter, +if the wedding gown isn't quite worn out, I shall come and see her. I +knew she liked him when she was here, but she never said so."</p> + +<p>"She is very pretty, is she not? He sent me her photograph."</p> + +<p>"She is handsome rather than pretty. I wonder why it is that you two +should be married, and so grandly married, and that I shall never, +never have any one to love."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Priscilla, do not say that. If I have a child will you not love +it?"</p> + +<p>"It will be your child;—not mine. Do not suppose that I complain. I +know that it is right. I know that you ought to be married and I +ought not. I know that there is not a man in Devonshire who would +take me, or a man in Devonshire whom I would accept. I know that I am +quite unfit for any other kind of life than this. I should make any +man wretched, and any man would make me wretched. But why is it so? I +believe that you would make any man happy."</p> + +<p>"I hope to make Brooke happy."</p> + +<p>"Of course you will, and therefore you deserve it. We'll go home now, +dear, and get mamma's things ready for the great day."</p> + +<p>On the afternoon before the great day all the visitors were to come, +and during the forenoon old Miss Stanbury was in a great fidget. +Luckily for Dorothy, her own preparations were already made, so that +she could give her time to her aunt without injury to herself. Miss +Stanbury had come to think of herself as though all the reality of +her life had passed away from her. Every resolution that she had +formed had been broken. She had had the great enemy of her life, +Barty Burgess, in the house with her upon terms that were intended to +be amicable, and had arranged with him a plan for the division of the +family property. Her sister-in-law, whom in the heyday of her +strength she had chosen to regard as her enemy, and with whom even as +yet there had been no reconciliation, was about to become her guest, +as was also Priscilla,—whom she had ever disliked almost as much as +she had respected. She had quarrelled utterly with Hugh,—in such a +manner as to leave no possible chance of a reconciliation,—and he +also was about to be her guest. And then, as to her chosen heir, she +was now assisting him in doing the only thing, as to which she had +declared that if he did do it, he should not be her heir. As she went +about the house, under an idea that such a multiplicity of persons +could not be housed and fed without superhuman exertion, she thought +of all this, and could not help confessing to herself that her life +had been very vain. It was only when her eyes rested on Dorothy, and +she saw how supremely happy was the one person whom she had taken +most closely to her heart, that she could feel that she had done +anything that should not have been left undone. "I think I'll sit +down now, Dorothy," she said, "or I sha'n't be able to be with you +to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Do, aunt. Everything is all ready, and nobody will be here for an +hour yet. Nothing can be nicer than the rooms, and nothing ever was +done so well before. I'm only thinking how lonely you'll be when +we're gone."</p> + +<p>"It'll be only for six weeks."</p> + +<p>"But six weeks is such a long time."</p> + +<p>"What would it have been if he had taken you up to London, my pet? +Are you sure your mother wouldn't like a fire in her room, Dorothy?"</p> + +<p>"A fire in September, aunt?"</p> + +<p>"People live so differently. One never knows."</p> + +<p>"They never have but one fire at Nuncombe, aunt, summer or winter."</p> + +<p>"That's no reason they shouldn't be comfortable here." However, she +did not insist on having the fire lighted.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Stanbury and Priscilla came first, and the meeting was certainly +very uncomfortable. Poor Mrs. Stanbury was shy, and could hardly +speak a word. Miss Stanbury thought that her visitor was haughty, +and, though she endeavoured to be gracious, did it with a struggle. +They called each other ma'am, which made Dorothy uneasy. Each of them +was so dear to her, that it was a pity that they should glower at +each other like enemies. Priscilla was not at all shy; but she was +combative, and, as her aunt said of her afterwards, would not keep +her prickles in. "I hope, Priscilla, you like weddings," said Miss +Stanbury to her, not knowing where to find a subject for +conversation.</p> + +<p>"In the abstract I like them," said Priscilla. Miss Stanbury did not +know what her niece meant by liking weddings in the abstract, and was +angry.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you do have weddings at Nuncombe Putney sometimes," she +said.</p> + +<p>"I hope they do," said Priscilla, "but I never saw one. To-morrow +will be my first experience."</p> + +<p>"Your own will come next, my dear," said Miss Stanbury.</p> + +<p>"I think not," said Priscilla. "It is quite as likely to be yours, +aunt." This, Miss Stanbury thought, was almost an insult, and she +said nothing more on the occasion.</p> + +<p>Then came Hugh and the bridegroom. The bridegroom, as a matter of +course, was not accommodated in the house, but he was allowed to come +there for his tea. He and Hugh had come together; and for Hugh a +bed-room had been provided. His aunt had not seen him since he had +been turned out of the house, because of his bad practices, and +Dorothy had anticipated the meeting between them with alarm. It was, +however, much more pleasant than had been that between the ladies. +"Hugh," she said stiffly, "I am glad to see you on such an occasion +as this."</p> + +<p>"Aunt," he said, "I am glad of any occasion that can get me an +entrance once more into the dear old house. I am so pleased to see +you." She allowed her hand to remain in his a few moments, and +murmured something which was intended to signify her satisfaction. "I +must tell you that I am going to be married myself, to one of the +dearest, sweetest, and loveliest girls that ever were seen, and you +must congratulate me."</p> + +<p>"I do, I do; and I hope you may be happy."</p> + +<p>"We mean to try to be; and some day you must let me bring her to you, +and shew her. I shall not be satisfied, if you do not know my wife." +She told Martha afterwards that she hoped that Mr. Hugh had sown his +wild oats, and that matrimony would sober him. When, however, Martha +remarked that she believed Mr. Hugh to be as hardworking a young man +as any in London, Miss Stanbury shook her head sorrowfully. Things +were being very much changed with her; but not even yet was she to be +brought to approve of work done on behalf of a penny newspaper.</p> + +<p>On the following morning, at ten o'clock, there was a procession from +Miss Stanbury's house into the Cathedral, which was made entirely on +foot;—indeed, no assistance could have been given by any carriage, +for there is a back entrance to the Cathedral, near to the Lady +Chapel, exactly opposite Miss Stanbury's house. There were many of +the inhabitants of the Close there, to see the procession, and the +cathedral bells rang out their peals very merrily. Brooke, the +bridegroom, gave his arm to Miss Stanbury, which was, no doubt, very +improper,—as he should have appeared in the church as coming from +quite some different part of the world. Then came the bride, hanging +on her brother, then two bridesmaids,—friends of Dorothy's, living +in the town; and, lastly, Priscilla with her mother, for nothing +would induce Priscilla to take the part of a bridesmaid. "You might +as well ask an owl to sing to you," she said. "And then all the +frippery would be thrown away upon me." But she stood close to +Dorothy, and when the ceremony had been performed, was the first, +after Brooke, to kiss her.</p> + +<p>Everybody acknowledged that the bride was a winsome bride. Mrs. +MacHugh was at the breakfast, and declared afterwards that Dorothy +Burgess,—as she then was pleased to call her,—was a girl very hard +to be understood. "She came here," said Mrs. MacHugh, "two years ago, +a plain, silent, shy, dowdy young woman, and we all said that Miss +Stanbury would be tired of her in a week. There has never come a time +in which there was any visible difference in her, and now she is one +of our city beauties, with plenty to say to everybody, with a fortune +in one pocket and her aunt in the other, and everybody is saying what +a fortunate fellow Brooke Burgess is to get her. In a year or two +she'll be at the top of everything in the city, and will make her way +in the county too."</p> + +<p>The compiler of this history begs to add his opinion to that of +"everybody," as quoted above by Mrs. MacHugh. He thinks that Brooke +Burgess was a very fortunate fellow to get his wife.</p> + + +<p><a name="c98" id="c98"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XCVIII.</h3> +<h4>ACQUITTED.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>During this time, while Hugh was sitting with his love under the oak +trees at Monkhams, and Dorothy was being converted into Mrs. Brooke +Burgess in Exeter Cathedral, Mrs. Trevelyan was living with her +husband in the cottage at Twickenham. Her life was dreary enough, and +there was but very little of hope in it to make its dreariness +supportable. As often happens in periods of sickness, the single +friend who could now be of service to the one or to the other was the +doctor. He came daily to them, and with that quick growth of +confidence which medical kindness always inspires, Trevelyan told to +this gentleman all the history of his married life,—and all that +Trevelyan told to him he repeated to Trevelyan's wife. It may +therefore be understood that Trevelyan, between them, was treated +like a child.</p> + +<p>Dr. Nevill had soon been able to tell Mrs. Trevelyan that her +husband's health had been so shattered as to make it improbable that +he should ever again be strong either in body or in mind. He would +not admit, even when treating his patient like a child, that he had +ever been mad, and spoke of Sir Marmaduke's threat as unfortunate. +"But what could papa have done?" asked the wife.</p> + +<p>"It is often, no doubt, difficult to know what to do; but threats are +seldom of avail to bring a man back to reason. Your father was angry +with him, and yet declared that he was mad. That in itself was hardly +rational. One does not become angry with a madman."</p> + +<p>One does not become angry with a madman; but while a man has power in +his hands over others, and when he misuses that power grossly and +cruelly, who is there that will not be angry? The misery of the +insane more thoroughly excites our pity than any other suffering to +which humanity is subject; but it is necessary that the madness +should be acknowledged to be madness before the pity can be felt. One +can forgive, or, at any rate, make excuses for any injury when it is +done; but it is almost beyond human nature to forgive an injury when +it is a-doing, let the condition of the doer be what it may. Emily +Trevelyan at this time suffered infinitely. She was still willing to +yield in all things possible, because her husband was ill,—because +perhaps he was dying; but she could no longer satisfy herself with +thinking that all that she admitted,—all that she was still ready to +admit,—had been conceded in order that her concessions might tend to +soften the afflictions of one whose reason was gone. Dr. Nevill said +that her husband was not mad;—and indeed Trevelyan seemed now to be +so clear in his mind that she could not doubt what the doctor said to +her. She could not think that he was mad,—and yet he spoke of the +last two years as though he had suffered from her almost all that a +husband could suffer from a wife's misconduct. She was in doubt about +his health. "He may recover," the doctor said; "but he is so weak +that the slightest additional ailment would take him off." At this +time Trevelyan could not raise himself from his bed, and was carried, +like a child, from one room to another. He could eat nothing solid, +and believed himself to be dying. In spite of his weakness,—and of +his savage memories in regard to the past,—he treated his wife on +all ordinary subjects with consideration. He spoke much of his money, +telling her that he had not altered, and would not alter, the will +that he had made immediately on his marriage. Under that will all his +property would be hers for her life, and would go to their child when +she was dead. To her this will was more than just,—it was generous +in the confidence which it placed in her; and he told his lawyer, in +her presence, that, to the best of his judgment, he need not change +it. But still there passed hardly a day in which he did not make some +allusion to the great wrong which he had endured, throwing in her +teeth the confessions which she had made,—and almost accusing her of +that which she certainly never had confessed, even when, in the +extremity of her misery at Casalunga, she had thought that it little +mattered what she said, so that for the moment he might be appeased. +If he died, was he to die in this belief? If he lived, was he to live +in this belief? And if he did so believe, was it possible that he +should still trust her with his money and with his child?</p> + +<p>"Emily," he said one day, "it has been a terrible tragedy, has it +not?" She did not answer his question, sitting silent as it was her +custom to do when he addressed her after such fashion as this. At +such times she would not answer him; but she knew that he would press +her for an answer. "I blame him more than I do you," continued +Trevelyan,—"infinitely more. He was a serpent intending to sting me +from the first,—not knowing perhaps how deep the sting would go." +There was no question in this, and the assertion was one which had +been made so often that she could let it pass. "You are young, Emily, +and it may be that you will marry again."</p> + +<p>"Never," she said, with a shudder. It seemed to her then that +marriage was so fearful a thing that certainly she could never +venture upon it again.</p> + +<p>"All I ask of you is, that should you do so, you will be more careful +of your husband's honour."</p> + +<p>"Louis," she said, getting up and standing close to him, "tell me +what it is that you mean." It was now his turn to remain silent, and +hers to demand an answer. "I have borne much," she continued, +"because I would not vex you in your illness."</p> + +<p>"You have borne much?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed and indeed, yes. What woman has ever borne more!"</p> + +<p>"And I?" said he.</p> + +<p>"Dear Louis, let us understand each other at last. Of what do you +accuse me? Let us, at any rate, know each other's thoughts on this +matter, of which each of us is ever thinking."</p> + +<p>"I make no new accusation."</p> + +<p>"I must protest then against your using words which seem to convey +accusation. Since marriages were first known upon earth, no woman has +ever been truer to her husband than I have been to you."</p> + +<p>"Were you lying to me then at Casalunga when you acknowledged that +you had been false to your duties?"</p> + +<p>"If I acknowledged that, I did lie. I never said that; but yet I did +lie,—believing it to be best for you that I should do so. For your +honour's sake, for the child's sake, weak as you are, Louis, I must +protest that it was so. I have never injured you by deed or thought."</p> + +<p>"And yet you have lied to me! Is a lie no injury;—and such a lie! +Emily, why did you lie to me? You will tell me to-morrow that you +never lied, and never owned that you had lied."</p> + +<p>Though it should kill him, she must tell him the truth now. "You were +very ill at Casalunga," she said, after a pause.</p> + +<p>"But not so ill as I am now. I could breathe that air. I could live +there. Had I remained I should have been well now,—but what of +that?"</p> + +<p>"Louis, you were dying there. Pray, pray listen to me. We thought +that you were dying; and we knew also that you would be taken from +that house."</p> + +<p>"That was my affair. Do you mean that I could not keep a house over +my head?" At this moment he was half lying, half sitting, in a large +easy chair in the little drawing-room of their cottage, to which he +had been carried from the adjoining bed-room. When not excited, he +would sit for hours without moving, gazing through the open window, +sometimes with some pretext of a book lying within the reach of his +hand; but almost without strength to lift it, and certainly without +power to read it. But now he had worked himself up to so much energy +that he almost raised himself up in his chair, as he turned towards +his wife. "Had I not the world before me, to choose a house in?"</p> + +<p>"They would have put you somewhere, and I could not have reached +you."</p> + +<p>"In a madhouse, you mean. Yes;—if you had told them."</p> + +<p>"Will you listen, dear Louis? We knew that it was our duty to bring +you home; and as you would not let me come to you, and serve you, and +assist you to come here where you are safe,—unless I owned that you +had been right, I said that you had been right."</p> + +<p>"And it was a lie,—you say now?"</p> + +<p>"All that is nothing. I cannot go through it; nor should you. There +is the only question. You do not think that I have been—? I need not +say the thing. You do not think that?" As she asked the question, she +knelt beside him, and took his hand in hers, and kissed it. "Say that +you do not think that, and I will never trouble you further about the +past."</p> + +<p>"Yes;—that is it. You will never trouble me!" She glanced up into +his face and saw there the old look which he used to wear when he was +at Willesden and at Casalunga; and there had come again the old tone +in which he had spoken to her in the bitterness of his wrath:—the +look and the tone, which had made her sure that he was a madman. "The +craft and subtlety of women passes everything!" he said. "And so at +last I am to tell you that from the beginning it has been my doing. I +will never say so, though I should die in refusing to do it."</p> + +<p>After that there was no possibility of further conversation, for +there came upon him a fit of coughing, and then he swooned; and in +half-an-hour he was in bed, and Dr. Nevill was by his side. "You must +not speak to him at all on this matter," said the doctor. "But if he +speaks to me?" she asked. "Let it pass," said the doctor. "Let the +subject be got rid of with as much ease as you can. He is very ill +now, and even this might have killed him." Nevertheless, though this +seemed to be stern, Dr. Nevill was very kind to her, declaring that +the hallucination in her husband's mind did not really consist of a +belief in her infidelity, but arose from an obstinate determination +to yield nothing. "He does not believe it; but he feels that were he +to say as much, his hands would be weakened and yours strengthened."</p> + +<p>"Can he then be in his sane mind?"</p> + +<p>"In one sense all misconduct is proof of insanity," said the doctor. +"In his case the weakness of the mind has been consequent upon the +weakness of the body."</p> + +<p>Three days after that Nora visited Twickenham from Monkhams in +obedience to a telegram from her sister. "Louis," she said, "had +become so much weaker, that she hardly dared to be alone with him. +Would Nora come to her?" Nora came of course, and Hugh met her at the +station, and brought her with him to the cottage. He asked whether he +might see Trevelyan, but was told that it would be better that he +should not. He had been almost continually silent since the last +dispute which he had with his wife; but he had given little signs +that he was always thinking of the manner in which he had been +brought home by her from Italy, and of the story she had told him of +her mode of inducing him to come. Hugh Stanbury had been her partner +in that struggle, and would probably be received, if not with sullen +silence, then with some attempt at rebuke. But Hugh did see Dr. +Nevill, and learned from him that it was hardly possible that +Trevelyan should live many hours. "He has worn himself out," said the +doctor, "and there is nothing left in him by which he can lay hold of +life again." Of Nora her brother-in-law took but little notice, and +never again referred in her hearing to the great trouble of his life. +He said to her a word or two about Monkhams, and asked a question now +and again as to Lord Peterborough,—whom, however, he always called +Mr. Glascock; but Hugh Stanbury's name was never mentioned by him. +There was a feeling in his mind that at the very last he had been +duped in being brought to England, and that Stanbury had assisted in +the deception. To his wife he would whisper little petulant regrets +for the loss of the comforts of Casalunga, and would speak of the air +of Italy and of Italian skies and of the Italian sun, as though he +had enjoyed at his Sienese villa all the luxuries which climate can +give, and would have enjoyed them still had he been allowed to remain +there. To all this she would say nothing. She knew now that he was +failing quickly, and there was only one subject on which she either +feared or hoped to hear him speak. Before he left her for ever and +ever would he tell her that he had not doubted her faith?</p> + +<p>She had long discussions with Nora on the matter, as though all the +future of her life depended on it. It was in vain that Nora tried to +make her understand that if hereafter the spirit of her husband could +know anything of the troubles of his mortal life, could ever look +back to the things which he had done in the flesh, then would he +certainly know the truth, and all suspicion would be at an end. And +if not, if there was to be no such retrospect, what did it matter +now, for these few last hours before the coil should be shaken off, +and all doubt and all sorrow should be at an end? But the wife, who +was soon to be a widow, yearned to be acquitted in this world by him +to whom her guilt or her innocence had been matter of such vital +importance. "He has never thought it," said Nora.</p> + +<p>"But if he would say so! If he would only look it! It will be all in +all to me as long as I live in this world." And then, though they had +determined between themselves in spoken words never to regard him +again as one who had been mad, in all their thoughts and actions +towards him they treated him as though he were less responsible than +an infant. And he was mad;—mad though every doctor in England had +called him sane. Had he not been mad he must have been a fiend,—or +he could not have tortured, as he had done, the woman to whom he owed +the closest protection which one human being can give to another.</p> + +<p>During these last days and nights she never left him. She had done +her duty to him well, at any rate since the time when she had been +enabled to come near him in Italy. It may be that in the first days +of their quarrel, she had not been regardful, as she should have +been, of a husband's will,—that she might have escaped this tragedy +by submitting herself to the man's wishes, as she had always been +ready to submit herself to his words. Had she been able always to +keep her neck in the dust under his foot, their married life might +have been passed without outward calamity, and it is possible that he +might still have lived. But if she erred, surely she had been +scourged for her error with scorpions. As she sat at his bedside +watching him, she thought of her wasted youth, of her faded beauty, +of her shattered happiness, of her fallen hopes. She had still her +child,—but she felt towards him that she herself was so sad a +creature, so sombre, so dark, so necessarily wretched from this time +forth till the day of her death, that it would be better for the boy +that she should never be with him. There could be nothing left for +her but garments dark with woe, eyes red with weeping, hours sad from +solitude, thoughts weary with memory. And even yet,—if he would only +now say that he did not believe her to have been guilty, how great +would be the change in her future life!</p> + +<p>Then came an evening in which he seemed to be somewhat stronger than +he had been. He had taken some refreshment that had been prepared for +him, and, stimulated by its strength, had spoken a word or two both +to Nora and to his wife. His words had been of no especial +interest,—alluding to some small detail of his own condition, such +as are generally the chosen topics of conversation with invalids. But +he had been pronounced to be better, and Nora spoke to him +cheerfully, when he was taken into the next room by the man who was +always at hand to move him. His wife followed him, and soon +afterwards returned, and bade Nora good night. She would sit by her +husband, and Nora was to go to the room below, that she might receive +her lover there. He was expected out that evening, but Mrs. Trevelyan +said that she would not see him. Hugh came and went, and Nora took +herself to her chamber. The hours of the night went on, and Mrs. +Trevelyan was still sitting by her husband's bed. It was still +September, and the weather was very warm. But the windows had been +all closed since an hour before sunset. She was sitting there +thinking, thinking, thinking. Dr. Nevill had told her that the time +now was very near. She was not thinking now how very near it might +be, but whether there might yet be time for him to say that one word +to her.</p> + +<p>"Emily," he said, in the lowest whisper.</p> + +<p>"Darling!" she answered, turning round and touching him with her +hand.</p> + +<p>"My feet are cold. There are no clothes on them."</p> + +<p>She took a thick shawl and spread it double across the bottom of the +bed, and put her hand upon his arm. Though it was clammy with +perspiration, it was chill, and she brought the warm clothes up close +round his shoulders. "I can't sleep," he said. "If I could sleep, I +shouldn't mind." Then he was silent again, and her thoughts went +harping on, still on the same subject. She told herself that if ever +that act of justice were to be done for her, it must be done that +night. After a while she turned round over him ever so gently, and +saw that his large eyes were open and fixed upon the wall.</p> + +<p>She was kneeling now on the chair close by the bed head, and her hand +was on the rail of the bedstead supporting her. "Louis," she said, +ever so softly.</p> + +<p>"Well."</p> + +<p>"Can you say one word for your wife, dear, dear, dearest husband?"</p> + +<p>"What word?"</p> + +<p>"I have not been a harlot to you;—have I?"</p> + +<p>"What name is that?"</p> + +<p>"But what a thing, Louis! Kiss my hand, Louis, if you believe me." +And very gently she laid the tips of her fingers on his lips. For a +moment or two she waited, and the kiss did not come. Would he spare +her in this the last moment left to him either for justice or for +mercy? For a moment or two the bitterness of her despair was almost +unendurable. She had time to think that were she once to withdraw her +hand, she would be condemned for ever;—and that it must be +withdrawn. But at length the lips moved, and with struggling ear she +could hear the sound of the tongue within, and the verdict of the +dying man had been given in her favour. He never spoke a word more +either to annul it or to enforce it.</p> + +<p>Some time after that she crept into Nora's room. "Nora," she said, +waking the sleeping girl, "it is all over."</p> + +<p>"Is he—dead?"</p> + +<p>"It is all over. Mrs. Richards is there. It is better than an hour +since now. Let me come in." She got into her sister's bed, and there +she told the tale of her tardy triumph. "He declared to me at last +that he trusted me," she said,—almost believing that real words had +come from his lips to that effect. Then she fell into a flood of +tears, and after a while she also slept.</p> + + +<p><a name="c99" id="c99"></a> </p> +<p> </p> +<h3>CHAPTER XCIX.</h3> +<h4>CONCLUSION.<br /> </h4> + + +<p>At last the maniac was dead, and in his last moments he had made such +reparation as was in his power for the evil that he had done. With +that slight touch of his dry fevered lips he had made the assertion +on which was to depend the future peace and comfort of the woman whom +he had so cruelly misused. To her mind the acquittal was perfect; but +she never explained to human ears,—not even to those of her +sister,—the manner in which it had been given. Her life, as far as +we are concerned with it, has been told. For the rest, it cannot be +but that it should be better than that which was passed. If there be +any retribution for such sufferings in money, liberty, and outward +comfort, such retribution she possessed;—for all that had been his, +was now hers. He had once suggested what she should do, were she ever +to be married again; and she felt that of such a career there could +be no possibility. Anything but that! We all know that widows' +practices in this matter do not always tally with wives' vows; but, +as regards Mrs. Trevelyan, we are disposed to think that the promise +will be kept. She has her child, and he will give her sufficient +interest to make life worth having.</p> + +<p>Early in the following spring Hugh Stanbury was married to Nora +Rowley in the parish church of Monkhams,—at which place by that time +Nora found herself to be almost as much at home as she might have +been under other circumstances. They had prayed that the marriage +might be very private;—but when the day arrived there was no very +close privacy. The parish church was quite full, there were +half-a-dozen bridesmaids, there was a great breakfast, Mrs. Crutch +had a new brown silk gown given to her, there was a long article in +the county gazette, and there were short paragraphs in various +metropolitan newspapers. It was generally thought among his compeers +that Hugh Stanbury had married into the aristocracy, and that the +fact was a triumph for the profession to which he belonged. It shewed +what a Bohemian could do, and that men of the press in England might +gradually hope to force their way almost anywhere. So great was the +name of Monkhams! He and his wife took for themselves a very small +house near the Regent's Park, at which they intend to remain until +Hugh shall have enabled himself to earn an additional two hundred +a-year. Mrs. Trevelyan did not come to live with them, but kept the +cottage near the river at Twickenham. Hugh Stanbury was very averse +to any protracted connection with comforts to be obtained from poor +Trevelyan's income, and told Nora that he must hold her to her +promise about the beef-steak in the cupboard. It is our opinion that +Mr. and Mrs. Hugh Stanbury will never want for a beef-steak and all +comfortable additions until the inhabitants of London shall cease to +require newspapers on their breakfast tables.</p> + +<p>Brooke and Mrs. Brooke established themselves in the house in the +Close on their return from their wedding tour, and Brooke at once put +himself into intimate relations with the Messrs. Croppers, taking his +fair share of the bank work. Dorothy was absolutely installed as +mistress in her aunt's house with many wonderful ceremonies, with the +unlocking of cupboards, the outpouring of stores, the giving up of +keys, and with many speeches made to Martha. This was all very +painful to Dorothy, who could not bring herself to suppose it +possible that she should be the mistress of that house, during her +aunt's life. Miss Stanbury, however, of course persevered, speaking +of herself as a worn-out old woman, with one foot in the grave, who +would soon be carried away and put out of sight. But in a very few +days things got back into their places, and Aunt Stanbury had the +keys again. "I knew how it would be, miss," said Martha to her young +mistress, "and I didn't say nothing, 'cause you understand her so +well."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Stanbury and Priscilla still live at the cottage, which, +however, to Priscilla's great disgust, has been considerably improved +and prettily furnished. This was done under the auspices of Hugh, but +with funds chiefly supplied from the house of Brooke, Dorothy, and +Co. Priscilla comes into Exeter to see her sister, perhaps, every +other week; but will never sleep away from home, and very rarely will +eat or drink at her sister's table. "I don't know why, I don't," she +said to Dorothy, "but somehow it puts me out. It delays me in my +efforts to come to the straw a day." Nevertheless, the sisters are +dear friends.</p> + +<p>I fear that in some previous number a half promise was made that a +husband should be found for Camilla French. That half-promise cannot +be treated in the manner in which any whole promise certainly would +have been handled. There is no husband ready for Cammy French. The +reader, however, will be delighted to know that she made up her +quarrel with her sister and Mr. Gibson, and is now rather fond of +being a guest at Mr. Gibson's house. On her first return to Exeter +after the Gibsons had come back from their little Cornish +rustication, Camilla declared that she could not and would not bring +herself to endure a certain dress of which Bella was very fond;—and +as this dress had been bought for Camilla with special reference to +the glories of her anticipated married life, this objection was +almost natural. But Bella treated it as absurd, and Camilla at last +gave way.</p> + +<p>It need only further be said that though Giles Hickbody and Martha +are not actually married as yet,—men and women in their class of +life always moving towards marriage with great precaution,—it is +quite understood that the young people are engaged, and are to be +made happy together at some future time.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> + +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HE KNEW HE WAS RIGHT***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 5140-h.txt or 5140-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/5/1/4/5140">http://www.gutenberg.org/5/1/4/5140</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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