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diff --git a/28637-h/28637-h.htm b/28637-h/28637-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..0470a12 --- /dev/null +++ b/28637-h/28637-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,20813 @@ +<!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=utf-8" /> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Marriage of Elinor, by Mrs Oliphant.</title> +<style type="text/css"> + body {background:#fdfdfd; + color:black; + font-size: large; + margin-top:100px; + margin-left:15%; + margin-right:15%; + text-align:justify; } + h1, h2, h3, h4, h5, h6 {text-align: center; } + hr.narrow { width: 40%; + text-align: center; } + hr { width: 100%; } + hr.full { width: 100%; + margin-top: 3em; + margin-bottom: 0em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + height: 3px; + 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; margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 5% } + blockquote.med { font-size: medium; } + table {font-size: large; } + table.sm {font-size: medium; } + table.j {font-size: large; + text-align: justify; } + td.j {text-align: justify; } + td.w50 { width: 50%; } + p {text-indent: 3%; } + p.noindent { text-indent: 0%; } + p.noline { margin-top: 0px; + margin-bottom: 1px; } + .big { font-size: 130%} + .center { text-align: center; } + .ind2 { margin-left: 2em; } + .ind4r { margin-right: 4em; } + ins { text-decoration: none; border-bottom: thin dotted gray;} + + .nowrap { white-space: nowrap; } + .poem {margin-left: 22%; margin-right: 8%; text-align: left;} + .right { text-align: right; } + .signature { text-align: right; margin-right:4%} + .small { font-size: 70%; } + .smallcaps { font-variant: small-caps; } + .toctitle { font-weight: bold; + font-size: 90%; } + .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> +<div>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 28637 ***</div> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h1><i>THE MARRIAGE OF ELINOR</i></h1> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h4><i>BY</i></h4> +<p> </p> +<h3><i>MRS. OLIPHANT</i></h3> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + + +<h5><i>CHICAGO</i></h5> +<h4><i>W. B. CONKEY COMPANY</i></h4> + +<p> </p> + +<h6><span class="smallcaps">Copyright</span>, 1891,<br /> +<br /> +BY</h6> + +<h5>UNITED STATES BOOK COMPANY</h5> + +<h6>[<i>All rights reserved.</i>]</h6> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> + +<h3>CONTENTS</h3> +<div class="center"> +<table class="sm" style="margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="3" summary="contents"> + +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI">CHAPTER XI.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII">CHAPTER XII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII">CHAPTER XIII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV">CHAPTER XIV.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV">CHAPTER XV.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI">CHAPTER XVI.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII">CHAPTER XVII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII">CHAPTER XVIII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIX">CHAPTER XIX.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XX">CHAPTER XX.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXI">CHAPTER XXI.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXII">CHAPTER XXII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIII">CHAPTER XXIII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIV">CHAPTER XXIV.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXV">CHAPTER XXV.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVI">CHAPTER XXVI.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVII">CHAPTER XXVII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXVIII">CHAPTER XXVIII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXIX">CHAPTER XXIX.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXX">CHAPTER XXX.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXI">CHAPTER XXXI.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXII">CHAPTER XXXII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIII">CHAPTER XXXIII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIV">CHAPTER XXXIV.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXV">CHAPTER XXXV.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVI">CHAPTER XXXVI.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVII">CHAPTER XXXVII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXVIII">CHAPTER XXXVIII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XXXIX">CHAPTER XXXIX.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XL">CHAPTER XL.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLI">CHAPTER XLI.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLII">CHAPTER XLII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLIII">CHAPTER XLIII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLIV">CHAPTER XLIV.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLV">CHAPTER XLV.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLVI">CHAPTER XLVI.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLVII">CHAPTER XLVII.</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top"><a href="#CHAPTER_XLVIII">CHAPTER XLVIII.</a></td></tr> +</table> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> + +<h2>THE MARRIAGE OF ELINOR.</h2> + + +<p> </p> + +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>John Tatham, barrister-at-law, received one summer +morning as he sat at breakfast the following letter. It +was written in what was once known distinctively as a +lady's hand, in pointed characters, very fine and delicate, +and was to this effect:—</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>"<span class="smallcaps">Dear John</span>, Have you heard from Elinor of her +new prospects and intentions? I suppose she must +have written to you on the subject. Do you know anything +of the man?… You know how hard it is to +convince her against her will of anything, and also how +poorly gifted I am with the power of convincing any +one. And I don't know him, therefore can speak with +no authority. If you can do anything to clear things +up, come and do so. I am very anxious and more than +doubtful; but her heart seems set upon it.</p> + +<p class="signature"> +<span class="ind4r">"Your affect.</span><br /> +"M. S. D."</p> +<p> </p> +<p>Mr. Tatham was a well-built and vigorous man of +five-and-thirty, with health, good behaviour, and well-being +in every line of his cheerful countenance and +every close curl of his brown hair. His hair was very +curly, and helped to give him the cheerful look which +was one of his chief characteristics. Nevertheless, +when these innocent seeming words, "Do you know +the man?" which was more certainly demonstrative of +certain facts than had those facts been stated in the +fullest detail, met his eye, Mr. Tatham paused and laid +down the letter with a start. His ruddy colour paled +for the moment, and he felt something which was like +the push or poke of a blunt but heavy weapon somewhere +in the regions of the heart. For the moment he +felt that he could not read any more. "Do you know +the man?" He did not even ask what man in the momentary +sickness of his heart. Then he said to himself, +almost angrily, "Well!" and took up the letter +again and read to the end.</p> + +<p>Well! of course it was a thing that he knew might +happen any day, and which he had expected to happen +for the last four or five years. It was nothing to him +one way or another. Nothing could be more absurd +than that a hearty and strong young man in the full +tide of his life and with a good breakfast before him +should receive a shock from that innocent little letter +as if he had been a sentimental woman. But the fact +is that he pushed his plate away with an exclamation of +disgust and a feeling that everything was bad and uneatable. +He drank his tea, though that also became +suddenly bad too, full of tannin, like tea that has stood +too long, a thing about which John was very particular. +He had been half an hour later than usual this +morning consequent on having been an hour or two +later than usual last night. These things have their +reward, and that very speedily; but as for the letter, +what could that have to do with the bad toasting of the +bacon and the tannin in the tea? "Do you know the +man?" There was a sort of covert insult, too, in the +phraseology, as if no explanation was needed, as if he +must know by instinct what she meant—he who knew +nothing about it, who did not know there was a man at +all!</p> + +<p>After a while he began to smile rather cynically to +himself. He had got up from the breakfast table, +where everything was so bad, and had gone to look out +of one of the windows of his pleasant sitting-room. It +was in one of the wider ways of the Temple, and looked +out upon various houses with a pleasant misty light +upon the redness of their old brickwork, and a stretch +of green grass and trees, which were scanty in foliage, +yet suited very well with the bright morning sun, +which was not particularly warm, but looked as if it +were a good deal for effect and not so very much for +use. That thought floated across his mind with others, +and was of the same cynical complexion. It was very +well for the sun to shine, making the glistening poplars +and plane-trees glow, and warming all the mellow redness +of the old houses, but what did he mean by it? +No warmth to speak of, only a fictitious gleam—a thing +got up for effect. And so was the affectionateness of +woman—meaning nothing, only an effect of warmth +and geniality, nothing beyond that. As a matter of +fact, he reminded himself after a while that he had +never wanted anything beyond, neither asked for it, nor +wished it. He had no desire to change the conditions +of his life: women never rested till they had done so, +manufacturing a new event, whatever it might be, +pleased even when they were not pleased, to have a +novelty to announce. That, no doubt, was the state of +mind in which the lady who called herself his aunt was: +pleased to have something to tell him, to fire off her +big guns in his face, even though she was not at all +pleased with the event itself. But John Tatham, on the +other hand, had desired nothing to happen; things +were very well as they were. He liked to have a place +where he could run down from Saturday to Monday +whenever he pleased, and where his visit was always a +cheerful event for the womankind. He had liked to +take them all the news, to carry the picture-papers, +quite a load; to take down a new book for Elinor; to +taste doubtfully his aunt's wine, and tell her she had +better let him choose it for her. It was a very pleasant +state of affairs: he wanted no change; not, certainly, +above everything, the intrusion of a stranger whose +very existence had been unknown to him until he was +thus asked cynically, almost brutally, "Do you know +the man?"</p> + +<p>The hour came when John had to assume the costume +of that order of workers whom a persistent popular +joke nicknames the "Devil's Own:"—that is, he +had to put on gown and wig and go off to the courts, +where he was envied of all the briefless as a man who +for his age had a great deal to do. He "devilled" for +Mr. Asstewt, the great Chancery man, which was the +most excellent beginning: and he was getting into a +little practice of his own which was not to be sneezed +at. But he did not find himself in a satisfactory frame +of mind to-day. He found himself asking the judge, +"Do you know anything of the man?" when it was his +special business so to bewilder that potentate with +elaborate arguments that he should not have time to +consider whether he had ever heard of the particular +man before him. Thus it was evident that Mr. Tatham +was completely <i>hors de son assiette</i>, as the French say; +upset and "out of it," according to the equally vivid +imagination of the English manufacturer of slang. +John Tatham was a very capable young lawyer on +ordinary occasions, and it was all the more remarkable +that he should have been so confused in his mind to-day.</p> + +<p>When he went back to his chambers in the evening, +which was not until it was time to dress for dinner, he +saw a bulky letter lying on his table, but avoided it as +if it had been an overdue bill. He was engaged to dine +out, and had not much time: yet all the way, as he +drove along the streets, just as sunset was over and a +subduing shade came over the light, and that half-holiday +look that comes with evening—he kept thinking of +the fat letter upon his table. Do you know anything +of the man? That would no longer be the refrain of +his correspondent, but some absurd strain of devotion +and admiration of the man whom John knew nothing +of, not even his name. He wondered as he went along +in his hansom, and even between the courses at dinner, +while he listened with a smile, but without hearing a +word, to what the lady next him was saying—what she +would tell him about this man? That he was everything +that was delightful, no doubt; handsome, of +course; probably clever; and that she was fond of him, +confound the fellow! Elinor! to think that she should +come to that—a girl like her—to tell him, as if she was +saying that she had caught a cold or received a present, +that she was in love with a man! Good heavens! when +one had thought her so much above anything of that +kind—a woman, above all women that ever were.</p> + +<p>"Not so much as that," John said to himself as he +walked home. He always preferred to walk home in +the evening, and he was not going to change his habit +now out of any curiosity about Elinor's letter. Oh, not +so much as that! not above all women, or better than +the rest, perhaps—but different. He could not quite +explain to himself how, except that he had always +known her to be Elinor and not another, which was a +quite sufficient explanation. And now it appeared that +she was not different, although she would still profess +to be Elinor—a curious puzzle, which his brain in its +excited state was scarcely able to tackle. His thoughts +got somewhat confused and broken as he approached +his chambers. He was so near the letter now—a few +minutes and he would no longer need to wonder or +speculate about it, but would know exactly what she +said. He turned and stood for a minute or so at the +Temple gates, looking out upon the busy Strand. It +was still as lovely as a summer night could be overhead, +but down here it was—well, it was London, which is +another thing. The usual crowd was streaming by, +coming into bright light as it streamed past a brilliant +shop window, then in the shade for another moment, +and emerging again. The faces that were suddenly lit +up as they passed—some handsome faces, pale in the +light; some with heads hung down, either in bad health +or bad humour; some full of cares and troubles, others +airy and gay—caught his attention. Did any of them all +know anything of this man, he wondered—knowing how +absurd a question it was. Had any of them written to-day +a letter full of explanations, of a matter that could +not be explained? There were faces with far more +tragic meaning in them than could be so easily explained +as that—the faces of men, alas! and women too, +who were going to destruction as fast as their hurrying +feet could carry them; or else were languidly drifting +no one knew where—out of life altogether, out of all +that was good in life. John Tatham knew this very +well too, and had it in him to do anything a man could +to stop the wanderers in their downward career. But +to-night he was thinking of none of these things. He +was only wondering how she would explain it, how she +could explain it, what she would say; and lingering to +prolong his suspense, not to know too soon what it was.</p> + +<p>At last, however, as there is no delay but must come +to an end one time or another, he found himself at last +in his room, in his smoking-coat and slippers, divested +of his stiff collar—at his ease, the windows open upon +the quiet of the Temple Gardens, a little fresh air +breathing in. He had taken all this trouble to secure +ease for himself, to put off a little the reading of the +letter. Now the moment had come when it would be +absurd to delay any longer. It was so natural to see +her familiar handwriting—not a lady's hand, angular +and pointed, like her mother's, but the handwriting of +her generation, which looks as if it were full of character, +until one perceives that it <i>is</i> the writing of the generation, +and all the girls and boys write much the same. +He took time for this reflection still as he tore open the +envelope. There were two sheets very well filled, and +written in at the corners, so that no available spot was +lost. "My dear old John," were the first words he +saw. He put down the letter and thought over the +address. Well, she had always called him so. He was +old John when he was fourteen, to little Elinor. They +had always known each other like that—like brother +and sister. But not particularly like brother and sister—like +cousins twice removed, which is a more interesting +tie in some particulars. And now for the letter.</p> +<p> </p> + +<p>"<span class="smallcaps">My Dear Old John</span>: I want to tell you myself of a +great thing that has happened to me—the very greatest +thing that could happen in one's life. Oh, John, dear +old John, I feel as if I had nobody else I could open +my heart to; for mamma—well, mamma is mamma, a +dear mother and a good one; but you know she has +her own ways of thinking<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> +<p> </p> + +<p>He put down the letter again with a rueful little +laugh. "And have not I my own ways of thinking, +too?" he said to himself.</p> +<p> </p> + +<p>"Jack dear," continued the letter, "you must give +me your sympathy, all your sympathy. You never +were in love, I suppose (oh, what an odious way that +is of putting it! but it spares one's feelings a little, for +even in writing it is too tremendous a thing to say +quite gravely and seriously, as one feels it). Dear +John, I know you never were in love, or you would +have told me; but still<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> +<p> </p> + +<p>"Oh," he said to himself, with the merest suspicion +of a little quiver in his lip, which might, of course, +have been a laugh, but, on the other hand, might have +been something else, "I never was—or I would have +told her—That's the way she looks at it." Then he +took up the letter again.</p> +<p> </p> + +<p>"Because—I see nothing but persecution before me. +It was only a week ago that it happened, and we wanted +to keep it quiet for a time; but things get out in spite +of all one can do—things of that sort, at least. And, +oh, dear Jack, fancy! I have got three letters already, +all warning me against him; raking up trifling things +that have occurred long ago, long before he met me, +and holding them up before me like scarecrows—telling +me he is not worthy of me, and that I will be +wretched if I marry him, and other dreadful lies like +that, which show me quite plainly that they neither +know him nor me, and that they haven't eyes to see +what he really is, nor minds to understand. But +though I see the folly of it and the wickedness of it, +mamma does not. She is ready to take other people's +words; indeed, there is this to be said for her, that +she does not know him yet, and therefore cannot be +expected to be ready to take his own word before all. +Dear Jack, my heart is so full, and I have so much to +tell you, and such perfect confidence in your sympathy, +and also in your insight and capacity to see through +all the lies and wicked stories which I foresee are going +to be poured upon us like a flood that—I don't know +how to begin, I have so many things to say. I know +it is the heart of the season, and that you are asked out +every night in the week, and are so popular everywhere; +but if you could but come down from Saturday +to Monday, and let me tell you everything and show +you his picture, and read you parts of his letters, I +know you would see how false and wrong it all is, and +help me to face it out with all those horrid people, and +to bring round mamma. You know her dreadful way +of never giving an opinion, but just saying a great deal +worse, and leaving you to your own responsibility, +which nearly drives me mad even in little things—so +you may suppose what it does in this. Of course, she +must see him, which is all I want, for I know after she +has had a half-hour's conversation with him that she +will be like me and will not believe a word—not one +word. Therefore, Jack dear, come, oh, come! I have +always turned to you in my difficulties, since ever I +have known what it was to have a difficulty, and you +have done everything for me. I never remember any +trouble I ever had but you found some means of clearing +it away. Therefore my whole hope is in you. I +know it is hard to give up all your parties and things; +but it would only be two nights, after all—Saturday +and Sunday. Oh, do come, do come, if you ever cared +the least little bit for your poor cousin! Come, oh, +come, dear old John!</p> +<p class="signature"> +<span class="ind4r">"Your affect.</span><br /> +E———." +</p> + + +<p>"Is that all?" he said to himself; but it was not all, +for there followed a postscript all about the gifts and +graces of the unknown lover, and how he was the victim +of circumstances, and how, while other men might steal +the horse, he dared not look over the wall, and other +convincing pleadings such as these, till John's head began +to go round. When he had got through this postscript +John Tatham folded the letter and put it away. +He had a smile on his face, but he had the air of a man +who had been beaten about the head and was confused +with the hurry and storm of the blows. She had always +turned to him in all her difficulties, that was +true: and he had always stood by her, and often, in +the freemasonry of youth, had thought her right and +vindicated her capacity to judge for herself. He had +been called often on this errand, and he had never refused +to obey. For Elinor was very wilful, she had +always been wilful—"a rosebud set about with wilful +thorns, But sweet as English air could make her, she." +He had come to her aid many a time. But he had +never thought to be called upon by her in such a way +as this. He folded the letter up carefully and put it in +a drawer. Usually when he had a letter from Elinor +he put it into his pocket, for the satisfaction of reading +it over again: for she had a fantastic way of writing, +adding little postscripts which escaped the eye at +first, and which it was pleasant to find out afterwards. +But with this letter he did not do so. He put it in a +drawer of his writing-table, so that he might find it +again when necessary, but he did not put it in his +breast pocket. And then he sat for some time doing +nothing, looking before him, with his legs stretched +out and his hand beating a little tattoo upon the table. +"Well: well? well!" That was about what he said +to himself, but it meant a great deal: it meant a vague +but great disappointment, a sort of blank and vacuum +expressed by the first of these words—and then it +meant a question of great importance and many divisions. +How could it ever have come to anything? Am +I a man to marry? What could I have done, just getting +into practice, just getting a few pounds to spend +for myself? And then came the conclusion. Since I +can't do anything else for her; since she's done it for +herself—shall I be a beast and not help her, because it +puts my own nose out of joint? Not a bit of it! The +reader must remember that in venturing to reflect a +young man's sentiments a dignified style is scarcely +possible; they express themselves sometimes with +much force in their private moments, but not as Dr. +Johnson would have approved, or with any sense of +elegance; and one must try to be truthful to nature. +He knew very well that Elinor was not responsible for +his disappointment, and even he was aware that if +she had been so foolish as to fix her hopes upon him, +it would probably have been she who would have been +disappointed, and left in the lurch. But still<span class="norewrap">——</span></p> + +<p>John had gone through an interminable amount of +thinking, and a good deal of soda-water (with or without, +how should I know, some other moderate ingredient), +and a cigar or two—not to speak of certain hours +when he ought to have been in bed to keep his head +clear for the cases of to-morrow: when it suddenly +flashed upon him all at once that he was not a step further +on than when he had received Mrs. Dennistoun's +letter in the morning, for Elinor, though she had said +so much about him, had given no indication who her +lover was. Who was the man?</p> + + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>It was a blustering afternoon when John, with his bag +in his hand, set out from the station at Hurrymere for +Mrs. Dennistoun's cottage. Why that station should +have had "mere" in its name I have never been able to +divine, for there is no water to be seen for miles, scarcely +so much as a duckpond: but, perhaps, there are two +meanings to the words. It was a steep walk up a succession +of slopes, and the name of the one upon which +the cottage stood was Windyhill not an encouraging +title on such a day, but true enough to the character of +the place. The cottage lay, however, at the head of a +combe or shelving irregular valley, just sheltered from +the winds on a little platform of its own, and commanding +a view which was delightful in its long sweeping +distance, and varied enough to be called picturesque, +especially by those who were familiar with nothing +higher than the swelling slopes of the Surrey hills. It +was wild, little cultivated, save in the emerald green of +the bottom, a few fields which lay where a stream ought +to have been. Nowadays there are red-roofed houses +peeping out at every corner, but at that period fashion +had not even heard of Hurrymere, and, save for a farm-house +or two, a village alehouse and posting-house at a +corner of the high-road, and one or two great houses +within the circuit of six or seven miles, retired within +their trees and parks, there were few habitations. Mrs. +Dennistoun's cottage was red-roofed like the rest, but +much subdued by lichens, and its walls were covered by +climbing plants, so that it struck no bold note upon the +wild landscape, yet was visible afar off in glimpses, from +the much-winding road, for a mile or two before it could +be come at. There was, indeed, a nearer way, necessitating +a sharp scramble, but when John came just in +sight of the house his heart failed him a little, and, notwithstanding +that his bag had come to feel very heavy +by this time, he deliberately chose the longer round to +gain a little time—as we all do sometimes, when we are +most anxious to be at our journey's end, and hear what +has to be told us. It looked very peaceful seated in +that fold of the hill, no tossing of trees about it, though +a little higher up the slim oaks and beeches of the copse +were flinging themselves about against the grey sky in +a kind of agonised appeal. John liked the sound of the +wind sweeping over the hills, rending the trees, and +filling the horizon as with a crowd of shadows in pain, +twisting and bending with every fresh sweep of the +breeze. Sometimes such sounds and sights give a relief +to the mind. He liked it better than if all had been +undisturbed, lying in afternoon quiet as might have been +expected at the crown of the year—but the winds had +always to be taken into account at Windyhill.</p> + +<p>When he came in sight of the gate, John was aware +of some one waiting for him, walking up and down the +sandy road into which it opened. Her face was turned +the other way, and she evidently looked for him by way +of the combe, the scrambling steep road which he had +avoided in despite: for why should he scramble and +make himself hot in order to hear ten minutes sooner +what he did not wish to hear at all? She turned round +suddenly as he knocked his foot against a stone upon +the rough, but otherwise noiseless road, presenting a +countenance flushed with sudden relief and pleasure to +John's remorseful eye. "Oh, there you are!" she said; +"I am so glad. I thought you could not be coming. +You might have been here a quarter of an hour ago by +the short road."</p> + +<p>"I did not think there was any hurry," said John, +ungraciously. "The wind is enough to carry one +off one's feet; though, to be sure, it's quiet enough +here."</p> + +<p>"It's always quiet here," she said, reading his face +with her eyes after the manner of women, and wondering +what the harassed look meant that was so unusual +in John's cheerful face. She jumped at the idea that +he was tired, that his bag was heavy, that he had been +beaten about by the wind till he had lost his temper, +always a possible thing to happen to a man. Elinor +flung herself upon the bag and tried to take possession +of it. "Why didn't you get a boy at the station to +carry it? Let me carry it," she said.</p> + +<p>"That is so likely," said John, with a hard laugh, +shifting it to his other hand.</p> + +<p>Elinor caught his arm with both her hands, and looked +up with wistful eyes into his face. "Oh, John, you are +angry," she said.</p> + +<p>"Nonsense. I am tired, buffeting about with this +wind." Here the gardener and man-of-all-work about +the cottage came up and took the bag, which John parted +with with angry reluctance, as if it had been a sort of +weapon of offence. After it was gone there was nothing +for it but to walk quietly to the house through the flowers +with that girl hanging on his arm, begging a hundred +pardons with her eyes. The folly of it! as if she had +not a right to do as she pleased, or he would try to prevent +her; but finally, the soft, silent apology of that +clinging, and the look full of petitions touched his surly +heart. "Well—Nelly," he said, with involuntary softening.</p> + +<p>"Oh, if you call me that I am not afraid!" she cried, +with an instant upleaping of pleasure and confidence in +her changeable face, which (John tried to say to himself) +was not really pretty at all, only so full of expression, +changing with every breath of feeling. The eyes, which +had only been brown a moment before, leaped up into +globes of light, yet not too dazzling, with some liquid +medium to soften their shining. Even though you know +that a girl is in love with another man, that she thinks +of you no more than of the old gardener who has just +hobbled round the corner, it is pleasant to be able to +change the whole aspect of affairs to her and make her +light up like that, solely by a little unwilling softening +of your gruff and surly tone.</p> + +<p>"You know, John," she said, holding his arm tight +with her two hands, "that nobody ever calls me Nelly—except +you."</p> + +<p>"Possibly I shall call you Nelly no longer. Why? +Why, because that fellow will object."</p> + +<p>"That fellow! Oh, <i>he</i>!" Elinor's face grew very red +all over, from the chin, which almost touched John's +arm, to the forehead, bent back a little over those eyes +suffused with light which were intent upon all the +changes of John's face. This one was, like the landscape, +swept by all the vicissitudes of sun and shade. +It was radiant now with the unexpected splendour of the +sudden gleam.</p> + +<p>"Oh, John, John, I have so much to say to you! He +will object to nothing. He knows very well you are +like my brother—almost more than my brother—for you +could help it, John. You almost chose me for your +friend, which a brother would not. He says, 'Get him +to be our friend and all will be well!'"</p> + +<p><i>He</i> had not said this, but Elinor had said it to him, +and he had assented, which was almost the same—in +the way of reckoning of a girl, at least.</p> + +<p>"He is very kind, I am sure," said John, gulping +down something which had almost made him throw off +Elinor's arm, and fling away from her in indignation. +Her brother<span class="norewrap">——</span>!! But there was no use making any +row, he said to himself. If anything were to be done +for her he must put up with all that. There had suddenly +come upon John, he knew not how, as he scanned +her anxious face, a conviction that the man was a scamp, +from whom at all hazards she should be free.</p> + +<p>Said Elinor, unsuspecting, "That is just what he is, +John! I knew you would divine his character at once. +You can't think how kind he is—kind to everybody. +He never judges anyone, or throws a stone, or makes an +insinuation." ("Probably because he knows he cannot +bear investigation himself," John said, in his heart.) +"That was the thing that took my heart first. Everybody +is so censorious—always something to say against +their neighbours; he, never a word."</p> + +<p>"That's a very good quality," said John, reluctantly, +"if it doesn't mean confounding good with bad, and +thinking nothing matters."</p> + +<p>Elinor gave him a grieved, reproachful look, and +loosened the clasping of her hands. "It is not like you +to imagine that, John!"</p> + +<p>"Well, what is a man to say? Don't you see, if you +do nothing but blow his trumpet, the only thing left for +me to do is to insinuate something against him? I +don't know the man from Adam. He may be an angel, +for anything I can say."</p> + +<p>"No; I do not pretend he is that," said Elinor, with +impartiality. "He has his faults, like others, but they +are <i>nice</i> faults. He doesn't know how to take care of +his money (but he hasn't got very much, which makes +it the less matter), and he is sometimes taken in about +his friends. Anybody almost that appeals to his kindness +is treated like a friend, which makes precise people +think<span class="norewrap">——</span>but, of course, I don't share that opinion in +the very least."</p> + +<p>("A very wasteful beggar, with a disreputable set," +was John's practical comment within himself upon this +speech.)</p> + +<p>"And he doesn't know how to curry favour with people +who can help him on; so that though he has been +for years promised something, it never turns up. Oh, +I know his faults very well indeed," said Elinor; "but +a woman can do so much to make up for faults like that. +We're naturally saving, you know, and we always keep +those unnecessary friends that were made before our +time at a distance; and it's part of our nature to coax +a patron—that is what Mariamne says."</p> + +<p>"Mariamne?" said John.</p> + +<p>"His sister, who first introduced him to me; and +I am very fond of her, so you need not say anything +against her, John. I know she is—fashionable, but +that's no harm."</p> + +<p>"Mariamne," he repeated; "it is a very uncommon +name. You don't mean Lady Mariamne Prestwich, do +you? and not—not<span class="norewrap">——</span>Elinor! not Phil Compton, for +goodness' sake? Don't tell me he's the man?"</p> + +<p>Elinor's hands dropped from his arm. She drew herself +up until she seemed to tower over him. "And why +should I say it is not Mr. Compton," she asked, with a +scarlet flush of anger, so different from that rosy red of +love and happiness, covering her face.</p> + +<p>"Phil Compton! the <i>dis</i>-Honourable Phil! Why, +Elinor! you cannot mean it! you must not mean it!" +he cried.</p> + +<p>Elinor said not a word. She turned from him with +a look of pathetic reproach but with the air of a queen, +and walked into the house, he following in a ferment of +wrath and trouble, yet humbled and miserable more +than words could say. Oh, the flowery, peaceful house! +jasmine and rose overleaping each other upon the porch, +honeysuckle scenting the air, all manner of feminine +contrivances to continue the greenness and the sweetness +into the little bright hall, into the open drawing-room, +where flowers stood on every table amid the hundred +pretty trifles of a woman's house. There was no +one in this room where she led him, and then turned +round confronting him, taller than he had ever seen +her before, pale, with her nostrils dilating and her lips +trembling. "I never thought it possible that you of +all people in the world, you, John—my stand-by since +ever I was a baby—my<span class="norewrap">——</span> Oh! what a horrid thing +it is to be a woman," cried Elinor, stamping her foot, +"to be ready to cry for everything!—you, John! that I +always put my trust in—that you should turn against +me—and at the very first word!"</p> + +<p>"Elinor," he said, "my dear girl! not against you, +not against you, for all the world!"</p> + +<p>"And what is <i>me</i>?" she said, with that sudden turning +of the tables and high scorn of her previous argument +which is common with women; "do I care what +you do to <i>me</i>? Oh, nothing, nothing! I am of no account, +you can trample me down under your feet if you +like. But what I will not bear," she said, clenching her +hands, "is injustice to him: that I will not bear, neither +from you, Cousin John, who are only my distant cousin, +after all, and have no right to thrust your advice upon +me—or from any one in the world."</p> + +<p>"What you say is quite true, Elinor, I am only a distant +cousin—after all: but<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, no," she cried, flying to him, seizing once +more his arm with her clinging hands, "I did not mean +that—you know I did not mean that, my more than +brother, my good, good John, whom I have trusted all +my life!"</p> + +<p>And then the poor girl broke out into passionate +weeping with her head upon his shoulder, as she might +have leant upon the handy trunk of a tree, or on the +nearest door or window, as John Tatham said in his +heart. He soothed her as best he could, and put her +in a chair and stood with his hand upon the back of it, +looking down upon her as the fit of crying wore itself +out. Poor little girl! he had seen her cry often enough +before. A girl cries for anything, for a thorn in her +finger, for a twist of her foot. He had seen her cry and +laugh, and dash the tears out of her eyes on such occasions, +oh! often and often: there was that time when +he rushed out of the bushes unexpectedly and frightened +her pony, and she fell among the grass and vowed, sobbing +and laughing, it was her fault! and once when she +was a little tot, not old enough for boy's play, when she +fell upon her little nose and cut it and disfigured herself, +and held up that wounded little knob of a feature +to have it kissed and made well. Oh, why did he think +of that now! the little thing all trust and simple confidence! +There was that time too when she jumped up +to get a gun and shoot the tramps who had hurt somebody, +if John would but give her his hand! These +things came rushing into his mind as he stood watching +Elinor cry, with his hand upon the back of her +chair.</p> + +<p>She wanted John's hand now when she was going +forth to far greater dangers. Oh, poor little Nelly! +poor little thing! but he could not put her on his +shoulder and carry her out to face the foe now.</p> + +<p>She jumped up suddenly while he was thinking, with +the tears still wet upon her cheeks, but the paroxysm +mastered, and the light of her eyes coming out doubly +bright like the sun from the clouds. "We poor women," +she said with a laugh, "are so badly off, we are so handicapped, +as you call it! We can't help crying like fools! +We can't help caring for what other people think, trying +to conciliate and bring them round to approve us—when +we ought to stand by our own conscience and +judgment, and sense of what is right, like independent +beings."</p> + +<p>"If that means taking your own way, Elinor, whatever +any one may say to you, I think women do it at +least as much as men."</p> + +<p>"No, it does not mean taking our own way," she cried, +"and if you do not understand any better than that, +why should I<span class="norewrap">——</span> But you do understand better, John," +she said, her countenance again softening: "you know +I want, above everything in the world, that you should +approve of me and see that I am right. That is what I +want! I will do what I think right; but, oh, if I could +only have you with me in doing it, and know that you +saw with me that it was the best, the only thing to do! +Happiness lies in that, not in having one's own way."</p> + +<p>"My dear Elinor," he said, "isn't that asking a great +deal? To prevent you from doing what you think right +is in nobody's power. You are of age, and I am sure +my aunt will force nothing; but how can we change +our opinions, our convictions, our entire points of view? +There is nobody in the world I would do so much for as +you, Elinor: but I cannot do that, even for you."</p> + +<p>The hot tears were dried from her cheeks, the passion +was over. She looked at him, her efforts to gain him at +an end, on the equal footing of an independent individual +agreeing to differ, and as strong in her own view as +he could be.</p> + +<p>"There is one thing you can do for me," she said. +"Mamma knows nothing about—fashionable gossip. +She is not acquainted with the wicked things that are +said. If she disapproves it is only because<span class="norewrap">——</span> Oh, I +suppose because one's mother always disapproves a +thing that is done without her, that she has no hand in, +what she calls pledging one's self to a stranger, and not +knowing his antecedents, his circumstances, and so +forth! But she hasn't any definite ground for it as +you—think you have, judging in the uncharitable way +of the world—not remembering that if we love one +another the more there is against him the more need +he has of me! But all I have to ask of you, John, is +not to prejudice my mother. I know you can do it if +you please—a hint would be enough, an uncertain +word, even hesitating when you answer a question—that +would be quite enough! John, if you put things +into her head<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"You ask most extraordinary things of me," said John, +turning to bay. "To tell her lies about a man whom +everybody knows—to pretend I think one thing when I +think quite another. Not to say that my duty is to +inform her exactly what things are said, so that she may +judge for herself, not let her go forth in ignorance—that +is my plain duty, Elinor."</p> + +<p>"But you won't do it; oh, you won't do it!" she +said. "Oh, John, for the sake of all the time that you +have been so good to Nelly—your own little Nelly, nobody +else's! Remember that I and everybody who +loves him know these stories to be lies—and don't, +don't put things into my mother's head! Let her +judge for herself—don't, don't prejudice her, John. +It can be no one's duty to repeat malicious stories +when there is no possibility of proving or disproving +them. Don't make her think<span class="norewrap">——</span> Oh, mamma! we +couldn't think where you had gone to. Yes, here is +John."</p> + +<p>"So I perceive," said Mrs. Dennistoun. It was getting +towards evening, and the room was not very light. +She could not distinguish their looks or the agitation +that scarcely could have been hidden but for the dusk. +"You seem to have been having a very animated conversation. +I heard your voices all along the garden +walk. Let me have the benefit of it, if there is anything +to tell."</p> + +<p>"You know well enough, mamma, what we must have +been talking about," said Elinor, turning half angrily +away.</p> + +<p>"To be sure," said the mother, "I ought to have +known. There is nothing so interesting as that sort of +thing. I thought, however, you would probably have +put it off a little, Elinor."</p> + +<p>"Put it off a little—when it is the thing that concerns +us more than anything else in the world!"</p> + +<p>"That is true," said Mrs. Dennistoun, with a sigh. +"Did you walk all the way, John? I meant to have +sent the pony-cart for you, but the man was too late. +It is a nice evening though, and coming out of town it +is a good thing for you to have a good walk."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I like it more than anything," said John, "but +the evening is not so very fine. The wind is high, and +I shouldn't wonder if we had rain."</p> + +<p>"The wind is always high here," said Mrs. Dennistoun. +"We don't have our view for nothing; but the +sky is quite clear in the west, and all the clouds blowing +away. I don't think we shall have more than a +shower."</p> + +<p>Elinor stood listening to this talk with restrained impatience, +as if waiting for the moment when they +should come to something worth talking about. Then +she gave herself a sort of shake—half weary, half indignant—and +left the room. There was a moment's +silence, until her quick step was heard going to the +other end of the house and up-stairs, and the shutting +of a door.</p> + +<p>"Oh, John, I am very uneasy, very uneasy," said +Mrs. Dennistoun. "I scarcely thought she would have +begun to you about it at once; but then I am doing the +very same. We can't think of anything else. I am not +going to worry you before dinner, for you must be tired +with your walk, and want to refresh yourself before we +enter upon that weary, weary business. But my heart +misgives me dreadfully about it all. If I only had gone +with her! It was not for want of an invitation, but +just my laziness. I could not be troubled to leave my +own house."</p> + +<p>"I don't see what difference it would have made had +you been with her, aunt."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I should have seen the man: and been able to +judge what he was and his motive, John."</p> + +<p>"Elinor is not rich. He could scarcely have had an +interested motive."</p> + +<p>"There is some comfort in that. I have said that to +myself again and again. He could not have an interested +motive. But, oh! I am uneasy! There is the dressing-bell. +I will not keep you any longer, John; but in +the evening, or to-morrow, when we can get a quiet +moment<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>The dusk, was now pervading all the house—that +summer dusk which there is a natural prejudice everywhere +against cutting short by lights. He could not +see her face, nor she his, as they went out of the +drawing-room together and along the long passage, which +led by several arched doorways to the stairs. John had +a room on the ground floor which was kept for gentlemen +visitors, and in which the candles were twinkling +on the dressing-table. He was more than ever thankful +as he caught a glimpse of himself in the vague reflected +world of the mirror, with its lights standing up +reflected too, like inquisitors spying upon him, that +there had not been light enough to show how he was +looking: for though he was both a lawyer and a man +of the world, John Tatham had not been able to keep +the trouble which his interview with Elinor had caused +him out of his face.</p> + + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>The drawing-room of the cottage was large and low, +and had that <i>faux air</i> of being old-fashioned which is +dear to the hearts of superior people generally. Mrs. +Dennistoun and her daughter scarcely belonged to that +class, yet they were, as ladies of leisure with a little +taste for the arts are bound to be, touched by all the +fancies of their time, which was just beginning to adore +Queen Anne. There was still, however, a mixture of +luxury with the square settees and spindle-legged cabinets +which were "the fashion:" and partly because +that was also "the fashion," and partly because on +Windyhill even a July evening was sometimes a little +chill, or looked so by reason of the great darkness of +the silent, little-inhabited country outside—there was a +log burning on the fire-dogs (the newest thing in +furnishing in those days though now so common) on +the hearth. The log burned as little as possible, being, +perhaps, not quite so thoroughly dry and serviceable as +it would have been in its proper period, and made a +faint hissing sound in the silence as it burned, and diffused +its pungent odour through the house. The bow +window was open behind its white curtains, and it was +there that the little party gathered out of reach of the +unnecessary heat and the smoke. There was a low sofa +on either side of this recess, and in the centre the +French window opened into the garden, where all the +scents were balmy in the stillness which had fallen upon +the night.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dennistoun was tall and slim, a woman with a +presence, and sat with a sort of dignity on her side of +the window, with a little table beside her covered with +her little requirements, the properties, so to speak, +without which she was never known to be—a book for +moments when there was nothing else to interest her, a +case for work should there arise any necessity for putting +in a stitch in time, a bottle of salts should she or +any one else become suddenly faint, a paper cutter in +cases of emergency, and finally, for mere ornament, two +roses, a red and a white, in one of those tall old-fashioned +glasses which are so pretty for flowers. I do +wrong to dismiss the roses with such vulgar qualifications +as white and red—the one was a <i>Souvenir de +Malmaison</i>, the other a <i>General</i> <span class="norewrap">——</span> something or other. +If you spoke to Mrs. Dennistoun about her flowers she +said, "Oh, the Malmaison," or "Oh, the General So-and-so." +Rose was only the family name, but happily, +as we all know, under the other appellation they smelt +just as sweet. Mrs. Dennistoun kept up all this little +state because she had been used to do so; because it +was part of a lady's accoutrements, so to speak. She +had also a cushion, which was necessary, if not for comfort, +yet for her sense of being fully equipped, placed +behind her back when she sat down. But with all this +she was not a formal or prim person. She was a woman +who had not produced a great deal of effect in life; one +of those who are not accustomed to have their advice +taken, or to find that their opinion has much weight +upon others. Perhaps it was because Elinor resembled +her father that this peculiarity which had affected all +Mrs. Dennistoun's married life should have continued +into a sphere where she ought to have been paramount. +But she was with her daughter as she had been with +her husband, a person of an ineffective character, taking +refuge from the sensation of being unable to influence +those about her whose wills were stronger than +her own, by relinquishing authority, and in her most +decided moments offering an opinion only, no more. +This was not because she was really undecided, for on +the contrary she knew her own mind well enough; but +it had become a matter of habit with her to insist upon +no opinion, knowing, as she did, how little chance she +had of imposing her opinion upon the stronger wills +about her. She had two other children older than +Elinor: one, the eldest of all, married in India, a woman +with many children of her own, practically altogether +severed from the maternal nest; the other an adventurous +son, who was generally understood to be at the +ends of the earth, but seldom or never had any more +definite address. This lady had naturally gone through +many pangs and anxieties on behalf of these children, +who had dropped away from her side into the unknown; +but it belonged to her character to have said very little +about this, so that she was generally supposed to take +things very easily, and other mothers were apt to admire +the composure of Mrs. Dennistoun, whose son +might be being murdered by savages at any moment, +for anything she knew—or minded, apparently. "Now +it would have driven <i>me</i> out of my senses!" the other +ladies said. Mrs. Dennistoun perhaps did not feel the +back so well fitted to the burden as appeared—but she +kept her own sentiments on this subject entirely to +herself.</p> + +<p>(I may say too—but this, the young reader may skip +without disadvantage—by way of explanation of a +peculiarity which has lately been much remarked as +characteristic of those records of human history contemptuously +called fiction, <i>i.e.</i>, the unimportance, or ill-report, +or unjust disapproval of the mother in records +of this description—that it is almost impossible to maintain +her due rank and character in a piece of history, +which has to be kept within certain limits—and where +her daughter the heroine must have the first place. To +lessen <i>her</i> pre-eminence by dwelling at length upon the +mother, unless that mother is a fool, or a termagant, or +something thoroughly contrasting with the beauty and +virtues of the daughter—would in most cases be a +mistake in art. For one thing the necessary incidents +are wanting, for I strongly object, and so I think do +most people, to mothers who fall in love, or think of +marriage, or any such vanity in their own person, and +unless she is to interfere mischievously with the young +lady's prospects, or take more or less the part of the +villain, how is she to be permitted any importance at +all? For there cannot be two suns in one sphere, or +two centres to one world. Thus the mother has to be +sacrificed to the daughter: which is a parable; or else +it is the other way, which is against all the principles +and prepossessions of life.)</p> + +<p>Elinor did not sit up like her mother. She had flung +herself upon the opposite sofa, with her arms flung behind +her head, supporting it with her fingers half buried +in the twists of her hair. She was not tall like Mrs. +Dennistoun, and there was far more vivid colour than +had ever been the mother's in her brown eyes and +bright complexion, which was milk-white and rose-red +after an old-fashioned rule of colour, too crude perhaps +for modern artistic taste. Sometimes these delightful +tints go with a placid soul which never varies, but in +Elinor's case there was a demon in the hazel of the +eyes, not dark enough for placidity, all fire at the best +of times, and ready in a moment to burst into flame. +She it was who had to be in the forefront of the interest, +and not her mother, though for metaphysical, or +what I suppose should now be called psychological interests, +the elder lady was probably the most interesting +of the two. Elinor beat her foot upon the carpet, out +of sheer impatience, while John lingered alone in the +dining-room. What did he stay there for? When there +are several men together, and they drink wine, the thing +is comprehensible; but one man alone who takes his +claret with his dinner, and cares for nothing more, why +should he stay behind when there was so much to say +to him, and not one minute too much time till Monday +morning, should the house be given up to talk not only +by day but by night? But it was no use beating one's +foot, for John did not come.</p> + +<p>"You spoke to your cousin, Elinor, before dinner?" +her mother said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I spoke to him before dinner. What did +he come here for but that? I sent for him on purpose, +you know, mamma, to hear what he would say."</p> + +<p>"And what did he say?"</p> + +<p>This most natural question produced a small convulsion +once more on Elinor's side. She loosed the hands +that had been supporting her head and flung them out +in front of her. "Oh, mamma, how can you be so exasperating! +What did he say? What was he likely to +say? If the beggar maid that married King Cophetua +had a family it would have been exactly the same thing—though +in that case surely the advantage was all on +the gentleman's side."</p> + +<p>"We know none of the particulars in that case," said +Mrs. Dennistoun, calmly. "I have always thought it +quite possible that the beggar maid was a princess of +an old dynasty and King Cophetua a <i>parvenu</i>. But in +your case, Elinor<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"You know just as little," said the girl, impetuously.</p> + +<p>"That is what I say. I don't know the man who has +possessed himself of my child's fancy and heart. I +want to know more about him. I want<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"For goodness' sake, whatever you want, don't be +sentimental, mamma!"</p> + +<p>"Was I sentimental? I didn't mean it. He has +got your heart, my dear, whatever words may be +used."</p> + +<p>"Yes—and for ever!" said the girl, turning round +upon herself. "I know you think I don't know my own +mind; but there will never be any change in me. Oh, +what does John mean, sitting all by himself in that +stuffy room? He has had time to smoke a hundred +cigarettes!"</p> + +<p>"Elinor, you must not forget it is rather hard upon +John to be brought down to settle your difficulties for +you. What do you want with him? Only that he +should advise you to do what you have settled upon +doing. If he took the other side, how much attention +would you give him? You must be reasonable, my +dear."</p> + +<p>"I would give him every attention," said Elinor, "if +he said what was reasonable. You don't think mere +blind opposition is reasonable, I hope, mamma. To +say Don't, merely, without saying why, what reason is +there in that?"</p> + +<p>"My dear, when you argue I am lost. I am not +clever at making out my ground. Mine is not mere +blind opposition, or indeed opposition at all. You +have been always trained to use your own faculties, and +I have never made any stand against you."</p> + +<p>"Why not? why not?" said the girl, springing to +her feet. "That is just the dreadful, dreadful part of +it! Why don't you say straight out what I am to do +and keep to it, and not tell me I must make use of +my own faculties? When I do, you put on a face and +object. Either don't object, or tell me point-blank +what I am to do."</p> + +<p>"Do you think for one moment if I did, you would +obey me, Elinor?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know what I might do in that case, for +it will never happen. You will never take that responsibility. +For my part, if you locked me up in my room +and kept me on bread and water I should think <i>that</i> +reasonable; but not this kind of letting I dare not wait +upon I would, saying I am to exercise my own faculties, +and then hesitating and finding fault."</p> + +<p>"I daresay, my dear," said Mrs. Dennistoun, with +great tolerance, "that this may be provoking to your +impatient mind: but you must put yourself in my +place a little, as I try to put myself in yours. I have +never seen Mr. Compton. It is probable, or at least +quite possible, that if I knew him I might look upon +him with your eyes<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Probable! Possible! What words to use! when +all my happiness, all my life, everything I care for is in +it: and my own mother thinks it just possible that she +might be able to tolerate the man that—the man +who<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>She flung herself down on her seat again, panting +and excited. "Did you wear out Adelaide like that," +she cried, "before she married, papa and you<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Adelaide was very different, Elinor. She married +<i>salon les règles</i> a man whom we all knew. There was +no trouble about it. Your father was the one who was +impatient then. He thought it too well arranged, too +commonplace and satisfactory. You may believe he +did not object to that in words, but he laughed at them +and it worried him. It has done very well on the +whole," said Mrs. Dennistoun, with a faint sigh.</p> + +<p>"You say that—and then you sigh. There is always +a little reserve. You are never wholly satisfied."</p> + +<p>"One seldom is in this world," said Mrs. Dennistoun, +this time with a soft laugh. "This world is not very +satisfactory. One makes the best one can of it."</p> + +<p>"And that is just what I hate to hear," said Elinor, +"what I have always heard. Oh, yes, when you don't +say it you mean it, mamma. One can read it in the +turn of your head. You put up with things. You +think perhaps they might have been worse. In every +way that's your philosophy. And it's killing, killing to +all life! I would rather far you said out, 'Adelaide's +husband is a prig and I hate him.'"</p> + +<p>"There is only one drawback, that it would not be +true. I don't in the least hate him. I am glad I was +not called upon to marry him myself, I don't think I +should have liked it. But he makes Adelaide a very +good husband, and she is quite happy with him—as far +as I know."</p> + +<p>"The same thing again—never more. I wonder, I +wonder after I have been married a dozen years what +you will say of me?"</p> + +<p>"I wonder, too: if we could but know that it would +solve the question," the mother said. Elinor looked at +her with a provoked and impatient air, which softened +off after a moment—partly because she heard the door +of the dining-room open—into a smile.</p> + +<p>"I try you in every way," she said, half laughing. +"I do everything to beguile you into a pleasanter +speech. I thought you must at least have said then +that you hoped you would have nothing to say but +happiness. No! you are not to be caught, however +one tries, mamma."</p> + +<p>John came in at this moment, not without a +whiff about him of the cigarette over which he had +lingered so. It relieved him to see the two ladies +seated opposite each other in the bow window, and to +hear something like a laugh in the air. Perhaps they +were discussing other things, and not this momentous +marriage question, in which certainly no laughter +was.</p> + +<p>"You have your usual fire," he said, "but the wind +has quite gone down, and I am sure it is not wanted +to-night."</p> + +<p>"It looks cheerful always, John."</p> + +<p>"Which is the reason, I suppose, why you carefully +place yourself out of sight of it—one of the prejudices +of English life."</p> + +<p>And then he came forward into the recess of the +window, which was partly separated from the room by +a table with flowers on it, and a great bush in a pot, of +delicate maiden-hair fern. It was perhaps significant, +though he did not mean it for any demonstration of +partisanship, that he sat down on Elinor's side. Both +the ladies felt it so instinctively, although, on the +contrary, had the truth been known, all John's real +agreement was with the mother; but in such a conjuncture +it is not truth but personal sympathy that +carries the day. "You are almost in the dark here," +he said.</p> + +<p>"Neither of us is doing anything. One is lazy on a +summer night."</p> + +<p>"There is a great deal more in it than that," said +Elinor, in a voice which faltered a little. "You talk +about summer nights, and the weather, and all manner +of indifferent things, but you know all the time there is +but one real subject to talk of, and that we are all +thinking of that."</p> + +<p>"That is my line, aunt," said John. "Elinor is +right. We might sit and make conversation, but of +course this is the only subject we are thinking of. It's +very kind of you to take me into the consultation. Of +course I am in a kind of way the nearest in relation, +and the only man in the family—except my father—and +I know a little about law, and all that. Now let +me hear formally, as if I knew nothing about it (and, +in fact, I know very little), what the question is. Elinor +has met someone who—who has proposed to her—not +to put too fine a point upon it," said John, with a +smile that was somewhat ghastly—"and she has accepted +him. Congratulations are understood, but here +there arises a hitch."</p> + +<p>"There arises no hitch. Mamma is dissatisfied +(which mamma generally is) chiefly because she does +not know Mr. Compton; and some wretched old +woman, who doesn't know him either, has written to +her—to her and also to me—telling us a pack of lies," +said Elinor, indignantly, "to which I do not give the +least credence for a moment—not for a moment!"</p> + +<p>"That's all very well for you," said John, "it's quite +simple; but for us, Elinor—that is, for your mother +and me, as you are good enough to allow me to have a +say in the matter—it's not so simple. We feel, you +know, that, like Cæsar's wife, our Elinor's—husband"—he +could not help making a grimace as he said that +word, but no one saw or suspected it—"should be +above suspicion."</p> + +<p>"That is exactly what I feel, John."</p> + +<p>"Well, we must do something about it, don't you +see? Probably it will be as easy as possible for him +to clear himself." (The dis-Honourable Phil! Good +heavens! to think it was a man branded with such a +name that was to marry Elinor! For a moment he was +silenced by the thought, as if some one had given him +a blow.)</p> + +<p>"To clear himself!" said Elinor. "And do you +think I will permit him to be asked to clear himself? +Do you think I will allow him to believe for a moment +that <i>I</i> believed anything against him? Do you think I +will take the word of a spiteful old woman?"</p> + +<p>"Old women are not always spiteful, and they are +sometimes right." John put out his hand to prevent +Mrs. Dennistoun from speaking, which, indeed, she had +no intention of doing. "I don't mean so, of course, in +Mr. Compton's case—and I don't know what has been +said."</p> + +<p>"Things that are very uncomfortable—very inconsistent +with a happy life and a comfortable establishment," +said Mrs. Dennistoun.</p> + +<p>"Oh, if you could only hear yourself, mamma! +You are not generally a Philistine, I must say that for +you; but if you only heard the tone in which you said +'comfortable establishment!' the most conventional +match-making in existence could not have done it +better; and as for what has been said, there has nothing +been said but what is said about everybody—what, +probably, would be said of you yourself, John, for you +play whist sometimes, I hear, and often billiards, at the +club."</p> + +<p>A half-audible "God forbid!" had come from John's +lips when she said, "What would probably be said of +yourself"—audible that is to Elinor, not to the mother. +She sprang up as this murmur came to her ear: "Oh, +if you are going to prejudge the case, there is nothing +for me to say!"</p> + +<p>"I should be very sorry to prejudge the case, or to +judge it all," said John. "I am too closely interested to +be judicial. Let somebody who knows nothing about it +be your judge. Let the accusations be submitted—to +your Rector, say; he's a sensible man enough, and +knows the world. He won't be scared by a rubber at +the club, or that sort of thing. Let him inquire, and +then your mind will be at rest."</p> + +<p>"There is only one difficulty, John," said Mrs. Dennistoun. +"Mr. Hudson would be the best man in the +world, only for one thing—that it is from his sister and +his wife that the warning came."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said John. This fact seemed to take him +aback in the most ludicrous way. He sat and gazed +at them, and had not another word to say. Perhaps +the fact that he himself who suggested the inquiry was +still better informed of the true state of the case, and +of the truth of the accusation, than were those to +whom he might have submitted it, gave him a sense of +the hopelessness and also absurdity of the attempt +more than anything else could have done.</p> + +<p>"And that proves, if there was nothing else," said +Elinor, "how false it is: for how could Mrs. Hudson +and Mary Dale know? They are not fashionable +people, they are not in society. How could they or +any one like them know anything of Phil"—she stopped +quickly, drew herself up, and added—"of Mr. Compton, +I mean?"</p> + +<p>"They might not know, but they might state their +authority," Mrs. Dennistoun said; "and if the Rector +cannot be used to help us, surely, John, you are a man +of the world, you are not like a woman, unacquainted +with evidence. Why should not you do it, though you +are, as you kindly say, an interested party?"</p> + +<p>"He shall not do it. I forbid him to do it. If he +takes in hand anything of the kind he must say good-by +to me."</p> + +<p>"You hear?" said John; "but I could not do it in +any case, my dear Elinor. I am too near. I never +could see this thing all round. Why not your lawyer, +old Lynch, a decent old fellow<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"I will tell him the same," cried Elinor; "I will +never speak to him again."</p> + +<p>"My dear," said her mother, "you will give everybody +the idea that you don't want to know the truth."</p> + +<p>"I know the truth already," said Elinor, rising with +great dignity. "Do you think that any slander would +for a moment shake my faith in you—or you? You +don't deserve it, John, for you turn against me—you +that I thought were going to take my part; but do you +think if all the people in London set up one story that +I would believe it against you? And how should I +against <i>him</i>?" she added, with an emphasis upon the +word, as expressing something immeasurably more to +be loved and trusted than either mother or cousin, by +which, after having raised John up to a sort of heaven +of gratified affection, she let him down again to the +ground like a stone. Oh, yes! trusted in with perfect +faith, nothing believed against him, whom she had +known all her life—but yet not to be mentioned in the +same breath with the ineffable trust she reposed in the +man she loved—whom she did not know at all. The +first made John's countenance beam with emotion and +pleasure, the second brought a cold shade over his face. +For a moment he could scarcely speak.</p> + +<p>"She bribes us," he said at last, forcing a smile. +"She flatters us, but only to let us drop again, Mrs. +Dennistoun; it is as good as saying, 'What are we to +<i>him</i>?'"</p> + +<p>"They all do so," said the elder lady, calmly; "I am +used to it."</p> + +<p>"But, perhaps, I am not quite—used to it," said +John, with something in his voice which made them +both look at him—Elinor only for a moment, carelessly, +before she swept away—Mrs. Dennistoun with a +more warmly awakened sensation, as if she had made +some discovery. "Ah!" she said, with a tone of pain. +But Elinor did not wait for any further disclosures. +She waved her hand, and went off with her head high, +carrying, as she felt, the honours of war. They might +plot, indeed, behind her back, and try to invent some +tribunal before which her future husband might be +arraigned; but John, at least, would say nothing to +make things worse. John would be true to her—he +would not injure Phil Compton. Elinor, perhaps, +guessed a little of what John was thinking, and felt, +though she could scarcely have told how, that it +would be a point of honour with him not to betray her +love.</p> + +<p>He sat with Mrs. Dennistoun in partial silence for +some time after this. He felt as if he had been partially +discovered—partially, and yet more would be discovered +than there was to discover; for if either of them +believed that he was in love with Elinor, they were mistaken, +he said to himself. He had been annoyed by +her engagement, but he had never come to the point +of asking her that question in his own person. No, +nor would not, he said to himself—certainly would not—not +even to save her from the clutches of this gambler +and adventurer. No; they might think what they +liked, but this was the case. He never should have +done it—never would have exposed himself to refusal—never +besought this high-tempered girl to have the +control of his life. Poor Nelly all the same! poor +little thing! To think she had so little judgment as to +ignore what might have been a great deal better, and +to pin her faith to the dis-Honourable Phil.</p> + + + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>In the morning John accompanied Elinor to church. +Mrs. Dennistoun had found an excuse for not going, +which I am sorry to say was a way she had. She expressed +(and felt) much sorrow for it herself, saying, +which was quite true, that not to go was a great distress +to her, and put the household out, and was a custom +she did not approve of. But somehow it had grown +upon her. She regretted this, but did it, saying that +everybody was illogical, and that when Elinor had some +one to go with she thought herself justified at her age +in this little indulgence. Neither Elinor nor John +objected to the arrangement. There are things that +can be said in a walk while both parties are in motion, +and when it is not necessary to face each other and to +be subjected each to the other's examination of feature +and expression. It is easier in this way to say many +things, to ask questions which might be embarrassing, +to receive the fire of an examination which it might be +otherwise difficult to meet. Thus the two had not +walked above half the way to church, which was on the +other edge of the combe, and stood, a lovely old place—but +not the trim and restored and well-decorated +edifice it is nowadays—tinkling its little bells into the +sweet moorland air, amid such a hum of innumerable +bees as seemed to make the very sunshine a vehicle +for sound—before John began to perceive that he was +being ingeniously driven to revelations which he had +never intended, by a process for which he was not at all +prepared. She who had been so indignant last night +and determined not to allow a word to be said +against the immaculate honour of the man she loved, +was now—was it possible?—straining all her faculties +to obtain from him, whom she would not permit to be +Phil Compton's judge, such unguarded admissions as +would enlighten her as to what Phil Compton was +accused of. It was some time before John perceived +her aim; he did not even grasp the idea at first that +this girl whose whole heart was set upon marrying +Phil Compton, and defying for his sake every prophecy +of evil and all the teachings of prudence, did not +indeed at all know what it was which Phil had been +supposed to have done. Had she been a girl in society +she could scarcely have avoided some glimmerings of +knowledge. She would have heard an unguarded word +here and there, a broken phrase, an expression of +scorn or dislike, she might even have heard that +most unforgettable of nicknames, the dis-Honourable +Phil. But Elinor, who was not in society, heard none +of these things. She had been warned in the first +fervour of her betrothal that he was not a man she +ought to marry, but why? nobody had told her; +how was she to know?</p> + +<p>"You don't like Lady Mariamne, John?"</p> + +<p>"It matters very little whether I like her or not: we +don't meet once in a year."</p> + +<p>"It will matter if you are to be in a kind of way +connected. What has she ever done that you shouldn't +like her? She is very nice at home; she has three +nice little children. It's quite pretty to see her with +them."</p> + +<p>"Ah, I daresay; it's pretty to see a tiger with her +cubs, I don't doubt."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, John? What has she ever +done?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell you, Elinor; nothing perhaps. She +does not take my fancy: that's all."</p> + +<p>"That's not all; you could never be so unjust and +so absurd. How dreadful you good people are! Pretending +to mean kindness," she cried, "you put the +mark of your dislike upon people, and then you won't +say why. What have <i>they</i> done?"</p> + +<p>It was this "they" that put John upon his guard. +Hitherto she had only been asking about the sister, +who did not matter so very much. If a man was to be +judged by his sister! but "they" gave him a new light.</p> + +<p>"Can't you understand, Elinor," he said, "that +without doing anything that can be built upon, a +woman may set herself in a position of enmity to the +world, her hand against every one, and every one's +hand against her?"</p> + +<p>"I know that well enough—generally because she +does not comply with every conventional rule, but does +and thinks what commends itself to her; I do that myself—so +far as I can with mamma behind me."</p> + +<p>"You! the question has nothing to do with you."</p> + +<p>"Why not with me as much as with another of my +family?" said Elinor, throwing back her head.</p> + +<p>He turned round upon her with something like a +snort of indignation: she to be compared—but Elinor +met his eyes with scornful composure and defiance, and +John was obliged to calm himself. "There's no analogy," +he said; "Lady Mariamne is an old campaigner. +She's up to everything. Besides, a sister-in-law—if it +comes to that—is not a very near relation. No one +will judge you by her." He would not be led into any +discussion of the other, whose name, alas! Elinor intended +to bear.</p> + +<p>"If it comes to that. Perhaps you think," said Elinor, +with a smile of fine scorn, "that you will prevent +it ever coming to that?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," he said, "I'm very humble; I don't think +much of my own powers in that way: nothing that I +can do will affect it, if Providence doesn't take it in +hand."</p> + +<p>"You really think it's a big enough thing to invoke +Providence about?"</p> + +<p>"If Providence looks after the sparrows as we are +told," said John, "it certainly may be expected to step +in to save a nice girl like you, Nelly, from—from connections +you'll soon get to hate—and—and a shady +man!"</p> + +<p>She turned upon him with sparkling eyes in a sudden +blaze of indignation. "How dare you! how dare you!"</p> + +<p>"I dare a great deal more than that to save you. +You must hear me, Nelly: they're all badly spoken of, +not one, but all. They are a shady lot—excuse a man's +way of talking. I don't know what other words to use—partly +from misfortune, but more from<span class="norewrap">——</span> Nelly, +Nelly, how could you, a high-minded, well-brought-up +girl like you, tolerate that?"</p> + +<p>She turned upon him again, breathing hard with restrained +rage and desperation; evidently she was at a +loss for words to convey her indignant wrath: and at +last in sheer inability to express the vehemence of her +feelings she fastened on one word and repeated "well-brought-up!" +in accents of scorn.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said John, "my aunt and you may not always +understand each other, but she's proved her case to +every fair mind by yourself, Elinor. A girl could not +be better brought up than you've been: and you could +not put up with it, not unless you changed your nature +as well as your name."</p> + +<p>"With what?" she said, "with what?" They had +gone up and down the sloping sides of the combe, +through the rustling copse, sometimes where there was +a path, sometimes where there was none, treading over +the big bushes of ling and the bell-heather, all bursting +into bloom, past groups of primeval firs and seedling +beeches, self-sown, over little hillocks and hollows +formed of rocks or big old roots of trees covered with +the close glittering green foliage and dark blue clusters +of the dewberry, with the hum of bees filling the air, +the twittering of the birds, the sound of the church +bells—nothing more like the heart of summer, more +peaceful, genial, happy than that brooding calm of +nature amid all the harmonious sounds, could be.</p> + +<p>But as Elinor put this impatient question, her countenance +all ablaze with anger and vehemence and resolution, +yet with a gleam of anxiety in the puckers of +her forehead and the eyes which shone from beneath +them, they stepped out upon the road by which other +groups were passing, all bound towards the centre of +the church and its tinkling bells. Elinor stopped, and +drew a longer panting breath, and gave him a look of +fierce reproach, as if this too were his fault: and then +she smoothed her ruffled plumes, after the manner of +women, and replied to the Sunday-morning salutations, +with the smiles and nods of use and wont. She knew +everybody, both the rich and the poor, or rather I +should say the well-off and the less-well-off, for there +were neither rich nor poor, formally speaking, on +Windyhill. John did not find it so easy to put his +emotions in his pocket. He cast an admiring glance +upon her as with heightened colour and a little panting +of the breath, but no other sign of disturbance, she +made her inquiries after this one's mother and that one's +child. It was wonderful to him to see how the storm +was got under in a moment. An occasional glance +aside at himself from the corner of her eye, a sort of +dart of defiance as if to bid him remember that she was +not done with him, was shot at John from time to time +over the heads of the innocent country people in whom +she pretended to be so much interested. Pretended!—was +it pretence, or was the one as real as the other? +He heard her promising to come to-morrow to see an +invalid, to send certain articles as soon as she got home, +to look up certain books. Would she do so? or was +all this a mere veil to cover the other which engaged +all her soul?</p> + +<p>And then there came the service—that soothing +routine of familiar prayers, which the lips of men and +women absorbed in the violence and urgency of life +murmur over almost without knowing, with now and +then an awakening to something that touches their own +aspirations, to something that offers or that asks for +help. "Because there is none other that fighteth for +us but only Thou, O God." That seems to the careless +soul such a <i>non sequitur</i>, as if peace was asked for, only +because there was none other to fight; but to the man +heavily laden, what a cry out of the depths! Because +there is none other—all resources gone, all possibilities: +but one that fighteth for us, standing fast, always the +champion of the perplexed, the overborne, the weak. +John was a little careless in this respect, as so many +young men are. He thought most of the music when +he joined the fashionable throng in the Temple Church. +But there was no music to speak of at Windyhill. +There was more sound of the bees outside, and the +birds and the sighing bass of the fir-trees than of anything +more carefully concerted. The organ was played +with a curious drone in it, almost like that of the primitive +bagpipe. But there was that one phrase, a strong +strain of human appeal, enough to lift the world, nay, +to let itself go straight to the blue heavens: "Because +there is none other that fighteth for us but only Thou, +O God."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hudson preached his little sermon like a discord +in the midst. What should he have preached it for, +that little sermon, which was only composed because he +could not help himself, which was about nothing in +heaven or earth? John gave it a sort of partial attention +because he could not help it, partly in wonder to +think how a sensible man like Mr. Hudson could account +to himself for such strange little interruption of +the natural sequence of high human emotion. What +theory had he in his mind? This was a question John +was fond of putting to himself, with perhaps an idea +peculiar to a lawyer, that every man must be thinking +what he is about, and be able to produce a clear reason, +and, as it were, some theory of the meaning of his own +actions—which everybody must know is nonsense. For +the Rector of course preached just because it was in +his day's work, and the people would have been much +surprised, though possibly much relieved, had he not +done so—feeling that to listen was in the day's work +too, and to be gone through doggedly as a duty. John +thought how much better it would be to have some man +who could preach now and then when he had something +to say, instead of troubling the Rector, who, good man, +had nothing. But it is not to be supposed that he was +thinking this consecutively while the morning went on. +It flitted through his mind from time to time among +his many thinkings about the Compton family and Elinor; +poor Nelly, standing upon the edge of that precipice +and the helplessness of every one to save her, and +the great refrain like the peal of an organ going through +everything, "None other that fighteth for us but only +Thou, O God." Surely, surely to prevent this sacrifice +He would interfere.</p> + +<p>She turned to him the moment they were out of the +church doors with that same look of eager defiance yet +demand, and as soon as they left the road, the first step +into the copse, putting out her hand to call his attention: +"You said I could not put up with it, a girl so +well-brought-up as I am. What is it a well-brought-up +girl can't put up with? A disorderly house, late hours, +and so forth, hateful to the well-brought-up? What is +it, what is it, John?"</p> + +<p>"Have you been thinking of that all through the +morning prayers?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have been thinking about it. What did you +expect me to think about? Is there anything else so +important? Mr. Hudson's sermon, perhaps, which I +have heard before, which I suppose <i>you</i> listened to," +she said, with a troubled laugh.</p> + +<p>"I did a little, wondering how a good man like that +could go on doing it; and there were other things<span class="norewrap">——</span>" +John did not like to say what it was which was still +throbbing through the air to him, and through his own +being.</p> + +<p>"Nothing that is of so much moment to me: come +back, John, to the well-brought-up girl."</p> + +<p>"You think that's a poor sort of description, Elinor; +so it is. You are of course a great deal more than that. +Still it's what one can turn to most easily. You don't +know what life is in a sort of fast house, where there is +nothing thought of but amusement or where it's a constant +round of race meetings, yachting, steeplechases—I +don't know if men still ride steeplechases—I mean +that sort of thing: Monte Carlo in the winter: betting +all the year round—if not on one thing then on another; +expedients to raise money, for money's always wanted. +You don't know—how can you know?—what goes on in +a fast life."</p> + +<p>"Don't you see, John," she cried, eagerly, "that all +that, if put in a different way not to their prejudice, if +put in the right way would sound delightful? There +is no harm in these things at all. Betting's not a sin +in the Bible any more than races are. Don't you see +it's only the abuse of them that's wrong? One might +ruin one's health, I believe, with tea, which is the most +righteous thing! I should like above all things a yacht, +say in the Mediterranean, and to go to Monte Carlo, +which is a beautiful place, and where there is the best +music in the world, besides the gambling. I should like +even to see the gambling once in a way, for the fun of +the thing. You don't frighten me at all. I have been +a fortnight at Lady Mariamne's, and the continual 'go' +was delightful; there was never a dull moment. As for +expedients to raise money, <i>there</i><span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"To be sure—old Prestwich is as rich as Crœsus—or +was," said John, with significance, "but you are not +going to live with Lady Mariamne, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Oh, John!" she cried, "oh, John!" suddenly seizing +him by the arm, clasping her hands on it in the +pretty way of earnestness she had, though one hand +held her parasol, which was inconvenient. The soft +face was suffused with rosy colour, so different from the +angry red, the flush of love and tenderness—her eyes +swam in liquid light, looking up with mingled happiness +and entreaty to John's face. "Fancy what he says, +that he will not object to come here for half the year to +let me be with my mother! Remember what he is, a +man of fashion, and fond of the world, and of going out +and all that. He has consented to come, nay, he almost +offered to come for six months in the year to be with +mamma."</p> + +<p>"Good heavens," cried John to himself, "he must +indeed be down on his luck!" but what he said was, +"Does your mother know of this, Elinor?"</p> + +<p>"I have not told her yet. I have reserved it to hear +first what you had to say: and so far as I can make out +you have nothing at all to say, only general things, +disapproval in the general. What should you say if I +told you that he disapproves too? He said himself +that there had been too much of all that—that he had +backed something—isn't that what you say?—backed it +at odds, and stood to win what he calls a pot of money. +But after that was decided—for he said he could not be +off bets that were made—never any more. Now that I +know you have nothing more to say my heart is free, +and I can tell you. He has never really liked that sort +of life, but was led into it when he was very young. +And now as soon as—we are together, you know"—she +looked so bright, so sweet in the happiness of her +love, that John could have flung her from his arms, +and felt that she insulted him by that clinging hold—"he +means to turn entirely to serious things, and to go +into politics, John."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he is going into politics!"</p> + +<p>"Of course, on the people's side—to do everything +for them—Home Rule, and all that is best: to see that +they are heard in Parliament, and have their wants attended +to, instead of jobs and corruption everywhere. +So you will see, John, that if he has been fast, and gone +a little too far, and been very much mixed up in the +Turf, and all that, it was only in the exuberance of +youth, liking the fun of it, as I feel I should myself. +But that now, now all that is to be changed when he +steps into settled, responsible life. I should not have +told you if you had repeated the lies that people say. +But as you did not, but only found fault with him for +being fast<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Then you have heard—what people say?" He +shifted his arm a little, so that she instinctively perceived +that the affectionate clasp of her hands was no +longer agreeable to him, and his face seemed suddenly +to have become a blank page, absolutely devoid of all +expression. He kicked vigorously at one of the hillocks +he had stumbled against, as if he thought he +could dislodge it and get it out of his way.</p> + +<p>"Mariamne told me there was a lot of lies—that +people said—I am so glad, John, oh! so thankful, that +you have not repeated any of them; for now I can feel +you are my own good John, as you always were, not a +slanderer of any one, and we can go on being fond of +each other like brother and sister. I have told him you +have been the best of brothers to me."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said John, without a sign of wonder or admiration +in him, with a dead blank in his face.</p> + +<p>"And what do you think he said? 'Then I know he +must be a capital fellow, Ne<span class="norewrap">——</span>'"</p> + +<p>"Not Nelly," said poor John, with a foolish pang +that seemed to rend his heart. Oh, if that scamp, +that cheat, that low betting, card-playing rascal were +but here! he would capital-fellow him. To take not +herself only, but the dear pet name that she had said +was only John's<span class="norewrap">——</span></p> + +<p>"He says Nell sometimes, John. Oh, not Nelly—Nelly +is for you only. I would never let him call me +that. But they are all for short names, one syllable—he +is Phil, and Mariamne, well at home they call her +Jew—horrible, isn't it?—because she was called after +some Jewess; but somehow it seems queer when you +see her, so fair and frizzy, like anything but a Jew."</p> + +<p>"So I have got one letter to myself," said John. "I +don't know that I think that worth very much, however. +And so far as I can see, you seem to think everything +very fine—the bets, perhaps, and the rows and all."</p> + +<p>"Well they are, you know," said Elinor, with a laugh, +"to a little country mouse like me that has never seen +anything. There is always something going on, and +their slang way of speaking is certainly very amusing if +it is not at all dignified, and they have such droll ways +of looking at things. All so entirely different! Don't +you know, John, sometimes in one's life one longs for +something to be quite different. A complete change, +anything new."</p> + +<p>"If that is what you long for, no doubt you will get +it, Elinor."</p> + +<p>"Well!" she cried, "I have had the other for three-and-twenty +years, long enough to have exhausted it, +don't you think? but I don't mean to throw it over, oh, +no! Coming back to mamma makes the arrangement +perfect. Probably in the end it is the old life, the life +I was brought up in that I shall like best in the long +run. That is one thing of being well brought up. +Phil will laugh till he cries when I tell him of your +description of me as a well-brought-up girl."</p> + +<p>John set his teeth as he walked or rather stumbled +along by her side, catching in the roots of the trees as +he had never done before, and swearing under his +breath. Her flutter of talk running on, delighted, full of +laughter and softness, as if he had fully declared his +satisfaction and was interested in every detail, kept +John in a state of suppressed fury which made his +countenance dark, and almost took the sight from his +eyes. He did not know how to escape from that false +position, nor did she give him time, she had so much +to say. Mrs. Dennistoun looked anxiously at the pair +as they came up through the copse to the level of the +cottage. There were no enclosures in that primitive +place. From the copse you came straight into the +garden with its banks of flowers. She was seated near +the cottage door in a corner sheltered from the sun, +with a number of books about her. But I don't think +she had read anything except some portions of the lessons +in the morning service. She had been sitting +with her eyes vaguely fixed upon the horizon and her +hands clasped in her lap, and a heavy shadow like an +overhanging cloud upon her mind. But when she heard +Elinor's voice approaching so gay and tuneful her +heart rose a little. John evidently could have had +nothing very bad to say. Elinor had been satisfied +with the morning. Mrs. Dennistoun had expected to +see them come back estranged and silent. The conclusion +she drew was entirely satisfactory. After all +John must have been moved solely by general disapproval, +which is so very different from the dreadful +hints and warnings that might mean any criminality. +Elinor was talking to him as freely as she had done +before this spectre rose. It must, Mrs. Dennistoun +concluded, be all right.</p> + +<p>It was not till he was going away that she had an opportunity +of talking with him alone. Her satisfaction, +it must be allowed, had been a little subdued by John's +demeanour during the afternoon and evening. But Mrs. +Dennistoun had said to herself that there might be +other ways of accounting for this. She had long had a +fancy that John was more interested in Elinor than he +had confessed himself to be. It had been her conviction +that as soon as he felt it warrantable, as soon as he +was sufficiently well-established, and his practice secured, +he would probably declare himself, with, she +feared, no particular issue so far as Elinor was concerned. +And perhaps he was disappointed, poor fellow, +which was a very natural explanation of his glum looks. +But at breakfast on Monday Elinor announced her intention +of driving her cousin to the station, and went +out to see that the pony was harnessed, an operation +which took some time, for the pony was out in the field +and had to be caught, and the man of all work, who +had a hundred affairs to look after, had to be caught +too to perform this duty; which sometimes, however, +Elinor performed herself, but always with some expenditure +of time. Mrs. Dennistoun seized the opportunity, +plunging at once into the all-important subject.</p> + +<p>"You seemed to get on all right together yesterday, +John, so I suppose you found that after all there was +not very much to say."</p> + +<p>"I was not allowed to say<span class="norewrap">——</span>anything. You +mean<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Oh, John, John, do you mean to tell me after +all<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Aunt Ellen," he said, "stop it if you can; if there +is any means in the world by which you can stop it, do +so. I can't bring accusations against the man, for I +couldn't prove them. I only know what everybody +knows. He is not a man fit for Elinor to marry. He +is not fit to touch the tie of her shoe."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't trouble me with your superlatives, John. +Elinor is a good girl and a clever girl, but not a lady of +romance. Is there anything really against him? Tell +me, for goodness' sake! Even with these few words you +have made me very unhappy," Mrs. Dennistoun said, in +a half resentful tone.</p> + +<p>"I can't help it," said the unfortunate man, "I can't +bring accusations, as I tell you. He is simply a scamp—that +is all I know."</p> + +<p>"A scamp!" said Mrs. Dennistoun, with a look of +alarm. "But then that is a word that has so many +meanings. A scamp may be only a careless fellow, nice +in his way. That is not enough to break off a marriage +for. And, John, as you have said so much, you must +say more."</p> + +<p>"I have no more to say, that's all I know. Inquire +what the Hudsons have heard. Stop it if you can."</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear, dear, here is Elinor back already," Mrs. +Dennistoun said.</p> + + + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>The next time that John's presence was required at +the cottage was for the signing of the very simple settlements; +which, as there was nothing or next to nothing +in the power of the man to settle upon his wife, +were easy enough. He met Mr. Lynch, who was Mrs. +Dennistoun's "man of business," and a sharp London +solicitor, who was for the husband. Elinor's fortune +was five thousand pounds, no more, not counting her +expectations from him, which were left out of the question. +It was a very small matter altogether, and one +which the smart solicitor who was in Mr. Compton's +interest spoke of with a certain contempt, as who +should say he was not in the habit of being disturbed +and brought to the country for any such trifle. It was +now August—not a time when any man was supposed +to be available for matters like these. Mr. Lynch was +just about starting for his annual holiday, but came, at +no small personal inconvenience, to do his duty by the +poor girl whom he had known all his life. John and +he travelled to the cottage together, and their aspect +was not cheerful. "Did you ever hear," said Mr. +Lynch, "such a piece of folly as this—a man with no +character at all? This is what it is to leave a girl in +the sole care of her mother. What does a woman +know about such things?"</p> + +<p>"I don't think it was her mother's fault," said John, +anxious to do justice all round. "Elinor is very head-strong, +and when she has made up her mind to a +thing<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"A bit of a girl!" said Mr. Lynch, contemptuously. +He was an old bachelor and knew nothing about the +subject, as the reader will perceive. "Her mother +ought never to have permitted it for a moment. She +should have put down her foot: and then Miss Elinor +would soon have come to reason. What I wonder is +the ruffian's own motives? for it can't be a little bit of +money like that. Five thousand's a mere mouthful to +such a man as he is. He'll get rid of it all in a week."</p> + +<p>"It must be tied up as tight as possible," said +John.</p> + +<p>Here Mr. Lynch faltered a little. "She has got an +idea into her head, with the intention, I don't doubt, +of defrauding herself if she can. He has got some investment +for it, it appears. He is on the board of +some company—a pretty board to take in such a fellow? +But the Honourable is always something, I suppose."</p> + +<p>John did not say the <i>dis</i>-Honourable, though it trembled +on the edge of his tongue. "But you will not +permit that?" he said.</p> + +<p>"No, no; we will not permit it," said Mr. Lynch, +with an emphasis on the negative which sounded like +failing resolution.</p> + +<p>"That would be giving the lamb to the wolf with a +vengeance."</p> + +<p>"Exactly what I said; exactly what I said. I am +very glad, Mr. Tatham, that you take the same view."</p> + +<p>"There is but one view to be taken," said John. +"He must not have the slightest power over her +money. It must be tied up as tight as the law can do +it; not that I think it of the least consequence," he +added. "Of course, he will get it all from her one +way or another. Law's but a poor barrier against a +determined man."</p> + +<p>"I'm glad you see that too," said Mr. Lynch, "and +you might say a determined woman: for she has set +her mind on this, and we'll have a nice business with +her, I can see."</p> + +<p>"A bit of a girl!" said John, with a laugh, echoing +the previous sentiment.</p> + +<p>"That's very true," said the old lawyer; "and still +I think her mother—but I don't put any great confidence +in my own power to resist Elinor. Poor little +thing, I've known her since she was <i>that</i> high; indeed, +I may say I knew her before she was born. And you +are a relation, Mr. Tatham?"</p> + +<p>"Third or fourth cousin."</p> + +<p>"But still, more intimate than a person unconnected +with them, and able to speak your mind more freely. +I wonder now that you never said anything. But in +family matters sometimes one is very reluctant to interfere."</p> + +<p>"I said everything I could say, not to offend them +mortally; but I could only tell them the common talk +of society. I told my aunt he was a scamp: but after +the first shock I am not sure that she thought that was +any such bad thing. It depended upon the sense you +put upon the word, she said."</p> + +<p>"Oh, women, women!" said Mr. Lynch. "That's +their way—a reformed rake makes the best husband. +It's an old-fashioned sentiment, but it's in the background +of their minds, a sort of tradition that they +can't shake off—or else the poor fellow has had so +many disadvantages, and they think they can make it +all right. It's partly ignorance and partly vanity. But +they are all the same, and their ways in the matter of +marriage are not to be made out."</p> + +<p>"You have a great deal of experience."</p> + +<p>"Experience—oh, don't speak of it!" said the old +gentleman. "A man has a certain idea of the value of +money, however great a fool he may be, but the +women<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"And yet they are said to stick to money, and to +be respectful of it beyond anything but a miser. I +have myself remarked<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"In small matters," said Mr. Lynch, "in detail—sixpences +to railway porters and that sort of thing—so +people say at least. But a sum of money on paper has +no effect on a woman, she will sign it away with a wave +of her hand. It doesn't touch their imagination. Five +pounds in her pocket is far more than five thousand on +paper, to Elinor, for instance. I wish," cried the old +gentleman, with a little spitefulness, "that this Married +Women's Property Bill would push on and get itself +made law. It would save us a great deal of trouble, and +perhaps convince the world at the last how little able +they are to be trusted with property. A nice mess they +will make of it, and plenty of employment for young +solicitors," he said, rubbing his hands.</p> + +<p>For this was before that important bill was passed, +which has not had (like so many other bills) the disastrous +consequences which Mr. Lynch foresaw.</p> + +<p>They were met at the station by the pony carriage, +and at the door by Elinor herself, who came flying out +to meet them. She seized Mr. Lynch by both arms, +for he was a little old man, and she was bigger than he +was.</p> + +<p>"Now you will remember what I said," she cried in +his ear, yet not so low but that John heard it too.</p> + +<p>"You are a little witch; you mustn't insist upon anything +so foolish. Leave all that to me, my dear," said +Mr. Lynch. "What do you know about business? +You must leave it to me and the other gentleman, who +I suppose is here, or coming."</p> + +<p>"He is here, but I don't care for him. I care only +for you. There are such advantages: and I do know a +great deal about business; and," she said, with her +mouth close to the old lawyer's ear, "it will please Phil +so much if I show my confidence in him, and in the +things with which he has to do."</p> + +<p>"It will not please him so much if the thing bursts, +and you are left without a penny, my dear."</p> + +<p>Elinor laughed. "I don't suppose he will mind a +bit: he cares nothing for money. But I do," she said. +"You know you always say women love acquisition. +I want good interest, and of course with Phil on it, it +must be safe for me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that makes it like the Bank of England, you +think! but I don't share your confidence, my pretty +Elinor. I'm an old fellow. No Phil in the world has +any charm for me. You must trust me to do what I +feel is best for you. And Mr. Tatham here is quite of +my opinion."</p> + +<p>"Oh, John! he is sure to be against me," said Elinor, +with an angry glimmer in her eyes. She had not +as yet taken any notice of him while she welcomed with +such warmth his old companion. And John had stood +by offering no greeting, with his bag in his hand. But +when she said this the quick feeling girl was seized +with compunction. She turned from Mr. Lynch and +held out both her hands to her cousin. "John, I +didn't mean that; it is only that I am excited and +cross. And don't, oh, don't go against me," she cried.</p> + +<p>"I never did, and never will, Elinor," he said +gravely. Then he asked, after a moment, "Is Mr. +Compton here?"</p> + +<p>"No; how could he be here? Three gentlemen in +the cottage is enough to overwhelm us already. Mr. +Sharp, fortunately, can't stay," she added, lowering her +voice; "he has to be driven back to the station to +catch the last express. And it is August," she said +with a laugh; "you forget the 15th. Now, could Phil +be anywhere but where there is grouse? You shall +have some to dinner to-night that fell by his gun. +That should mollify you, for I am sure you never got +grouse at the cottage before in August. Mamma +would as soon think of buying manna for you to eat."</p> + +<p>"I think it would have been more respectful, Elinor, +if he had been here. What is grouse to you?"</p> + +<p>"Then I don't think anything of the kind," cried +Elinor. "He is much better away. And I assure you, +John, I never mean to put myself in competition with +the grouse."</p> + +<p>The old lawyer had gone into the drawing-room, +where Mrs. Dennistoun was holding parley with Mr. +Sharp. Elinor and John were standing alone in the +half light of the summer evening, the sun down, the +depths of the combe below falling into faint mist, but +the sunset-tinted clouds still floating like a vapour made +of roses upon the clearness of the blue above. "Come +and take a turn through the copse," said John. "They +don't want either of us indoors."</p> + +<p>She went with a momentary reluctance and a glance +back at the bow-window of the drawing-room, from +which the sound of voices issued. "Don't you think I +should be there to keep them up to the mark?" she +said, half laughing. And then, "Well, yes—as you +are going to Switzerland too. I think you might have +stayed and seen me married after all, and made acquaintance +with Phil."</p> + +<p>"I thought I should have met him here to-day, +Elinor."</p> + +<p>"Now, how could you? You know the accommodation +of the cottage just as well as I do. We have two +spare rooms, and no more."</p> + +<p>"You could have sent me out somewhere to sleep. +That has been done before now."</p> + +<p>"Oh, John, how persistent you are, and worrying! +When I tell you that Phil is shooting, as everybody of +his kind is—do you think I want him to give up all the +habits of his life? He is not like us: we adapt ourselves: +but these people parcel out their time as if they +were in a trade, don't you know? So long in London, +so long abroad, and in the Highlands for the grouse, +and somewhere else for the partridges, or they would +die."</p> + +<p>"I think he might have departed from that routine +once in a way, Elinor, for you."</p> + +<p>"I tell you again, John, I shall never put myself in +competition"—Elinor stopped abruptly, with perhaps, +he thought, a little glimmer of indignation in her eyes. +"I hate women who do that sort of thing," she cried. +"'Give up your cigar—or me,' as I've heard girls say. +Such an unworthy thing! When one accepts a man +one accepts him as he stands, with all his habits. +What should I think of him if he said, 'Give up your tea—or +me!' I should laugh in his face and throw him +overboard without a pause."</p> + +<p>"You would never look at tea again as long as you +lived if he did not like it; I suppose that is what you +mean, Elinor?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps if I found that out, afterwards; but to be +given the choice beforehand, never! After all, you +don't half know me, John."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not," he said, gravely. They had left the +garden behind in its blaze of flowers, and strayed off +into the subdued twilight of the copse, where everything +was in a half tone of greenness and shadow and +waning light. "There are always new lights arising on +a many-sided creature like you—and that makes one +think. Do you know you are not at all the person to +take a great disappointment quietly, if that should +happen to come to you in your life?"</p> + +<p>"A great disappointment?" she said, looking up at +him with a wondering glance. Then he thought the +colour paled a little in her face. "No," she said, "I +don't suppose I should take it quietly. Who does?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, many people—people with less determination +and more patience than you. You are not very patient +by nature, Elinor."</p> + +<p>"I never said I was."</p> + +<p>"And though no one would give up more generously, +as a voluntary matter, you could not bear being made +a nonentity of, or put in a secondary place."</p> + +<p>"I should not like it, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"You would give everything, flinging it away; but +to have all your sacrifices taken for granted, your tastes +made of no account<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>There was no doubt now that she had grown pale. +"May I ask what all these investigations into my character +mean? I never was so anatomized before."</p> + +<p>"It was only to say that you are not a good subject +for this kind of experiment, Elinor. I don't see you +putting up with things, making the best of everything, +submitting to have your sense of right and wrong outraged +perhaps. Some women would not be much disturbed +by that. They would put off the responsibility +and feel it their duty to accept whatever was put before +them. But you—it would be a different matter +with you."</p> + +<p>"I should hope so, if I was ever exposed to such +dangers. But now may I know what you are driving +at, John, for you have some meaning in what you say!"</p> + +<p>He took her hand and drew it through his arm. He +was in more moved than he wished to show. "Only this, +Elinor,"—he said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, John, will you never call me Nelly any more?"</p> + +<p>"Only this, Nelly, my little Nelly, never mine again—and +that never was mine, except in my silly thought. +Only this: that if you have the least doubt, the smallest +flutter of an uncertainty, just enough to make you hold +your breath for a moment, oh, my dear girl, stop! +Don't go on with it; pause until you can make sure."</p> + +<p>"John!" she forced her arm from his with an indignant +movement. "Oh, how do you dare to say it?" +she said. "Doubt of Mr. Compton! Uncertainty +about Phil!" She laughed out, and the echo seemed +to ring into all the recesses of the trees. "I would be +much more ready to doubt myself," she said.</p> + +<p>"Doubt yourself; that is what I mean. Think if +you are not deceiving yourself. I don't think you are +so very sure as you believe you are, Nelly. You don't +feel so certain<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Do you know that you are insulting me, John? +You say as much as that I am a fool carried away by a +momentary enthusiasm, with no real love, no true feeling +in me, tempted, perhaps, as Mrs. Hudson thinks, by +the Honourable!" Her lip quivered, and the fading +colour came back in a rush to her face. "It is hard +enough to have a woman like that think it, who ought +to know better, who has always known me—but you, +John!"</p> + +<p>"You may be sure, Elinor, that I did not put it on +that ground."</p> + +<p>"No, perhaps: but on ground not much more respectful +to me—perhaps that I have been fascinated by +a handsome man, which is not considered derogatory. +Oh, John, a girl does not give herself away on an argument +like that. I may be hasty and self-willed and +impatient, as you say; but when you—love!" Her +face flushed like a rose, so that even in the grey of the +evening it shone out like one of the clouds full of sunset +that still lingered on the sky. A few quick tears +followed, the natural consequence of her emotion. +And then she turned to him with the ineffable condescension +of one farther advanced in life stooping sweetly +to his ignorance. "You have not yet come to the +moment in your experience when you can understand +that, dear John."</p> + +<p>Oh, the insight and the ignorance, the knowledge +and the absence of all perception! He, too, laughed +out, as she had done, with a sense of the intolerable +ridicule and folly and mistake. "Perhaps that's how +it is," he said.</p> + +<p>Elinor looked at him gravely, in an elder-sisterly, +profoundly-investigating way, and then she took his +arm quietly and turned towards home. "I shall forget +what you have said, and you will forget that you ever +said it; and now we will go home, John, and be just +the same dear friends as before."</p> + +<p>"Will you promise me," he said, "that whatever +happens, without pride, or recollection of what I've +been so foolish as to say, in any need or emergency, or +whenever you want anything, or if you should be in +trouble—trouble comes to everybody in this life—you +will remember what you have said just now, and send +for your cousin John?"</p> + +<p>Her whole face beamed out in one smile, she clasped +her other hand round his arm; "I should have done +it without being asked, without ever doubting for a +moment, because it was the most natural thing in the +world. Whom should I turn to else if not to my dear +old<span class="norewrap">——</span> But call me Nelly, John."</p> + +<p>"Dear little Nelly!" he said with faltering voice, +"then that is a bargain."</p> + +<p>She held up her cheek to him, and he kissed it +solemnly in the shadow of the little young oak that +fluttered its leaves wistfully in the breeze that was getting +up—and then very soberly, saying little, they +walked back to the cottage. He was going abroad for +his vacation, not saying to himself even that he preferred +not to be present at the wedding, but resigning +himself to the necessity, for it was not to be till the +middle of September, and it would be breaking up his +holiday had he to come back at that time. So this +little interview was a leave-taking as well as a solemn +engagement for all the risks and dangers of life. The +pain in it, after that very sharp moment in the copse, +was softened down into a sadness not unsweet, as they +came silently together from out of the shadow into the +quiet hemisphere of sky and space, which was over the +little centre of the cottage with its human glimmer of +fire and lights. The sky was unusually clear, and +among those soft, rose-tinted clouds of the sunset, which +were no clouds at all, had risen a young crescent of a +moon, just about to disappear, too, in the short course +of one of her earliest nights. They lingered for a moment +before they went indoors. The depth of the +combe was filled with the growing darkness, but the +ridges above were still light and softly edged with the +silver of the moon, and the distant road, like a long, +white line, came conspicuously into sight, winding for +a little way along the hill-top unsheltered, before it +plunged into the shadow of the trees—the road that +led into the world, by which they should both depart +presently to stray into such different ways.</p> + + + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>The drawing-room after dinner always looked cheerful. +Perhaps the fact that it was a sort of little oasis +in the desert, and that the light from those windows +shone into three counties, made the interior more cosy +and bright. (There are houses now upon every knoll, +and the wind cannot blow on Windyhill for the quantity +of obstructions it meets with.) There was the usual +log burning on the hearth, and the party in general +kept away from it, for the night was warm. Only Mr. +Sharp, the London lawyer, was equal to bearing the +heat. He stood with his back to it, and his long legs +showing against the glow behind, a sharp-nosed, long +man in black, who had immediately suggested Mephistopheles +to Elinor, even though he was on the +Compton side. He had taken his coffee after dinner, +and now he stood over the fire slowly sipping a cup of +tea. There was a look of acquisitiveness about him +which suggested an inclination to appropriate anything +from the unnecessary heat of the fire to the equally +unnecessary tea. But Mr. Sharp had been on the +winning side. He had demonstrated the superior +sense of making the money—which was not large +enough sum to settle—of real use to the young pair by +an investment which would increase Mr. Compton's +importance in his company, besides producing very +good dividends—much better dividends than would be +possible if it were treated in the old-fashioned way by +trustees. This was how the bride wished it, which was +the most telling of arguments: and surely, to insure +good interest and an increase of capital to her, through +her husband's hands, was better than to secure some +beggarly hundred and fifty pounds a year for her portion, +though without any risks at all.</p> + +<p>Mr. Sharp had also taken great pains to point out +that there were only three brothers—one an invalid and +the other two soldiers—between Mr. Phil and the title, +and that even to be the Honourable Mrs. Compton was +something for a young lady, who was, if he might venture +to say so, nobody—not to say a word against her +charms. Lord St. Serf was hourly getting an old man, +and the chances that his client might step over a hecatomb +of dead relations to the height of fortune was a +thing quite worth taking into account. It was a much +better argument, however, to return to the analogy of +other poor young people, where the bride's little fortune +would be put into the husband's business, and +thus their joint advantage considered. Mr. Sharp, at +the same time, did not hesitate to express politely his +opinion that to call him down to the country for a discussion +which could have been carried on much better +in one or other of their respective offices was a most +uncalled for proceeding, especially as even now the +other side was wavering, and would not consent to conclude +matters, and make the signatures that were necessary +at once. Mr. Lynch, it must be allowed, was of +the same opinion too.</p> + +<p>"Your country is a little bleak at night," said Mr. +Sharp, partially mollified by a good dinner, but beginning +to remember unpleasantly the cold drive in a rattletrap +of a little rustic pony carriage over the hills and +hollows. "Do you really remain here all the year? +How wonderful! Not even a glimpse of the world in +summer, or a little escape from the chills in winter? +How brave of you! What patience and powers of endurance +must be cultivated in that way!"</p> + +<p>"One would think Windyhill was Siberia at least," +said Mrs. Dennistoun, laughing; "we do not give ourselves +credit for all these fine qualities."</p> + +<p>"Some people are heroes—or heroines—without +knowing it," said Mr. Sharp, with a bow.</p> + +<p>"And yet," said the mother, with a little indignation, +"there was some talk of Mr. Compton doing me the +honour to share my hermitage for a part of the year."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Compton! my dear lady! Mr. Compton +would die of it in a week," said Mr. Sharp.</p> + +<p>"I am quite well aware of it," said Mrs. Dennistoun; +and she added, after a pause, "so should I."</p> + +<p>"What a change it will be for your daughter," said +Mr. Sharp. "She will see everything that is worth seeing. +More in a month than she would see here in a +dozen years. Trust Mr. Compton for knowing all that's +worth going after. They have all an instinct for life +that is quite remarkable. There's Lady Mariamne, +who has society at her feet, and the old lord is a most +remarkable old gentleman. Your daughter, Mrs. Dennistoun, +is a very fortunate young lady. She has my +best congratulations, I am sure."</p> + +<p>"Sharp," said Mr. Lynch from the background, +"you had better be thinking of starting, if you want to +catch that train."</p> + +<p>"I'll see if the pony is there," said John.</p> + +<p>Mr. Sharp put down his teacup with precipitation. +"Is it as late as that?" he cried.</p> + +<p>"It is the last train," said Mrs. Dennistoun, with +great satisfaction. "And I am afraid, if you missed it, +as the house is full, there would be nothing but a bed +at the public-house to offer<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Oh, not another word," the lawyer said: and fortunately +he never knew how near that rising young man +at the bar, John Tatham, who had every object in conciliating +a solicitor, was to a charge of manslaughter, if +killing an attorney can thus be called. But the feelings +of the party were expressed only in actions of the greatest +kindness. They helped him on with his coat, and +covered him with rugs as he got in, shivering, to the +little pony carriage. It was a beautiful night, but the +wind is always a thing to be considered on Windyhill.</p> + +<p>"Well, that's a good thing over," said Mr. Lynch, +going to the fire as he came in from the night air at +the door and rubbing his hands.</p> + +<p>"It would have been a relief to one's feeling to have +kicked that fellow all the way down and up the other +side of the combe, and kept him warm," said John, +with a laugh of wrath.</p> + +<p>"It is a pity a man should have so little taste," said +Mrs. Dennistoun.</p> + +<p>Elinor still stood where she had been standing, with +every feeling in her breast in commotion. She had not +taken any part in the insidious kindnesses of speeding +the parting guest; and now she remembered that he +was her Phil's representative: whatever she might herself +think of the man, how could she join in abuse of +one who represented Phil?</p> + +<p>"He is no worse, I suppose, than others," she said. +"He was bound to stand up for those in whose interest +he was. Mr. Lynch would have made himself quite as +disagreeable for me."</p> + +<p>"Not I," said the old gentleman; "for what is the +good of standing up for you? You would throw me +over on the first opportunity. You have taken all the +force out of my sword-arm, my dear, as it is. How +can I make myself disagreeable for those who won't +stand up for themselves? I suppose you must have it +your own way."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I suppose it will be the best," said Mrs. Dennistoun, +in subdued tones.</p> + +<p>"It would come to about the same thing, however +you settled it," said John.</p> + +<p>Elinor looked from one to another with eyes that began +to glow. "You are a cheerful company," she +said. "You speak as if you were arranging my funeral. +On the whole I think I like Mr. Sharp best; for if he +was contemptuous of me and my little bit of money, he +was at all events cheerful about the future, and that is +always something; whereas you all<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>There was a little pause, no one responding. There +was no pleasant jest, no bright augury for Elinor. The +girl's heart rose against this gloom that surrounded +her. "I think," she said, with an angry laugh, "that +I had better run after Mr. Sharp and bring him back, +for he had at least a little sympathy with me!"</p> + +<p>"Don't be too sure of that," said Mr. Lynch, "for +if we think you are throwing yourself away, Elinor, so +does he on his side. He thinks the Honourable Mr. +Compton is going dreadfully cheap for five thousand +pounds."</p> + +<p>"Elinor need not take any of us <i>au pied de la lettre</i>—of +course we are all firm for our own side," said +John.</p> + +<p>Elinor turned her head from one to another, growing +pale and red by turns. There was a certain surprise +in her look, as she found herself thus at bay. The triumph +of having got the better of their opposition was +lost in the sense of isolation with which the girl, so +long the first object of everybody about her, felt herself +thus placed alone. And the tears were very ready to +start, but were kept back by jealous pride which rose +to her help. Well! if they put her outside the circle +she would remain so; if they talked to her as one no +longer of them, but belonging to another life, so be it! +Elinor determined that she would make no further appeal. +She would not even show how much it hurt her. +After that pale look round upon them all, she went into +the corner of the room where the piano stood, and +where there was little light. She was too proud to go +out of the room, lest they should think she was going +to cry. She went with a sudden, quick movement to +the piano instead, where perhaps she might cry too, +but where nobody should see. Poor Elinor! they had +made her feel alone by their words, and she made herself +more alone by this little instinctive withdrawal. +She began to play softly one thing after another. She +was not a great performer. Her little "tunes" were +of the simplest—no better indeed than tunes, things +that every musician despises: they made a little atmosphere +round her, a voluntary hermitage which separated +her as if she had been a hundred miles away.</p> + +<p>"I wish you could have stayed for the marriage," +Mrs. Dennistoun said.</p> + +<p>"My dear lady, it would spoil my holiday—the +middle of September. You'll have nobody except, of +course, the people you have always. To tell the truth," +John added. "I don't care tuppence for my holiday. +I'd have come—like a shot: but I don't think I could +stand it. She has always been such a pet of mine. I +don't think I could bear it, to tell the truth."</p> + +<p>"I shall have to bear it, though she is more than a +pet of mine," said Mrs. Dennistoun.</p> + +<p>"I know, I know! the relatives cannot be let off—especially +the mother, who must put up with everything. +I trust," said Mr. Lynch, with a sigh, "that it +may all turn out a great deal better than we hope. +Where are they going after the marriage?"</p> + +<p>"Some one has lent them a place—a very pretty +place—on the Thames, where they can have boating +and all that—Lord Sudbury, I think. And later they +are going on a round of visits, to his father, Lord St. +Serf, and to Lady Mariamne, and to his aunt, who is +Countess of—something or other." Mrs. Dennistoun's +voice was not untouched by a certain vague pleasure +in these fine names.</p> + +<p>"Ah," said the old lawyer, nodding his head at each, +"all among the aristocracy, I see. Well, my dear lady, +I hope you will be able to find some satisfaction in +that; it is better than to fall among—nobodies at +least."</p> + +<p>"I hope so," said Mrs. Dennistoun, with a sigh.</p> + +<p>They were speaking low, and fondly hoped that they +were not heard; but Elinor's ears and every faculty +were quickened and almost every word reached her. +But she was too proud to take any notice. And perhaps +these dreary anticipations, on the whole, did her +good, for her heart rose against them, and any little +possible doubts in her own mind were put to sudden +flight by the opposition and determination which +flooded her heart. This made her playing a little more +unsteady than usual, and she broke down several times +in the middle of a "tune;" but nobody remarked +this: they were all fully occupied with their own +thoughts.</p> + +<p>All, at least, except John, who wandered uneasily +about the room, now studying the names of the books +on the bookshelves—which he knew by heart, now pulling +the curtain aside to look out at the moonlight, now +pulling at the fronds of the great maidenhair in his distraction +till the table round was scattered with little +broken leaves. He wanted to keep out of that atmosphere +of emotion which surrounded Elinor at the +piano. But it attracted him, all the same, as the light +attracts a moth. To get away from that, to make the +severance which so soon must be a perfect severance, +was the only true policy he knew; for what was he to +her, and what could she be to him? He had already +said everything which a man in his position ought to +say. He took out a book at last, and sat down doggedly +by the table to read, thus making another circle +of atmosphere, so to speak, another globe of isolated +being in the little room, while the two elder people +talked low in the centre, conventionally inaudible to +the girl who was playing and the young man who was +reading. But John might as well have tried to solve +some tremendous problem as to read that book. He +too heard every word the elders were saying. He heard +them with his own ears, and also he heard them +through the ears of Elinor, gauging the effect which +every word would have upon her. At last he could +bear it no longer. He was driven to her side to bear a +part of her burden, even to prevent her from hearing, +which would be something. He resisted the impulse to +throw down his book, and only placed it very quietly +on the table, and even in a deliberate way, that there +might be no appearance of feeling about him—and +made his way by degrees, pausing now and then to +look at a picture, though he knew them all by heart. +Thus he arrived at last at the piano, in what he flattered +himself was an accidental way.</p> + +<p>"Elinor, the stars are so bright over the combe, do +come out. It is not often they are so clear."</p> + +<p>"No," she said, more with the movement of her lips +than with any sound.</p> + +<p>"Why not? You can't want to play those old +pieces just at this moment. You will have plenty of time +to play them to-morrow."</p> + +<p>She said "No" again, with a little impatient movement +of her hands on the keys and a look towards the +others.</p> + +<p>"You are listening to what they are saying? Why +should you? They don't want you to hear. Come +along, Elinor. It's far better for you not to listen to +what is not intended<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Oh, go away, John."</p> + +<p>"I must say no in my turn. Leave the tunes till to-morrow, +and come out with me."</p> + +<p>"I thought," she said, roused a little, "that you +were fond of music, John."</p> + +<p>This brought John up suddenly in an unexpected +way. "Oh, as for that,"—he said, in a dubious tone. +Poor Elinor's tunes were not music in his sense, as she +very well knew.</p> + +<p>She laughed in a forlorn way. "I know what you +mean; but this is quite good enough for what I shall +want. I am going down, you know, to a different level +altogether. Oh, you can hear for yourself what mamma +and Mr. Lynch are saying."</p> + +<p>"Going up you mean, Elinor. I thought them both +very complaisant over all those titles."</p> + +<p>"Ah," she said, "they say that mocking. They +think I am going down; so do you, too, to the land of +mere fast people, people with no sense. Well; there is +nothing but the trial will teach any of us. We shall +see."</p> + +<p>"It is rather a dreadful risk to run, if it's only a +trial, Elinor."</p> + +<p>"A trial—for you, not for me—I am not the one that +thinks so, except so far as the tunes are concerned," +she said with a laugh. "I confess so far as that Lady +Mariamne is fond of a comic song. I don't think she +goes any further. I shall be good enough for them in +the way of music."</p> + +<p>"I should be content never to hear another note of +music all my life, Elinor, if<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Ah, there you begin again. Not you, John, not +you! I can't bear any more. Neither stars, nor walks, +nor listening; no more! This rather," and she +brought down her hands with a great crash upon the +piano, making every one start. Then Elinor rose, having +produced her effect. "I think it must be time to go +to bed, mamma. John is talking of the stars, which +means that he wants his cigar, and Mr. Lynch must +want just to look at the tray in the dining-room. And +you are tired by all this fuss, all this unnatural fuss +about me, that am not worth<span class="norewrap">——</span> Come, mother, to +bed."</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>The days in the cottage were full of excitement and +of occupation during the blazing August weather, not +so much indeed as is common in many houses in which +the expectant bridegroom is always coming and going; +though perhaps the place of that exhilarating commotion +was more or less filled by the ever-present diversity +of opinion, the excitement of a subdued but never-ended +conflict in which one was always on the defensive, +and the other covertly or openly attacking, or at +least believed to be so doing, the distant and unseen +object to which all their thoughts turned. Mrs. Dennistoun, +indeed, was not always aggressive, her opposition +was but in fits and starts. Often her feelings of pain +and alarm were quiescent in that unfeigned and salutary +interest in clothes and necessities of preparation +which is almost always a resource to a woman's mind. +It is wrong to undervalue this possibility which compensates +a woman in a small degree for some of her +special troubles. When the mother's heart was very +heavy, it was often diverted a little by the discussion of +a dinner dress, or made to forget itself for the moment +in a question about the cut of a sleeve, or which would +be most becoming to Elinor of two colours for a ball +gown. But though Mrs. Dennistoun forgot often, +Elinor never forgot. The dresses and "things" generally +occupied her a great deal, but not in the form of +the anodyne which they supplied to her mother. Her +mind was always on the alert, looking out for those flying +arrows of warfare which your true fighter lets fly in +the most innocent conversation at the most unexpected +moments. Elinor thus flung her shield in her mother's +face a hundred times when that poor lady was thinking +no evil, when she was altogether occupied by the question +of frills and laces, or whether tucks or flounces +were best, and she was startled many times by that unnecessary +rattle of Elinor's arms. "I was not thinking +of Mr. Compton," she would sometimes be driven to +say; "he was not in my head at all. I was thinking of +nothing more important than that walking dress, and +what you had best wear in the afternoon when you are +on those grand visits."</p> + +<p>There was one thing which occasioned a little discussion +between them, and that was the necessary civility +of asking the neighbours to inspect these "things" when +they were finally ready. It was only the argument that +these neighbours would be Mrs. Dennistoun's sole +resource when she was left alone that made Elinor assent +at last. Perhaps, however, as she walked quickly along +towards the moorland Rectory, a certain satisfaction in +showing them how little their hints had been taken, +mingled with the reluctance to admit those people who +had breathed a doubt upon the sacred name of Phil, to +such a sign of intimacy.</p> + +<p>"I have been watching you along the side of the +combe, and wondering if it was you such a threatening +day," said Alice Hudson, coming to the door to meet +her. "How nice of you to come, Elinor, when you must +be so busy, and you have not been here since—I don't +know how long ago!"</p> + +<p>"No, I have not been here," said Elinor with a gravity +worthy the bride of a maligned man. "But the +time is so near when I shall not be able to come at all +that I thought it was best. Mamma wishes you to +come over to-morrow, if you will, to see my things."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" the three ladies said together; and Mrs. +Hudson came forward and gave Elinor a kiss. "My +dear," she said, "I take it very kind you coming yourself +to ask us. Many would not have done it after what +we felt it our duty<span class="norewrap">——</span> But you always had a beautiful +spirit, Elinor, bearing no malice, and I hope with all +my heart that it will have its reward."</p> + +<p>"Well, mother," said Alice, "I don't see how Elinor +could do anything less, seeing we have been such +friends all our lives as girls, she and I, and I am sure I +have always been ready to give her patterns, or to show +her how a thing was done. I should have been very +much disappointed if she had not asked me to see her +things."</p> + +<p>Mary Dale, who was Mrs. Hudson's sister, said nothing +at all, but accepted the visit as in the course of +nature. Mary was the one who really knew something +about Phil Compton: but she had been against the remonstrance +which Mrs. Hudson thought it her duty to +make. What was the good? Miss Dale had said; and +she had refrained from telling two or three stories +about the Comptons which would have made the hair +stand upright on the heads of the Rector and the Rectoress. +She did not even now say that it was kind, but +met Elinor in silence, as, in her position as the not important +member of the family, it was quite becoming +for her to do.</p> + +<p>Then the Rector came in and took her by both hands, +and gave her the most friendly greeting. "I heard +Elinor's voice, and I stopped in the middle of my +sermon," he said. "You will remark in church on +Sunday a jerky piece, which shows how I stopped to +reflect whether it could be you—and then went on for +another sentence, and then decided that it must be +you. There is a big Elinor written across my sermon +paper." He laughed, but he was a little moved, to see, +after the "coolness," the little girl whom he had +christened come back to her old friends again.</p> + +<p>"She has come to ask us to go and see her things, +papa," said Mrs. Hudson, twinkling an eye to get rid +of a suspicion of a tear.</p> + +<p>"Am I to come, too?" said the Rector; and thus +the little incident of the reconciliation was got over, to +the great content of all.</p> + +<p>Elinor reflected to herself that they were really kind +people, as she went out again into the grey afternoon +where everything was getting up for rain. She made +up her mind she would just have time to run into the +Hills', at the Hurst, and leave her message, and so get +home before the storm began. The clouds lay low +like a dark grey hood over the fir-trees and moorland +shaggy tops of the downs all round. There was not a +break anywhere in the consistent grey, and the air, +always so brisk, had fallen still with that ominous lull +that comes over everything before a convulsion of +nature. Some birds were still hurrying home into the +depths of the copses with a frightened straightness of +flight, as if they were afraid they would not get back in +time, and all the insects that are so gay with their humming +and booming had disappeared under leaves and +stones and grasses. Elinor saw a bee burrowing deep +in the waxen trumpet of a foxglove, as if taking shelter, +as she walked quickly past. The Hills—there were +two middle-aged sisters of them, with an old mother, +too old for such diversion as the inspection of wedding-clothes, +in the background—would scarcely let Elinor +go out again after they had accepted her invitation with +rapture. "I was just wondering where I should see the +new fashions," said Miss Hill, "for though we are not +going to be married we must begin to think about our +winter things<span class="norewrap">——</span>" "And this will be such an opportunity," +said Miss Susan, "and so good of you to come +yourself to ask us."</p> + +<p>"What has she come to ask you to," said old Mrs. +Hill; "the wedding? I told you girls, I was sure you +would not be left out. Why, I knew her mother before +she was married. I have known them all, man +and boy, for nearer sixty than fifty years—before her +mother was born! To have left you out would have +been ridiculous. Yes, yes, Elinor, my dear; tell your +mother they will come—delighted! They have been +thinking for the last fortnight what bonnets they would +wear<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother!" and "Oh, Elinor!" said the "girls," +"you must not mind what mother says. We know +very well that you must have worlds of people to ask. +Don't think, among all your new connections, of such +little country mice as us. We shall always just take +the same interest in you, dear child, whether you find +you can ask us or not."</p> + +<p>"But of course you are asked," said Elinor, in <i>gaieté +de cœur</i>, not reflecting that her mother had begun to +be in despair about the number of people who could be +entertained in the cottage dining-room, "and you must +not talk about my new grand connections, for nobody +will ever be like my old friends."</p> + +<p>"Dear child!" they said, and "I always knew that +dear Elinor's heart was in the right place." But it was +all that Elinor could do to get free of their eager affection +and alarm lest she should be caught in the rain. +Both of the ladies produced waterproofs, and one a +large pair of goloshes to fortify her, when it was found +that she would go; and they stood in the porch watching +her as she went along into the darkening afternoon, +without any of their covers and shelters. The Miss +Hills were apt to cling together, after the manner of +those pairs of sweet sisters in the "Books of Beauty" +which had been the delight of their youth; they stood, +with arms intertwined, in their porch, watching Elinor +as she hurried home, with her light half-flying step, +like the belated birds. "Did you hear what she said +about old friends, poor little thing?" "I wonder if +she is finding out already that her new grand connections +are but vanity!" they said, shaking their heads. +The middle-aged sisters looked out of the sheltered +home, which perhaps they had not chosen for themselves, +with a sort of wistful feeling, half pity, perhaps +half envy, upon the "poor little thing" who was running +out so light-hearted into the storm. They had +long ago retired into waterproofs and goloshes, and had +much unwillingness to wet their feet—which things are +a parable. They went back and closed the door, only +when the first flash of lightning dazzled them, and they +remembered that an open door is dangerous during a +thunderstorm.</p> + +<p>Elinor quickened her pace as the storm began and +got home breathless with running, shaking off the first +big drops of thunder-rain from her dress. But she did +not think of any danger, and sat out in the porch watching +how the darkness came down on the combe; how +it was met with the jagged gleam of the great white +flash, and how the thunderous explosion shook the +earth. The combe, with its hill-tops on either side, became +like the scene of a battle, great armies, invisible +in the sharp torrents of rain, meeting each other with +a fierce shock and recoil, with now and then a trumpet-blast, +and now the gleam that lit up tree and copse, +and anon the tremendous artillery. When the lightning +came she caught a glimpse of the winding line of +the white road leading away out of all this—leading +into the world where she was going—and for a moment +escaped by it, even amid the roar of all the elements: +then came back, alighting again with a start in the familiar +porch, amid all the surroundings of the familiar +life, to feel her mother's hand upon her shoulder, and +her mother's voice saying, "Have you got wet, my darling? +Did you get much of it? Come in, come in +from the storm!"</p> + +<p>"It is so glorious, mamma!" Mrs. Dennistoun +stood for a few minutes looking at it, then, with a shudder, +withdrew into the drawing-room. "I think I have +seen too many storms to like it," she said. But Elinor +had not seen too many storms. She sat and watched it, +now rolling away towards the south, and bursting again +as though one army or the other had got reinforcements; +while the flash of the explosions and the roar +of the guns, and the white blast of the rain, falling like +a sheet from the leaden skies, wrapped everything in +mystery. The only thing that was to be identified from +time to time was that bit of road leading out of it—leading +her thoughts away, as it should one day lead +her eager feet, from all the storm and turmoil out into +the bright and shining world. Elinor never asked herself, +as she sat there, a spectator of this great conflict +of nature, whether that one human thing, by which +her swift thoughts traversed the storm, carried any +other suggestion as of coming back.</p> + +<p>Perhaps it is betraying feminine counsels too much +to the modest public to narrate how Elinor's things +were all laid out for the inspection of the ladies of the +parish, the dresses in one room, the "under things" in +another, and in the dining-room the presents, which +everybody was doubly curious to see, to compare their +own offerings with those of other people, or else to +note with anxious eye what was wanting, in order, if +their present had not yet been procured, to supply the +gap. How to get something that would look well +among the others, and yet not be too expensive, was +a problem which the country neighbours had much and +painfully considered. The Hudsons had given Elinor +a little tea-kettle upon a stand, which they were painfully +conscious was only plated, and sadly afraid would +not look well among all the gorgeous articles with which +no doubt her grand new connections had loaded her. +The Rector came himself, with his ladies to see how the +kettle looked, with a great line of anxiety between his +brows; but when they saw that the revolving dishes +beside it, which were the gift of the wealthy Lady +Mariamne, were plated too, and not nearly such a pretty +design, their hearts went up in instant exhilaration, followed +a moment after by such indignation as they could +scarcely restrain. "That rich sister, the woman who +married the Jew" (which was their very natural explanation +of the lady's nickname), "a woman who is rolling +in wealth, and who actually made up the match!" This +was crescendo, a height of scorn impossible to describe +upon a mere printed page. "One would have thought +she would have given a diamond necklace or something +of consequence," said Mrs. Hudson in her husband's +ear. "Or, at least silver," said the Rector. "These +fashionable people, though they give themselves every +luxury, have sometimes not very much money to spend; +but silver, at least, she might have been expected to +give silver." "It is simply disgraceful," said the +Rector's wife. "I am glad, at all events, my dear," +said he, "that our little thing looks just as well as +any." "It is one of the prettiest things she has got," +said Mrs. Hudson, with a proud heart. Lord St. Serf +sent an old-fashioned little ring in a much worn velvet +case, and the elder brother, Lord Lomond, an album +for photographs. The Rector's wife indicated these +gifts to her husband with little shrugs of her shoulders. +"If that's all the family can do!" she said: "why Alice's +cushion, which was worked with floss silks upon satin, +was a more creditable present than that." The Miss +Hills, who as yet had not had an opportunity, as they +said, of giving their present, roamed about, curious, inspecting +everything. "What is the child to do with a +kettle, a thing so difficult to pack, and requiring spirit +for the lamp, and all that—and only plated!" the +Hills said to each other. "Now, that little teapot of +ours," said Jane to Susan, "if mother would only +consent to it, is no use to us, and would look very handsome +here." "Real silver, and old silver, which is so +much the rage, and a thing she could use every day +when she has her visitors for afternoon tea," said Susan +to Jane. "It is rather small," said Miss Hill, doubtfully. +"But quite enough for two people," said the +other, forgetting that she had just declared that the +teapot would be serviceable when Elinor had visitors. +But that was a small matter. Elinor, however, had +other things better than these—a necklace, worth half +a year's income, from John Tatham, which he had +pinched himself to get for her that she might hold up +her head among those great friends; and almost all +that her mother possessed in the way of jewellery, +which was enough to make a show among these simple +people. "Her own family at least have done Elinor +justice," said the Rector, going again to have a look at +the kettle, which was the chief of the display to him. +Thus the visitors made their remarks. The Hills did +nothing but stand apart and discuss their teapot and +the means by which "mother" could be got to assent.</p> + +<p>The Rector took his cup of tea, always with a side +glance at the kettle, and cut his cake, and made his +gentle jest. "If Alick and I come over in the night and +carry them all off you must not be surprised," he said; +"such valuable things as these in a little poor parish +are a dreadful temptation, and I don't suppose you +have much in the way of bolts and bars. Alick is as +nimble as a cat, he can get in at any crevice, and I'll +bring over the box for the collections to carry off the +little things." This harmless wit pleased the good +clergyman much, and he repeated it to all the ladies. +"I am coming over with Alick one of these dark nights +to make a sweep of everything," he said. Mr. Hudson +retired in the gentle laughter that followed this, feeling +that he had acquitted himself as a man ought who is +the only gentleman present, as well as the Rector of the +parish. "I am afraid I would not be a good judge of +the 'things,'" he said, "and for anything I know there +may be mysteries not intended for men's eyes. I like +to see your pretty dresses when you are wearing them, +but I can't judge of their effect in the gross." He was +a man who had a pleasant wit. The ladies all agreed +that the Rector was sure to make you laugh whatever +was the occasion, and he walked home very briskly, +pleased with the effect of the kettle, and saying to himself +that from the moment he saw it in Mappin's window +he had felt sure it was the very thing.</p> + +<p>The other ladies were sufficiently impressed with the +number and splendour of Elinor's gowns. Mrs. Dennistoun +explained, with a humility which was not, I fear, +untinctured by pride, that both number and variety +were rendered necessary by the fact that Elinor was +going upon a series of visits among her future husband's +great relations, and would have to be much in society +and among fine people who dressed very much, and +would expect a great deal from a bride. "Of course, in +ordinary circumstances the half of them would have been +enough: for I don't approve of too many dresses."</p> + +<p>"They get old-fashioned," said Mrs. Hudson, gravely, +"before they are half worn out."</p> + +<p>"And to do them up again is quite as expensive as +getting new ones, and not so satisfactory," said the Miss +Hills.</p> + +<p>The proud mother allowed both of these drawbacks, +"But what could I do?" she said. "I cannot have my +child go away into such a different sphere unprovided. +It is a sacrifice, but we had to make it. I wish," she +said, looking round to see that Elinor was out of hearing, +"it was the only sacrifice that had to be made."</p> + +<p>"Let us hope," said the Rector's wife, solemnly, +"that it will all turn out for the best."</p> + +<p>"It will do that however it turns out," said Miss +Dale, who was even more serious than it was incumbent +on a member of a clerical household to be, "for we all +know that troubles are sent for our advantage as well as +blessings, and poor dear Elinor may require much discipline<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Oh, goodness, don't talk as if the poor child was +going to be executed," said Susan Hill.</p> + +<p>"I am not at all alarmed," said Mrs. Dennistoun. It +was unwise of her to have left an opening for any such +remark. "My Elinor has always been surrounded by +love wherever she has been. Her future husband's +family are already very fond of her. I am not at all +alarmed on Elinor's account."</p> + +<p>She laid the covering wrapper over the dresses with +an air of pride and confidence which was remembered +long afterwards—as the pride that goeth before a fall by +some, but by others with more sympathy, who guessed +the secret workings of the mother's heart.</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>Time went on quickly enough amid all these preparations +and the little attendant excitements of letters, +congratulations, and presents which came in on every +side. Elinor complained mildly of the fuss, but it was +a new and far from unpleasant experience. She liked +to have the packets brought in by the post, or the +bigger boxes that arrived from the station, and to open +them and produce out of the wadding or the saw-dust +one pretty thing after another. At first it was altogether +fresh and amusing, this new kind of existence, +though after a while she grew <i>blasée</i>, as may be supposed. +Lady Mariamne's present she was a little +ashamed of: not that she cared much, but because of +the look on her mother's face when those inferior articles +were unpacked; and at the ring which old Lord +St. Serf sent her she laughed freely.</p> + +<p>"I will put it with my own little old baby rings in +this little silver tray, and they will all look as if they +were antiques, or something worth looking at," said +Elinor. Happily there were other people who endowed +her more richly with rings fit for a bride to wear. The +relations at a distance were more or less pleased with +Elinor's prospects. A few, indeed, from different parts +of the world wrote in the vein of Elinor's home-advisers, +hoping that it was not the Mr. Compton who was +so well known as a betting man whom she was going +to marry; but the fact that she was marrying into a noble +family, and would henceforward be known as the +Honourable Mrs. Compton, mollified even these critics. +Only three brothers—one a great invalid, and two soldiers—between +him and the title. Elinor's relations +promptly inaugurated in their imaginations a great war, +in which two noble regiments were cut to pieces, to dispose +of the two Captains Compton; and as for the invalid, +that he would obligingly die off was a contingency +which nobody doubted—and behold Elinor +Dennistoun Lady St. Serf! This greatly calmed criticism +among her relations, who were all at a distance, +and whose approval or disapproval did not much affect +her spirits anyhow. John Tatham's father, Mrs. Dennistoun's +cousin, was of more consequence, chiefly as +being John's father, but also a little for himself, and it +was remarked that he said not a word against the +marriage, but sent a very handsome present, and many +congratulations—chiefly inspired (but this Elinor did +not divine) by an unfeigned satisfaction that it was not +his son who was the bridegroom. Mr. Tatham, senr., +did not approve of early marriages for young men pushing +their way at the bar, unless the bride was, so to +speak, in the profession and could be of use to her husband. +Even in such cases, the young man was better +off without a wife, he was of opinion. How could he +get up his cases properly if he had to drag about in +society at the tail of a gay young woman? Therefore +he sent Elinor a very nice present in gratitude to her +and providence. She was a danger removed out of his +boy's way.</p> + +<p>All this kept a cheerful little commotion about the +house, and often kept the mother and daughter from +thinking more than was good for them. These extraneous +matters did not indeed preserve Elinor altogether +from the consciousness that her <i>fiancé's</i> letters were very +short and a little uncertain in their arrival, sometimes +missing several days together, and generally written in +a hurry to catch the post. But they kept Mrs. Dennistoun +from remarking that fact, as otherwise she would +have been sure to do. If any chill of disappointment +was in Elinor's mind, she said to herself that men were +generally bad correspondents, not like girls, who had +nothing else to do, and other consolations of this kind, +which to begin with beg the question, and show the +beginning of that disenchantment which ought to be reserved +at least for a later period. Elinor had already +given up a good deal of her own ideal. She would not, +as she said, put herself in competition with the grouse, +she would not give him the choice between her and a +cigar; but already the consciousness that he preferred +the grouse, and even a cigar, to her society, had come an +unwilling intruder into Elinor's mind. She would not +allow to herself that she felt it in either case. She said +to herself that she was proud of it, that it showed the +freedom and strength of a man, and that love was only +one of many things which occupied his life. She rebelled +against the other deduction that "'tis woman's +sole existence," protesting loudly (to herself) that she +too had a hundred things to do, and did not want him +always at her apron-strings like a tame curate. But as +a matter of fact, no doubt the girl would have been +flattered and happy had he been more with her. The +time was coming very quickly in which they should be +together always, even when there was grouse in hand, +when his wife would be invited with him, and all things +would be in common between them; so what did it +matter for a few days? The marriage was fixed for +the 16th of September, and that great date was now +scarcely a fortnight off. The excitement quickened as +everything grew towards this central point. Arrangements +had to be made about the wedding breakfast and +where the guests were to be placed. The Hudsons had +put their spare rooms at the disposition of the Cottage, +and so had the Hills. The bridegroom was to stay at +the Rectory. Lady Mariamne must of course, Mrs. +Dennistoun felt, be put up at the Cottage, where the two +rooms on the ground floor—what were called the gentlemen's +rooms—had to be prepared to receive her. It +was with a little awe indeed that the ladies of the Cottage +endeavoured, by the aid of Elinor's recollections, to +come to an understanding of what a fine lady would want +even for a single night. Mrs. Dennistoun's experiences +were all old-fashioned, and of a period when even great +ladies were less luxurious than now; and it made her a +little angry to think how much more was required for +her daughter's future sister-in-law than had been necessary +to herself. But after all, what had herself to do +with it? The thing was to do Elinor credit, and make +the future sister-in-law perceive that the Cottage was +no rustic establishment, but one in which it was known +what was what, and all the requirements of the most refined +life. Elinor's bridesmaid, Mary Tatham, was to +have the spare room up-stairs, and some other cousins, +who were what Mrs. Dennistoun called "quiet people," +were to receive the hospitalities of the Hills, whose +house was roomy and old-fashioned. Thus the arrangements +of the crisis were more or less settled and everything +made smooth.</p> + +<p>Elinor and her mother were seated together in the +drawing-room on one of those evenings of which Mrs. +Dennistoun desired to make the most, as they would be +the last, but which, as they actually passed, were—if +not occupied with discussions of how everything was +to be arranged, which they went over again and again +by instinct as a safe subject—heavy, almost dull, and +dragged sadly over the poor ladies whose hearts were +so full, but to whom to be separated, though it would +be bitter, would also at the same time almost be a relief. +They had been silent for some time, not because +they had not plenty to say, but because it was so difficult +to say it without awaking too much feeling. How +could they talk of the future in which one of them +would be away in strange places, exposed to the risks +and vicissitudes of a new life, and one of them be left +alone in the unbroken silence, sitting over the fire, +with nothing but that blaze to give her any comfort? +It was too much to think of, much more to talk about, +though it need not be said that it was in the minds of +both—with a difference, for Elinor's imagination was +most employed upon the brilliant canvas where she herself +held necessarily the first place, with a sketch of her +mother's lonely life, giving her heart a pang, in the distance; +while Mrs. Dennistoun could not help but see +the lonely figure in her own foreground, against the +brightness of all the entertainments in which Elinor +should appear as a queen. They were sitting thus, the +mother employed at some fine needlework for the +daughter, the daughter doing little, as is usual nowadays. +They had been talking over Lady Mariamne and +her requirements again, and had come to an end of that +subject. What a pity that it was so hard to open the +door of their two hearts, which were so close together, +so that each might see all the tenderness and compunction +in the other; the shame and sorrow of the mother +to grudge her child's happiness, the remorse and +trouble of the child to be leaving that mother out in +all her calculations for the future! How were they to +do it on either side? They could not talk, these poor +loving women, so they were mostly silent, saying a word +or two at intervals about Mrs. Dennistoun's work (which +of course, was for Elinor), or of Elinor's village class +for sewing, which was to be transferred to her mother, +skirting the edges of the great separation which could +neither be dismissed nor ignored.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Elinor looked up, holding up her finger. +"What was that?" she said. "A step upon the +gravel?"</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, child. If we were to listen to all these +noises of the night there would always be a step +upon<span class="norewrap">——</span> Oh! I think I did hear something."</p> + +<p>"It is someone coming to the door," said Elinor, +rising up with that sudden prevision of trouble which +is so seldom deceived.</p> + +<p>"Don't go, Elinor; don't go. It might be a tramp; +wait at least till they knock at the door."</p> + +<p>"I don't think it can be a tramp, mamma. It +may be a telegram. It is coming straight up to the +door."</p> + +<p>"It will be the parcel porter from the station. He +is always coming and going, though I never knew him +so late. Pearson is in the house, you know. There is +not any cause to be alarmed."</p> + +<p>"Alarmed!" said Elinor, with a laugh of excitement; +"but I put more confidence in myself than in +Pearson, whoever it may be."</p> + +<p>She stood listening with a face full of expectation, +and Mrs. Dennistoun put down her work and listened +too. The step advanced lightly, scattering the gravel, +and then there was a pause as if the stranger had +stopped to reconnoitre. Then came a knock at the +window, which could only have been done by a tall +man, and the hearts of the ladies jumped up, and then +seemed to stop beating. To be sure, there were bolts +and bars, but Pearson was not much good, and the +house was full of valuables and very lonely. Mrs. Dennistoun +rose up, trembling a little, and went forward +to the window, bidding Elinor go back and keep quite +quiet. But here they were interrupted by a voice +which called from without, with another knock on the +window, "Nell! Nell!"</p> + +<p>"It is Phil," said Elinor, flying to the door.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dennistoun sat down again and said nothing. +Her heart sank in her breast. She did not know what +she feared; perhaps that he had come to break off the +marriage, perhaps to hurry it and carry her child away. +There was a pause as was natural at the door, a murmur +of voices, a fond confusion of words, which made +it clear that no breach was likely, and presently after +that interval, Elinor came back beaming, leading her +lover. "Here is Phil," she said, in such liquid tones +of happiness as filled her mother with mingled pleasure, +gratitude, and despite. "He has found he had a +day or two to spare, and he has rushed down here, fancy, +with an apology for not letting us know!"</p> + +<p>"She thinks everyone is like herself, Mrs. Dennistoun, +but I am aware that I am not such a popular +personage as she thinks me, and you have least reason of +all to approve of the man who is coming to carry her +away."</p> + +<p>"I am glad to see you, Mr. Compton," she said, +gravely, giving him her hand.</p> + +<p>The Hon. Philip Compton was a very tall man, with +very black hair. He had fine but rather hawk-like +features, a large nose, a complexion too white to be +agreeable, though it added to his romantic appearance. +There was a furtive look in his big dark eyes, which +had a way of surveying the country, so to speak, before +making a reply to any question, like a man whose response +depended upon what he saw. He surveyed Mrs. +Dennistoun in this way while she spoke; but then he +took her hand, stooped his head over it, and kissed it, +not without grace. "Thank you very much for that," +he said, as if there had been some doubt on his mind +about his reception. "I was glad enough to get the +opportunity, I can tell you. I've brought you some +birds, Mrs. Dennistoun, and I hope you'll give me some +supper, for I'm as hungry as a hawk. And now, Nell, +let's have a look at you," the lover said. He was +troubled by no false modesty. As soon as he had paid +the required toll of courtesy to the mother, who naturally +ought to have at once proceeded to give orders +about his supper, he held Elinor at arm's length before +the lamp, then, having fully inspected her appearance, +and expressed by a "Charming, by Jove!" his opinion +of it, proceeded to demonstrations which the presence +of the mother standing by did not moderate. There +are few mothers to whom it would be agreeable to see +their child engulfed in the arms of a large and strong +man, and covered with his bold kisses. Mrs. Dennistoun +was more fastidious even than most mothers, and +to her this embrace was a sort of profanation. The +Elinor who had been guarded like a flower from every +contact—to see her gripped in his arms by this stranger, +made her mother glow with an indignation which +she knew was out of the question, yet felt to the bottom +of her soul. Elinor was abashed before her mother, +but she was not angry. She forced herself from his +embrace, but her blushing countenance was full of happiness. +What a revolution had thus taken place in a +few minutes! They had been so dull sitting there +alone; alone, though each with the other who had +filled her life for more than twenty years; and now all +was lightened, palpitating with life. "Be good, sir," +said Elinor, pushing him into a chair as if he had been +a great dog, "and quiet and well-behaved; and then +you shall have some supper. But tell us first where +you have come from, and what put it into your head to +come here."</p> + +<p>"I came up direct from my brother Lomond's shooting-box. +Reply No. 1. What put it into my head to +come? Love, I suppose, and the bright eyes of a certain +little witch called Nell. I ought to have been in +Ireland for a sort of a farewell visit there; but when I +found I could steal two days, you may imagine I knew +very well what to do with them. Eh? Oh, it's mamma +that frightens you, I see."</p> + +<p>"It is kind of you to give Elinor two days when you +have so many other engagements," said Mrs. Dennistoun, +turning away.</p> + +<p>But he was not in the least abashed. "Yes isn't it?" +he said; "my last few days of freedom. I consider I +deserve the prize for virtue—to cut short my very last +rampage; and she will not as much as give me a kiss! +I think she is ashamed before you, Mrs. Dennistoun."</p> + +<p>"It would not be surprising if she were," said Mrs. +Dennistoun, gravely. "I am old-fashioned, as you may +perceive."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you don't need to tell me that," said he; "one +can see it with half an eye. Come here, Nell, you little +coquette: or I shall tell the Jew you were afraid of +mamma, and you will never hear an end of it as long as +you live."</p> + +<p>"Elinor, I think you had better see, perhaps, what +there is to make up as good a meal as possible for Mr. +Compton," said her mother, sitting down opposite to +the stranger, whose long limbs were stretched over half +the floor, with the intention of tripping up Elinor, it +seemed; but she glided past him and went on her way—not +offended, oh, not at all—waving her hand to him +as she avoided the very choice joke of his stretched-out +foot.</p> + +<p>"Mr. Compton," said Mrs. Dennistoun, "you will be +Elinor's husband in less than a fortnight."</p> + +<p>"I hope so," he said, displaying the large cavern of a +yawn under his black moustache as he looked her in the +face.</p> + +<p>"And after that I will have no right to interfere; but, +in the meantime, this is my house, and I hope you will +remember that these ways are not mine, and that I am +too old-fashioned to like them. I prefer a little more +respect to your betrothed."</p> + +<p>"Oh, respect," he said. "I have never found that +girls like too much respect. But as you please. Well, +look here, Nell," he said, catching her by the arm as she +came back and swinging her towards him, "your mother +thinks I'm too rough with you, my little dear."</p> + +<p>"Do you, mamma?" said Elinor, faltering a little; +but she had the sweetest rose-flush on her cheeks and +the moisture of joy in her eyes. In all her twenty-three +years she had never looked as she looked now. Her +life had been a happy one, but not like this. She had +been always beloved, and never had known for a day +what it was to be neglected; yet love had never appeared +to her as it did now, so sweet, nor life so beautiful. +What strange delusion! what a wonderful incomprehensible +mistake! or so at least the mother thought, looking +at her beautiful girl with a pang at her heart.</p> + +<p>"It is only his bad manners," said Elinor, in a voice +which sounded like a caress. "He knows very well +how to behave. He can be as nice as any one, and as +pretty spoken, and careful not to offend. It is only arriving +so suddenly, and not being expected—or that he +has forgotten his nice manners to-night. Phil, do you +hear what I say?"</p> + +<p>Phil made himself into the semblance of a dog, and +sat up and begged for pardon. It was a trick which +made people "shriek with laughing;" but Mrs. Dennistoun's +gravity remained unbroken. Perhaps her extreme +seriousness had something in it that was rather +ridiculous too. It was a relief when he went off to his +supper, attended by Elinor, and Mrs. Dennistoun was +left alone over her fire. She had a slight sense that she +had been absurd, as well as that Philip Compton had +lacked breeding, which did not make her more comfortable. +Was it possible that she would be glad when it +was all over, and her child gone—her child gone, and +with that man! Her child, her little delicately bred, +finely nurtured girl, who had been wrapped in all the +refinements of life from her cradle, and had never heard +a rough word, never been allowed to know anything that +would disturb her virginal calm!—yet now in a moment +passed away beyond her mother to the unceremonious +wooer who had no reverence for her, none of the worship +her mother expected. How strange it was! Yet +a thing that happened every day. Mrs. Dennistoun sat +over the fire, though it was not cold, and listened to the +voices and laughter in the next room. How happy they +were to be together! She did not, however, dwell upon +the fact that she was alone and deserted, as many women +would have done. She knew that she would have plenty +of time to dwell on this in the lonely days to come. +What occupied her was the want of more than manners, +of any delicate feeling in the lover who had seized with +rude caresses upon Elinor in her mother's presence, and +the fact that Elinor did not object, nor dislike that +it should be so. That she should feel forlorn was +no wonderful thing; that did not disturb her mind. +It was the other matter about Elinor that pained +and horrified her, she could not tell why; which, perhaps, +was fantastic, which, indeed, she felt sure must +be so.</p> + +<p>They were so long in the dining-room, where Compton +had his supper, that when that was over it was time to +go to bed. Still talking and laughing as if they could +never exhaust either the fountain of talk or the mirth, +which was probably much more sheer pleasure in their +meeting than genuine laughter produced by any wit or +<i>bon mot</i>, they came out into the passage, and stood by +Mrs. Dennistoun and the housemaid, who had brought +her the keys and was now fastening the hall door. A +little calendar hung on the wall beneath the lamp, and +Phil Compton walked up to it and with a laugh read +out the date. "Sixth September," he said, and turned +round to Elinor. "Only ten days more, Nell." The +housemaid stooping down over the bolt blushed and +laughed too under her breath in sympathy; but Mrs. +Dennistoun turning suddenly round caught Compton's +eye. Why had he given that keen glance about him? +There was nothing to call for his usual survey of the +company in that sentiment. He might have known well +enough what were the feelings he was likely to call forth. +A keen suspicion shot through her mind. Suspicion of +what? She could not tell. There was nothing that was +not most natural in his sudden arrival, the delightful +surprise of his coming, his certainty of a good reception. +The wonder was that he had come so little, not that he +should come now.</p> + +<p>The next morning the visitor made himself very agreeable: +his raptures were a little calmed. He talked over +all the arrangements, and entered into everything with +the interest of a man to whom that great day approaching +was indeed the greatest day in his life. And it +turned out that he had something to tell which was of +practical importance. "I may relieve your mind about +Nell's money," he said, "for I believe my company is +going to be wound up. We'll look out for another investment +which will pay as well and be less risky. It +has been found not to be doing quite so well as was +thought, so we're going to wind up."</p> + +<p>"I hope you have not lost anything," said Mrs. Dennistoun.</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing to speak of," he said, carelessly.</p> + +<p>"I am not fond of speculative companies. I am glad +you are done with it," Mrs. Dennistoun said.</p> + +<p>"And I'm glad to be done with it. I shall look +out for something permanent and decline joint-stock +companies. I thought you would like to know. But +that is the last word I shall say about business. Come, +Nell, I have only one day; let's spend it in the +woods."</p> + +<p>Elinor, who felt that the day in the woods was far +more important than any business, hurried to get her +hat and follow him to the door. It chanced to her to +glance at the calendar as she passed hastily out to where +he stood awaiting her in the porch. Why that should +have happened to anyone in the Cottage twice in the +twenty-four hours is a coincidence which I cannot explain, +but so it was. Her eye caught the little white +plaque in passing, and perceived with surprise that it +had moved up two numbers, and that it was the figure +8 which was marked upon it now.</p> + +<p>"We cannot have slept through a day and night," she +said, laughing as she joined him. "The calendar says +the eighth September now."</p> + +<p>"But I arrived on the sixth," he said. "Mind that, +Nell, whatever happens. You saw it with your own +eyes. It may be of consequence to remember."</p> + +<p>"Of what consequence could it be?" said Elinor, +wondering.</p> + +<p>"One can never tell. The only thing is I arrived on +the sixth—that you know. And, Nell, my darling, supposing +any fellow should inquire too closely into my +movements, you'll back me up, won't you, and agree in +everything I say?"</p> + +<p>"Who should inquire into your movements? There +is no one here who would be so impertinent, Phil."</p> + +<p>"Oh," he said, "there is never any telling how impertinent +people may be."</p> + +<p>"And what is there in your movements that any one +dare inquire about? I hope you are not ashamed of +coming to see me."</p> + +<p>"That is just what is the saving of me, Nell. I can't +explain what I mean now, but I will later on. Only +mind you don't contradict me if we should meet any inquisitive +person. I arrived on the sixth, and you'll back +me like my true love in everything I say."</p> + +<p>"As far as—as I know, Phil."</p> + +<p>"Oh, we must have no conditions. You must stand +by me in everything I say."</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>This day in the copse was one that Elinor never forgot. +At the moment it seemed to her the most blissful +period of all her life. There had been times in which +she had longed that Phil knew more and cared more +for the objects which had always been most familiar, +and told for most in her own existence—although it is +true that at first his very ignorance, real or assumed, +his careless way of treating all intellectual subjects, his +indifference to books and pictures, and even nature, +had amused and pleased her, giving a piquancy to the +physical strength and enjoying manhood, the perpetual +activity and state of doing something in which he was. +It was not a kind of life which she had ever known before, +and it dazzled her with its apparent freedom and fulness, +the variety in it, the constant movement, the crowd +of occupations and people. To her who had been used to +finding a great deal of her amusement in reading, in +sketching (not very well), in playing (tunes), and generally +practising with very moderate success arts for which she +had no individual enthusiasm, it had seemed like a new +life to be plunged into the society of horses and dogs, +into the active world which was made up of a round of +amusements, race meetings, days on the river, follies of +every conceivable kind, exercise, and air, and movement. +The ignorance of all these people dazzled her as if it had +been a new science. It had seemed something wonderful +and piquant to Elinor to find people who knew so +much of subjects she had never heard of, and nothing +at all of those she had been trained to know. And then +there had come a moment when she had begun to sigh +under her breath, as it were, and wish that Phil would +sometimes open a book, that when he took up the +newspaper he would look at something more than the +sporting news and the bits of gossip, that he would talk +now and then of something different from the racings +and the startings, and the odds, and the scrapes other +men got into, and the astonishing "frocks" of the Jew—those +things, so wonderful at first, like a new language, +absurd, yet amusing, came to be a little tiresome, +especially when scraps of them made up the bulk of the +very brief letters which Phil scribbled to his betrothed. +But during this day, after his unexpected arrival, the joy +of seeing him suddenly, the pleasure of feeling that he +had broken through all his engagements to come to her, +and the fervour of his satisfaction in being with her again +(that very fervour which shocked her mother), Elinor's +first glow of delight in her love came fully back. And as +they wandered through the pleasant paths of the copse, +his very talk seemed somehow changed, and to have +gained just that little mingling of perception of her +tastes and wishes which she had desired. There was a +little autumnal mist about the softening haze which +was not decay, but only the "mellow fruitfulness" of +the poet; and the day, notwithstanding this, was as +warm as June, the sky blue, with only a little white +puff of cloud here and there. Phil paused to look down +the combe, with all the folds of the downs that wrapped +it about, going off in blue outlines into the distance, +and said it was "a jolly view"—which amused Elinor +more than if he had used the finest language, and +showed that he was beginning (she thought) to care a +little for the things which pleased her. "And I suppose +you could see a man coming by that bit of road."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Elinor, "you could see a man coming—or +going: but, unless you were to make believe very +strong, like the Marchioness, you could not make out +who the man was."</p> + +<p>"What Marchioness?" said Phil. "I didn't know +you had anybody with a title about here. I say, Nell, +it's a very jolly view, but hideously dull for you, my +pet, to have lived so long here."</p> + +<p>"I never found it in the least dull," she said.</p> + +<p>"Why, there is nothing to do! I suppose you read +books, eh? That's what you call amusing yourself. +You ought to have made the old lady take you about a +deal, abroad, and all over the place: but I expect you +have never stood up for yourself a bit, Nell."</p> + +<p>"Don't call mamma the old lady, Phil. She is not +old, and far prettier than most people I know."</p> + +<p>"Well, she should have done it for herself. Might +have picked up a good match, eh? a father-in-law that +would have left you a pot of money. You don't mean +to say you wouldn't have liked that?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Phil, Phil! I wish you could understand."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, I'll let the old girl alone." And then +came the point at which Phil improved so much. "Tell +me what you've been reading last," he said. "I should +like to know what you are thinking about, even if I +don't understand it myself. I say, Nell, who do you +think that can be dashing so fast along the road?"</p> + +<p>"It is the people at Reddown," she said. "I know +their white horses. They always dash along as if they +were in the greatest hurry. Do you really want to +know what I have been reading, Phil? though it is very +little, I fear, because of the dressmakers and—all the +other things."</p> + +<p>"You see," he said, "when you have lots to do you +can't keep up with your books: which is the reason +why I never pretend to read—I have no time."</p> + +<p>"You might find a little time. I have seen you look +very much bored, and complain that there was nothing +to do."</p> + +<p>"Never when you were there, Nell, that I'll answer +for—but of course there are times when a fellow isn't +doing anything much. What would you have me read? +There's always the <i>Sporting and Dramatic</i>, you know, +the <i>Pink 'un</i>, and a few more."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Phil! you don't call them literature, I hope."</p> + +<p>"I don't know much about what you call literature. +There's Ruff, and Hoyle, and—I say, Nell, there's a dog-cart +going a pace! Who can that be, do you suppose?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know all the dog-carts about. I should +think it was some one coming from the station."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" he said, and made a long pause. "Driving +like that, if they don't break their necks, they should +be here in ten minutes or so."</p> + +<p>"Oh, not for twice that time—the road makes such +a round—but there is no reason to suppose that any +dog-cart from the station should be coming here."</p> + +<p>"Well, to return to the literature, as you call it. I +suppose I shall have to get a lot of books for you to +keep you amused—eh, Nell? even in the honeymoon."</p> + +<p>"We shall not have time to read very much if we are +moving about all the time."</p> + +<p>"Not me, but you. I know what you'll do. You'll +go and leave me planted, and run up-stairs to read your +book. I've seen the Jew do it with some of her confounded +novels that she's always wanting to turn over +to me."</p> + +<p>"But there are some novels that you would like to +read, Phil."</p> + +<p>"Not a bit. Why, Nell, I know far better stories of +fellows in our own set than any novel these writing men +ever can put on paper: fellows, and women, too—stories +that would make your hair stand on end, and that would +make you die with laughing. You can't think what lots +I know. That cart would have been here by this time +if it had been coming here, eh?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, not yet—the road makes such a long round. +Do you expect any one, Phil?"</p> + +<p>"I don't quite know; there's something on at that +confounded office of ours; everything, you know, has +gone to smash. I didn't think it well to say too much +to the old lady last night. There's been a regular row, +and the manager's absconded, and all turns on whether +they can find some books. I shouldn't wonder if one +of the fellows came down here, if they find out where I +am. I say, Nell, mind you back me up whatever I say."</p> + +<p>"But I can't possibly know anything about it," said +Elinor, astonished.</p> + +<p>"Never mind—about dates and that—if you don't +stand by me, there may be a fuss, and the wedding delayed. +Remember that, my pet, the wedding delayed—that's +what I want to avoid. Now, come, Nell, let's +have another go about the books. All English, mind +you. I won't buy you any of the French rot. They're +too spicy for a little girl like you."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you mean, Phil. I hope you +don't think that I read nothing but novels," Elinor +said.</p> + +<p>"Nothing but novels! Oh, if you go in for mathematics +and that sort of thing, Nell! the novels are too +deep for me. Don't say poetry, if you love me. I could +stand most things from you, Nell, you little darling—but, +Nell, if you come spouting verses all the time<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>His look of horror made Elinor laugh. "You need +not be afraid. I never spout verses," she said.</p> + +<p>"Come along this way a little, where we can see the +road. All women seem to like poetry. There's a few +fellows I don't mind myself. Ingoldsby, now that's +something fine. We had him at school, and perhaps +it was the contrast from one's lessons. Do you know +Ingoldsby, Nell?"</p> + +<p>"A—little—I have read some<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Ah, you like the sentimental best. There's Whyte +Melville, then, there's always something melancholy +about him—'When the old horse died,' and that sort of +thing—makes you cry, don't you know. You all like +that. Certainly, if that dog-cart had been coming here +it must have come by this time."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it must have come," Elinor admitted, with a +little wonder at the importance which he gave to this +possible incident. "But there is another train at two +if you are very anxious to see this man."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm not anxious to see him," said Mr. Compton, +with a laugh, "but probably he will want to see me. +No, Nell, you will not expect me to read poetry to you +while we're away. There's quite a library at Lomond's +place. You can amuse yourself there when I'm shooting; +not that I shall shoot much, or anything that takes +me away from my Nell. But you must come out with +us. There is no such fun as stumping over the moors—the +Jew has got all the turn-out for that sort of thing—short +frocks and knickerbockers, and a duck of a little +breech-loader. She thinks she's a great shot, poor +thing, and men are civil and let her imagine that she's +knocked over a pheasant or a hare, now and then. As for +the partridges, she lets fly, of course, but to say she hits +anything<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"I should not want to hit anything," said Elinor. +"Oh, please Phil! I will try anything else you like, +but don't make me shoot."</p> + +<p>"You little humbug! See what you'll say when you +get quite clear of the old lady. But I don't want you +to shoot, Nell. If you don't get tired sitting at home, +with all of us out on the hill, I like to come in for my +part and find a little duck all tidy, not blowzy and +blown about by the wind, like the Jew with her ridiculous +bag, that all the fellows snigger at behind her +back."</p> + +<p>"You should not let any fellow laugh at your sister, +Phil<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Oh, as for that! they are all as thick with her as I +am, and why should I interfere? But I promise you +nobody shall cut a joke upon my Nell."</p> + +<p>"I should hope not, indeed," said Elinor, indignant; +"but as for your 'fellows,' Phil, as you call them, you +mustn't be angry with me, but I don't much like those +gentlemen; they are a little rude and rough. They +shall not call me by my Christian name, or anything +but my own formal<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Compton," he said, seizing her in his arms, +"you little duck! they'll be as frightened of you as +if you were fifty. But you mustn't spoil good company, +Nell. I shall like you to keep them at a distance, but +you mustn't go too far; and, above all, my pet, you +mustn't put out the Jew. I calculate on being a lot +there; they have a nice house and a good table, and all +that, and Prestwich is glad of somebody to help about +his horses. You mustn't set up any of your airs with +the Jew."</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you mean by my airs, Phil."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I do, and they're delicious, Nell: half like +a little girl and half like a queen: but it will never do +to make the Jew feel small in her own set. Hallo! +there's some one tumbling alone over the stones on that +precious road of yours. I believe it's that cart from the +station after all."</p> + +<p>"No," said Elinor, "it is only one of the tradespeople. +You certainly are anxious about those carts from the +station, Phil."</p> + +<p>"Not a bit!" he said, and then, after a moment, he +added, "Yes, on the whole, I'd much rather the man +came, if he's coming while I'm here, and while you are +with me, Nell; for I want you to stick to me, and back +me up. They might think I ought to go after that +manager fellow and spoil the wedding. Therefore mind +you back me up."</p> + +<p>"I can't think, dear Phil, what there is for me to do. +I know nothing about the business nor what has happened. +You never told me anything, and how can I +back you up about things I don't know?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, you can," he said, "you'll soon see if the +fellow comes; just you stand by me, whatever I say. +You mayn't know—or even I may seem to make a mistake; +but you know me if you don't know the circumstances, +and I hope you can trust me, Nell, that it will +be all right."</p> + +<p>"But<span class="norewrap">——</span>" said Elinor, confused.</p> + +<p>"Don't go on with your buts; there's a darling, +don't contradict me. There is nothing looks so silly to +strangers as a woman contradicting every word a fellow +says. I only want you to stand by me, don't you know, +that's all; and I'll tell you everything about it after, +when there's time."</p> + +<p>"Tell me about it now," said Elinor; "you may +be sure I shall be interested; there's plenty of time +now."</p> + +<p>"Talk about business to you! when I've only a single +day, and not half time enough, you little duck, to tell +you what a darling you are, and how I count every +hour till I can have you all to myself. Ah, Nell, Nell, +if that day were only here<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>And then Phil turned to those subjects and those +methods which cast so much confusion into the mind of +Mrs. Dennistoun, when practised under her sedate and +middle-aged eyes. But Elinor, as has been said, did +not take exactly the same view.</p> + +<p>Presently they went to luncheon, and Phil secured +himself a place at table commanding the road. "I +never knew before how jolly it was," he said, "though +everything is jolly here. And that peep of the road +must give you warning when any invasion is coming."</p> + +<p>"It is too far off for that," said Mrs. Dennistoun.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, not for sharp eyes. Nell there told me who +several people were—those white horses—the people at—where +did you say, Nell?"</p> + +<p>"Reddown, mamma—the Philistines, as you call +them, that are always dashing about the country—<i>nouveaux +riches</i>, with the finest horses in the county."</p> + +<p>"I like the <i>nouveaux riches</i> for that," said Phil (he +did not go wrong in his French, which was a great consolation +to Elinor), "they like to have the best of everything. +Your poor swell has to take what he can get, +but the <i>parvenu's</i> the man in these days; and then +there was a dog-cart, which she pronounced to be from +the station, but which turned out to be the butcher, or +the baker, or the candle-stick maker<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"It is really too far off to make sure of anything, except +white horses."</p> + +<p>"Ah, there's no mistaking them. I see something +sweeping along, but that's a country wagon, I suppose. +It gives me a great deal of diversion to see the people +on the road—which perhaps you will think a vulgar +amusement."</p> + +<p>"Not at all," said Mrs. Dennistoun, politely, but she +thought within herself how empty the brain must be +which sought diversion from the distant carriages passing +two miles off: to be sure across the combe, as the +crow flies, it was not a quarter part so far as that.</p> + +<p>"Phil thinks some one may possibly come to him on +business—to explain things," said Elinor, anxious on +her part to make it clear that it was not out of mere +vacancy that her lover had watched so closely the carriages +on the road.</p> + +<p>"Unfortunately, there is something like a smash," he +said; "they'll keep it out of the papers if they can, but +you may see it in the papers; the manager has run +away, and there's a question about some books. I don't +suppose you would understand—they may come to me +here about it, or they may wait till I go back to town."</p> + +<p>"I thought you were going to Ireland, Phil."</p> + +<p>"So I shall, probably, just for three days—to fill up +the time. One wants to be doing something to keep +one's self down. You can't keep quiet and behave yourself +when you are going to be married in a week: unless +you're a little chit of a girl without any feelings," +he said with a laugh. And Elinor laughed too; while +Mrs. Dennistoun sat as grave as a judge at the head of +the table. But Phil was not daunted by her serious +face: so long as the road was quite clear he had all the +appearance of a perfectly easy mind.</p> + +<p>"We have been talking about literature," he said. +"I am a stupid fellow, as perhaps you know, for that +sort of thing. But Nell is to indoctrinate me. We +mean to take a big box of books, and I'm to be made to +read poetry and all sorts of fine things in my honeymoon."</p> + +<p>"That is a new idea," said Mrs. Dennistoun. "I +thought Elinor meant to give up reading, on the other +hand, to make things square."</p> + +<p>There was a little breath of a protest from Elinor. +"Oh, mamma!" but she left the talk (he could do it so +much better) in Compton's hand.</p> + +<p>"I expect to figure as a sort of prodigy in my family," +he said; "we're not bookish. The Jew goes in for +French novels, but I don't intend to let Nell touch +them, so you may be easy in your mind."</p> + +<p>"I have no doubt Lady Mariamne makes a good selection," +said Mrs. Dennistoun.</p> + +<p>"Not she! she reads whatever comes, and the more +salt the better. The Jew is quite an emancipated person. +Don't you think she'll bore you rather in this +little house? She carries bales of rubbish with her +wherever she goes, and her maid, and her dog, and I +don't know what. If I were you I'd write, or better +wire, and tell her there's a capital train from Victoria +will bring her here in time for the wedding, and that +it's a thousand pities she should disturb herself to come +for the night."</p> + +<p>"If your sister can put up with my small accommodation, +I shall of course be happy to have her, whatever +she brings with her," Mrs. Dennistoun said.</p> + +<p>"Oh! it's not a question of putting up—she'd be +delighted, I'm sure: but I think you'll find her a great +bore. She is exceedingly fussy when she has not all +her things about her. However, you must judge for +yourself. But if you think better of it, wire a few +words, and it'll be all right. I'm to go to the old Rectory, +Nell says."</p> + +<p>"It is not a particularly old Rectory; it is a very +nice, pleasant house. I think you will find yourself +quite comfortable—you and the gentleman<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Dick Bolsover, who is going to see me through it: +and I daresay I should not sleep much, if I were in the +most luxurious bed in the world. They say a man who +is going to be hanged sleeps like a top, but I don't +think I shall; what do you say, Nell?"</p> + +<p>"Elinor, I should think, could have no opinion on +the subject," said Mrs. Dennistoun, pale with anger. +"You will all dine here, of course. Some other friends +are coming, and a cousin, Mr. Tatham, of Tatham's +Cross."</p> + +<p>"Is that," said Phil, "the Cousin John?"</p> + +<p>"John, I am sorry to say, is abroad; the long vacation +is the worst time. It is his father who is coming, +and his sister, Mary Tatham, who is Elinor's bridesmaid—she +and Miss Hudson at the Rectory."</p> + +<p>"Only two; and very sensible, instead of the train +one sees, all thinking how best to show themselves off. +Dick Bolsover is man enough to tackle them both. He +expects some fun, I can tell you. What is there to be +after we are gone, Nell?" He stopped and looked +round with a laugh. "Rather close quarters for a ball," +he said.</p> + +<p>"There will be no ball. You forget that when you +take Elinor away I shall be alone. A solitary woman +living in a cottage, as you remark, does not give balls. +I am much afraid that there will be very little fun for +your friend."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he'll amuse himself well enough; he's the sort +of fellow who always makes himself at home. A Rectory +will be great fun for him; I don't suppose he was +ever in one before, unless perhaps when he was a boy +at school. Yes, as you say—what a lot of trouble it +will be for you to be sure: not as if Nell had a sister +to enjoy the fun after. It's a thousand pities you did +not decide to bring her up to town, and get us shuffled +off there. You might have got a little house for next +to nothing at this time of the year, and saved all the +row, turning everything upside down in this nice little +place, and troubling yourself with visitors and so forth. +But one always thinks of that sort of thing too late."</p> + +<p>"I should not have adopted such an expedient in any +case. Elinor must be married among her own people, +wherever her lot may be cast afterwards. Everybody +here has known her ever since she was born."</p> + +<p>"Ah, that's a thing ladies think of, I suppose," said +Compton. He had stuck his glass into his eye and was +gazing out of the window. "Very jolly view," he continued. +"And what's that, Nell, raising clouds of dust? +I haven't such quick eyes as you."</p> + +<p>"I should think it must be a circus or a menagerie, +or something, mamma."</p> + +<p>"Very likely," said Mrs. Dennistoun. "They sometimes +come this way on the road to Portsmouth, and +give little representations in all the villages, to the +great excitement of the country folk."</p> + +<p>"We are the country folk, and I feel quite excited," +said Phil, dropping his glass. "Nell, if there's a representation, +you and I will go to-night."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Phil, what<span class="norewrap">——</span>" Elinor was about to say folly: +but she paused, seeing a look in his eye which she had +already learned to know, and added "fun," in a voice +which sounded almost like an echo of his own.</p> + +<p>"There is nothing like being out in the wilderness +like this to make one relish a little fun, eh? I daresay +you always go. The Jew is the one for every village +fair within ten miles when she is in the country. She +says they're better than any play. Hallo! what is +that?"</p> + +<p>"It is some one coming round the gravel path."</p> + +<p>A more simple statement could not be, but it made +Compton strangely uneasy. He rose up hastily from +the table. "It is, perhaps, the man I am looking for. +If you'll permit me, I'll go and see."</p> + +<p>He went out of the room, calling Elinor by a look +and slight movement of his head, but when he came +out into the hall was met by a trim clerical figure and +genial countenance, the benign yet self-assured looks +of the Rector of the Parish: none other could this +smiling yet important personage be.</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>The Rector came in with his smiling and rosy face. +He was, as many of his parishioners thought, a picture +of a country clergyman. Such a healthy colour, as clear +as a girl's, limpid blue eyes, with very light eyelashes +and eyebrows; a nice round face, "beautifully modelled," +according to Miss Sarah Hill, who did a little in +that way herself, and knew how to approve of a Higher +Sculptor's work. And then the neatest and blackest of +coats, and the whitest and stiffest of collars. Mr. Hudson, +I need scarcely say, was not so left to himself as to +permit his clerical character to be divined by means of +a white tie. He came in, as was natural among country +neighbours, without thinking of any bell or knocker +on the easily opened door, and was about to peep into +the drawing-room with "Anybody in?" upon his smiling +lips, when he saw a gentleman approaching, picking +up his hat as he advanced. Mr. Hudson paused a moment +in uncertainty. "Mr. Compton, I am sure," he +said, holding out both of his plump pink hands. "Ah, +Elinor too! I was sure I could not be mistaken. And +I am exceedingly glad to make your acquaintance." +He shook Phil's hand up and down in a sort of see-saw. +"Very glad to make your acquaintance! though +you are the worst enemy Windyhill has had for many a +day—carrying off the finest lamb in all the fold."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I'm a wolf, I suppose," said Phil. He went to +the door and took a long look out while Elinor led the +Rector into the drawing-room. Then Mr. Compton +lounged in after them, with his hands in his pockets, +and placed himself in the bow-window, where he could +still see the white line across the combe of the distant +road.</p> + +<p>"They'll think I have stolen a march upon them all, +Elinor," said the Rector, "chancing upon Mr. Compton +like this, a quite unexpected pleasure. I shall keep +them on the tenterhooks, asking them whom they suppose +I have met? and they will give everybody but the +right person. What a thing for me to have been the +first person to see your intended, my dear! and I congratulate +you, Elinor," said the Rector, dropping his +voice; "a fine handsome fellow, and such an air! You +are a lucky girl—" he paused a little and said, with a +slight hesitation, in a whisper, "so far as meets the +eye."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Hudson, don't spoil everything," said Elinor, +in the same tone.</p> + +<p>"Well, I cannot tell, can I, my dear?—the first peep +I have had." He cleaved his throat and raised his +voice. "I believe we are to have the pleasure of entertaining +you, Mr. Compton, on a certain joyful occasion +(joyful to you, not to us). I need not say how pleased +my wife and I and the other members of the family will +be. There are not very many of us—we are only five +in number—my son, and my daughter, and Miss Dale, +my wife's sister, but much younger than Mrs. Hudson—who +has done us the pleasure of staying with us for +part of the year. I think she has met you somewhere, +or knows some of your family, or—something. She is +a great authority on noble families. I don't know +whether it is because she has been a good deal in society, +or whether it is out of Debrett<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Nell, come and tell me what this is," Compton +said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Phil! it is nothing, it is a carriage. I don't +know what it is. Be civil to the Rector, please."</p> + +<p>"So I am, perfectly civil."</p> + +<p>"You have not answered a single word, and he has +been talking to you for ten minutes."</p> + +<p>"Well, but he hasn't said anything that I can answer. +He says Miss Something or other knows my family. +Perhaps she does. Well, much good may it do her! +but what can I say to that? I am sure I don't know +hers. I didn't come here to be talked to by the Rector. +Could we slip out and leave him with your +mother? That would suit his book a great deal better. +Come, let's go."</p> + +<p>"Oh! he is speaking to you, Phil."</p> + +<p>Compton turned round and eyed the Rector. "Yes?" +he said in so marked an interrogative that Mr. Hudson +stopped short and flushed. He had been talking for +some time.</p> + +<p>"Oh! I was not precisely asking a question," he +said, in his quiet tones. "I was saying that we believe +and hope that another gentleman is coming with you—for +the occasion."</p> + +<p>"Dick Bolsover," said Compton, "a son of Lord +Freshfield's; perhaps Miss <span class="norewrap">——</span>, the lady you were talking +of, may know his family too. His brother got a +little talked of in that affair about Fille d'Or, don't you +know, at Newmarket. But Dick is a rattling good +fellow, doesn't race, and has no vices. He is coming to +stand by me and see that all's right."</p> + +<p>"We shall be happy to see Mr. Bolsover, I am sure." +The Rector rubbed his hands and said to himself with +pleasure that two Honourables in his quiet house was +something to think of, and that he hoped it would not +turn the heads of the ladies, and make Alice expect—one +couldn't tell what. And then he said, by way of +changing yet continuing the subject, "I suppose you've +been looking at the presents. Elinor must have shown +you her presents."</p> + +<p>"By Jove, I never thought of the presents. Have +you got a lot, Nell?"</p> + +<p>"She has got, if I may be allowed to answer for her, +having known her all her life, a great many pretty +things, Mr. Compton. We are not rich, to be sure, her +old friends here. We have to content ourselves with +but a small token of a great deal of affection; but still +there are a number of pretty things. Elinor, what were +you thinking of, my dear, not to show Mr. Compton +the little set out which you showed us? Come, I +should myself like to look them over again."</p> + +<p>Phil gave another long look at the distant road, and +then he thrust his arm into Elinor's and said, "To be +sure, come along, Nell. It will be something to do." +He did not wait for the Rector to pass first, which Elinor +thought would have been better manners, but +thrust her before him quite regardless of the older people. +"Let's see the trumpery," he said.</p> + +<p>"Don't use such a word, Phil: the Rector will be +so hurt."</p> + +<p>"Oh, will he? did he work you an—antimacassar or +something?"</p> + +<p>"Phil, speak low at least. No, but his daughter +did; and they gave me<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"I know: a cardcase or a button-hook, or something. +And how many biscuit-boxes have you got, and clocks, +and that sort of thing? I advise you to have an auction +as soon as we get away. Hallo! that's a nice little +thing; look pretty on your pretty white neck I should +say, Nell. Who gave you that?" He took John's +necklace out of its box where it had lain undisturbed +until now, and pulled it through his fingers. "Cost a +pretty bit of money that, I should say. You can raise +the wind on it when we're down on our luck, Nell."</p> + +<p>"My cousin John, whom you have heard me speak +of, gave me that, Phil," said Elinor, with great gravity. +She thought it necessary, she could scarcely tell why, +to make a stand for her cousin John.</p> + +<p>"Ah, I thought it was one of the disappointed ones," +said Phil, flinging it back carelessly onto the bed of +white velvet where it had been fitted so exactly. +"That's how they show their spite; for of course I +can't give you anything half as good as that."</p> + +<p>"There was no disappointment in the matter," said +Elinor, almost angry with the misconceptions of her +lover.</p> + +<p>"You are a nice one," said Compton, taking her by +the chin, "to tell me! as if I didn't know the world a +long sight better than you do, my little Nell."</p> + +<p>The Rector, who was following slowly, for he did not +like to go up-stairs in a hurry, saw this attitude and +drew back, a little scandalized. "Perhaps we were indiscreet +to—to follow them too closely," he said, disconcerted. +"Please to go in first, Mrs. Dennistoun—the +young couple will not mind you."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hudson was prim; but he was rather pleased to +see that "the young couple" were, as he said, so fond +of each other. He went into the room under the protection +of the mother—blushing a little. It reminded +him, as he said afterwards, of his own young days; but +it was only natural that he should walk up direct to the +place where his kettle stood conspicuous, waiting only +the spark of a match to begin to boil the water for the +first conjugal tea. It appeared to him a beautiful idea +as he put his head on one side and looked at it. It +was like the inauguration of the true British fireside, +the cosy privacy in which, after the man had done his +work, the lady awaited him at home, with the tea-kettle +steaming. A generation before Mr. Hudson there +would have been a pair of slippers airing beside the +fire. But neither of these preparations supply the +ideal of perfect happiness now.</p> + +<p>"I say, where did you get these hideous things?" +said Compton, approaching the table on which "the +silver" was laid out. By a special dispensation it was +Lady Mariamne's dishes which caught Phil's attention. +"Some old grandmother, I suppose, that had 'em in +the house. Hallo! if it isn't the Jew! Nell, you don't +mean to tell me you got these horrors from the Jew?"</p> + +<p>"They are supposed to be—quite handsome," said +Elinor, with a suppressed laugh. "We must not criticise. +It is very kind of people to send presents at all. +We all know it is a very severe tax—to those who have +a great many friends<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"The stingy old miser," said Compton. "Rolling in +money, and to send you these! By Jove! there's a +neat little thing now that looks what it is; probably +one of your nice country friends, Nell<span class="norewrap">——</span>" (It was the +kettle, as a kind Providence decreed; and both the +ladies breathed an internal thanksgiving.) "Shows +like a little gem beside that old, thundering, mean-spirited +Jew!"</p> + +<p>"That," said the Rector, bridling a little and pink +with pleasure, "is our little offering: and I'm delighted +to think that it should please so good a judge. It was +chosen with great care. I saw it first myself, and the +idea flashed upon me—quite an inspiration—that it +was the very thing for Elinor; and when I went home +I told my wife—the very thing—for her boudoir, +should she not be seeing company—or just for your +little teas when you are by yourselves. I could at +once imagine the dear girl looking so pretty in one of +those wonderful white garments that are in the next +room."</p> + +<p>"Hallo!" said Compton, with a laugh, "do you +show off your things in this abandoned way, Nell, to +the killingest old cov<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>She put her hand up to his mouth with a cry of dismay +and laughter, but the Rector, with a smile and another +little blush, discreetly turned his back. He was +truly glad to see that they were so fond of each other, +and thought it was pretty and innocent that they should +not mind showing it—but it was a little embarrassing +for an old and prim clergyman to look on.</p> + +<p>"What a pleasure it must be to you, my dear lady," +he said when the young couple had gone: which took +place very soon, for Phil soon grew tired of the presents, +and he was ill at ease when there was no window +from which he could watch the road—"what a pleasure +to see them so much attached! Of course, family advantage +and position is always of importance—but +when you get devoted affection, too<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"I hope there is devoted affection," said Mrs. Dennistoun; +"at all events, there is what we are all united +in calling 'love,' for the present. He is in love with +Elinor—I don't think there can be much doubt of +that."</p> + +<p>"I did not of course know that he was here," said +the Rector, with some hesitation. "I came with the +intention of speaking—I am very sorry to see in the +papers to-day something about that Joint-Stock Company +of which Mr. Compton was a director. It's rather +a mysterious paragraph: but it's something about the +manager having absconded, and that some of the directors +are said to be involved."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean my future son-in-law?" she said, +turning quickly upon him.</p> + +<p>"Good heavens, no! I wouldn't for the world insinuate<span class="norewrap">——</span> It +was only that one felt a desire to know. Just +upon the eve of a marriage it's—it's alarming to hear +of a business the bridegroom is involved in being—what +you may call broken up."</p> + +<p>"That was one of the things Mr. Compton came to +tell us about," said Mrs. Dennistoun. "He said he +hoped it might be kept out of the papers, but that +some of the books have got lost or destroyed. I am +afraid I know very little about business. But he has +lost very little—nothing to speak of—which was all +that concerned me."</p> + +<p>"To be sure," said the Rector, but in a tone not so +assured as his words. "It is not perhaps quite a nice +thing to be director of a company that—that collapses +in this way. I fear some poor people will lose their +money. I fear there will be things in the papers."</p> + +<p>"On what ground?" she said. "Oh, I don't deny +there may be some one to blame; but Mr. Compton +was, I suspect, only on the board for the sake of his +name. He is not a business man. He did it, as so +many do, for the sake of a pretence of being in something. +And then, I believe, the directors got a little +by it; they had a few hundreds a year."</p> + +<p>"To be sure," said Mr. Hudson, but still doubtfully; +and then he brightened up. "For my part, I don't +believe there is a word of truth in it. Since I have +seen him, indeed, I have quite changed my opinion—a +fine figure of a man, looking an aristocrat every inch +of him. Such a contrast and complement to our dear +Elinor—and so fond of her. A man like that would +never have a hand in any sham concern. If it was really +a bogus company, as people say, he must be one of the +sufferers. That is quite my decided opinion; only the +ladies, you know—the ladies who have not seen him, +and who are so much more suspicious by nature (I +don't know that you are, my dear Mrs. Dennistoun), +would give me no rest. They thought it was my +duty to interfere. But I am sure they are quite +wrong."</p> + +<p>To think that it was the ladies of the Rector's family +who were interfering made Mrs. Dennistoun very wroth. +"Next time they have anything to say, you should +make them come themselves," she said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, they would not do that. They say it is the +clergyman's business, not theirs. Besides, you know, I +have not time to read all the papers. We get the <i>Times</i>, +and Mary Dale has the <i>Morning Post</i>, and another thing +that is all about stocks and shares. She has such a +head for business—far more than I can pretend to. She +thought<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Hudson, I fear I do not wish to know what +was thought by Miss Dale."</p> + +<p>"Well, you are, perhaps, right, Mrs. Dennistoun. +She is only a woman, of course, and she may make +mistakes. It is astonishing, though, how often she is +right. She has a head for business that might do for a +Chancellor of the Exchequer. She made me sell out +my shares in that Red Gulch—those American investments +have most horrible names—just a week before +the smash came, all from what she had read in the +papers. She knows how to put things together, you +see. So I have reason to be grateful to her, for my +part."</p> + +<p>"And what persuaded you, here at Windyhill, a +quiet clergyman, to put money in any Red Gulch? It +is a horrible name!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it was Mary, I suppose," said Mr. Hudson. +"She is always looking out for new investments. She +said we should all make our fortunes. We did not, +unfortunately. But she is so clever, she got us out of +it with only a very small loss indeed."</p> + +<p>"No doubt she is very clever. I wish, though, that +she would let us know definitely on what ground<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Oh, there is no ground," cried the Rector. "Now +that I have seen Mr. Compton I am certain of it. I +said to her before I left the Rectory, 'Now, my dear +Mary, I am going like a lamb to the slaughter. I have +no reason to give if Mrs. Dennistoun should ask me, +and you have no reason to give. And she will probably +put me to the door.' If I said that before I started, +you may fancy how much more I feel it now, when I +have made Mr. Compton's acquaintance. A fine aristocratic +face, and all the ease of high breeding. There +are only three lives—and those not very good ones—between +him and the title, I believe?"</p> + +<p>"Two robust brothers, and an invalid who will probably +outlive them all; that is, I believe, the state of the +case."</p> + +<p>"Dear me, what a pity!" said the Rector, "for our +little Elinor would have made a sweet little Countess. +She would grow a noble lady, like the one in Mr. Tennyson's +poem. Well, now I must be going, and I am extremely +glad to have been so lucky as to come in just +in time. It has been the greatest pleasure to me to see +them together—such a loving couple. Dear me, like +what one reads about, or remembers in old days, not +like the commonplace pairs one has to do with now."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dennistoun accompanied the Rector to the +garden gate. She was half inclined to laugh and half +to be angry, and in neither mood did Mr. Hudson's insinuations +which he made so innocently have much +effect upon her mind. But when she took leave of him +at the gate and came slowly back among her brilliant +flower-beds, pausing here and there mechanically to +pick off a withered leaf or prop up the too heavy head +of a late rose; her mind began to take another turn. +She had always been conscious of an instinctive suspicion +in respect to her daughter's lover. Probably +only, she said to herself, because he was her daughter's +lover, and she was jealous of the new devotion that +withdrew from her so completely the young creature +who had been so fully her own. That is a hard trial +for a woman to undergo. It is only to be borne when +she, too, is fascinated by her future son-in-law, as happens +in some fortunate cases. Otherwise, a woman +with an only child is an alarming critic to encounter. +She was not fascinated at all by Phil. She was disappointed +in Elinor, and almost thought her child not so +perfect as she had believed, when it proved that she +could be fascinated by this man. She disliked almost +everything about him—his looks, the very air which the +Rector thought so aristocratic, his fondness for Elinor, +which was not reverential enough to please the mother, +and his indifference, nay, contempt, for herself, which +was not calculated to please any woman. She had been +roused into defence of him in anger at the interference, +and at the insinuation which had no proof; but as that +anger died away, other thoughts came into her mind. +She began to put the broken facts together which already +had roused her to suspicion: his sudden arrival, +so unexpected; walking from the station—a long, very +long walk—carrying his own bag, which was a thing +John Tatham did, but not like Phil Compton. And +then she remembered, suddenly, his anxiety about the +carriage on the distant road, his care to place himself +where he could see it. She had thought with a little +scorn that this was a proof of his frivolity, of the necessity +of seeing people, whoever these people might be. +But now there began to be in it something that could +have a deeper meaning. For whom was he looking? +Who might be coming? Stories she had heard of +fugitives from justice, of swindlers taking refuge in the +innocence of their families, came up into her mind. +Could it be possible that Elinor's pure name could be +entangled in such a guilty web as this?</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>"Funny old poop!" said Compton. "And that is +your Rector, Nell. I shall tell Dick there's rare fun to +be had in that house: but not for me. I know what I +shall be thinking of all the time I'm there. Odious +little Nell! to interfere like this with a fellow's fun. +But I say, who's that woman who knows me or my +family?—much good may it do her, as I said before. +Tell me, Nell, did she speak ill of me?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Phil, how could you ask? or what would it +matter if she spoke ever so ill?"</p> + +<p>"She did then," he said with a graver face. "Somebody +was bound to do it. And what did she say?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, what does it matter, Phil? I don't remember; +nothing of any consequence. We paid no attention, of +course, neither mamma nor I."</p> + +<p>"That was plucky of the old girl," said Compton. +"I didn't suppose you would give ear, my Nell. Ain't +so sure about her. If I'd been your father, my pet, I +should never have given you to Phil Compton. And +that's the fact: I wonder if the old lady would like to +reconsider the situation now."</p> + +<p>"Phil!" said Elinor, clinging to his arm.</p> + +<p>"Perhaps it would be best for you if you were to do +so, Nell, or if she were to insist upon it. Eh! You +don't know me, my darling, that's the fact. You're too +good to understand us. We're all the same, from the +old governor downwards—a bad lot. I feel a kind of +remorseful over you, child, to-day. That rosy old bloke, +though he's a snob, makes a man think of innocence +somehow. I do believe you oughtn't to marry me, +Nell."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Phil! what do you mean? You cannot mean +what you say."</p> + +<p>"I suppose I don't, or I shouldn't say it, Nell. I +shouldn't certainly, if I thought you were likely to take +my advice. It's a kind of luxury to tell you we're a +bad lot, and bid you throw me over, when I know all +along you won't."</p> + +<p>"I should think not indeed," she said, clinging to +him and looking up in his face. "Do you know what +my cous—I mean a friend, said to me on that subject?"</p> + +<p>"You mean your cousin John, whom you are always +quoting. Let's hear what the fellow said."</p> + +<p>"He said—that I wasn't a girl to put up with much, +Phil. That I wasn't one of the patient kind, that I +would not bear<span class="norewrap">——</span> I don't know what it was I would +not bear; but you see you must consider my defects, +which you can understand well enough, whether I can +understand yours or not."</p> + +<p>"That you could not put up with—that you could +not bear? that meant me, Nell. He had been talking +to you on the same subject, me and my faults. Why +didn't you listen to him? I suppose he wanted you to +have him instead of me."</p> + +<p>"Phil! how dare you even think of such a thing? It +is not true."</p> + +<p>"Wasn't it? Then he is a greater fool than I took +him for, and his opinion's no good. So you're a spitfire, +are you? Can't put up with anything that doesn't +suit you? I don't know that I should have found that +out."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid though that it is true," she said, +half-laughingly looking up at him. "Perhaps you will +want to reconsider too."</p> + +<p>"If you don't want it any more than I want it, +Nell<span class="norewrap">——</span> What's that?" he cried hastily, changing his +expression and attitude in a moment. "Is that one of +your neighbours at the gate?"</p> + +<p>Elinor looked round, starting away a little from his +side, and saw some one—a man she had never seen before—approaching +along the path. She was just about +to say she did not know who it was when Phil, to her +astonishment, stepped past her, advancing to meet the +newcomer. But as he did so he put out his hand and +caught her as he passed, leading her along with him.</p> + +<p>"Mind what I said, and stick to me," he said, in a +whisper; then—</p> + +<p>"Stanfield!" he cried with an air of perfect ease and +cordiality, yet astonishment. "I thought it looked like +you, but I could not believe my eyes."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Compton!" said the other. "So you are here. +I have been hunting after you all over the place. I +heard only this morning this was a likely spot."</p> + +<p>"A very likely spot!" said Phil. "I suppose you +know the good reason I have for being in these parts. +Elinor, this is Mr. Stanfield, who has to do with our +company, don't you know. But I say, Stanfield, what's +all this row in the papers? Is it true that Brown's +bolted? I should have taken the first train to see if I +could help; but my private affairs are most urgent just +at this moment, as I suppose you know."</p> + +<p>"I wish you had come," said the other; "it would +have looked well, and pleased the rest of the directors. +There has been some queer business—some of the +books abstracted or destroyed, we can't tell which, and +no means of knowing how we stand."</p> + +<p>"Good Heavens!" said Phil, "to cover that fellow's +retreat."</p> + +<p>"It you mean Brown, it was not he. They were all +there safe enough after he was gone; somebody must +have got in by night and made off with them, some one +that knew all about the place; the watchman saw a +light, but that's all. It's supposed there must have +been something compromising others besides Brown. +He could not have cheated the company to such an extent +by himself."</p> + +<p>"Good Heavens!" cried Phil again in natural horror; +"I wish I had followed my impulse and gone up to +town straight: but it was very vague what was in the +papers; I hoped it might not have been our place at +all. And I say, Stanfield—who's the fellow they suspect?" +Elinor had disengaged herself from Compton's +arm; she perceived vaguely that the stranger paused +before he replied, and that Phil, facing him with a certain +square attitude of opposition which affected her +imagination vaguely, though she did not understand +why—was waiting with keen attention for his reply. +She said, a little oppressed by the situation, "Phil, +perhaps I had better go."</p> + +<p>"Don't go," he said; "there's nothing secret to say. +If there's anyone suspected it must very soon be +known."</p> + +<p>"It's difficult to say who is suspected," said the +stranger, confused. "I don't know that there's much +evidence. You've been in Scotland?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, till the other day, when I came down here to +see<span class="norewrap">——</span>" He paused and turned upon Elinor a look +which gave the girl the most curious incomprehensible +pang. It was a look of love; but, oh! heaven, was it a +look called up that the other man might see? He took +her hand in his, and said lightly yet tenderly, "Let's +see, what day was it? the sixth, wasn't it the sixth, +Nell?"</p> + +<p>A flood of conflicting thoughts poured through +Elinor's mind. What did it mean? It was yesterday, +she was about to say, but something stopped her, something +in Phil's eye—in the touch of his hand. There +was something warning, almost threatening, in his eye. +Stand by me; mind you don't contradict me; say what +I say. All these things which he had repeated again +and again were said once more in the look he gave her. +"Yes," she said timidly, with a hesitation very unlike +Elinor, "it was the sixth." She seemed to see suddenly +as she said the words that calendar with the date hanging +in the hall: the big 6 seemed to hang suspended in +the air. It was true, though she could not tell how it +could be so.</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Stanfield, in a tone which betrayed a little +surprise, and something like disappointment, "the +sixth? I knew you had left Scotland, but we did not +know where you had gone."</p> + +<p>"That's not to be wondered at," said Phil, with a +laugh, "for I should have gone to Ireland, to tell the +truth; I ought to have been there now. I'm going to-morrow, +ain't I, Nell? I had not a bit of business to be +here. Winding up affairs in the bachelor line, don't +you know; but I had to come on my way west to see +this young lady first. It plays the deuce and all with +one's plans when there's such a temptation in the way."</p> + +<p>"You could have gone from Scotland to Ireland," +said Stanfield, gravely, "without coming to town at +all."</p> + +<p>"Very true, old man. You speak like a book. But, +as you perceive, I have not gone to Ireland at all; I am +here. Depends upon your motive, I suppose, which +way you go."</p> + +<p>"It is a good way roundabout," said the other, without +relaxing the intent look on his face.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Phil, "that's as one feels. I go by +Holyhead wherever I may be—even if I had nowhere +else to go to on the way."</p> + +<p>"And Mr. Compton got here on the sixth?—this is +the eighth," said the stranger, pointedly. He turned to +Elinor, and it seemed to the girl that his eyes, though +they were not remarkable eyes, went through and +through her. He spoke very slowly, with a curious +meaning. "But it was on the sixth, you say, that he +got here?"</p> + +<p>That big 6 on the calendar stood out before her eyes; +it seemed to cover all the man's figure that stood before +her. Elinor's heart and mind went through the +strangest convulsion. Was it false—was it true? What +was she saying? What did it all mean? She repeated +mechanically, "It was on the sixth," and then she recovered +a kind of desperate courage, and throwing off +the strange spell that seemed to be upon her, "Is there +any reason," she asked, suddenly, with a little burst of +impatience, looking from one to another, "why it +should not be the sixth, that you repeat it so?"</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," said the stranger, visibly +startled. "I did not mean to imply—only thought<span class="norewrap">——</span>Pray, +Mr. Compton, tell the lady I had no intention of +offending. I never supposed<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>Phil's laugh, loud and clear, rang through the stillness +of the afternoon. "He's so used to fibs, he thinks +everybody's in a tale," said Phil, "but I can assure you +he is a very good fellow, and a great friend of mine, and +he means no harm, Nell."</p> + +<p>Elinor made Mr. Stanfield an extremely dignified +bow. "I ought to have gone away at once, and left you +to talk over your business," she said, turning away, and +Phil did not attempt to detain her. Then the natural +rural sense of hospitality came over Elinor. She turned +back to find the two men looking after her, standing +where she had left them. "I am sure," she said, "that +mamma would wish me to ask the gentleman if he +would stay to dinner—or at least come in with you, +Phil, to tea."</p> + +<p>Mr. Stanfield took off his hat with anxious politeness, +and exclaimed hastily that he must go back to town by +the next train, and that the cab from the station was +waiting to take him. And then she left them, and +walked quietly away. She was almost out of hearing +before they resumed their conversation; that is, she +was beyond the sound, not of their voices, but of what +they said. The murmur of the voices was still audible +when she got to her favourite seat on the side of the +copse looking down the combe. It was a very retired +and silent place, not visible from either the cottage or +the garden. And there Elinor took refuge in the quiet +and hush of the declining day. She was in a great +tremor of agitation and excitement as she sat down +upon the rustic seat—so great a tremor that she had +scarcely been able to walk steadily down the roughly-made +steps—a tremor which had grown with every step +she took. She did not in the least understand the transaction +in which she had been engaged. It was something +altogether strange to her experiences, without any +precedent in her life. What was it she had been called +upon to do? What had she said, and why had she been +made to say it? Her heart beat so that she put her two +hands upon it crossed over her breast to keep it down, +lest it should burst away. She had the sensation of +having been brought before some tribunal, put suddenly +to the last shift, made to say—what, what? She +was so bewildered that she could not tell. Was it the +truth, said with the intention to deceive—was it<span class="norewrap">——</span>? +She could not tell. There was that great numeral +wavering in the air, stalking along with her like a ghost. +6—. She had read it in all innocence, they had all read +it, and nobody had said it was wrong. No one was very +careful about the date in the cottage. If it was right, if +it was wrong, Elinor could not tell. But yet somehow +she was conscious that the man to whom she had spoken +had been deceived. And Phil! and Phil! what had he +meant, adjuring her to stick to him, to stand by him, +not to contradict him? Elinor's mind was in such a +wild commotion that she could not answer these inquiries. +She could not feel that she had one solid step +of ground to place herself upon in the whirlwind which +swept her about and about. Had she—lied? And why +had he asked her to lie? And what, oh, what did it all +mean?</p> + +<p>One thing that at last appeared to her in the chaos +which seemed like something solid that she could grasp +at was that Phil had never changed in his aspect. The +other man had been very serious, staring at her as if to +intimidate her, like a man who had something to find +out; but Phil had been as careless, as indifferent, as he +appeared always to be. He had not changed his expression. +It is true there was that look in which there +was at once an entreaty and a command—but only she +had seen that, and perhaps it was merely the emotion, +the excitement, the strange feeling of having to face the +world for him, and say<span class="norewrap">——</span>what, what? Was it simply, +the truth, nothing but the truth, or was it<span class="norewrap">——</span> Again +Elinor's mind began to whirl. It was the truth: she +could see now that big 6 on the calendar distinct as the +sunshine. And yet it was only yesterday—and there +was 8 this morning. Had she gone through an intervening +dream for a whole day without knowing it; or +had she, Elinor—she who would not have done it to +save her life—told—a lie for Phil? And why should he +want her to tell a lie?</p> + +<p>Elinor got up from her seat, and stood uncertain, +with a cold dew on her forehead, and her hands clasping +and holding each other. Should she go back to them +and say there must be some mistake—that though she +had said the truth it was not true, that there was some +mistake, some dreadful mistake! There was no longer +any sound of voices where she was. The whole incident +seemed to have died out. The sudden commotion of +Phil's visit and everything connected with it had passed +away. She was alone in the afternoon, in the hush of +nature, looking over the combe, listening to the rustle +of the trees, hearing the bees drone homeward. Had +Phil ever been here at all? Had he watched the distant +road winding over the slopes for some one whom he had +expected to come after him all the time? Had he ever +told her to stand by him? to say what he said, to back +him up? Had there ever been another man standing +with that big 6 wavering between her and him like a +ghost? Had all that been at all, or was it merely a +foolish dream? And ought she to go back now, and +find the man before he disappeared, and tell him it was +all true, yet somehow a dreadful, dreadful mistake?</p> + +<p>Elinor sat down again abruptly on her seat, and put +her handkerchief to her forehead and pushed back the +damp clusters of her hair, turning her face to the wind +to get a little refreshment and calm, if that were possible. +She heard in the sunny distance behind her, +where the garden and the peaceful house lay in the +light, the clang of the gate, a sound which could not be +mistaken. The man then had gone—if there was anything +to rectify in what she said it certainly could not +be rectified now—he was gone. The certainty came to +her with a feeling of relief. It had been horrible to +think of standing before the two men again and saying—what +could she have said? She remembered now that +it was not her assertion alone, but that it all hung together, +a whole structure of incidents, which would be +put wrong if she had said it was a mistake—a whole +account of Phil's time, how it had been passed—which +was quite true, which he had told them on his arrival; +how he had been going to Ireland, and had stopped, +longing for a glimpse of her, his bride, feeling that he +must have her by him, see her once again before he +came for her to fetch her away. He had told the ladies +at the cottage the very same, and of course it was true. +Had he not come straight from Scotland with his big +bundle of game, the grouse and partridges which had +already been shared with all the friends about? Was +he not going off to Ireland to-morrow to fulfil his first +intention? It was all quite right, quite true, hanging +perfectly together—except that curious falling out of a +day. And then again Elinor's brain swam round and +round. Had he been two days at the cottage instead of +one, as he said? Was it there that the mistake lay? +Had she been in such a fool's paradise having him +there, that she had not marked the passage of time—had +it all been one hour of happiness flying like the +wind? A blush, partly of sweet shame to think that +this was possible, that she might have been such a +happy fool as to ignore the divisions of night and day, +and partly of stimulating hope that such might be the +case, a wild snatch at justification of herself and him +flushed over her from head to foot, wrapping her in +warmth and delight; and then this all faded away again +and left her as in ashes—black and cold. No! everything, +she saw, now depended upon what she had been +impelled to say; the whole construction, Phil's account +of his time, his story of his doings—all would have fallen +to pieces had she said otherwise. Body and soul, Elinor +felt herself become like a machine full of clanging +wheels and beating pistons, her heart, her pulses, her +breath, all panting, beating, bursting. What did it +mean? What did it mean? And then everything stood +still in a horrible suspense and pause.</p> + +<p>She began to hear voices again in the distance and +raised her head, which she had buried in her hands—voices +that sounded so calmly in the westering sunshine, +one answering another, everything softened in +the golden outdoor light. At first as she raised herself +up she thought with horror that it was the man, +the visitor whom she had supposed to be gone, returning +with Phil to give her the opportunity of contradicting +herself, of bringing back that whirlwind of doubt +and possibility. But presently her excited senses perceived +that it was her mother who was walking calmly +through the garden talking with Phil. There was not +a tone of excitement in the quiet voices that came gradually +nearer and nearer, till she could hear what they +were saying. It was Phil who was speaking, while her +mother now and then put in a word. Elinor did not +wish on ordinary occasions for too many private talks +between her mother and Phil. They rubbed each +other the wrong way, they did not understand each +other, words seemed to mean different things in their +comprehension of them. She knew that her lover +would laugh at "the old girl," which was a phrase +which offended Elinor deeply, and Mrs. Dennistoun +would become stiffer and stiffer, declaring that the +very language of the younger generation had become +unintelligible to her. But to hear them now together +was a kind of anodyne to Elinor, it stayed and calmed +her. The cold moisture dried from her forehead. She +smoothed her hair instinctively with her hand, and +put herself straight in mind as she did with that involuntary +action in outward appearance, feeling that +no sign of agitation, no trouble of demeanour must +meet her mother's eye. And then the voices came +so near that she could hear what they were saying. +They were coming amicably together to her favourite +retreat.</p> + +<p>"It's a very queer thing," said Phil, "if it is as they +think, that somebody went there the night before last +and cleared off the books. Well, not all the books, +some that are supposed to contain the secret transactions. +Deucedly cleverly done it must have been, if it +was done at all, for nobody saw the fellow, or fellows, +if there were more than one<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Why do you doubt?" said Mrs. Dennistoun. "Is +there any way of accounting for it otherwise?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, a very good way—that Brown, the manager, +simply took them with him, as he would naturally do, +if he wasn't a fool. Why should he go off and leave +papers that would convict him, for the pleasure of involving +other fellows, and ruining them too?"</p> + +<p>"Are there others, then, involved with him?" Oh, +how calm, how inconceivably calm, was Mrs. Dennistoun's +voice! Had she been asking the gardener about +the slugs that eat the young plants it would have been +more disturbed.</p> + +<p>"Well, Stanfield seemed to think so. He's a sort of +head clerk, a fellow enormously trusted. I shouldn't +wonder if he was at the bottom of it himself, they're so +sure of him," said Phil, with a laugh. "He says there's +a kind of suspicion of two or three. Clumsy wretches +they must be if they let themselves be found out like +that. But I don't believe it. I believe Brown's alone in +it, and that it's him that's taken everything away. I +believe it's far the safest way in those kind of dodges +to be alone. You get all the swag, and you're in no +danger of being rounded on, don't you know—till you +find things are getting too hot, and you cut away."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand the words you use, but I think +I know what you mean," said Mrs. Dennistoun. "How +dreadful it is to think that in business, where honesty +is the very first principle, there should be such terrible +plots and plans as those!"</p> + +<p>"'Tis awful, isn't it?" said Phil, with a laugh that +seemed to ring all down the combe, and came back in +echoes from the opposite slope, where in the distance +the cab from the station was seen hastening back towards +the railway in a cloud of dust. The laugh was +like a trumpet of triumph flung across the distance at +the discomfited enemy thus going off drooping in the +hurry of defeat. He added, "But you may imagine, +even if I had known anything, he wouldn't have got +much out of me. I didn't know anything, however, +I'm very glad to say."</p> + +<p>"That is always the best," said Mrs. Dennistoun, +with a certain grave didactic tone. "And here is Elinor, +as I thought. When one cannot find her anywhere +else she's sure to be found here."</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>"Well," said Compton, placing himself beside her, +"here you are, Nell; kind of the old lady to bring me, +wasn't it? I should never have found you out by myself."</p> + +<p>"Has he gone, Phil?" Elinor raised her scared face +from her hands, and gave him a piteous look.</p> + +<p>"Why, Nell! you are trembling like a leaf. Was it +frightened, my pretty pet, for Stanny? Stanny's gone +off with his tail between his legs. Not a bit of starch +left in him. As limp a lawyer as ever you saw."</p> + +<p>"Was he a lawyer?" she said, not knowing why she +said it, for it mattered nothing at all to Elinor what +the man was.</p> + +<p>"Not exactly; and yet, I suppose, something of the +kind. He is the one that knows about law points, and +such things. But now he's as quiet as a lamb, thanks +to you."</p> + +<p>"Phil," she cried, "what did you make me say? I +don't know what I have done. I have done something +dreadful—deceived the man, as good as told him a +lie."</p> + +<p>"You told him the truth," said Phil, with a laugh, +"in the most judgmatical way. You stuck to it like a—woman. +There's nothing like a woman for sticking +to a text. You didn't say a word too much. And I +say, Nell, that little defiant bit of yours—'Was there +any reason why it shouldn't be the sixth?' was grand. +That was quite magnificent, my pet. I never thought +you had such spirit in you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Phil," she cried, "why did you make me say +it? What was it I said? I don't know; I don't understand +a bit. Whatever it was, I know that it was +wrong. I deceived the man."</p> + +<p>"That's not so great a sin," he said. "I've known +worse things done. Put an old reynard off the scent +to save his prey. I don't see what's wrong in that, especially +as the innocent chicken to be saved was your +own poor old Phil."</p> + +<p>"Phil, Phil," she cried, "what could that man have +done to you? What had put you in his power? You +have made me lose all my innocence. I have got horrible +things in my head. What could he have done to +you that you made me tell a lie?"</p> + +<p>"What lie did I make you tell? be reasonable; I +did arrive on the sixth, you know that just as well as I +do. Don't you really remember the calendar in the +hall? You saw it, Nell, as well as I."</p> + +<p>"I know, I know," she cried, putting her hands up +to her eyes, "I see it everywhere staring at me, that +big, dreadful 6. But how is it the 8th now? There is +something in it—something I don't understand."</p> + +<p>He laughed loudly and long: one of those boisterous +laughs which always jarred upon Elinor. "I don't +in the least mind how it was," he said. "It was, and +that's quite enough for me; and let it be for you too, +Nell. I hope you're not going to search into the origin +of things like this; we've quite enough to do in this +world to take things as they come."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Phil! if at least I could understand—I don't +understand: or if I had not been made to say what is +so mysterious—what must be false."</p> + +<p>"Hush, Nell; how could it be false when you saw +with your own eyes it was true? Now let us be done +with this, my darling. The incident is terminated, as +the French say. I came here as fast as I could come to +have a good laugh with you over it, and lo! you're +nearer crying. Why should you have Stanny on your +conscience, Nell? a fellow that would like no better +than to hang me if he could get the chance."</p> + +<p>"But Phil, Phil—oh, tell me, what could this man +have done to you? Why are you afraid of him? Why, +why have you made me tell him<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Now, Nell, no exaggerated expression. It was a +fact you told him, according to the best of evidence; +and what he could have done to me is just this—he +might have given me a deal of trouble, and put off our +marriage. I should have had to go back to town, and +my time would have been taken up with finding out +about those books, and our marriage would have been +put off; that's what he could have done."</p> + +<p>"Is that all?" cried Elinor, "was that all?"</p> + +<p>"All!" he said, with that loud laugh again; "you +don't mind a bit how you hurt a fellow's pride, and his +affections, and all that. Do you mean to say, you hard-hearted +little coquette, that you wouldn't mind? I +don't believe you would mind! Here am I counting +the hours, and you, you little cold puss, you aggravating +little<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Oh, Phil, don't talk such nonsense. If we were to +be separated, for a week or a month, what could that +matter, in comparison with saying what wasn't<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Hush," he said, putting his hand to her mouth. +"It's not nice of you to take it so easily, Nell. I'd tell +as many what-d'ye-call-'ems as you like, rather than put +it off an hour. Why, feeling apart (and I don't think +you've any feeling, you little piece of ice), think how +inconvenient it would have been; the people all arriving; +the breakfast all ready; the Rector with his surplice +on; and no wedding! Fancy the Jew with all +her fallals, on the old lady's hands, and your cousin +John<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"I have told you already, Phil, my cousin John will +not be there."</p> + +<p>"So much the better," he said, with a laugh, "I +don't want him to be there—shows his sense, when his +nose is put out of joint, to keep out of the way."</p> + +<p>"I wish you would understand," she said, with a little +vexation, "that John is not put out of joint, as you +say in that odious way. He has never been anything +more to me, nor I to him, than we are now—like +brother and sister."</p> + +<p>"The more fool he," said Compton, "to have the +chance of a nice girl like you, Nell, and not to go in +for it. But I don't believe a bit in the brother and sister +dodge."</p> + +<p>"We will be just the same all our lives," cried Elinor.</p> + +<p>"Not if I know it," said Phil. "I'm an easy-going +fellow in most ways, but you'll find I'm an old Turk +about you, my little duck of a Nell. No amateur +brother for me. If you can't get along with your old +Phil, without other adorers<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Phil! as if I should ever think or care whether +there was another man in the world!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, that's going too far," he said, laughing. "I +shan't mind a little flirtation. You may have a man or +two in your train to fetch and carry, get your shawl for +you, and call your carriage, and so forth; but no serious +old hand, Nell—nothing to remind you that there +was a time when you didn't know Phil Compton." His +laugh died away at this point, and for a moment his +face assumed that grave look which changed its character +so much. "If you don't come to repent before +then that you ever saw that fellow's ugly face, Nell<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Phil, how could I ever repent? Nobody but you +should dare to say such a thing to me!"</p> + +<p>"I believe that," he said. "If that old John of yours +tried it on<span class="norewrap">——</span> Well, my pet, he is your old John. +You can't change facts, even if you do throw the poor +fellow over. Now, here's a new chance for all of them, +Nell. I shouldn't wonder a bit if you had another crop +of letters bidding you look before you leap. That +Rectory woman, what's her name? that knows my family. +You'll see she'll have some new story before we're clear +of her. They'll never stop blackguarding me, I know, +until you're Phil Compton yourself, my beauty. I wish +that day was come. I'm afraid to go off again and +leave you, Nell. They'll be putting something into +your head, or the old lady's. Let's get it over to-morrow +morning, and come to Ireland with me; you've +never been there."</p> + +<p>"Phil, what nonsense! mamma would go out of her +senses."</p> + +<p>"My pet, what does it matter? She'd come back to +them again as soon as we were gone, and think what a +botheration spared her! All the row of receiving people, +turning the house upside down. And here I am +on the spot. And what do you want with bridesmaids +and so forth? You've got all your things. Suppose +we walk out to church to-morrow before breakfast, +Nell<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Phil, you are mad, I think; and why should we do +such a thing, scandalizing everybody? But of course +you don't mean it. You are excited after seeing that +man."</p> + +<p>"Excited about Stanny!—not such a fool; Stanny is +all square, thanks to<span class="norewrap">——</span> But what I want is just to +take you up in my arms, like this, and run off with you, +Nell. Why we should call the whole world to watch us +while we take that swing off—into space."</p> + +<p>"Phil!"</p> + +<p>"So it is, for you, Nell. You don't know a bit what's +going to happen. You don't know where I'm going to +take you, and what I'm going to do with you, you little +innocent lamb in the wolf's grip. I want to eat you up, +straight off. I shall be afraid up to the last moment +that you'll escape me, Nell."</p> + +<p>"I did not know that you were so fond of innocence," +said Elinor, half afraid of her lover's vehemence, and +trying to dispel his gravity with a laugh. "You used +to say you did not believe in the <i>ingénue</i>."</p> + +<p>"I believe in you," he said, with an almost fierce +pressure of her arm; then, after a pause, "No, I don't +believe in women at all, Nell, only you. They're rather +worse than men, which is saying a good deal. What +would the Jew care if we were all drawn and quartered; +so long as she had all her paraphernalia about her and +got everything she wanted? For right-down selfishness +commend me to a woman. A fellow may have +gleams of something better about him, like me, warning +you against myself."</p> + +<p>"It is a droll way of warning me against yourself to +want to carry me off to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"It's all the same thing," he said. "I've warned +you that those old hags are right, and I'm not good +enough for you, not fit to come near you, Nell. But if +the sacrifice is to be, let's get it over at once, don't let +us stand and think of it. I'm capable of jilting you," +he said, "leaving you <i>planté là</i>, all out of remorse of +conscience; or else just catching you up in my arms, +like this, and carrying you off, never to be seen more."</p> + +<p>"You are very alarming," said Elinor. "I don't +know what you mean. You can be off with your bargain +if you please, Phil; but you had better make up +your mind at once, so that mamma may countermand her +invitations, and stop Gunter from sending the cake."</p> + +<p>(It was Gunter who was the man in those days. I +believe people go to Buszard now.)</p> + +<p>He gave her again a vehement hug, and burst into a +laugh. "I might jilt you, Nell; such a thing is on the +cards. I might leave you in the lurch at the church +door; but when you talk of countermanding the cake, +I can't face that situation. Society would naturally be +up in arms about that. So you must take your chance +like the other innocents. I'll eat you up as gently as I +can, and hide my tusks as long as it's possible. Come +on, Nell, don't let us sit here and get the mopes, and +think of our consciences. Come and see if that show +is in the village. Life's better than thinking, old girl."</p> + +<p>"Do you call the show in the village, life?" she +said, half pleased to rouse him, half sorry to be thus +carried away.</p> + +<p>"Every show is life," said Phil, "and everywhere +that people meet is better than anywhere where you're +alone. Mind you take in that axiom, Nell. It's our +rule of life, you know, among the set you're marrying +into. That's how the Jew gets on. That's how we all +get on. By this time next year you'll be well inured +into it like all the rest. That's what your Rector never +taught you, I'll be bound; but you'll see the old fellow +practises it whenever he has a chance. Why, there +they begin, tootle-te-too. Come on, Nell, and don't let +us lose the fun."</p> + +<p>He drew her along hastily, hurrying while the flute +and the drum began to perform their parts. Sound +spreads far in that tranquil country, where no railway +was visible, and where the winds for the moment were +still. It was Pan's pipes that were being played, attracting +a few stragglers from the scattered houses. +Within a hundred yards from the church, at the corner +of four roads, stood the Bull's Head, with a cottage or +two linked on to its long straggling front. And this +was all that did duty for a village at Windyhill. The +Rectory stood back in its own copse, surrounded by a +growth of young birches and oak near the church. +The Hills dwelt intermediate between the Bull's Head +and the ecclesiastical establishment. The school and +schoolmaster's house were behind the Bull. The show +was surrounded by the children of the place, who +looked on silent with ecstasy, while a burly showman +piped his pipes and beat his drum. A couple of ostlers, +with their shirt-sleeves rolled up to their shoulders, and +one of them with a pail in his hand, stood arrested in +their work. And in the front of the spectators was +Alick Hudson, a sleepy-looking youth of twenty, who +started and took his hands out of his pockets at sight of +Elinor. Mr. Hudson himself came walking briskly +round the corner, swinging his cane with the air of a +man who was afraid of being too late.</p> + +<p>"Didn't I tell you?" said Compton, pressing Elinor's +arm.</p> + +<p>As the tootle-te-too went on, other spectators +appeared—the two Miss Hills, one putting on her hat, the +other hastily buttoning her jacket as they hurried up. +"Oh, you here, Elinor! What fun! We all run +as if we were six years old. I'm going to engage the +man to come round and do it opposite Rosebank to +amuse mother. She likes it as much as any of us, +though she doesn't see very well, poor dear, nor hear +either. But we must always consider that the old have +not many amusements," said the elder Miss Hill.</p> + +<p>"Though mother amuses herself wonderfully with +her knitting," said Miss Sarah. "There's a sofa-cover +on the stocks for you, Elinor."</p> + +<p>It appeared to be only at this moment that the +sisters became aware of the presence of "the gentleman" +by whom Elinor stood. They had been too +busy with their uncompleted toilettes to observe him +at first. But now that Miss Hill's hat was settled +to her satisfaction, and the blue veil tied over her face +as she liked it to be, and Miss Sarah had at last succeeded, +after two false starts, in buttoning her jacket +straight, their attention was released for other details. +They both gave a glance over Elinor at the tall figure +on the other side, and then looked at each other with a +mutual little "Oh!" and nod of recognition. Then +Miss Hill took the initiative as became her dignity. +"I hope you are going to introduce us to your companion, +Elinor," she said. "Oh, Mr. Compton, how do +you do? We are delighted to make your acquaintance, +I am sure. It is charming to have an opportunity of +seeing a person of so much importance to us all, our +dear Elinor's intended. I hope you know what a prize +you are getting. You might have sought the whole +country over and you wouldn't have found a girl like +her. I don't know how we shall endure your name +when you carry her away."</p> + +<p>"Except, indeed," said Miss Sarah, "that it will be +Elinor's name too."</p> + +<p>"So here we all are again," said the Rector, gazing +down tranquilly upon his flock, "not able to resist a +little histrionic exhibition—and Mr. Compton too, +fresh from the great world. I daresay our good friend +Mrs. Basset would hand us out some chairs. No +Englishman can resist Punch. Alick, my boy, you +ought to be at your work. It will not do to neglect +your lessons when you are so near your exam."</p> + +<p>"No Englishman, father, can resist Punch," said the +lad: at which the two ostlers and the landlord of +the Bull's Head, who was standing with his hands in his +pockets in his own doorway, laughed loud.</p> + +<p>"Had the old fellow there," said Compton, which +was the first observation he had made. The ladies +looked at him with some horror, and Alick a little +flustered, half pleased, half horrified, by this support, +while the Rector laughed, but stiffly <i>au bout des +lèvres</i>. He was not accustomed to be called an old +fellow in his own parish.</p> + +<p>"The old fellows, as you elegantly say, Mr. Compton, +have always the worst of it in a popular assembly. +Elinor, here is a chair for you, my love. Another one +please, Mrs. Basset, for I see Miss Dale coming up this +way."</p> + +<p>"By Jove," said Compton, under his breath. "Elinor, +here's the one that knows society. I hope she isn't +such an old guy as the rest."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Phil, be good!" said Elinor, "or let us go +away, which would be the best."</p> + +<p>"Not a bit," he said. "Let's see the show. I say, +old man, where are you from last?"</p> + +<p>"Down from Guildford ways, guv'nor—awful bad +trade; not taken a bob, s' help me, not for three days, +and bed and board to get off o' that, me and my mate."</p> + +<p>"Well, here is a nice little party for you, my man," +said the Rector, "it is not often you have such an +audience—nor would I encourage it, indeed, if it were +not so purely English an exhibition."</p> + +<p>"Master," said the showman, "worst of it is, nobody +pays till we've done the show, and then they goes away, +and they've got it, don't you see, and we can't have +it back once it's in their insides, and there ain't nothink +then, neither for my mate nor me."</p> + +<p>"Here's for you, old fellow," said Phil. He took a +sovereign from his waistcoat pocket and chucked it with +his thumbnail into the man's hand, who looked at it +with astonished delight, tossed it into the air with a +grin, a "thank'ee, gentleman!" and a call to his +"mate" who immediately began the ever-exciting, ever-amusing +drama. The thrill of sensation which ran +through the little assembly at this incident was wonderful. +The children all turned from Punch to regard +with large open eyes and mouths the gentleman who +had given a gold sovereign to the showman. Alick +Hudson looked at him with a grin of pleasure, a blush +of envy on his face; the Rector, with an expression of +horror, slightly shaking his head; the Miss Hills with +admiration yet dismay. "Goodness, Sarah, they'll +never come now and do it for a shilling to amuse +mother!" the elder of the sisters said.</p> + +<p>Miss Dale came hurrying up while still the sensation +lasted. "Here is a chair for you, Mary," said her +brother-in-law, "and the play is just going to begin. +I can't help shaking my head when I think of it, but +still you must hear what has just happened. Mr. +Compton, let me present you to my sister-in-law, Miss +Dale. Mr. Compton has made the widow's heart, nay, +not the widow's, but the showman's heart to sing. He +has presented our friend with a<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Mind you," said Phil, from behind Elinor's shoulders, +"I've paid the fellow only for two."</p> + +<p>At which the showman turned and winked at the +Rector. To think that such a piece of audacity could +be! A dingy fellow in a velveteen coat, with a spotted +handkerchief round his neck, and a battered hat on his +unkempt locks, with Pan's pipes at his mouth and a +drum tied round his waist—winked at the Rector! +Mr. Hudson fell back a step, and his very lips were +livid with the indignity. He had to support himself on +the back of the chair he had just given to Miss Dale.</p> + +<p>"I think we are all forgetting our different positions +in this world," he said.</p> + +<p>"I ain't," said the showman, "not taking no advantage +through the gentleman's noble ways. He's a lord, +he is, I don't make no doubt. And we're paid. Take +the good of it, Guv'nor, and welcome; all them as is +here is welcome. My mate and I are too well paid. A +gentleman like that good gentleman, as is sweet upon +a pretty young lady, and an open 'eart a-cause of her, +I just wish we could find one at every station; don't +you, Joe?"</p> + +<p>Joe assented, in the person of Mr. Punch, with a +horrible squeak from within the tent.</p> + +<p>The sensations of Elinor during this episode were +peculiar and full of mingled emotion. It is impossible +to deny that she was proud of the effect produced by +her lover. The sovereign chucked into the showman's +hand was a cheap way of purchasing a little success, +and yet it dazzled Elinor, and made her eyelids droop +and her cheek light up with the glow of pleasure. +Amid all the people who would search for pennies, or +perhaps painfully and not without reluctance produce a +sixpence to reward the humble artists, there was something +in the careless familiarity and indifference which +tossed a gold coin at them which was calculated to +charm the youthful observer. Elinor felt the same +mixture of pleasure and envy which had moved Alick +Hudson; yet it was not envy, for was not he her own +who did this thing which she would have liked to have +done herself, overwhelming the poor tramps with delight? +Elinor knew, as Alick also did, that it would +never have occurred to her to do it. She would have +been glad to be kind to the poor men, to give them a +good meal, to speak to Basset at the Bull's Head in +their favour that they might be taken in for the night +and made comfortable, but to open her purse and take +a real sovereign from it, a whole potential pound, would +not have come into her head. Had such a thing been +done, for instance, by the united subscriptions of the +party, in case of some peculiarly touching situation, +the illness of a wife, the loss of a child, it would have +been done solemnly, the Rector calling the men up, +making a little speech to them, telling them how all +the ladies and gentlemen had united to make up +this, and how they must be careful not to spend it +unworthily. Elinor thought she could see the little +scene, and the Rector improving the occasion. Whereas +Phil spun the money through the air into the man's +ready hand as if it had been a joke, a trick of agility. +Elinor saw that everybody was much impressed with +the incident, and her heart went forth upon a flood of +satisfaction and content. And it was no premeditated +triumph. It was so noble, so accidental, so entirely out +of his good heart!</p> + +<p>When he hurried her home at the end of the performance, +that Mrs. Dennistoun might not be kept waiting, +the previous events of the afternoon, and all that +happened in the copse and garden, had faded out of +Elinor's mind. She forgot Stanfield and the 6th and +everything about it. Her embarrassment and trouble +were gone. She went in gayly and told her mother all +about this wonderful incident. "The Rector was trying +for a sixpence. But, mamma, Phil must not be +so ready with his sovereigns, must he? We shall have +nothing to live upon if he goes chucking sovereigns at +every Punch and Judy he may meet."</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>Phil Compton went off next morning by an early +train, having in the meanwhile improved the impression +of him left upon the family in general, and specially +upon Mrs. Dennistoun, to whom he had talked with enthusiasm +about Elinor, expressed indeed in terms unusual +to her ears, but perhaps only more piquant on +that account, which greatly conciliated the mother. +"Don't you think," said the Honourable Phil, "because +I speak a little free and am not one for tall talk, that +I don't know what she is. I've got no poetry in me, +but for the freest goer and the highest spirit, without a +bit of vice in her, there never was one like Nell. The +girls of my set, they're not worthy to tie her shoes—thing +I most regret is taking her among a lot that are +not half good enough for her. But you can't help your +relations, can you? and you have to stick to them for +dozens of reasons. There's the Jew, when you know +her she's not such a bad sort—not generous, as you +may see from what she's given Nell, the old screw: but +yet in her own way she stands by a fellow, and we'll +need it, not having just the Bank of England behind +us. Her husband, old Prestwich, isn't bad for a man +that has made his own money, and they've got a jolly +house, always something going on."</p> + +<p>"But I hope," said Mrs. Dennistoun, "that as soon +as these autumn visits are over you will have a house +of your own."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that!" said Compton, with a wave of his hand, +which left it in some doubt whether he was simply +throwing off the suggestion, or treating it as a foregone +conclusion of which there could be no doubt. "Nell," +he went on, "gets on with the Jew like a house on fire—you +see they don't clash. Nell ain't one of the mannish +sort, and she doesn't flirt—at least not as far as +I've seen<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"I should hope not, indeed," said Mrs. Dennistoun.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm not one of your curmudgeons. Where's +the harm? But she don't, and there's an end of it. +She keeps herself to herself, and lets the Jew go ahead, +and think she's the attraction. And she'll please the old +lord down to the ground. For he's an old-fashioned +old coon, and likes what he calls <i>tenue</i>, don't you know: +but the end is, there ain't one of them that can hold a +candle to Nell. And I should not wonder a bit if she +made a change in the lot of us. Conversion of a family +by the influence of a pious wife, don't you know. Sort +of thing that they make tracts out of. Capital thing, it +would be," said Phil, philosophically, "for some of us +have been going a pace<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Compton," said Mrs. Dennistoun, solemnly, "I +don't understand very well what you mean by these +phrases. They may be much more innocent than they +seem to a country lady's ears. But I implore you to +keep my Elinor clear of anything that you call going +the pace. It must mean something very unlike her, +whatever it means. She has been used to a very quiet, +orderly life. Don't hurry her off into a whirl of society, +or among noisy gay people. Indeed I can assure you +that the more you have her to herself the more you will +be happy in her. She is the brightest companion, the +most entertaining<span class="norewrap">——</span> Oh, Mr. Compton!"</p> + +<p>"I think it's about time, now, mater, to call me +Phil."</p> + +<p>She smiled, with the tears in her eyes, and held out +her hand. "Philip, then," she said, "to make a little +difference. Now remember what I say. It is only in +the sacredness of her home that you will know what is +in Elinor. One is never dull with her. She has her +own opinions—her bright way of looking at things—as +you know. It is, perhaps, a strange thing for a mother +to say, but she will amuse you, Philip; she is such +company. You will never be dull with Elinor: she has +so much in her, which will come out in society, it is +true, but never so brightly as between you two alone."</p> + +<p>This did not seem to have quite the effect upon the +almost-bridegroom which the mother intended. "Perhaps" +(she said to herself), "he was a little affected by +the thought" (which she kept so completely out of the +conversation) "of the loss she herself was about to undergo." +At all events, his face was not so bright as in +the vision of that sweet prospect held before him it +ought to have been.</p> + +<p>"The fact is," he said, "she knows a great deal more +than I do, or ever will. It's she that will be the one to +look blue when she finds herself alone with a fool of a +follow that doesn't know a book from a brick. That's +the thing I'm most afraid<span class="norewrap">——</span> As for society, she can +have her pick of that," he added, brightening up, "I'll +not bind her down."</p> + +<p>"You may be sure she'll prefer you to all the world."</p> + +<p>He shrugged his shoulders a little.</p> + +<p>"They say it's always a leap in the dark," he said, +"for how's she to know the sort of fellow I am with +what she sees of me here? But I promise you I'll do +my best to take her in, and keep her in that delusion, +for her good—making believe to be all that's virtuous: +and perhaps not a bad way—some of it may stick. +Come, mater, don't look so horrified. I'm not of the +Cousin John sort, but there may be something decent +in me after all."</p> + +<p>"I am sure," said Mrs. Dennistoun, "that you will +try to make her happy, Philip." She was crying by +this time, which was a thing very odious to Phil. He +took her by both hands and gave her a hearty kiss, +which was a thing for which she was not at all prepared.</p> + +<p>"I'll do by her<span class="norewrap">——</span>" he said, with a murmur which +sounded like an oath, "as well as I know how."</p> + +<p>Perhaps this was not the very greatest comfort to her +mother, but it was the best she was at all likely to get +from a man so entirely different in all ways from her +own species. She had her cry out quietly while he +went off to get his bag. The pony carriage was at the +door in which Elinor was to drive him to the station, +and a minute after Mrs. Dennistoun heard his voice in +the hall calling to his Nell, his old girl, in terms which +went against all the mother's prejudices of soft and +reverent speech. To have her carefully-trained child, +her Elinor, whom every one had praised and honoured, +her maiden-princess so high apart from all such familiarity, +addressed so, gave the old-fashioned lady a +pang. It meant nothing but love and kindness, she +said to herself. He reverenced Elinor as much as it +was in such a man to do. He meant with all his heart +to do by her as well as he knew how. It was as fantastic +to object to his natural language as it would be to +object to a Frenchman speaking French. That was his +tongue, the only utterance he knew<span class="norewrap">——</span> She dried her +eyes and went out to the door to see them start. The +sun was blazing over all the brilliant autumnal colours +Of the garden, though it was still full and brilliant +summer in the September morning, and only the asters and +dahlias replacing the roses betrayed the turn of the +season. And nothing could be more bright than the +face of Elinor as she sat in the homely little carriage, +with the reins gathered up in her hand. He was going +away, indeed, but in a week he was coming back. +Philip, as Mrs. Dennistoun now called him with dignity, +yet a little beginning of affection, packed up his long +limbs as well as he could in the small space. "I believe +she'll spill us on the road," he said, "or bring +back the shandrydan with a hole in it."</p> + +<p>"There is too much of you, Phil," said Elinor, giving +the staid pony a quiet touch.</p> + +<p>"I should like some of those fellows to see me," he +said, "joggled off to market like a basket of eggs; but +don't smash me, Nell, on the way."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dennistoun stood on the steps looking after +them, or rather, listening after them, for they had soon +turned the corner of the house and were gone. She +heard them jogging over the stony road, and the sound +of their voices in the air for a long time after they were +out of sight—the air was so still and so close, nothing +in it to break the sound. The atmosphere was all sunshine, +not a cloud upon the sky, scarcely a breath stirring +over those hill-tops, which had almost the effect of +a mountainous landscape, being the highest ground in +all the visible space. Along the other side of the +combe, where the road became visible, there were +gleams of heather brilliant under the dark foliage of the +firs. She sat down in the porch and waited to see them +pass; there was a sorrowful background to her thoughts, +but for the moment she was not actually sad, if perhaps +a little forlorn. They had gone away leaving her alone, +but yet in an hour or two Elinor was coming back. +Time enough to think of the final parting. Next week +Elinor would go and would not return. Mrs. Dennistoun +held on by both hands to to-day and would not +think of that future, near as it was. She waited in a +hush of feeling, so near to great commotions of the +heart and mind, but holding them at a distance in a +suspense of all thought, till the shandrydan appeared in +the opening of the road. They were thinking of her, +for she saw a gleam of white, the waving of a handkerchief, +as the little carriage trundled along the road, and +for a moment the tears again blinded her eyes. But +Mrs. Dennistoun was very reasonable. She got up from +the cottage porch after the pony carriage had passed in +the distance, with that determination to make the best +of it, which is the inspiration of so many women's lives.</p> + +<p>And what a drive the others had through the sunshine—or +at least Elinor! You can never tell by what shadows +a man's thoughts may be haunted, who is a man of +the world, and has had many other things to occupy +him besides this vision of love. But the girl had no +shadows. The parting which was before her was not +near enough to harm as yet, and she was still able to +think, in her ignorance of the world, that even parting +was much more in appearance than in reality, and that +she would always be running home, always going upon +long visits brightening everything, instead of saddening. +But even had she been going to the end of the world +with her husband next week, Elinor would still have +been happy to-day. The sunshine itself was enough to +go to any one's head, and the pony stepped out so that +Phil had the grace to be ashamed of his reflections upon +"the old girl." They got to the station too early for +the train, and had half an hour's stroll together, with all +the railway porters looking on admiring. They all knew +Miss Dennistoun from her childhood, and they were +interested in her "young man."</p> + +<p>"And to think you will be in Ireland to-morrow," +said Elinor, "over the sea, with the Channel between +us—in another island!"</p> + +<p>"I don't see much that's wonderful in that," said +Phil, "the boat goes every day."</p> + +<p>"Oh, there's nothing wonderful about the boat. +Hundreds might go, and I shouldn't mind, but you<span class="norewrap">——</span> It's +strange to think of your going off into a world I +don't know at all—and then coming back."</p> + +<p>"To take you off to that world you don't know, Nell; +and then the time will come when you will know it as +well as I do, and more, too; and be able to set me down +in my proper place."</p> + +<p>"What is your proper place? Your place will always +be the same. Phil, you've been so good to me this +time; you've made everybody like you so. Mamma—that's +the best of all. She was a little—I can't say jealous, +that is not the right word, but uncertain and +frightened—which just means that she did not know +you, Phil; now you've condescended to let yourself be +known."</p> + +<p>"Have I, Nell? I've had more luck than meaning if +that's so."</p> + +<p>"'Tis that you've condescended to let yourself be +known. A man has such odious pride. He likes to +show himself all on the wrong side, to brave people's +opinions—as if it was better to be liked for the badness +in you than for the goodness in you!"</p> + +<p>"What's the goodness in me, Nell? I'd like to +know, and then I can have it ready in other emergencies +and serve it out as it is wanted."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Phil! the goodness in you is—yourself. You +can't help being nice when you throw off those society +airs. When you are talking with Mariamne and all +that set of people<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Why can't you call her Jew? life is too short to say +all those syllables."</p> + +<p>"I don't like you to call her Jew. It's unkind. +I don't think she deserves it. It's a sort of an insult."</p> + +<p>"Shut up, Nell. It's her name and that's enough. +Mar-ry-am-ne! It's a beast of a name to begin with. +And do you think any of us has got time to say as +much as that for one woman? Oh, I suppose I'm fond +of her—as men are of their sisters. She is not a bad +sort—mean as her name, and never fond of parting +with her money—but stands by a fellow in a kind of a +way all the same."</p> + +<p>"I'll never call her Jew," said Elinor; "and, Phil, +all this wonderful amount of things you have to do is +simply—nothing. What do you ever do? It is the +people who do things that have time to spare. I know +one<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Don't come down on me, Nell, again with that eternal +Cousin John."</p> + +<p>"Phil! I never think of him till you put him +into my head. I was thinking of a gentleman who +writes<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Rubbish, Nell! What have I to do with men that +write, or you either? We are none of us of that sort. +I do what my set do, and more—for there was this director +business; and I should never mind a bit of work +that was well paid, like attending Board meetings and +so forth, or signing my name to papers."</p> + +<p>"What, without reading them, Phil?"</p> + +<p>"Don't come over a fellow with your cleverness, +Nell! I am not a reader; but I should take good care +I knew what was in the papers before I signed them, I +can tell you. Eh! you'd like me to slave, to get you +luxuries, you little exacting Nell."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Phil," she said, "I'd like to think you were +working for our living. I should indeed. It seems +somehow so much finer—so real a life. And I should +work at home."</p> + +<p>"A great deal you would work," he said, laughing, +"with those scraps of fingers! Let's hear what you +would do—bits of little pictures, or impossible things +in pincushions, or so forth—and walk out in your most +becoming bonnet to force them down some poor shop-keeper's +throat?"</p> + +<p>"Phil!" she said, "how contemptuous you are of +my efforts. But I never thought of either sketches or +pincushions. I should work at home to keep the house +nice—to look after the servants, and guide the cook, +and see that you had nice dinners."</p> + +<p>"And warm my slippers by the parlour fire," said +Phil. "That's too domestic, Nell, for you and me."</p> + +<p>"But we are going to be very domestic, Phil."</p> + +<p>"Are we? Not if I knows it; yawn our heads off, +and get to hate one another. Not for me, Nell. You'll +find yourself up to the eyes in engagements before you +know where you are. No, no, old girl, you may do a +deal with me, but you don't make a domestic man of +Phil Compton. Time enough for that when we've had +our fling."</p> + +<p>"I don't want any fling, Phil," she said, clinging a +little closer to his arm.</p> + +<p>"But I do, my pet, in the person of Benedick the +married man. Don't you think I want to show all the +fellows what a stunning little wife I've got? and all the +women I used to flirt with<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Did you use to flirt much with them, Phil?"</p> + +<p>"You didn't think I flirted with the men, did you? +like you did," said Phil, who was not particular about +his grammar. "I want to show you off a bit. Nell. +When we go down to the governor's, there you can be +as domestic as you like. That's the line to take with +him, and pays too if you do it well."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't talk as if you were always calculating for +your advantage," she said, "for you are not, Phil. You +are not a prudent person, but a horrid, extravagant +spendthrift; if you go on chucking sovereigns about as +you did yesterday."</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, laughing, "wasn't it well spent? +Didn't I make your Rector open his old eyes, and stop +the mouths of the old maids? I don't throw away sovereigns +in a general way, Nell, only when there's a purpose +in it. But I think I did them all finely that time—had +them on toast, eh?"</p> + +<p>"You made an impression, if that is what you mean; +but I confess I thought you did it out of kindness, +Phil."</p> + +<p>"To the Punch and Judy? catch me! Sovereigns +ain't plentiful enough for that. You little exacting +thing, ain't you pleased, when I did it to please you, +and get you credit among your friends?"</p> + +<p>"It was very kind of you, I'm sure, Phil," she said, +very soberly, "but I should so much rather you had +not thought of that. A shilling would have done just +as well and they would have got a bed at the Bull's +Head, and been quite kindly treated. Is this your train +coming? It's a little too soon, I think."</p> + +<p>"Thanks for the compliment, Nell. It is really late," +he said, looking at his watch, "but the time flies, don't +it, pet, when you and I are together? Here, you fellow, +put my bag in a smoking carriage. And now, you +darling, we've got to part; only for a little time, Nell."</p> + +<p>"Only for a week," she said, with a smile and a tear.</p> + +<p>"Not so long—a rush along the rail, a blow on the +sea, and then back again; I shall only be a day over +there, and then—bless you, Nell. Good-bye—take care +of yourself, my little duck: take care of yourself for +me."</p> + +<p>"Good-bye," said Elinor, with a little quiver of her +lip. A parting at a roadside station is a very abrupt +affair. The train stops, the passenger is shoved in, +there is a clanging of the doors, and in a moment it is +gone. She had scarcely realized that the hour had +come before he was whirled off from her, and the +swinging line of carriages disappeared round the next +curve. She stood looking vaguely after it till the old +porter came up, who had known her ever since she was +a child.</p> + +<p>"Beg your pardon, miss, but the pony is a-waiting," +he said. And then he uttered his sympathy in the +form of a question:—"Coming back very soon, miss, +ain't the gentleman?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes; very soon," she said, rousing herself up.</p> + +<p>"And if I may make bold to say it, miss," said the +porter, "an open-hearted gentleman as ever I see. +There's many as gives us a threepenny for more than +I've done for 'im. And look at what he's give me," he +said, showing the half-crown in his hand.</p> + +<p>Did he do that from calculation to please her, ungracious +girl as she was, who was so hard to please? But +he never could have known that she would see it. She +walked through the little station to the pony carriage, +feeling that all the eyes of the people about were upon +her. They were all sympathetic, all equally aware that +she had just parted with her lover: all ready to cheer +her, if she had given them an opportunity, by reminding +her of his early return. The old porter followed her +out, and assisted at her ascent into the pony carriage. +He said, solemnly, "And an 'andsome gentleman, miss, +as ever I see," as he fastened the apron over her feet. +She gave him a friendly nod as she drove away.</p> + +<p>How dreadful it is to be so sensitive, to receive a wound +so easily! Elinor was vexed more than she could say +by her lover's denial of the reckless generosity with +which she had credited him. To think that he had +done it in order to produce the effect which had given +her so distinct a sensation of pleasure changed that effect +into absolute pain. And yet in the fantastic susceptibility +of her nature, there was something in old Judkin's +half-crown which soothed her again. A shilling would +have been generous, Elinor said to herself, with a feminine +appreciation of the difference of small things as +well as great, whereas half-a-crown was lavish—ergo, +he gave the sovereign also out of natural prodigality, +as she had hoped, not out of calculation as he said. +She drove soberly home, thinking over all these things +in a mood very different from that triumphant happiness +with which she started from the cottage with +Phil by her side. The sunshine was still as bright, but +it had taken an air of routine and commonplace to Elinor. +It had come to be only the common day, not the +glory and freshness of the morning. She felt herself, as +she had never done before, on the edge of a world unknown, +where everything would be new to her, where—it +was possible—that which awaited her might not be +unmixed happiness, might even be the reverse. It is +seldom that a girl on the eve of marriage either thinks +this or acknowledges to herself that she thinks it. Elinor +did so involuntarily, without thinking upon her +thought. Perhaps it would not be unmixed happiness. +Strange clouds seemed to hang upon the horizon, ready +to roll up in tragic darkness and gloom. Oh, no, not +tragic, only commonplace, she said to herself; opaqueness, +not blackness. But yet it was ominous and lowering, +that distant sky.</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>The days of the last week hurried along like the +grains of sand out of an hour-glass when they are +nearly gone. It is true that almost everything was +done—a few little bits of stitching, a few things still to +be "got up" alone remaining, a handkerchief to mark +with Elinor's name, a bit of lace to arrange, just enough +to keep up a possibility of something to do for Mrs. +Dennistoun in the blank of all other possibilities—for +to interest herself or to occupy herself about anything +that should be wanted beyond that awful limit of the +wedding-day was of course out of the question. Life +seemed to stop there for the mother, as it was virtually +to begin for the child; though indeed to Elinor also, +notwithstanding her love, it was visible more in the +light of a point at which all the known and certain +ended, and where the unknown and almost inconceivable +began. The curious thing was that this barrier +which was placed across life for them both, got somehow +between them in those last days which should +have been the most tender climax of their intercourse. +They had a thousand things to say to each other, but +they said very little. In the evening after dinner, +whether they went out into the garden together to +watch the setting of the young moon, or whether they +sat together in that room which had witnessed all Elinor's +commencements of life, free to talk as no one else +in the world could ever talk to either of them, they said +very little to each other, and what they said was of the +most commonplace kind. "It is a lovely night; how +clear one can see the road on the other side of the +combe!" "And what a bright star that is close to the +moon! I wish I knew a little more about the stars." +"They are just as beautiful," Mrs. Dennistoun would +say, "as if you knew everything about them, Elinor." +"Are you cold, mamma? I am sure I can see you +shiver. Shall I run and get you a shawl?" "It is a +little chilly: but perhaps it will be as well to go in now," +the mother said. And then indoors: "Do you think +you will like this lace made up as a jabot, Elinor?" +"You are giving me all your pretty things, though you +know you understand lace much better than I do." +"Oh, that doesn't matter," Mrs. Dennistoun said hurriedly; +"that is a taste which comes with time. You +will like it as well as I do when you are as old as I am." +"You are not so dreadfully old, mamma." "No, +that's the worst of it," Mrs. Dennistoun would say, and +then break out into a laugh. "Look at the shadow +that handkerchief makes—how fantastic it is!" she +cried. She neither cared for the moon, nor for the +quaintness of the shadows, nor for the lace which she +was pulling into dainty folds to show its delicate pattern—for +none of all these things, but for her only +child, who was going from her, and to whom she had a +hundred, and yet a hundred, things to say: but none +of them ever came from her lips.</p> + +<p>"Mary Dale has not seen your things, Elinor: she +asked if she might come to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"I think we might have had to-morrow to ourselves, +mamma—the last day all by ourselves before those +people begin to arrive."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think so too; but it is difficult to say no, +and as she was not here when the others came<span class="norewrap">——</span> She +is the greatest critic in the parish. She will have so +much to say."</p> + +<p>"I daresay it may be fun," said Elinor, brightening +up a little, "and of course anyhow Alice must have +come to talk about her dress. I am tired of those +bride's-maids' dresses; they are really of so little consequence." +Elinor was not vain, to speak of, but she +thought it improbable that when she was there any one +would look much at the bride's-maids' dresses. For +one thing, to be sure, the bride is always the central +figure, and there were but two bride's-maids, which +diminished the interest; and then—well, it had to be +allowed at the end of all, that, though her closest +friends, neither Alice Hudson nor Mary Tatham were, +to look at, very interesting girls.</p> + +<p>"They are of great consequence to them," said Mrs. +Dennistoun, with the faintest smile.</p> + +<p>"I didn't mean that, of course," said Elinor, with a +blush; "only I never should have worried about my +own dress, which after all is the most important, as +Alice does about hers."</p> + +<p>"Which nobody will look at," Mrs. Dennistoun said.</p> + +<p>"I did not say that: but to tell the truth, it is a pity +for the girls that the men will not quite be, just of +their world, you know. Oh, mamma, you know it is +not that I think anything of that, but I am sorry for +Alice and Mary. Mr. Bolsover and the other gentlemen +will not take that trouble which country neighbours, +or—or John's friends from the Temple might +have done."</p> + +<p>"Why do you speak of John's friends from the +Temple, Elinor?"</p> + +<p>"Mamma! for no reason at all. Why should I? +They were the only other men I could think of."</p> + +<p>"Elinor, did John ever give you any reason to +think<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Mamma," cried Elinor again, with double vehemence, +her countenance all ablaze, "of course he never +did! how could you think such foolish things?"</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear," said her mother, "I am very glad +he did not; it will prevent any embarrassment between +him and you—for I must always believe<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Don't, please, oh, don't! it would make me miserable; +it would take all my happiness away."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dennistoun said nothing, but she sighed—a +very small, infinitesimal sigh—and there was a moment's +silence, during which perhaps that sigh pervaded +the atmosphere with a sort of breath of what +might have been. After a moment she spoke again:</p> + +<p>"I hope you have not packed up your ornaments +yet, Elinor. You must leave them to the very last, for +Mary would like to see that beautiful necklace. What +do you think you shall wear on the day?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," said Elinor, promptly. She was about to +add, "I have nothing good enough," but paused in time.</p> + +<p>"Not my little star? It would look very well, my +darling, to fix your veil on. The diamonds are very +good, though perhaps a little old-fashioned; you +might get them reset. But—your father gave it me +like that."</p> + +<p>"I would not change it a bit, mamma, for anything +in the world."</p> + +<p>"Thanks, my dearest. I thought that was how you +would feel about it. It is not very big, of course, but +it really is very good."</p> + +<p>"Then I will wear it, mamma, if it will please you, +but nothing else."</p> + +<p>"It would please me: it would be like having something +from your father. I think we had less idea of ornaments +in my day. I cannot tell you how proud I was +of my diamond star. I should like to put it in for you +myself, Elinor."</p> + +<p>"Oh, mamma!" This was the nearest point they +had come to that outburst of two full hearts which both +of them would have called breaking down. Mrs. Dennistoun +saw it and was frightened. She thought it +would be betraying to Elinor what she wished her never +to know, the unspeakable desolation to which she was +looking forward when her child was taken from her. +Elinor's exclamation, too, was a protest against the imminent +breaking down. They both came back with a +hurry, with a panting breath, to safer ground.</p> + +<p>"Yes, that's what I regret," she said. "Mr. Bolsover +and Harry Compton will laugh a little at the Rectory. +They will not be so—nice as young men of their +own kind."</p> + +<p>"The Rectory people are just as well born as any of +us, Elinor."</p> + +<p>"Oh, precisely, mamma: I know that; but we +too<span class="norewrap">——</span> It is what they call a different <i>monde</i>. I don't +think it is half so nice a <i>monde</i>," said the girl, feeling +that she had gone further than she intended to do; +"but you know, mamma<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"I know, Elinor: but I scarcely expected from +you<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Oh," cried Elinor again, in exasperation, "if you +think that I share that feeling! I think it odious, I +think their <i>monde</i> is vulgar, nasty, miserable! I +think<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Don't go too far the other way, Elinor. Your +husband will be of it, and you must learn to like it. +You think, perhaps, all that is new to me?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Elinor, her bright eyes, all the brighter +for tears, falling before her mother's look. "I know, of +course, that you have seen—all kinds<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>But she faltered a little, for she did not believe that +her mother was acquainted with Phil's circle and their +wonderful ways.</p> + +<p>"They will be civil enough," she went on, hurriedly, +"and as everybody chaffs so much nowadays they will, +perhaps, never be found out. But I don't like it for my +friends."</p> + +<p>"They will chaff me also, no doubt," Mrs. Dennistoun +said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, <i>you</i>, mamma! they are not such fools as that," +cried poor Elinor; but in her own mind she did not +feel confident that there was any such limitation to +their folly. Mrs. Dennistoun laughed a little to herself, +which was, perhaps, more alarming than that other +moment when she was almost ready to cry.</p> + +<p>"You had better wear Lord St. Serf's ring," she said, +after a moment, with a tone of faint derision which +Elinor knew.</p> + +<p>"You might as well tell me," cried the bride, "to +wear Lady Mariamne's revolving dishes. No, I will +wear nothing, nothing but your star."</p> + +<p>"You have got nothing half so nice," said the mother. +Oh yes, it was a little revenge upon those people who +were taking her daughter from her, and who thought +themselves at liberty to jeer at all her friends: but as +was perhaps inevitable it touched Elinor a little too. +She restrained herself from some retort with a sense of +extreme and almost indignant self-control: though what +retort Elinor could have made I cannot tell. It was +much "nicer" than anything else she had. None of +Phil Compton's great friends, who were not of the same +<i>monde</i> as the people at Windyhill, had offered his bride +anything to compare with the diamonds which her +father had given to her mother before she was born. +And Elinor was quite aware of the truth of what her +mother said. But she would have liked to make a +retort—to say something smart and piquant and witty +in return.</p> + +<p>And thus the evening was lost, the evening in which +there was so much to say, one of the three only, no +more, that were left.</p> + +<p>Miss Dale came next day to see "the things," and +was very amiable: but the only thing in this visit which +affected Elinor's mind was a curious little unexpected +assault this lady made upon her when she was going +away. Elinor had gone out with her to the porch, according +to the courteous usage of the house. But when +they had reached that shady place, from which the +green combe and the blue distance were visible, stretching +far into the soft autumnal mists of the evening, +Mary Dale turned upon her and asked her suddenly, +"What night was it that Mr. Compton came here?"</p> + +<p>Elinor was much startled, but she did not lose her +self-possession. All the trouble about that date had disappeared +out of her mind in the stress and urgency of +other things. She cast back her mind with an effort and +asked herself what the conflict and uncertainty of which +she was dimly conscious, had been? It came back to +her dimly without any of the pain that had been in it. +"It was on the sixth," she said quietly, without excitement. +She could scarcely recall to her mind what it +was that had moved her so much in respect to this date +only a little time ago.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you must be mistaken, Elinor, I saw him +coming up from the station. It was later than that. +It was, if I were to give my life for it, Thursday +night."</p> + +<p>This was four or five nights before and a haze of +uncertainty had fallen on all things so remote. But Elinor +cast her eyes upon the calendar in the hall and calm +possessed her breast. "It was the sixth," she said with +composed tones, as certain as of anything she had ever +known in the course of her life.</p> + +<p>"Well, I suppose you must know," said Mary Dale.</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>"Look at that, Elinor," said Mrs. Dennistoun, next +day, when she had read, twice over, a letter, large and +emblazoned with a very big monogram, which Elinor, +well perceiving from whom it came, had furtively +watched the effect of from behind an exceeding small +letter of her own. Phil was not remarkable as a correspondent: +his style was that of the primitive mind +which hopes its correspondent is well, "as this leaves +me." He had never much more to say.</p> + +<p>"From Mariamne, mamma?"</p> + +<p>"She takes great pains to make us certain of that +fact at least," Mrs. Dennistoun said; which indeed was +very true, for the name of the writer was sprawled in +gilt letters half over the sheet. And this was how it +ran:—</p> +<p> </p> + +<p class="noindent">"<span class="smallcaps">Dear Mrs. Dennistoun</span>,—<br /> + +<span class="ind2">"I </span>have been thinking what a great pity it would be +to bore you with me, and my maid, and all my belongings. +I am so silly that I can never be happy without +dragging a lot of things about with me—dogs, and +people, and so forth. Going to town in September is +dreadful, but it is rather <i>chic</i> to do a thing that <ins title="original has its">is</ins> quite +out of the way, and one may perhaps pick up a little +fun in the evening. So if you don't mind, instead of +inflicting Fifine and Bijou and Leocadie, not to mention +some people that might be with me, upon you, and +putting your house all out of order, as these odious little +dogs do when people are not used to them—I will come +down by the train, which I hope arrives quite punctually, +in time to see poor Phil turned off. I am sure +you will be so kind as to send a carriage for me to the +railway. We shall be probably a party of four, and I +hear from Phil you are so hospitable and kind that I +need not hesitate to bring my friends to breakfast +after it's all over. I hope Phil will go through it like +a man, and I wouldn't for worlds deprive him of the +support of his family. Love to Nell. I am,</p> + +<p class="signature"><span class="ind4r">"Yours truly,</span><br /> +"<span class="smallcaps">Mariamne Prestwich</span>."</p> + +<p> </p> +<p>"The first name very big and the second very +small," said Mrs. Dennistoun, as she received the letter +back.</p> + +<p>"I am sure we are much obliged to her for not +coming, mamma!"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps—but not for this announcement of her not +coming. I don't wish to say anything against your new +relations, Elinor<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"You need not put any restraint upon yourself in +consideration of my feelings," said Elinor, with a flush +of annoyance.</p> + +<p>And this made Mrs. Dennistoun pause. They ate +their breakfast, which was a very light meal, in silence. +It was the day before the wedding. The rooms down-stairs +had been carefully prepared for Phil's sister. +Though Mrs. Dennistoun was too proud to say anything +about it, she had taken great pains to make these +pretty rooms as much like a fine lady's chamber as had +been possible. She had put up new curtains, and a +Persian carpet, and looked out of her stores all the +pretty things she could find to decorate the two rooms +of the little apartment. She had gone in on the way +down-stairs to take a final survey, and it seemed to her +that they were very pretty. No picture could have +been more beautiful than the view from the long low +lattice window, in which, as in a frame, was set the +foreground of the copse with its glimpses of ruddy +heather and the long sweep of the heights beyond, +which stretched away into the infinite. That at least +could not be surpassed anywhere; and the Persian +carpet was like moss under foot, and the chairs luxurious—and +there was a collection of old china in some +open shelves which would have made the mouth of an +amateur water. Well! it was Lady Mariamne's own loss +if she preferred the chance of picking up a little fun in +the evening, to spending the night decorously in that +pretty apartment, and making further acquaintance +with her new sister. It was entirely, Mrs. Dennistoun +said to herself, a matter for her own choice. But she +was much affronted all the same.</p> + +<p>"It will be very inconvenient indeed sending a +carriage for her, Elinor. Except the carriage that is to +take you to church there is none good enough for this +fine lady. I had concluded she would go in your +uncle Tatham's carriage. It may be very fine to have +a Lady Mariamne in one's party, but it is a great +nuisance to have to change all one's arrangements at +the last moment."</p> + +<p>"If you were to send the wagonette from the Bull's +Head, as rough as possible, with two of the farm horses, +she would think it <i>genre</i>, if not <i>chic</i><span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"I cannot put up with all this nonsense!" cried Mrs. +Dennistoun, with a flush on her cheek. "You are just +as bad as they are, Elinor, to suggest such a thing! I +have held my own place in society wherever I have been, +and I don't choose to be condescended to or laughed at, +in fact, by any visitor in the world!"</p> + +<p>"Mamma! do you think any one would ever compare +you with Mariamne—the Jew?"</p> + +<p>"Don't exasperate me with those abominable nicknames. +They will give you one next. She is an exceedingly +ill-bred and ill-mannered woman. Picking +up a little fun in the evening! What does she mean +by picking up a little fun<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"They will perhaps go to the theatre—a number of +them; and as nobody is in town they will laugh very +much at the kind of people, and perhaps the kind of +play—and it will be a great joke ever after among themselves—for +of course there will be a number of them +together," said Elinor, disclosing her acquaintance with +the habits of her new family with downcast eyes.</p> + +<p>"How can well-born people be so vulgar and ill-bred?" +cried Mrs. Dennistoun. "I must say for Philip +that though he is careless and not nearly so particular +as I should like, still he is not like that. He has something +of the politeness of the heart."</p> + +<p>Elinor did not raise her downcast eyes. Phil had +been on his very good behaviour on the occasion of his +last hurried visit, but she did not feel that she could +answer even for Phil. "I am very glad anyhow, that +she is not coming, mamma: at least we shall have the +last night and the last morning to ourselves."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dennistoun shook her head. "The Tathams will +be here," she said; "and everybody, to dinner—all the +party. We must go now and see how we can enlarge +the table. To-night's party will be the largest we have +ever had in the cottage." She sighed a little and +paused, restraining herself. "We shall have no quiet +evening—nor morning either—again; it will be a bustle +and a rush. You and I will never have any more quiet +evenings, Elinor: for when you come back it will be +another thing."</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother!" cried Elinor, throwing herself into +her mother's arms: and for a moment they stood closely +clasped, feeling as if their hearts would burst, yet very +well aware, too, underneath, that any number of quiet +evenings would be as the last, when, with hearts full of +a thousand things to say to each other, they said almost +nothing—which in some respects was worse than having +no quiet evenings evermore.</p> + +<p>In the afternoon Phil arrived, having returned from +Ireland that morning, and paused only to refresh himself +in the chambers which he still retained in town. +He had met all his hunting friends during the three +days he had been away; and though he retained a gallant +appearance, and looked, as Alice Hudson thought, +"very aristocratic," Mrs. Dennistoun caught with +anxiety a worn-out look—the look of excitement, of +nights without sleep, much smoke, and, perhaps, much +wine, in his eyes. What a woman feels who has to hand +over her spotless child, the most dear and pure thing +upon earth, to a man fresh from those indulgences and +dissipations which never seem harmless, and always are +repellent to a woman, is not to be described. Fortunately +the bride herself, in invincible ignorance and +unconsciousness, seldom feels in that way. To Elinor +her lover looked tired about the eyes, which was very +well explained by his night journey, and by the agitation +of the moment. And, indeed, she did not see very +much of Phil, who had his friends with him—his aide-de-camp, +Bolsover, and his brother Harry. These three +gentlemen carried an atmosphere of smoke and other +scents with them into the lavender of the Rectory, +which was too amazing in that hemisphere for words, +and talked their own talk in the midst of the fringe of +rustics who were their hosts, with a calm which was extraordinary, +breaking into the midst of the Rector's +long-winded, amiable sentences, and talking to each +other over Mrs. Hudson's head. "I say, Dick, don't you +remember?" "By Jove, Phil, you are too bad!" +sounded, with many other such expressions and reminders, +over the Rectory party, strictly silent round +their own table, trying to make a courteous remark now +and then, but confounded, in their simple country good +manners, by the fine gentlemen. And then there was +the dinner-party at the cottage in the evening, to which +Mr. and Mrs. Hudson were invited. Such a dinner-party! +Old Mr. Tatham, who was a country gentleman +from Dorsetshire, with his nice daughter, Mary Tatham, +a quiet country young lady, accustomed, when she went +into the world at all, to the serious young men of the +Temple, and John's much-occupied friends, who had +their own asides about cases, and what So-and-So had +said in court, but were much too well-bred before +ladies to fall into "shop;" and Mr. and Mrs. Hudson, +who were such as we know them; and the bride's +mother, a little anxious, but always debonair; and +Elinor herself, in all the haze and sweet confusion of the +great era which approached so closely. The three men +made the strangest addition that can be conceived to +the quiet guests; but things went better under the discipline +of the dinner, especially as Sir John Huntingtower, +who was a Master of the hounds and an old +friend of the Dennistouns, was of the party, and Lady +Huntingtower, who was an impressive person, and knew +the world. This lady was very warm in her congratulations +to Mrs. Dennistoun after dinner on the absence +of Lady Mariamne. "I think you are the luckiest +woman that ever was to have got clear of that dreadful +creature," she said. "Oh, there is nothing wrong about +her that I know. She goes everywhere with her dogs +and her <i>cavaliers servantes</i>. There's safety in numbers, +my dear. She has always two of them at least hanging +about her to fetch and carry, and she thinks a great +deal more of her dogs; but I can't think what you +could have done with her here."</p> + +<p>"And what will my Elinor do in such a sphere?" +the troubled mother permitted herself to say.</p> + +<p>"Oh, if that were all," said Lady Huntingtower, lifting +up her fat hands—she was one of those who had +protested against the marriage, but now that it had +come to this point, and could not be broken off, the +judicious woman thought it right to make the best of +it—"Elinor need not be any the worse," she said. +"Thank heaven, you are not obliged to be mixed up +with your husband's sister. Elinor must take a line of +her own. You should come to town yourself her first +season, and help her on. You used to know plenty of +people."</p> + +<p>"But they say," said Mrs. Dennistoun, "that it is so +much better to leave a young couple to themselves, and +that a mother is always in the way."</p> + +<p>"If I were you I would not pay the least attention to +what they say. If you hold back too much they will +say, 'There was her own mother, knowing numbers of +nice people, that never took the trouble to lend her a +hand.'"</p> + +<p>"I hope," said Mrs. Dennistoun, turning round immediately +to this other aspect of affairs, "that it never +will be necessary for the world to interest itself at all in +my child's affairs."</p> + +<p>"Well, of course, that is the best," Lady Huntingtower +allowed, "if she just goes softly for a year or two +till she feels her way."</p> + +<p>"But then she is so young, and so little accustomed +to act for herself," said the mother, with another change +of flank.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Elinor has a great deal of spirit. She must +just make a stand against the Compton set and take her +own line."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hudson and Alice and Miss Tatham were at the +other end of the room exchanging a few criticisms +under their breath, and disposed to think that they +were neglected by their hostess for the greater personage +with whom she was in such close conversation. And +Lady Mariamne's defection was a great disappointment +to them all. "I should like to have seen a fine lady +quite close," said Mary (it was not, I think, usual to +speak of "smart" people in those days), "one there +could be no doubt about, a little fast and all that. I +have seen them in town at a distance, but all the people +we know are sure country people."</p> + +<p>"My dear," said Mrs. Hudson, primly, "I don't like +to hear you talk of any other kind. An English lady, +I hope, whatever is her rank, can only be of one kind."</p> + +<p>"Oh, mamma, you know very well Lady Mariamne is +as different from Lady Huntingtower as<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Don't mention names, my dear; it is not well-bred. +The one is young, and naturally fond of gayety; the +other—well, is not quite so young, and stout, and all +that."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that is all very well," said Alice; "but Aunt +Mary says<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>Miss Dale was coming in the evening, and the Miss +Hills, and the curate, and the doctor, and various other +people, who could not be asked to dinner, to whom it +had been carefully explained (which, indeed, was a fact +they knew) that to dine twelve people in the little dining-room +of the cottage was a feat which was accomplished +with difficulty, and that more was impossible. +Society at Windyhill was very tolerant and understanding +on this point, for all the dining-rooms were +small, except, indeed, when you come to talk of such +places as Huntingtower—and they were very glad to be +permitted to have a peep at the bridegroom on these +terms, or rather, if truth were told, of the bride, and +how she was bearing herself so near the crisis of her +fate. The bridegroom is seldom very interesting on +such occasions. On the present occasion he was more +interesting than usual, because he was the Honourable +Philip, and because he had a reputation of which most +people had heard something. There was a mixture of +alarm and suspicion in respect to him which increased +the excitement; and many remarks of varied kinds +were made. "I think the fellow's face quite bears out +his character," said the doctor to the Rector. "What a +man to trust a nice girl to!" Mr. Hudson felt that as +the bridegroom was living under his roof he was partially +responsible, and discouraged this pessimistic view. +"Mr. Compton has not, perhaps, had all the advantages +one tries to secure for one's own son," he said, "but I +have reason to believe that the things that have been +said of him are much exaggerated." "Oh, advantages!" +said the doctor, thinking of Alick, of whom it +was his strongly expressed opinion that the fellow +should be turned out to rough it, and not coddled up +and spoiled at home. But while these remarks were +going on, Miss Hill had been expressing to the curate +an entirely different view. "I think he has a <i>beautiful</i> +face," she said with the emphasis some ladies use; "a +little worn, perhaps, with being too much in the world, +and I wish he had a better colour. To me he looks +delicate: but what delightful features, Mr. Whitebands, +and what an aristocratic air!"</p> + +<p>"He looks tremendously up to everything," the curate +said, with a faint tone of envy in his voice.</p> + +<p>"Don't he just?" cried Alick Hudson. "I should +think there wasn't a thing he couldn't do—of things +that men <i>do</i> do, don't you know," cried that carefully +trained boy, whose style was confused, though his +meaning was good. But probably there were almost as +many opinions about Phil as there were people in the +room. His two backers-up stood in a corner—half intimidated, +half contemptuous of the country people. +"Queer lot for Phil to fall among," said Dick Bolsover. +"Que diable allait-il faire dans cette galère?" said +Harry Compton, who had been about the world. "Oh, +bosh with your French, that nobody understands," said +the best man.</p> + +<p>But in the meantime Phil was not there at all to be +seen of men. He had stolen out into the garden, +where there was a white vision awaiting him in the +milky moonlight. The autumn haze had come early +this season, and the moon was misty, veiled with white +amid a jumble of soft floating vapours in the sky. Elinor +stood among the flowers, which showed some +strange subdued tints of colours in the flooding of the +white light, like a bit of consolidated moonlight in her +white dress. She had a white shawl covering her from +head to foot, with a corner thrown over her hair. +What had they to say to each other that last night? +Not much; nothing at all that had any information in +it—whispers inaudible almost to each other. There +was something in being together for this stolen moment, +just on the eve of their being together for always, +which had a charm of its own. After to-night, no +stealing away, no escape to the garden, no little conspiracy +to attain a meeting—the last of all those delightful +schemings and devices. They started when +they heard a sound from the house, and sped along the +paths into the shadow like the conspirators they were—but +never to conspire more after this last enthralling +time.</p> + +<p>"You're not frightened, Nell?"</p> + +<p>"No—except a little. There is one thing<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"What is it, my pet? If it's to the half of my kingdom, +it shall be done."</p> + +<p>"Phil, we are going to be very good when we are +together? don't laugh—to help each other?"</p> + +<p>He did laugh low, not to be heard, but long. "I +shall have no temptation," he said, "to be anything +but good, you little goose of a Nell," taking it for a +warning of possible jealousy to come.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but I mean both of us—to help each other."</p> + +<p>"Why, Nell, I know you'll never go wrong<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>She gave him a little impatient shake. "You will +not understand me, Phil. We will try to be better +than we've ever been. To be good—don't you know +what that means?—in every way, before God."</p> + +<p>Her voice dropped very low, and he was for a moment +overawed. "You mean going to church, Nell?"</p> + +<p>"I mean—yes, that for one thing; and many other +things."</p> + +<p>"That's dropping rather strong upon a fellow," he +said, "just at this moment, don't you think, when I +must say yes to everything you say."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't mean it in that way; and I was not +thinking of church particularly; but to be good, very +good, true and kind, in our hearts."</p> + +<p>"You are all that already, Nell."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, not what I mean. When there are two of +us instead of one we can do so much more."</p> + +<p>"Well, my pet, it's for you to make out the much +more. I'm quite content with you as you are; it's me +that you want to improve, and heaven knows there's +plenty of room for that."</p> + +<p>"No, Phil, not you more than me," she said.</p> + +<p>"We'll choose a place where the sermon's short, and +we'll see about it. You mean little minx, to bind a +man down to go to church, the night before his wedding +day!"</p> + +<p>And then there was a sound of movement indoors, +and after a little while the bride appeared among the +guests with a little more colour than usual, and an anxiously +explanatory description of something she had +been obliged to do; and the confused hour flew on +with much sound of talking and very little understanding +of what was said. And then all the visitors streamed +away group after group into the moonlight, disappearing +like ghosts under the shadow of the trees. Finally, +the Rectory party went too, the three mild ladies surrounded +by an exciting circle of cigars; for Alick, of +course, had broken all bonds, and even the Rector +accepted that rare indulgence. Alice Hudson half deplored, +half exulted for years after in the scent that +would cling round one particular evening dress. Five +gentlemen, all with cigars, and papa as bad as any of +them! There had never been such an extraordinary experience +in her life.</p> + +<p>And then the Tathams, too, withdrew, and the mother +and daughter stood alone on their own hearth. Oh, +so much, so much as there was to say! but how were +they to say it?—the last moment, which was so precious +and so intolerable—the moment that would never +come again.</p> + +<p>"You were a long time with Philip, Elinor, in the +garden. I think all your old friends <span class="norewrap">——</span> the last +night."</p> + +<p>"I wanted to say something to him, mamma, that I +had never had the courage to say."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dennistoun had been looking dully into the dim +mirror over the mantelpiece. She turned half round +to her daughter with an inquiring look.</p> + +<p>"Oh, mamma, I wanted to say to him that we must +be good! We're so happy. God is so kind to us; and +you—if you suppose I don't think of you! It was to +say to him—building our house upon all this, God's +mercy and your loss, and all—that we are doubly, +doubly bound to serve—and to love—and to be good +people before God; and like you, mother, like you!"</p> + +<p>"My darling!" Mrs. Dennistoun said. And that was +all. She asked no questions as to how it was to be +done, or what he replied. Elinor had broken down +hysterically, and sobbed out the words one at a time, +as they would come through the choking in her throat. +Needless to say that she ended in her mother's arms, +her head upon the bosom which had nursed her, her +slight weight dependent upon the supporter and protector +of all her life.</p> + +<p>That was the last evening. There remained the last +morning to come; and after that—what? The great +sea of an unknown life, a new pilot, and a ship untried.</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>And now the last morning had come.</p> + +<p>The morning of a wedding-day is a flying and precarious +moment which seems at once as if it never +would end, and as if it were a hurried preliminary interval +in which the necessary preparations never could +be done. Elinor was not allowed to come down-stairs +to help, as she felt it would be natural to do. It was +Mary Tatham who arranged the flowers on the table, +and helped Dennistoun to superintend everything. +All the women in the house, though they were so busy, +were devoted at every spare moment to the service of +Elinor. They brought her simple breakfast up-stairs, +one maid carrying the tray and another the teapot, +that each might have their share. The cook, though +she was overwhelmed with work, had made some cakes +for breakfast, such us Elinor liked. "Most like as +we'll never have her no more—to mind," she said. +The gardener sent up an untidy bundle of white flowers. +And Mrs. Dennistoun came herself to pour out +the tea. "As if I had been ill, or had turned into a +baby again," Elinor said. But there was not much said. +Mary Tatham was there for one thing, and for another +and the most important they had said all they had to +say; the rest which remained could not be said. The +wedding was to be at a quarter to twelve, in order to +give Lady Mariamne time to come from town. It was +not the fashion then to delay marriages to the afternoon, +which no doubt would have been much more +convenient for her ladyship; but the best that could +be done was done. Mr. Tatham's carriage, which he +had brought with him to grace the ceremony, was despatched +to the station to meet Lady Mariamne, while +he, good man, had to get to church as he could in one +of the flys. And then came the important moment, +when the dressing of the bride had to be begun. The +wedding-breakfast was not yet all set out in perfect +order, and there were many things to do. Yet every +woman in the house had a little share in the dressing +of the bride. They all came to see how it fitted when +the wedding-dress was put on. It fitted like a glove! +The long glossy folds of the satin were a wonder to see. +Cook stood just within the door in a white apron, and +wept, and could not say a word to Miss Elinor; but +the younger maids sent forth a murmur of admiration. +And the Missis they thought was almost as beautiful +as the bride, though her satin was grey. Mrs. Dennistoun +herself threw the veil over her child's head, and +put in the diamond star, the old-fashioned ornament, +which had been her husband's present to herself. And +then again she had meant to say something to Elinor—a +last word—but the word would not come. They were +both of them glad that somebody should be there all +the time, that they should not be left alone. And after +that the strange, hurried, everlasting morning was +over, and the carriage was at the door.</p> + +<p>Then again it was a relief that old Mr. Tatham had +missed his proper place in the fly, and had to go on +the front seat with the bride and her mother. It was +far better so. If they had been left even for ten minutes +alone, who could have answered that one or the +other would not have cried, and discomposed the bouquet +and the veil? It seemed a great danger and responsibility +over when they arrived at last safely at the +church door. Lady Mariamne was just then arriving +from the station. She drew up before them in poor +Mr. Tatham's carriage, keeping them back. Harry +Compton and Mr. Bolsover sprang to the carriage window +to talk to her, and there was a loud explosion of +mirth and laughter in the midst of the village people, +and the children with their baskets of flowers who +were already gathered. Lady Mariamne's voice burst +out so shrill that it overmastered the church bells. +"Here I am," she cried, "out in the wilderness. And +Algy has come with me to take care of me. And how +are you, dear boys; and how is poor Phil?" "Phil is +all ready to be turned off, with the halter round his +neck," said Dick Bolsover; and Harry Compton said, +"Hurry up, hurry up, Jew, the bride is behind you, +waiting to get out." "She must wait, then," said Lady +Mariamne, and there came leisurely out of the carriage, +first, her ladyship's companion, by name, Algy, a tall +person with an eye-glass, then a little pug, which was +carefully handed into his arms, and then lightly jumping +down to the ground, a little figure in black—in black of +all things in the world! a sight that curdled the blood +of the village people, and of Mrs. Hudson, who had +walked across from the Rectory in a gown of pigeon's-breast +silk which scattered prismatic reflections as she +walked. In black! Mrs. Hudson bethought herself that +she had a white China crape shawl in her cupboard, and +wondered if she could offer it to conceal this ill omened +gown. But if Lady Mariamne's dress was dark, she +herself was fair enough, with an endless fluff of light +hair under her little black lace bonnet. Her gloves +were off, and her hands were white and glistening with +rings. "Give me my puggy darling," she said in her +loud, shrill tone. "I can go nowhere, can I, pet, without +my little pug!"</p> + +<p>"A Jew and a pug, both in church. It is enough," +said her brother, "to get the poor parson into trouble +with his bishop."</p> + +<p>"Oh, the bishop's a great friend of mine," said the +lady; "he will say nothing to me, not if I put Pug in +a surplice and make him lead the choir." At this +speech there was a great laugh of the assembled party, +which stood in the centre of the path, while Mr. +Tatham's carriage edged away, and the others made efforts +to get forward. The noise of their talk disturbed +the curious abstraction in which Elinor had been going +through the morning hours. Mariamne's jarring voice +seemed louder than the bells. Was this the first voice +sent out to greet her by the new life which was about +to begin? She glanced at her mother, and then at old +Uncle Tatham, who sat immovable, prevented by decorum +from apostrophising the coachman who was not +his own, but fuming inwardly at the interruption. Mrs. +Dennistoun did not move at all, but her daughter knew +very well what was meant by that look straight before +her, in which her mother seemed to ignore all obstacles +in the way.</p> + +<p>"I got here very well," Lady Mariamne went on; +"we started in the middle of the night, of course, before +the lamps were out. Wasn't it good of Algy to +get himself out of bed at such an unearthly hour! But +he snapped at Puggy as we came down, which was a +sign he felt it. Why aren't you with the poor victim +at the altar, you boys?"</p> + +<p>"Phil will be in blue funk," said Harry; "go in and +stand by your man, Dick: the Jew has enough with +two fellows to see her into her place."</p> + +<p>The bride's carriage by this time pushed forward, +making Lady Mariamne start in confusion. "Oh! look +here; they have splashed my pretty toilette, and upset +my nerves," she cried, springing back into her supporter's +arms.</p> + +<p>That gentleman regarded the stain of the damp +gravel on the lady's skirt through his eye-glass with +deep but helpless anxiety. "It's a pity for the pretty +frock!" he said with much seriousness. And the +group gathered round and gazed in dismay, as if they +expected it to disappear of itself—until Mrs. Hudson +bustled up. "It will rub off; it will not make any +mark. If one of you gentlemen will lend me a handkerchief," +she said. And Algy and Harry and Dick +Bolsover, not to speak of Lady Mariamne herself, +watched with great gravity while the gravel was swept +off. "I make no doubt," said the Rector's wife, "that +I have the pleasure of speaking to Lady Mariamne: and +I don't doubt that black is the fashion and your dress +is beautiful: but if you would just throw on a white +shawl for the sake of the wedding—it's so unlucky to +come in black<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"A white shawl!" said Lady Mariamne in dismay.</p> + +<p>"The Jew in a white shawl!" echoed the others with +a burst of laughter which rang into the church itself +and made Phil before the altar, alone and very anxious, +ask himself what was up.</p> + +<p>"It's China crape, I assure you, and very nice," Mrs. +Hudson said.</p> + +<p>Lady Mariamne gave the good Samaritan a stony +stare, and took Algy's arm and sailed into the church +before the Rector's wife, without a word said; while all +the women from the village looked at each other and +said, "Well, I never!" under their breath.</p> + +<p>"Let me give you my arm, Mrs. Hudson," said Harry +Compton, "and please pardon me that I did not introduce +my sister to you. She is dreadfully shy, don't +you know, and never does speak to anyone when she +has not been introduced."</p> + +<p>"My observation was a very simple one," said Mrs. +Hudson, very angry, yet pleased to lean upon an Honourable +arm.</p> + +<p>"My dear lady!" cried the good-natured Harry, +"the Jew never wore a shawl in her life<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>And all this time the organ had been pealing, the +white vision passing up the aisle, the simple villagers +chanting forth their song about the breath that breathed +o'er Eden. Alas! Eden had not much to do with it, +except perhaps in the trembling heart of the white +maiden roused out of her virginal dream by the jarring +voices of the new life. The laughter outside was a +dreadful offence to all the people, great and small, who +had collected to see Elinor married.</p> + +<p>"What could you expect? It's that woman whom +they call the Jew," whispered Lady Huntingtower to her +next neighbour.</p> + +<p>"She should be put into the stocks," said Sir John, +scarcely under his breath, which, to be sure, was also +an interruption to the decorum of the place.</p> + +<p>And then there ensued a pause broken by the voice, +a little lugubrious in tone, of the Rector within the +altar rails, and the tremulous answers of the pair outside. +The audience held its breath to hear Elinor +make her responses, and faltered off into suppressed +weeping as the low tones ceased. Sir John Huntingtower, +who was very tall and big, and stood out like a +pillar among the ladies round, kept nodding his head +all the time she spoke, nodding as you might do in +forced assent to any dreadful vow. Poor little thing, +poor little thing, he was saying in his heart. His face +was more like the face of a man at a funeral than a man +at a wedding. "Blessed are the dead that die in the +Lord"—he might have been nodding assent to that instead +of to Elinor's low-spoken vow. Phil Compton's +voice, to tell the truth, was even more tremulous than +Elinor's. To investigate the thoughts of a bridegroom +would be too much curiosity at such a moment. But I +think if the secrets of the hearts could be revealed, +Phil for a moment was sorry for poor little Elinor +too.</p> + +<p>And then the solemnity was all over in a moment, +and the flutter of voices and congratulations began.</p> + +<p>I do not mean to follow the proceedings through all +the routine of the wedding-day. Attempts were made +on the part of the bridegroom's party to get Lady Mariamne +dismissed by the next train, an endeavour into +which Harry Compton threw himself—for he was +always a good-hearted fellow—with his whole soul. +But the Jew declared that she was dying of hunger, +and whatever sort of place it was, must have something +to eat; a remark which naturally endeared her still +more to Mrs. Dennistoun, who was waiting by the door +of Mr. Tatham's carriage, which that anxious old +gentleman had managed to recover control of, till her +ladyship had taken her place. Her ladyship stared +with undisguised amazement when she was followed +into the carriage by the bride's mother, and when the +neat little old gentleman took his seat opposite. "But +where is Algy? I want Algy," she cried, in dismay. +"Absolutely I can't go without Algy, who came to take +care of me."</p> + +<p>"You will be perfectly safe, my dear lady, with Mrs. +Dennistoun and me. The gentlemen will walk," said +Mr. Tatham, waving his hand to the coachman.</p> + +<p>And thus it was that the forlorn lady found herself +without her cavalier and without her pug, absolutely +stranded among savages, notwithstanding her strong +protest almost carried the length of tears. She was +thus carried off in a state of consternation to the cottage +over the rough road, where the wheels went with a +din and lurch over the stones, and dug deep into the +sand, eliciting a succession of little shrieks from her +oppressed bosom. "I shall be shaken all to bits," she +said, grasping the arm of the old gentleman to steady +herself. Mr. Tatham was not displeased to be the +champion of a lady of title. He assured her in dulcet +tones that his springs were very good and his horses +very sure—"though it is not a very nice road."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it is a dreadful road!" said Lady Mariamne.</p> + +<p>But in due time they did arrive at the cottage, where +her ladyship could not wait for the gathering of the +company, but demanded at once something to eat. "I +can't really go another moment without food. I must +have something or I shall die. Phil, come here this instant +and get me something. They have brought me +off at the risk of my life, and there's nobody to attend +to me. Don't stand spooning there," cried Lady +Mariamne, "but do what I tell you. Do you think I +should ever have put myself into this position but for +you?"</p> + +<p>"You would never have been asked here if they had +consulted me. I knew what a nuisance you'd be. Here, +get this lady something to eat, old man," said the bridegroom, +tapping Mr. Tatham on the back, who did, +indeed, look rather like a waiter from that point of +view.</p> + +<p>"I shall have to help myself," said the lady in despair. +And she sat down at the elaborate table in the +bride's place and began to hack at the chicken. +The gentlemen coming in at the moment roared again +with laughter over the Jew's impatience; but it was not +regarded with the same admiration by the rest of the +guests.</p> + +<p>These little incidents, perhaps, helped to wile away +the weary hours until it was time for the bridal pair to +depart. Mrs. Dennistoun was so angry that it kept up +a little fire, so to speak, in her heart when the light of +her house was extinguished. Lady Mariamne, standing +in the porch with a bag full of rice to throw, kept up +the spirit of the mistress of the house, which otherwise +might, perhaps, have failed her altogether at that inconceivable +moment; for though she had been looking +forward to it for months it was inconceivable when it +came, as death is inconceivable. Elinor going away!—not +on a visit, or to be back in a week, or a month, or a +year—going away for ever! ending, as might be said, +when she put her foot on the step of the carriage. Her +mother stood by and looked on with that cruel conviction +that overtakes all at the last. Up to this moment +had it not seemed as if the course of affairs was unreal, +as if something must happen to prevent it? Perhaps +the world will end to-night, as the lover says in the +"Last Ride." But now here was the end: nothing had +happened, the world was swinging on in space in its +old careless way, and Elinor was going—going away +for ever and ever. Oh, to come back, perhaps—there +was nothing against that—but never the same Elinor. +The mother stood looking, with her hand over her eyes +to shield them from the sun. Those eyes were quite +dry, and she stood firm and upright by the carriage +door. She was not "breaking down" or "giving way," +as everybody feared. She was "bearing up," as everybody +was relieved to see. And in a moment it was all +over, and there was nothing before her eyes—no carriage, +no Elinor. She was so dazed that she stood still, +looking with that strange kind of smile for a full minute +after there was nothing to smile at, only the vacant +air and the prospect of the combe, coming in in a sickly +haze which existed only in her eyes.</p> + +<p>But, by good luck, there was Lady Mariamne behind, +and the fire of indignation giving a red flicker upon the +desolate hearth.</p> + +<p>"I caught Phil on the nose," said that lady, in great +triumph; "spoilt his beauty for him for to-day. But +let's hope she won't mind. She thinks him beautiful, +the little goose. Oh, my Puggy-wuggy, did that cruel +Algy pull your little, dear tail, you darling? Come to +oos own mammy, now those silly wedding people are +away."</p> + +<p>"Your little dog, I presume, is of a very rare sort," +said Mr. Tatham, to be civil. He had proposed the +bride and bridegroom's health in a most appropriate +speech, and he felt that he had deserved well of his +kind, which made him more amiable even than usual. +"Your ladyship's little dog," he added, after a moment, +as she did not take any notice, "I presume, is of a rare +kind?"</p> + +<p>Lady Mariamne gave him a look, or rather a stare. +"Is Puggy of a rare sort?" she said over her shoulder, +to one of the attendant tribe.</p> + +<p>"Don't be such a duffer, Jew! You know as well as +any one what breed he's of," Harry Compton said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I forgot," said the fine lady. She was standing +full in front of the entrance, keeping Mrs. Dennistoun +in the full sun outside. "I hope there's a train very +soon," she said. "Did you look, Algy, as I told you? +If it hadn't been that Phil would have killed me I +should have gone now. It would have been such fun to +have spied upon the turtle doves!"</p> + +<p>The men thought it would have been rare fun with +obedient delight, but that Phil would have cut up +rough, and made a scene. At this Lady Mariamne held +up her finger, and made a portentous face.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you naughty, naughty boy," she cried, "telling +tales out of school."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps, my dear lady," said Mr. Tatham, quietly, +"you would let Mrs. Dennistoun pass."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Lady Mariamne, and stared at him again +for half a minute; then she turned and stared at the +tall lady in grey satin. "Anybody can pass," she said: +"I'm not so very big."</p> + +<p>"That is quite true—quite true. There is plenty of +room," said the little gentleman, holding out his hand +to his cousin.</p> + +<p>"My dear John," said Mrs. Dennistoun, "I am sure +you will be kind enough to lend your carriage again to +Lady Mariamne, who is in a hurry to get away. There +is another train, which stops at Downforth station, in +half an hour, and there will just be time to get there, if +you will order it at once. I told your man to be in +readiness: and it would be a thousand pities to lose +this train, for there is not another for an hour."</p> + +<p>"By Jove, Jew! there's a slap in the face for you," +said, in an audible whisper, one of the train, who had +been standing in front of all the friends, blocking out +the view. As for Lady Mariamne, she stared more +straight than ever into Mrs. Dennistoun's eyes, but for +the moment did not seem to find anything to say. She +was left in the hall with her band while the mistress of +the house went into the drawing-room, followed by all +the country ladies, who had not lost a word, and who +were already whispering to each other over that terrible +betrayal about the temper of Phil.</p> + +<p>"Cut up rough! Oh! poor little Elinor, poor little +Elinor!" the ladies said to each other under their +breath.</p> + +<p>"I am not at all surprised. It is not any news to +me. You could see it in his eyes," said Miss Mary +Dale. And then they all were silent to listen to the renewed +laughter that came bursting from the hall. Mrs. +Hudson questioned her husband afterwards as to what +it was that made everybody laugh, but the Rector had +not much to say. "I really could not tell you, my +dear," he said. "I don't remember anything that was +said—but it seemed funny somehow, and as they all +laughed one had to laugh too."</p> + +<p>The great lady came in, however, dragged by her +brother to say good-by. "It has all gone off very well, +I am sure, and Nell looked very nice, and did you +great credit," she said, putting out her hand. "And +it's very kind of you to take so much trouble to get us +off by the first train."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it is no trouble," Mrs. Dennistoun said.</p> + +<p>"Shouldn't you like to say good-by to Puggy-muggy?" +said Lady Mariamne, touching the little +black nose upon her arm. "He enjoyed that <i>pâté</i> so +much. He really never has <i>foie gras</i> at home: but he +doesn't at all mind if you would like to give him a little +kiss just here."</p> + +<p>"Good-by, Lady Mariamne," said Mrs. Dennistoun, +with one of the curtseys of the old school. But there +was another gust of laughter as Lady Mariamne was +placed in the carriage, and a shrill little trumpet gave +forth the satisfaction of the departing guest at having +"got a rise out of the old girl." The gentlemen heaped +themselves into Mr. Tatham's carriage, and swept off +along with her, all but civil Harry, who waited to make +their apologies, and to put up along with his own Dick +Bolsover's "things." And thus the bridegroom's party, +the new associates of Elinor, the great family into +which the Honourable Mrs. Phil Compton had been so +lucky as to marry, to the great excitement of all the +country round, departed and was seen no more. Harry, +who was civil, walked home with the Hudsons when all +was over, and said the best he could for the Jew and +her friends. "You see, she has been regularly spoiled: +and then when a girl's so dreadful shy, as often as not +it sounds like impudence." "Dear me, I should never +have thought Lady Mariamne was shy," the gentle Rector +said. "That's just how it is," said Harry. He went +over again in the darkening to take his leave of Mrs. +Dennistoun. He found her sitting out in the garden +before the open door, looking down the misty walk. +The light had gone out of the skies, but the usual +cheerful lights had not yet appeared in the house, +where the hum of a great occasion still reigned. The +Tathams were at the Rectory, and Mrs. Dennistoun was +alone. Harry Compton had a good heart, and though +he could not conceive the possibility of a woman not +being glad to have married her daughter, the loneliness +and darkness touched him a little in contrast with the +gayety of the previous night. "You must think us a +dreadful noisy lot," he said, "and as if my sister had +no sense. But it's only the Jew's way. She's made +like that—and at bottom she's not at all a bad sort."</p> + +<p>"Are you going away?" was all the answer that +Mrs. Dennistoun made.</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, and we shall be a good riddance," said +Harry; "but please don't think any worse of us than +you can help<span class="norewrap">——</span> Phil—well, he's got a great deal of +good in him—he has indeed, and she'll bring it all +out."</p> + +<p>It was very good of Harry Compton. He had a little +choking in his throat as he walked back. "Blest if I +ever thought of it in that light before," he said to himself.</p> + +<p>But I doubt if what he said, however well meant, +brought much comfort to Mrs. Dennistoun's heart.</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>Thus Elinor Dennistoun disappeared from Windyhill +and was no more seen. There are many ways in +which a marriage is almost like a death, especially when +the marriage is that of an only child. The young go +away, the old remain. There is all the dreary routine +of the solitary life unbrightened by that companionship +which is all the world to the one who is left behind. +So little—only the happy going away into brighter +scenes of one whose happiness was the whole thought +of that dreary survivor at the chimney corner—and yet +so much. And if that survivor is a woman she has to +smile and tell her neighbours of the bride's happiness, +and how great the comfort to herself that her Elinor's +life is assured, and her own ending is now of no particular +importance to her daughter; if it is a man, he is +allowed to lament, which is a curious paradox, but one +of the many current in this world. Mrs. Dennistoun +had to put a very brave face upon it all the more because +of the known unsatisfactoriness of Elinor's husband: +and she had to go on with her life, and sit down at her +solitary meals, and invent lonely occupations for herself, +and read and read, till her brains were often dazed +by the multiplicity of the words, which lost their +meaning as she turned over page by page. To sit +alone in the house, without a sound audible, except +perhaps the movement of the servants going up-stairs +or down to minister to the wants, about which she felt +she cared nothing whether they were ministered to or +not, of their solitary mistress, where a little while ago +there used to be the rhythm of the one quick step, the +sound of the one gay voice which made the world a +warm inhabited place to Mrs. Dennistoun—this was +more dismal than words could say. To be sure, there +were some extraordinary and delightful differences; +there were the almost daily letters, which afforded the +lonely mother all the pleasure that life could give; and +there was always the prospect, or at least possibility +and hope, of seeing her child again. Those two particulars, +it need scarcely be said, make a difference which +is practically infinite: but yet for Mrs. Dennistoun, sitting +alone all the day and night, walking alone, reading +alone, with little to do that was of the slightest +consequence, not even the reading—for what did it +matter to her dreary, lonely consciousness whether she +kept afloat of general literature or improved her mind +or not? this separation by marriage was dreadfully +like the dreary separation by death, and in one respect +it was almost worse; for death, if it reaches our very +hearts, takes away at least the gnawing pangs of anxiety. +He or she who is gone that way is well; never +more can trouble touch them, their feet cannot err nor +their hearts ache; while who can tell what troubles and +miseries may be befalling, out there in the unknown, +the child who has embarked upon the troubled sea of +mortal life?</p> + +<p>And it may be imagined with what anxious eyes +those letters, which made all the difference, were read; +how the gradually changing tone in them was noted as +it came in, slowly but also surely. Sometimes they got +to be very hurried, and then Mrs. Dennistoun saw as in +a glass the impatient husband waiting, wondering what +she could constantly find to say to her mother; sometimes +they were long and detailed, and that meant, as +would appear perhaps by a phrase slurred over in the +postscript, that Phil had gone away somewhere. There +was never a complaint in them, never a word that could +be twisted into a complaint: but the anxious mother +read between the lines innumerable things, not half of +them true. There is perhaps never a half true of what +anxiety may imagine: but then the half that is true!</p> + +<p>John Tatham was very faithful to her during that +winter. As soon as he came back from Switzerland, at +the end of the long vacation, he went down to see her, +feeling the difference in the house beyond anything he +had imagined, feeling as if he were stepping into some +darkened outer chamber of the grave: but with a +cheerful face and eager but confident interest in "the +news from Elinor." "Of course she is enjoying herself +immensely," he said, and Mrs. Dennistoun was able +to reply with a smile that was a little wistful, that yes, +Elinor was enjoying herself immensely. "She seems +very happy, and everything is new to her and bright," +she said. They were both very glad that Elinor was +happy, and they were very cheerful themselves. Mrs. +Dennistoun truly cheered by his visit and by the necessity +for looking after everything that John might be +comfortable, and the pleasure of seeing his face opposite +to her at table. "You can't think what it is to +see you there; sitting down to dinner is the most horrible +farce when one is alone." "Poor aunt!" John +Tatham said: and nobody would believe how many Saturdays +and Sundays he gave up to her during the long +winter. Somehow he himself did not care to go anywhere +else. In Elinor's time he had gone about freely +enough, liking a little variety in his Saturday to +Mondays, though always happiest when he went to Windyhill: +but now somehow the other houses seemed to +pall upon him. He liked best to go down to that melancholy +house which his presence made more or less +bright, where there was an endless talk of Elinor, +where she was, what she was doing, and what was to +be her next move, and, at last, when she was coming to +town. Mrs. Dennistoun did not say, as she did at first, +"when she is coming home." That possibility seemed +to slip away somehow, and no one suggested it. When +she was coming to town, that was what they said between +themselves. She had spent the spring on the +Riviera, a great part of it at Monte Carlo, and her letters +were full of the beauty of the place; but she said +less and less about people, and more and more +about the sea and the mountains, and the glorious road +which gave at every turn a new and beautiful vision of +the hills and the sea. It was a little like a guide-book, +they sometimes felt, but neither said it; but at last it +became certain that in the month of May she was coming +to town.</p> + +<p>More than that, oh, more than that! One evening +in May, when it was fine but a little chilly, when Mrs. +Dennistoun was walking wistfully in her garden, looking +at the moon shining in the west, and wondering if +her child had arrived in England, and whether she was +coming to a house of her own, or a lodging, or to be a +visitor in some one else's house, details which Elinor +had not given—her ear was suddenly caught by the distant +rumbling of wheels, heavy wheels, the fly from the +station certainly. Mrs. Dennistoun had no expectation +of what it could be, no sort of hope: and yet a +woman has always a sort of hope when her child lives +and everything is possible. The fly seemed to stop, not +coming up the little cottage drive; but by and by, +when she had almost given up hoping, there came a +rush of flying feet, and a cry of joy, and Elinor was in +her mother's arms. Elinor! yes, it was herself, no vision, +no shadow such as had many a time come into Mrs. +Dennistoun's dreams, but herself in flesh and blood, +the dear familiar figure, the face which, between the +twilight and those ridiculous tears which come when +one is too happy, could scarcely be seen at all. "Elinor, +Elinor! it is you, my darling!" "Yes, mother, it +is me, really me. I could not write, because I did not +know till the last minute whether I could get away."</p> + +<p>It may be imagined what a coming home that was. +Mrs. Dennistoun, when she saw her daughter even by +the light of the lamp, was greatly comforted. Elinor +was looking well; she was changed in that indescribable +way in which marriage changes (though not always) +the happiest woman. And her appearance was +changed; she was no longer the country young lady +very well dressed and looking as well as any one could +in her carefully made clothes. She was now a fashionable +young woman, about whose dresses there was no +question, who wore everything as those do who are at +the fountain-head, no matter what it was she wore. +Mrs. Dennistoun's eyes caught this difference at once, +which is also indescribable to the uninitiated, and a +sensation of pride came into her mind. Elinor was improved, +too, in so many ways. Her mother had never +thought of calling her anything more, even in her inmost +thoughts, than very pretty, very sweet; but it +seemed to Mrs. Dennistoun now as if people might use +a stronger word, and call Elinor beautiful. Her face +had gained a great deal of expression, though it was +always an expressive face; her eyes looked deeper; +her manner had a wonderful youthful dignity. Altogether, +it was another Elinor, yet, God be praised, the +same.</p> + +<p>It was but for one night, but that was a great deal, a +night subtracted from the blank, a night that seemed +to come out of the old times—those old times that had +not been known to be so very happy till they were over +and gone. Elinor had naturally a great deal to tell her +mother, but in the glory of seeing her, of hearing her +voice, of knowing that it was actually she who was +speaking, Mrs. Dennistoun did not observe, what she +remembered afterwards, that again it was much more +of places than of people that Elinor talked, and that +though she named Phil when there was any occasion +for doing so, she did not babble about him as brides +do, as if he were altogether the sun, and everything +revolved round him. It is not a good sign, perhaps, +when the husband comes down to his "proper place" +as the representative of the other half of the world too +soon. Elinor looked round upon her old home with a +mingled smile and sigh. Undoubtedly it had grown +smaller, perhaps even shabbier, since she went away: +but she did not say so to her mother. She cried out +how pretty it was, how delightful to come back to it! +and that was true too. How often it happens in this +life that there are two things quite opposed to each +other, and yet both of them true.</p> + +<p>"John will be delighted to hear that you have come, +Elinor," her mother said.</p> + +<p>"John, dear old John! I hope he is well and happy, +and all that; and he comes often to see you, mother? +How sweet of him! You must give him ever so much +love from his poor Nelly. I always keep that name +sacred to him."</p> + +<p>"But why should I give him messages as if you were +not sure to meet? of course you will meet—often."</p> + +<p>"Do you think so?" said Elinor. She opened her +eyes a little in surprise, and then shook her head. "I +am afraid not, mamma. We are in two different +worlds."</p> + +<p>"I assure you," said Mrs. Dennistoun, "John is a +very rising man. He is invited everywhere."</p> + +<p>"That I don't doubt at all."</p> + +<p>"And why then shouldn't you meet?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I don't fancy we shall go to the +same places. John has a profession; he has something +to do. Now you know we have nothing to do."</p> + +<p>She laughed and laid a little emphasis on the <i>we</i>, by +way of taking off the weight of the words.</p> + +<p>"I always thought it was a great pity, Elinor."</p> + +<p>"It may be a pity or not," said Elinor, "but it is, +and it cannot be helped. We have got to make up our +minds to it. I would rather Phil did nothing than +mixed himself up with companies. Thank heaven, at +present he is free of anything of that kind."</p> + +<p>"I hope he is free of that one at least, that he was +going to invest all your money in, Elinor. I hope you +found another investment that was quite steady and +safe."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I suppose so," said Elinor, with some of her +old petulance: "don't let us spoil the little time I have +by talking about money, mamma!"</p> + +<p>And then it was that Mrs. Dennistoun noticed that +what Elinor did talk of, hurrying away from this subject, +were things of not the least importance—the olive +woods on the Riviera, the wealth of flowers, the strange +little old towns upon the hills. Surely even the money, +which was her own and for her comfort, would be a +more interesting subject to discuss. Perhaps Elinor +herself perceived this, for she began immediately to ask +questions about the Hudsons and Hills, and all the people +of the parish, with much eagerness of questioning, +but a flagging interest in the replies, as her mother +soon saw. "And Mary Dale, is she still there?" she +asked. Mrs. Dennistoun entered into a little history +of how Mary Dale had gone away to nurse a distant +cousin who had been ill, and finally had died and left a +very comfortable little fortune to her kind attendant. +Elinor listened with little nods and appropriate exclamations, +but before the evening was out asked again, +"And Mary Dale?" then hastily corrected herself with +an "Oh, I remember! you told me." But it was perhaps +safer not to question her how much she remembered +of what she had been told.</p> + +<p>Thus there were notes of disquiet in even that delightful +evening, such a contrast as it was to all the +evenings since she had left home. Even when John +came, what a poor substitute for Elinor! The ingratitude +of those whose heart is set on one object made +Mrs. Dennistoun thus make light of what had been her +great consolation. He was very kind, very good, and +oh, how glad she had been to see him through that heavy +winter—but he was not Elinor! It was enough for +Elinor to step across her mother's threshold to make +Mrs. Dennistoun feel that there was no substitute for +her—none: and that John was of no more consequence +than the Rector or any habitual caller. But, at the +same time, in all the melody of the home-coming, in the +sweetness of Elinor's voice, and look, and kiss, in the +perfection of seeing her there again in her own place, +and listening to her dear step running up and down +the no longer silent house, there were notes of disquiet +which could not be mistaken. She was not unhappy, +the mother thought; her eyes could not be so bright, +nor her colour so fair unless she was happy. Trouble +does not embellish, and Elinor was embellished. But +yet—there were notes of disquiet in the air.</p> + +<p>Next day Mrs. Dennistoun drove her child to the +railway in order not to lose a moment of so short a +visit, and naturally, though she had received that unexpected +visit with rapture, feeling that a whole night +of Elinor was worth a month, a year of anybody else, +yet now that Elinor was going she found it very short. +"You'll come again soon, my darling?" she said, as +she stood at the window of the carriage ready to say +good-bye.</p> + +<p>"Whenever I can, mother dear, of that you may be +sure; whenever I can get away."</p> + +<p>"I don't wish to draw you from your husband. +Don't get away—come with Philip from Saturday to +Monday. Give him my love, and tell him so. He +shall not be bored; but Sunday is a day without engagements."</p> + +<p>"Oh, not now, mamma. There are just as many +things to do on Sundays as on any other day."</p> + +<p>There were a great many words on Mrs. Dennistoun's +lips, but she did not say them; all she did say was, +"Well, then, Elinor—when you can get away."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you need not doubt me, mamma." And the +train, which sometimes lingers so long, which some +people that very day were swearing at as so slow, +"Like all country trains," they said—that inevitable +heartless thing got into motion, and Mrs. Dennistoun +watched it till it disappeared; and—what was that +that came over Elinor's face as she sank back into the +corner of her carriage, not knowing her mother's +anxious look followed her still—what was it? Oh, +dreadful, dreadful life! oh, fruitless love and longing!—was +it relief? The mother tried to get that look out +of her mind as she drove silently and slowly home, +creeping up hill after hill. There was no need to +hurry. All that she was going to was an empty and +silent house, where nobody awaited her. What was +that look on Elinor's face? Relief! to have it over, to +get away again, away from her old home and her fond +mother, away to her new life. Mrs. Dennistoun was +not a jealous mother nor unreasonable. She said to +herself—Well! it was no doubt a trial to the child to +come back—to come alone. All the time, perhaps, she +was afraid of being too closely questioned, of having to +confess that <i>he</i> did not want to come, perhaps grudged +her coming. She might be afraid that her mother +would divine something—some hidden opposition, +some dislike, perhaps, on his part. Poor Elinor! and +when everything had passed over so well, when it was +ended, and nothing had been between them but love +and mutual understanding, what wonder if there came +over her dear face a look of relief! This was how this +good woman, who had seen a great many things in +her passage through life, explained her child's look: +and though she was sad was not angry, as many less +tolerant and less far-seeing might have been in her +place.</p> + +<p>John, that good John, to whom she had been so ungrateful, +came down next Saturday, and to him she +confided her great news, but not all of it. "She came +down—alone?" he said.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Mrs. Dennistoun, bravely; "she knew +very well it was her I wanted to see, and not Philip. +They say a great deal about mothers-in-law, but why +shouldn't we in our turn have our fling at sons-in-law, +John? It was not him I wanted to see: it was my +own child: and Elinor understood that, and ran off by +herself. Bless her for the thought."</p> + +<p>"I understand that," said John. He had given the +mother more than one look as she spoke, and divined +her better than she supposed. "Oh, yes, I can understand +that. The thing I don't understand is why he +let her; why he wasn't too proud to bring her back to +you, that you might see she had taken no harm. If it +had been I<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Ah, but it was not you," said Mrs. Dennistoun; +"you forget that. It never could have been you."</p> + +<p>He looked quickly at her again, and it was on his +lips to ask, "Why could it never have been I?" but he +did not; for he knew that if it had ever been him, it +could not have been for years. He was too prudent, +and Elinor, even if she had escaped Phil Compton, +would have met some one else. He had no right to +say, or even think, what, in the circumstances, he +would have done. He did not make any answer, but +she understood him as he understood her.</p> + +<p>And later in the evening she asked his advice as to +what she should do. "I am not fond of asking advice," +she said, "and I don't think there is another in the +world I would ask it from but you. What should I +do? It would cost me nothing to run up to town for a +part of the season at least. I might get a little house, +and be near her, where she could come to me when +she pleased. Should I do it, or would it be wise not to +do it? I don't want to spy upon her or to force her to +tell me more than she wishes. John, my dear, I will +tell you what I would tell no one else. I caught a +glimpse of her dear face when the train was just going +out of sight, and she was sinking back in her corner +with a look of relief<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Of relief!" he cried.</p> + +<p>"John, don't form any false impression! it was no +want of love: but I think she was thankful to have +seen me, and to have satisfied me, and that I had asked +no questions that she could not answer—in a way."</p> + +<p>John clenched his fist, but he dared not make +any gesture of disgust, or suggest again, "If it had +been I."</p> + +<p>"Well, now," she said, "remember I am not angry—fancy +being angry with Elinor!—and all I mean is +for her benefit. Should I go? it might be a relief to +her to run into me whenever she pleased; or should I +not go? lest she might think I was bent on finding out +more than she chose to tell?"</p> + +<p>"Wouldn't it be right that you should find out?"</p> + +<p>"That is just the point upon which I am doubtful. +She is not unhappy, for she is—she is prettier than ever +she was, John. A girl does not get like that—her eyes +brighter, her colour clearer, looking—well, beautiful!" +cried the mother, her eyes filling with bright tears, "if +she is unhappy. But there may be things that are not +quite smooth, that she might think it would make me +unhappy to know, yet that if let alone might come all +right. Tell me, John, what should I do?"</p> + +<p>And they sat debating thus till far on in the night.</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>Mrs. Dennistoun did not go up to town. There are +some women who would have done so, seeing the other +side of the subject—at all hazards; and perhaps they +would have been right—who can tell? She did not—denying +herself, keeping herself by main force in her +solitude, not to interfere with the life of her child, +which was drawn on lines so different from any of hers—and +perhaps she was wrong. Who knows, except by +the event, which is the best or the worst way in any of +our human movements, which are so short-sighted? +And twice during the season Elinor found means to +come to the cottage for a night as she had done at first. +These were occasions of great happiness, it need not be +said—but of many thoughts and wonderings too. She +had always an excuse for Phil. He had meant until the +last moment to come with her—some one had turned +up, quite unexpectedly, who had prevented him. It +was a fatality; especially when she came down in July +did she insist upon this. He had been invited quite +suddenly to a political dinner to meet one of the Ministers +from whom he had hopes of an appointment. +"For we find that we can't go on enjoying ourselves +for ever," she said gayly, "and Phil has made up his +mind he must get something to do."</p> + +<p>"It is always the best way," said Mrs. Dennistoun.</p> + +<p>"I am not so very sure, mamma, when you have +never been used to it. Of course, some people would +be wretched without work. Fancy John with nothing +to do! How he would torment his wife—if he had +one. But Phil never does that. He is very easy to +live with. He is always after something, and leaves me +as free as if he had a day's work in an office."</p> + +<p>This slipped out, with a smile: but evidently after it +was said Elinor regretted she had said it, and thought +that more might be drawn from the admission than she +intended. She added quietly, "Of course a settled occupation +would interfere with many things. We could +not go out together continually as we do now."</p> + +<p>Was there any way of reconciling these two statements? +Mrs. Dennistoun tried and tried in vain to +make them fit into each other: and yet no doubt there +was some way.</p> + +<p>"And perhaps another season, mother, if Phil was in +a public office—it seems so strange to think of Phil +having an office—you might come up, don't you think, +to town for a time? Would it be a dreadful bore to +you to leave the country just when it is at its best? +I'm afraid it would be a dreadful bore: but we could +run about together in the mornings when he was busy, +and go to see the pictures and things. How pleasant +it would be!"</p> + +<p>"It would be delightful for me, Elinor. I shouldn't +mind giving up the country, if it wouldn't interfere +with your engagements, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my engagements! Much I should care for +them if Phil was occupied. I like, of course, to be +with him."</p> + +<p>"Of course," said Mrs. Dennistoun.</p> + +<p>"And it is good for him, too, I think." This was +another of the little admissions that Elinor regretted +the moment they were made. "I mean it's a pity, +isn't it, when a man likes to have his wife with him that +she shouldn't always be there, ready to go?"</p> + +<p>"A great pity," said Mrs. Dennistoun, and then she +changed the subject. "I thought it required all sorts +of examinations and things for a man to get into a public +office now."</p> + +<p>"So it does for the ordinary grades, which would be +far, far too much routine for Phil. But they say a minister +always has things in his power. There are still +posts<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Sinecures, Elinor?"</p> + +<p>"I did not mean exactly sinecures," she said, with an +embarrassed laugh, "though I think those must have +been fine things; but posts where it is not merely routine, +where a man may have a chance of acting for himself +and distinguishing himself, perhaps. And to be in +the service of the country is always better, safer, than +that dreadful city. Don't you think so?"</p> + +<p>"I have never thought the city dreadful, Elinor. I +have had many friends connected with the city."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but not in those horrid companies, mamma. +Do you know that company which we just escaped, +which Phil saved my money out of, when it was all but +invested—I believe that has ruined people right and +left. He got out of it, fortunately, just before the +smash; that is, of course, he never had very much to +do with it, he was only on the Board."</p> + +<p>"And where is your money now?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I can answer that question this time," said +Elinor, gayly. "He had just time to get it into another +company which pays—beautifully! The Jew is in it, +too, and the whole lot of them. Oh! I beg your pardon, +mamma. I tried hard to call her by her proper +name, but when one never hears any other, one can't +help getting into it!"</p> + +<p>"I hope," said Mrs. Dennistoun, "that Philip was +not much mixed up with this company if other people +have been ruined, and he has escaped?"</p> + +<p>"How could that be?" said Elinor, with a sort of +tremulous dignity. "You don't suppose for a moment +that he<span class="norewrap">——</span>. But of course you don't," she added with +a heightened colour and a momentary cloud over her +eyes, "of course you don't. There was a dreadful manager +who destroyed the books and then fled, so that +there never could be a right winding up of the affairs."</p> + +<p>"I hope Philip will take great care never to have to +do with anything of the kind again."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, he has promised me he will not. I will not +have it. He has a kind of ornamental directorship on +this new company, just for the sake of his name: but +he has promised me he will have nothing more to do +with it for my peace of mind."</p> + +<p>"I wonder that they should care in the city for so +small a matter as a peer's younger son."</p> + +<p>"Oh, do you think it a small matter, mamma? I +don't mean that I care, but people give a good deal of +weight to it, you know."</p> + +<p>"I meant only in the city, Elinor."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" Elinor said. She was half offended with her +mother's indifference. She had found that to be the +Hon. Mrs. Compton was something, or so at least she +supposed: and she began timidly to give her mother a +list of her engagements, which were indeed many in +number, and there were some dazzling names among +a great many with which Mrs. Dennistoun was unacquainted. +But how could she know who were the +fashionable people nowadays, a woman living so completely +out of the world?</p> + +<p>John Tatham, for his part, went through his engagements +that year with a constant expectation of seeing +Elinor, which preoccupied him more than a rising +young barrister going everywhere ought to have been +preoccupied. He thought he went everywhere, and so +did his family at home, especially his sister, Mary Tatham, +who was his father's nurse and attendant, and +never had any chance of sharing these delights. She +made all the more, as was natural, of John's privileges +and social success from the fact of her own seclusion, +and was in the habit of saying that she believed there +was scarcely a party in London to which John was not +invited—three or four in a night. But it would seem +with all this that there were many parties to which he +was not invited, for the Phil Comptons (how strange and +on the whole disgusting to think that this now meant +Elinor!) also went everywhere, and yet they very seldom +met. It was true that John could not expect to +meet them at dinner at a Judge's or in the legal society +in high places which was his especial sphere, and nothing +could be more foolish than the tremor of expectation +with which this very steady-going man would set +out to every house in which the fashionable world met +with the professional, always thinking that perhaps<span class="norewrap">——</span>But +it was rarely, very rarely, that this perhaps came +to pass. When it did it was amid the crowd of some +prodigious reception to which people "looked in" for +half an hour, and where on one occasion he found Elinor +alone, with that curious dignity about her, a little +tragical, which comes of neglect. He agreed with her +mother, that he had never imagined Elinor's youthful +prettiness could have come to anything so near beauty. +There was a strained, wide open look in her eyes, which +was half done by looking out for some one, and half by +defying any one to think that she felt herself alone, or +was pursuing that search with any anxiety. She stood +exceedingly erect, silent, observing everything, yet endeavouring +to appear as if she did not observe, altogether +a singular and very striking figure among the +fashionable crowd, in which it seemed everybody was +chattering, smiling, gay or making believe to be gay, +except herself. When she saw John a sudden gleam of +pleasure, followed by a cloud of embarrassment, came +over her face: but poor Elinor could not help being +glad to see some one she knew, some one who more or +less belonged to her; although it appeared she had the +best of reasons for being alone. "I was to meet Phil +here," she said, "but somehow I must have missed +him." "Let us walk about a little, and we'll be sure +to find him," said John. She was so glad to take his +arm, almost to cling to him, to find herself with a +friend. "I don't know many people here," she confided +to John, leaning on his arm, with the familiar sisterly +dependence of old, "and I am so stupid about +coming out by myself. It is because I have never been +used to it. There has always been mamma, and then +Phil; but I suppose he has been detained somewhere +to-night. I think I never felt so lost before, among all +these strange people. He knows everybody, of course."</p> + +<p>"But you have a lot of friends, Elinor."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," she said, brightly enough; "in our own +set: but this is what Phil calls more serious than our +set. I should not wonder in the least if he had shirked +it at the last, knowing I would be sure to come."</p> + +<p>"That is just the reason why I should have thought +he would not shirk it," said John.</p> + +<p>"Ah, that's because you're not married," said Elinor, +but with a laugh in which there was no bitterness. +"Don't you know one good of a wife is to do the man's +social duties for him, to appear at the dull places and +save his credit? Oh, I don't object at all; it is quite a +legitimate division of labour. I shall get into it in +time: but I am so stupid about coming into a room +alone, and instead of looking about to see what people +I really do know, I just stiffen into a sort of shell. I +should never have known you if you had not come up +to me, John."</p> + +<p>"You see I was looking out for you, and you were +not looking out for me, that makes all the difference."</p> + +<p>"You were looking out for us!"</p> + +<p>"Ever since the season began I have been looking +out for you, everywhere," said John, with a rather fierce +emphasis on the pronoun, which, however, as everybody +knows, is plural, and means two as much as one, though +it was the reverse of this that John Tatham meant to +show.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said Elinor. "But then I am afraid our set +is different, John. There will always be some places—like +this, for instance—where I hope we shall meet; +but our set perhaps is a little frivolous, and your set a +little—serious, don't you see? You are professional +and political, and all that; and Phil is—well, I don't +know exactly what Phil is—more fashionable and frivolous, +as I said. A race-going, ball-going, always in +motion set."</p> + +<p>"Most people," said John, "go more or less to races +and balls."</p> + +<p>"More or less, that makes the whole difference. We +go to them all. Now you see the distinction, John. +You go to Ascot perhaps on the cup day; we go all the +days and all the other days, at the other places."</p> + +<p>"How knowing you have become!"</p> + +<p>"Haven't I?" she said, with a smile that was half a +sigh.</p> + +<p>"But I shouldn't have thought that would have +suited you, Elinor."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, it does," she said, and then she eyed him +with something of the defiance that had been in her +look when she was standing alone. She did not avoid +his look as a less brave woman might have done. "I +like the fun of it," she said.</p> + +<p>And then there was a pause, for he did not know +what to reply.</p> + +<p>"We have been through all the rooms," she said at +last, "and we have not seen a ghost of Phil. He cannot +be coming now. What o'clock is it? Oh, just the +time he will be due at<span class="norewrap">——</span> I'm sure he can't come now. +Do you think you could get my carriage for me? It's +only a brougham that we hire," she said, with a smile, +"but the man is such a nice, kind man. If he had +been an old family coachman he couldn't take more +care of me."</p> + +<p>"That looks as if he had to take care of you often, +Elinor."</p> + +<p>"Well," she said, looking him full in the face again, +"you don't suppose my husband goes out with me in +the morning shopping? I hope he has something better +to do."</p> + +<p>"Shouldn't you like to have your mother with you +for the shopping, etc.?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, dearly!" then with a little quick change of +manner, "another time—not this season, but next, if I +can persuade her to come; for next year I hope we +shall be more settled, perhaps in a house of our own, if +Phil gets the appointment he is after."</p> + +<p>"Oh, he is after an appointment?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, John; Phil is not so lucky as to have a profession +like you."</p> + +<p>This was a new way of looking at the matter, and +John Tatham found nothing to say. It seemed to him, +who had worked very hard for it, a little droll to describe +his possession of a profession as luck. But he +made no remark. He took Elinor down-stairs and +found her brougham for her, and the kind old coachman +on the box, who was well used to taking care of +her, though only hired from the livery stables for the +season—John thought the old man looked suspiciously +at him, and would have stopped him from accompanying +her, had he designed any such proceeding. Poor +little Nelly, to be watched over by the paternal fly-man +on the box! she who might have had<span class="norewrap">——</span> but he +stopped himself there, though his heart felt as heavy as +a stone to see her go away thus, alone from the smart +party where she had been doing duty for her husband. +John could not take upon himself to finish his sentence—she +who might have had love and care of a very different +kind. No, he had never offered her that love +and care. Had Phil Compton never come in her way +it is possible that John Tatham might never have +offered it to her—not, at least, for a long time. He +could never have had any right to be a dog in the +manger, neither would he venture to pretend now that +it was her own fault if she had chosen the wrong man; +was it his fault then, who had never put a better man +within her choice? but John, who was no coxcomb, +blushed in the dark to himself as this question flitted +through his mind. He had no reason to suppose that +Elinor would have been willing to change the brotherly +tie between them into any other. Thank heaven for +that brotherly tie! He would always be able to befriend +her, to stand by her, to help her as much as any +one could help a woman who was married, and thus +outside of all ordinary succour. And as for that blackguard, +that <i>dis</i>-Honourable Phil<span class="norewrap">——</span> But here John, +who was a man of just mind, paused again. For a man +to let his wife go to a party by herself was not after all +so dreadful a thing. Many men did so, and the women +did not complain; to be sure they were generally older, +more accustomed to manage for themselves than Elinor: +but still, a man need not be a blackguard because he +did that. So John stopped his own ready judgment, +but still I am afraid in his heart pronounced Phil Compton's +sentence all the same. He did not say a word +about this encounter to Mrs. Dennistoun; at least, he +did tell her that he had met Elinor at the So-and-So's, +which, as it was one of the best houses in London, was +pleasing to a mother to hear.</p> + +<p>"And how was she looking?" Mrs. Dennistoun cried.</p> + +<p>"She was looking—beautiful<span class="norewrap">——</span>" said John. "I +don't flatter, and I never thought her so in the old +times—but it is the only word I can use<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Didn't I tell you so?" said the mother, pleased. +"She is quite embellished and improved—therefore she +must be happy."</p> + +<p>"It is certainly the very best evidence<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Isn't it? But it so often happens otherwise, even +in happy marriages. A girl feels strange, awkward, +out of it, in her new life. Elinor must have entirely +accustomed herself, adapted herself to it, and to them, +or she would not look so well. That is the greatest +comfort I can have."</p> + +<p>And John kept his own counsel about Elinor's majestic +solitude and the watchful old coachman in the +hired brougham. Her husband might still be full of +love and tenderness all the same. It was a great effort +of the natural integrity of his character to pronounce +like this; but he did it in the interests of justice, and +for Elinor's sake and her mother's said nothing of the +circumstances at all.</p> + +<p>It may be supposed that when Elinor paid the last of +her sudden visits at the cottage it was a heavy moment +both for mother and daughter. It was the time when +fashionable people finish the season by going to Goodwood—and +to Goodwood Elinor was going with a +party, Lady Mariamne and a number of the "set." +She told her mother, to amuse her, of the new dresses +she had got for this important occasion. "Phil says +one may go in sackcloth and ashes the remainder of the +year, but we must be fine for Goodwood," she said. +"I wanted him to believe that I had too many clothes +already, but he was inexorable. It is not often, is it, +that one's husband is more anxious than one's self +about one's dress?"</p> + +<p>"He wants you to do him credit, Elinor."</p> + +<p>"Well, mamma, there is no harm in that. But more +than that—he wants me to look nice, for myself. He +thinks me still a little shy—though I never was shy, +was I?—and he thinks nothing gives you courage like +feeling yourself well dressed—but he takes the greatest +interest in everything I wear."</p> + +<p>"And where do you go after Goodwood, Elinor?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, mamma, on such a round of visits!—here and +there and everywhere. I don't know," and the tears +sprang into Elinor's eyes, "when I may see you +again."</p> + +<p>"You are not coming back to London," said the +mother, with the heart sinking in her breast.</p> + +<p>"Not now—they all say London is insupportable—it +is one of the things that everybody says, and I believe +that Phil will not set foot in it again for many +months. Perhaps I might get a moment, when he is +shooting, or something, to run back to you; but it is a +long way from Scotland—and he must be there, you +know, for the 12th. He would think the world was +coming to an end if he did not get a shot at the grouse +on that day."</p> + +<p>"But I thought he was looking for an appointment, +Elinor?"</p> + +<p>A cloud passed over Elinor's face. "The season is +over," she said, "and all the opportunities are exhausted—and +we don't speak of that any more."</p> + +<p>She gave her mother a very close hug at the railway, +and sat with her head partly out of the window watching +her as she stood on the platform, until the train +turned round the corner. No relief on her dear face +now, but an anxious strain in her eyes to see her mother +as long as possible. Mrs. Dennistoun, as she walked +again slowly up the hills that the pony might not suffer, +said to herself, with a chill at her heart, that she would +rather have seen her child sinking back in the corner, +pleased that it was over, as on the first day.</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>The next winter was more dreary still and solitary +than the first at Windyhill. The first had been, though +it looked so long and dreary as it passed, full of hope +of the coming summer, which must, it seemed, bring +Elinor back. But now Mrs. Dennistoun knew exactly +what Elinor's coming back meant, and the prospect was +less cheering. Three days in the whole long season—three +<ins title="original has tittle">little</ins> escapades, giving so very little hope of more +sustained intercourse to come. Mrs. Dennistoun, going +over all the circumstances—she had so little else to do +but to go over them in her long solitary evenings—came +to the conclusion that whatever might happen, she herself +would go to town when summer came again. She +amused herself with thinking how she would find a little +house—quite a small house, as there are so many—in a +good situation, where even the most fashionable need +not be ashamed to come, and where there would be room +enough for Elinor and her husband if they chose to establish +themselves there. Mrs. Dennistoun was of opinion, +already expressed, that if mothers-in-law are obnoxious +to men, sons-in-law are very frequently so to +women, which is a point of view not popularly perceived. +And Philip Compton was not sympathetic to her in any +point of view. But still she made up her mind to endure +him, and even his family, for the sake of Elinor. +She planned it all out—it gave a little occupation to the +vacant time—how they should have their separate rooms +and even meals if that turned out most convenient; how +she would interfere with none of their ways: only to +have her Elinor under her roof, to have her when the +husband was occupied—in the evenings, if there were +any evenings that she spent alone; in the mornings, +when perhaps Phil got up late, or had engagements of +his own; for the moment's freedom when her child +should be free. She made up her mind that she would +ask no questions, would never interfere with any of their +habits, or oppose or put herself between them—only +just to have a little of Elinor every day.</p> + +<p>"For it will not be the same thing this year," she +said to John, apologetically. "They have quite settled +down into each other's ways. Philip must see I have no +intention of interfering. For the most obdurate opponent +of mothers-in-law could not think—could he, +John?—that I had any desire to put myself between +them, or make myself troublesome now."</p> + +<p>"There is no telling," said John, "what such asses +might think."</p> + +<p>"But Philip is not an ass; and don't you think I have +behaved very well, and may give myself this indulgence +the second year?"</p> + +<p>"I certainly think you will be quite right to come to +town: but I should not have them to live with you, if I +were you."</p> + +<p>"Shouldn't you? It might be a risk: but then I +shouldn't do it unless there was room enough to leave +them quite free. The thing I am afraid of is that they +wouldn't accept."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Phil Compton will accept," said John, hurriedly.</p> + +<p>"Why are you so sure? I think often you know +more about him than you ever say."</p> + +<p>"I don't know much about him, but I know that a +man of uncertain income and not very delicate feelings +is generally glad enough to have the expenses of the +season taken off him: and even get all the more pleasure +out of it when he has his living free."</p> + +<p>"That's not a very elevated view to take of the transaction, +John."</p> + +<p>"My dear aunt, I did not think you expected anything +very elevated from the Comptons. They are not +the sort of family from which one expects<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"And yet it is the family that my Elinor belongs to: +she is a Compton."</p> + +<p>"I did not think of that," said John, a little disconcerted. +Then he added, "There is no very elevated +standard in such matters. Want of money has no law: +and of course there are better things involved, for he +might be very glad that Elinor should have her mother +to go out with her, to stand by when—a man might +have other engagements."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dennistoun looked at him closely and shook her +head. She was not very much reassured by this view +of the case. "At all events I shall try it," she said.</p> + +<p>Quite early in the year, when she was expecting no +such pleasure, she was rewarded for her patience by another +flying visit from her child, who this time telegraphed +to say she was coming, so that her mother +could go and meet her at the station, and thus lose no +moment of her visit. Elinor, however, was not in good +spirits on this occasion, nor was she in good looks. She +told her mother hurriedly that Phil had come up upon +business; that he was very much engaged with the new +company, getting far more into it than satisfied her. +"I am terrified that another catastrophe may come, and +that he might share the blame if things were to go +wrong"—which was by no means a good preface for the +mission with which it afterwards appeared Elinor herself +was charged.</p> + +<p>"Phil told me to say to you, mamma, that if you +were not satisfied with any of your investments, he could +help you to a good six or seven per cent.<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>She said this with her head turned away, gazing out +of the window, contemplating the wintry aspect of the +combe with a countenance as cloudy and as little cheerful +as itself.</p> + +<p>There was an outcry on Mrs. Dennistoun's lips, but +fortunately her sympathy with her child was so strong +that she felt Elinor's sentiments almost more forcibly +than her own, and she managed to answer in a quiet, +untroubled voice.</p> + +<p>"Philip is very kind, my dear: but you know my investments +are all settled for me and I have no will of my +own. I get less interest, but then I have less responsibility. +Don't you know I belong to the time in which +women were not supposed to be good for anything, and +consequently I am in the hands of my trustees."</p> + +<p>"I think he foresaw that, mother," said Elinor, still +with her head averted and her eyes far away; "but he +thought you might represent to the trustees that not +only would it give you more money, but it would be +better in the end for me. Oh, how I hate to have to +say this to you, mamma!"</p> + +<p>How steadily Mrs. Dennistoun kept her countenance, +though her daughter now flung herself upon her +shoulder with uncontrollable tears!</p> + +<p>"My darling, it is quite natural you should say it. +You must tell Philip that I fear I am powerless. I will +try, but I don't think anything will come of it. I have +been glad to be free of responsibility, and I have never +attempted to interfere."</p> + +<p>"Mother, I am so thankful. I oughtn't to go against +him, ought I? But I would not have you take his advice. +It is so dreadful not to appear<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"My dear, you must try to think that he understands +better than you do: men generally do: you are only a +girl, and they are trained more or less to business."</p> + +<p>"Not Phil! not Phil!"</p> + +<p>"Well, he must have some capacity for it, some +understanding, or they would not want him on those +boards; and you cannot have, Elinor, for you know +nothing about it. To hear you speak of per cents. makes +me laugh." It was a somewhat forlorn kind of laugh, +yet the mother executed it finely: and by and by the +subject dropped, and Elinor was turned to talk of other +things—other things of which there was a great deal to +say, and over which they cried and laughed together as +nature bade.</p> + +<p>In the same evening, the precious evening of which +she did not like to waste a moment, Mrs. Dennistoun +unfolded her plan for the season. "I feel that I know +exactly the kind of house I want; it will probably be in +some quiet insignificant place, a Chapel Street, or a +Queen Street, or a Park Street somewhere, but in a +good situation. You shall have the first floor all to +yourself to receive your visitors, and if you think that +Philip would prefer a separate table<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Oh, mamma, mamma!" cried Elinor, clinging to +her, kissing passionately her mother's cheek, which was +still as soft as a child's.</p> + +<p>"It is not anything you have told me now that has +put this into my head, my darling. I had made it all up +in my own mind. Then, you know, when your husband +is engaged with those business affairs—in the city—or +with his own friends—you would have your mother to +fall back upon, Elinor. I should have just the <i>moments +perdus</i>, don't you see, when you were doing nothing +else, when you were wanted for nothing else. I promise +you, my darling, I should never be <i>de trop</i>, and would +never interfere."</p> + +<p>"Oh, mamma, mamma!" Elinor cried again as if +words failed her; and so they did, for she said scarcely +anything more, and evaded any answer. It went to her +mother's heart, yet she made her usual excuses for it. +Poor child, once so ready to decide, accepting or rejecting +with the certainty that no opposition would be +made to her will, but now afraid to commit herself, to +say anything that her husband would not approve! +Well! Mrs. Dennistoun said to herself, many a young +wife is like that, and yet is happy enough. It depends +so much on the man. Many a man adores his wife and +is very good to her, and yet cannot bear that she should +seem to settle anything without consulting his whim. +And Philip Compton had never been what might be +called an easy-going man. It was right of Elinor to +give no answer till she knew what he would like. The +dreadful thing was that she expressed no pleasure in +her mother's proposal, scarcely looked as if she herself +would like it, which was a thing which did give an unquestionable +wound.</p> + +<p>"Mamma," she said, as they were driving to the +station, not in the pony carriage this time, but in the +fly, for the weather was bad, "don't be vexed that I +don't say more about your wonderful, your more than +kind offer."</p> + +<p>"Kind is scarcely a word to use, Elinor, between you +and me."</p> + +<p>"I know, I know, mamma—and I as good as refuse +it, saying nothing. Oh, if I could tell you without telling +you! I am so frightened—how can I say it?—that +you should see things you would not approve!"</p> + +<p>"My dear, I am of one generation and you are of +another. I am an old woman, and your husband is a +young man. But what does that matter? We can +agree to differ. I will never thrust myself into his +private affairs, and he<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother, mother darling, it is not that," Elinor +said. And she went away without any decision. But +in a few days there came to Mrs. Dennistoun a letter +from Philip himself, most nobly expressed, saying that +Elinor had told him of her mother's kind offer, and that +he hastened to accept it with the utmost gratitude and +devotion. He had just been wondering, he wrote, how +he was to muster all things necessary for Elinor, with +the business engagements which were growing upon +himself. Nobody could understand better than Nell's +good mother how necessary it was that he should +neglect no means of securing their position, and he had +found that often he would have to leave his darling by +herself: but this magnificent, this magnanimous offer +on her part would make everything right. Need he +say how gratefully he accepted it? Nell and he being +on the spot would immediately begin looking out for +the house, and when they had a list of three or four to +look at he hoped she would come up to their rooms and +select what she liked best. This response took away +Mrs. Dennistoun's breath, for, to tell the truth, she had +her own notions as to the house she wanted and as to +the time to be spent in town, and would certainly have +preferred to manage everything herself. But in this +she had to yield, with thankfulness that in the main +point she was to have her way.</p> + +<p>Did she have her way? It is very much to be +doubted whether in such a situation of affairs it would +have been possible. The house that was decided upon +was not one which she would have chosen for herself, +neither would she have taken it from Easter to +July. She had meant a less expensive place and a +shorter season; but after all, what did that matter for +once if it pleased Elinor? The worst of it was that she +could not at all satisfy herself that it pleased Elinor. +It pleased Philip, there was no doubt, but then it had +not been intended except in a very secondary way to +please him. And when the racket of the season began +Mrs. Dennistoun had a good deal to bear. Philip, +though he was supposed to be a man of business and +employed in the city, got up about noon, which was +dreadful to all her orderly country habits; the whole +afternoon through there was a perpetual tumult of visitors, +who, when by chance she encountered them in the +hall or on the stairs, looked at her superciliously as if she +were the landlady. The man who opened the door, and +brushed Philip Compton's clothes, and was in his service, +looked superciliously at her too, and declined to have anything +to say to "the visitors for down-stairs." A noise of +laughter and loud talk was (distinctly) in her ears from +noon till late at night. When Philip came home, +always much later than his wife, he was in the habit of +bringing men with him, whose voices rang through the +house after everybody was in bed. To be sure, there +were compensations. She had Elinor often for an hour +or two in the morning before her husband was up. +She had her in the evenings when they were not going +out, but these were few. As for Philip, he never dined +at home. When he had no engagements he dined at +his club, leaving Elinor with her mother. He gave +Mrs. Dennistoun very little of his company, and when +they did meet there was in his manner too a sort of +reflection of the superciliousness of the "smart" visitors +and the "smart" servant. She was to him, too, in +some degree the landlady, the old lady down-stairs. +Elinor, as was natural, redoubled her demonstrations of +affection, her excuses and sweet words to make up for +this neglect: but all the time there was in her mother's +mind that dreadful doubt which assails us when we +have committed ourselves to one act or another, "Was +it wise? Would it not have been better to have +denied herself and stayed away?" So far as self-denial +went, it was more exercised in Curzon Street than it +would have been at the Cottage. For she had to see +many things that displeased her and to say no word; +to guess at the tears, carefully washed away from Elinor's +eyes, and to ask no questions, and to see what she +could not but feel was the violent career downward, the +rush that must lead to a catastrophe, but make no sign. +There was one evening when Elinor, not looking well +or feeling well, had stayed at home, Philip having a +whole long list of engagements in hand; men's engagements, +his wife explained, a stockbroking dinner, an +adjournment to somebody's chambers, a prolonged sitting, +which meant play, and a great deal of wine, and +other attendant circumstances into which she did not +enter. Elinor had no engagement for that night, and +was free to be petted and fêted by her mother. She +was put at her ease in a soft and rich dressing-gown, +and the prettiest little dinner served, and the room +filled with flowers, and everything done that used to be +done when she was recovering from some little mock +illness, some child's malady, just enough to show how +dear above everything was the child to the mother, and +with what tender ingenuity the mother could invent +new delights for the child. These delights, alas! did +not transport Elinor now as they once had done, and +yet the repose was sweet, and the comfort of this nearest +and dearest friend to lean upon something more +than words could say.</p> + +<p>On this evening, however, in the quiet of those still +hours, poor Elinor's heart was opened, or rather her +mouth, which on most occasions was closed so firmly. +She said suddenly, in the midst of something quite +different, "Oh, I wish Phil was not so much engaged +with those dreadful city men."</p> + +<p>"My dear!" said Mrs. Dennistoun, who was thinking +of far other things; and then she said, "there +surely cannot be much to fear in that respect. He is +never in the city—he is never up, my dear, when the +city men are doing their work."</p> + +<p>"Ah," said Elinor, "I don't think that matters; he +is in with them all the same."</p> + +<p>"Well, Elinor, there is no reason that there should +be any harm in it. I would much rather he had some +real business in hand than be merely a butterfly of +fashion. You must not entertain that horror of city +men."</p> + +<p>"The kind he knows are different from the kind you +know, mamma."</p> + +<p>"I suppose everything is different from what it was +in my time: but it need not be any worse for that<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother! you are obstinate in thinking well of +everything; but sometimes I am so frightened, I feel +as if I must do something dreadful myself—to precipitate +the ruin which nothing I can do will stop<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Elinor, Elinor, this is far too strong language<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Mamma, he wants me to speak to you again. He +wants you to give your money<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"But I have told you already I cannot give it, Elinor."</p> + +<p>"Heaven be praised for that! But he will speak to +you himself, he will perhaps try to—bully you, mamma."</p> + +<p>"Elinor!"</p> + +<p>"It is horrible, what I say; yes, it is horrible, but +I want to warn you. He says things<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Nothing that he can say will make me forget that +he is your husband, Elinor."</p> + +<p>"Ah, but don't think too much of that, mamma. +Think that he doesn't know what he is doing—poor +Phil, oh, poor Phil! He is hurried on by these people; +and then it will break up, and the poor people will be +ruined, and they will upbraid him, and yet he will not +be a whit the better. He does not get any of the profit. +I can see it all as clear<span class="norewrap">——</span> And there are so many +other things."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dennistoun's heart sank in her breast, for she +too knew what were the other things. "We must have +patience," she said; "he is in his hey-day, full of—high +spirits, and thinking everything he touches must go +right. He will steady down in time."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am not complaining," cried Elinor, hurriedly +dashing her tears away; "if you were not a dreadfully +good mamma, if you would grumble sometimes and +find fault, that I might defend him! It is the sight of +you there, seeing everything and not saying a word +that is too much for me."</p> + +<p>"Then I will grumble, Elinor. I will even say something +to him for our own credit. He should not come +in so late—at least when he comes in he should come in +to rest and not bring men with him to make a noise. +You see I can find fault as much as heart could desire. +I am dreadfully selfish. I don't mind when he goes +out now and then without you, for then I have you; +but he should not bring noisy men with him to disturb +the house in the middle of the night. I think I will +speak to him<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"No," said Elinor, with a clutch upon her mother's +arm; "no, don't do that. He does not like to be found +fault with. Unless in the case—if you were giving +him that money, mother."</p> + +<p>"Which I cannot do: and Elinor, my darling, which +I would not do if I could. It is all you will have to rely +upon, you and<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"It would have been the only chance," said Elinor. +"I don't say it would have been much of a chance. +But he might have listened, if<span class="norewrap">——</span> Oh, no, dear mother, +no. I would not in my sober senses wish that +you should give him a penny. It would do no good, +but only harm. And yet if you had done it, you might +have said<span class="norewrap">——</span> and he might have listened to you for +once<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XX" id="CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>A few days after this Philip Compton came in, in the +afternoon, to the little room down-stairs which Mrs. +Dennistoun had made into a sitting-room for herself. +Elinor had gone out with her sister-in-law, and her +mother was alone. It was a very rare thing indeed for +Mrs. Dennistoun's guest—who, indeed, was to all intents +and purposes the master of the house, and had +probably quite forgotten by this time that he was not +in reality so—to pay a visit "down-stairs." "Down-stairs" +had a distinct meaning in the Compton vocabulary. +It was spoken of with significance, and with a +laugh, as something half hostile, half ridiculous. It +meant a sort of absurd criticism and inspection, as of +some old crone sitting vigilant, spying upon everything—a +mother-in-law. Phil's cronies thought it was the +most absurd weakness on his part to let such an intruder +get footing in his house. "You will never get +rid of her," they said. And Phil, though he was generally +quite civil to his wife's mother (being actually and +at his heart more a gentleman than he had the least +idea he was), did not certainly in any way seek her society. +He scarcely ever dined at home, as has been +said; when he had not an engagement—and he had a +great many engagements—he found that he was obliged +to dine at his club on the evenings when he might have +been free; and as this was the only meal which was +supposed to be common, it may be perceived that Phil +had little means of meeting his mother-in-law; and +that he should come to see her of his own free will was +unprecedented. Phil Compton had not improved since +his marriage. His nocturnal enjoyments, the noisy +parties up-stairs in the middle of the night, had not +helped to dissipate the effect of the anxieties of the city, +which his wife so deplored. Mrs. Dennistoun that very +day, when she came down-stairs in the fresh summer +morning to her early breakfast, had seen through an +open door the room up-stairs which was appropriated to +Phil, with a lamp still burning in the daylight, cards +lying strewn about the floor, and all in that direful disorder +which a room so occupied overnight shows in the +clear eye of the day. The aspect of the room had given +her a shock almost more startling than any moral certainty, +as was natural to a woman used to all the decorums +and delicacies of a well-ordered life. There is no +sin in going late to bed, or even letting a lamp burn +into the day; but the impression that such a sight +makes even upon the careless is always greater than any +mere apprehension by the mind of the midnight sitting, +the eager game, the chances of loss and ruin. She +had not been able to get that sight out of her eyes. +Though on ordinary occasions she never entered Phil's +rooms, on this she had stolen in to put out the lamp, +with the sensation in her mind of destroying some +evidence against him, which someone less interested +than she might have used to his disadvantage. And +she had sent up the housemaid to "do" the room, +with an admonition. "I cannot have Mr. Compton's +rooms neglected," she said. "The gentlemen is always +so late," the housemaid said in self-defence. "I hears +them let themselves out sometimes after we're all up +down-stairs." "I don't want to hear anything about +the gentlemen. Do your work at the proper time; that +is all that is asked of you." Phil's servant appeared at +the moment pulling on his coat, with the air of a man +who has been up half the night—which, indeed, was +the case, for "the gentlemen" when they came in had +various wants that had to be supplied. "What's up +now?" he said to the housemaid, within hearing of her +mistress, casting an insolent look at the old lady, who +belonged to "down-stairs." "She've been prying and +spying about like they all do<span class="norewrap">——</span>" Mrs. Dennistoun +had retreated within the shelter of her room to escape +the end of this sentence, which still she heard, with +the usual quickness of our faculties in such cases. +She swallowed her simple breakfast with what appetite +she might, and her stout spirit for the moment +broke down before this insult which was ridiculous, +she said to herself, from a saucy servant-man. What +did it matter to her what Johnson did or said? But it +was like the lamp burning in the sunshine: it gave a +moral shock more sharp than many a thing of much +more importance would have been capable of doing, and +she had not been able to get over it all day.</p> + +<p>It may be supposed, therefore, that it was an unfortunate +moment for Phil Compton's visit. Mrs. Dennistoun +had scarcely seen them that day, and she was +sitting by herself, somewhat sick at heart, wondering if +anything would break the routine into which their life +was falling; or if this was what Elinor must address +herself to as its usual tenor. It would be better in the +country, she said to herself. It was only in the bustle +of the season, when everybody of his kind was congregated +in town, that it would be like this. In their +rounds of visits, or when the whole day was occupied +with sport, such nocturnal sittings would be impossible—and +she comforted herself by thinking that they +would not be consistent with any serious business in +the city such as Elinor feared. The one danger must +push away the other. He could not gamble at night in +that way, and gamble in the other among the stockbrokers. +They were both ruinous, no doubt, but they +could not both be carried on at the same time—or so, +at least, this innocent woman thought. There was +enough to be anxious and alarmed about without taking +two impossible dangers into her mind together.</p> + +<p>And just then Phil knocked at her door. He came +in smiling and gracious, and with that look of high +breeding and <i>savoir faire</i> which had conciliated her before +and which she felt the influence of now, although +she was aware how many drawbacks there were, and +knew that the respect which her son-in-law showed was +far from genuine. "I never see you to have a chat," +he said; "I thought I would take the opportunity to-day, +when Elinor was out. I want you to tell me how +you think she is."</p> + +<p>"I think she is wonderfully well," said Mrs. Dennistoun.</p> + +<p>"<i>Wonderfully</i> well—you mean considering—that +there is too much racket in her life?"</p> + +<p>"Partly, I mean that—but, indeed, I meant it without +condition; she is wonderfully well. I am surprised, +often<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"It is rather a racket of a life," said Phil.</p> + +<p>"Too much, indeed—it is too much—for a woman +who is beginning her serious life—but if you think that, +it is a great thing gained, for you can put a stop to it, +or moderate—'the pace' don't you call it?" she said, +with a smile.</p> + +<p>"Well, yes. I suppose we could moderate the pace—but +that would mean a great deal for me. You see, +when a man's launched it isn't always so easy to stop. +Nell, of course, if you thought she wanted it—might go +to the country with you."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dennistoun's heart gave a leap. "Might go to +the country with you!" It seemed a glimpse of Paradise +that burst upon her. But then she shook her +head. "You know Elinor would not leave you, +Philip."</p> + +<p>"Well! she has a ridiculous partiality," he said, with +a laugh, "though, of course, I'd make her—if it was +really for her advantage," he added, after a moment; +"you don't think I'd let that stand in her way."</p> + +<p>"In the meantime," said Mrs. Dennistoun, with hesitation, +"without proceeding to any such stringent measures—if +you could manage to be a little less late at +night."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you listen for my coming in at night?"</p> + +<p>His face took a sombre look, as if a cloud had come +over it.</p> + +<p>"I do not listen—for happily for me I have been +asleep for hours. I generally jump up thinking the +house is on fire at the sound of voices, which make +listening quite unnecessary, Philip."</p> + +<p>"Ah, yes, the fellows are rather noisy," he said, carelessly, +"but Nell sleeps like a top, and pays no attention—which +is the best thing she can do."</p> + +<p>"I would not be too sure she slept like a top."</p> + +<p>"It's true; women are all hypocrites alike. You +never know when you have them," Phil said.</p> + +<p>And then there was a pause; for she feared to say +anything more lest she should go too far; and he for +once in his life was embarrassed, and did not know how +to begin what he had to say.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, quickly, getting up, "I must be +going. I have business in the city. And now that +I find you're satisfied about Nell's health<span class="norewrap">——</span> By +the way, you never show in our rooms; though Nell +spends every minute she has to spare here."</p> + +<p>"I am a little old perhaps for your friends, Philip, +and the room is not too large."</p> + +<p>"Well, no," he said, "they are wretched little rooms. +Good-by, then; I'm glad you think Nell is all right."</p> + +<p>Was this all he meant to say? There was, however, +an uncertainty about his step, and by the time he had +opened the door he came to a pause, half closed it +again, and said, "Oh, by the bye!"</p> + +<p>"What is it?" said Mrs. Dennistoun.</p> + +<p>He closed the door again and came back half a step. +"I almost forgot, I meant to tell you: if you have any +money to invest, I could help you to<span class="norewrap">——</span> The best +thing I've heard of for many a day!"</p> + +<p>"You are very kind, Philip; but you know everything +I have is in the hands of trustees."</p> + +<p>"Oh, bother trustees. The only thing they do is to +keep your dividends down to the lowest amount possible +and cut short your income. Come, you're quite old +enough to judge for yourself. You might give them a +jog. At your time of life they ought to take a hint from +you."</p> + +<p>"I have never done it, Philip, and they would pay no +attention to me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, nonsense, mamma. Why, except you, who has +a right to be consulted except Nell? and if I, her husband, +am your adviser<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"I know they would do nothing but mock at me."</p> + +<p>"Rubbish! I'd like to see who would mock at you. +Just you send them to me, that is all."</p> + +<p>"Philip, will you not believe me when I say that it is +impossible? I have never interfered. They would ask +what made me think of such a thing now."</p> + +<p>"And you could tell them a jolly good opportunity, +as safe as the bank, and paying six or seven per cent.—none +of your fabulous risky ten or twelve businesses, +but a solid steady<span class="norewrap">——</span> How could it be to my interest +to mislead you? It would be Nell who would be the +loser. I should be simply cutting off my own head."</p> + +<p>"That is true, no doubt<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"And," he said, scarcely waiting for her reply, "Nell +is really the person who should be consulted: for if +there was loss eventually it would come upon her—and +so upon me. I mean taking into consideration all the +chances of the future: for it is perfectly safe for your +time, you may be quite sure of that."</p> + +<p>No one, though he might be ninety, likes to have his +time limited, and his heir's prospects dwelt upon as the +only things of any importance, and Mrs. Dennistoun was +a very long way from ninety. She would have sacrificed +everything she had to make her child happy, but +she did not like, all the same, to be set down as unimportant +so far as her own property was concerned.</p> + +<p>"I am afraid," she said, with a slight quaver in her +voice, "that my trustees would not take Elinor's wishes +into consideration in the first place, nor yours either, +Philip. They think of me, and I suppose that is really +their duty. If I had anything of my own<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say," he said, bluntly, "that with a +good income and living in the country in a hole, in the +most obscure way, you have saved nothing all these +years?"</p> + +<p>"If I had," said Mrs. Dennistoun, roused by his persistent +attack, "I should be very sorry to fling it +away."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that is what you think?" he said. "Now +we're at the bottom of it. You think that to put it in +my hands would be to throw it away! I thought there +must be something at the bottom of all this pretty ignorance +of business and so forth. Good gracious! that +may be well enough for a girl; but when a grandmother +pretends not to know, not to interfere, etc., that's too +much. So this is what you meant all the time! To put +it into my hands would be throwing it away!"</p> + +<p>"I did not mean to say so, Philip—I spoke hastily, +but I must remind you that I am not accustomed to +this tone<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, not at all accustomed to it, you all say +that—that's Nell's dodge—never was used to anything +of the kind, never had a rough word said to her, and +so forth and so forth."</p> + +<p>"Philip—I hope you don't say rough words to my +Elinor."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" he said, "I have got you there, have I. +<i>Your</i> Elinor—no more yours than she is—Johnson's. +She is my Nell, and what's more, she'll cling to me, +whatever rough words I may say, or however you may +coax or wheedle. Do you ever think when you refuse +to make a sacrifice of one scrap of your hoards for her, +that if I were not a husband in a hundred I might take +it out of her and make her pay?"</p> + +<p>"For what?" said Mrs. Dennistoun, standing up +and confronting him, her face pale, her head very erect—"for +what would you make her pay?"</p> + +<p>He stood staring at her for a moment and then he +broke out into a laugh. "We needn't face each other +as if we were going to have a stand-up fight," he said. +"And it wouldn't be fair, mamma, we're not equally +matched, the knowing ones would all lay their money +on you. So you won't take my advice about investing +your spare cash? Well, if you won't you won't, and +there's an end of it: only stand up fair and don't +bother me with nonsense about trustees."</p> + +<p>"It is no nonsense," she said.</p> + +<p>His eyes flashed, but he controlled himself and turned +away, waving his hand. "I'll not beat Nell for it when +I come home to-night," he said.</p> + +<p>Once more Phil dined at his club that evening and +Elinor with her mother. She was in an eager and excited +state, looking anxiously in Mrs. Dennistoun's eyes, +but it was not till late in the evening that she made any +remark. At last, just before they parted for the +night, she threw herself upon her mother with a little +cry—"Oh, mamma, I know you are right, I know you +are quite right. But if you could have done it, it would +have given you an influence! I don't blame you—not +for a moment—but it might have given you an opening +to speak. It might have—given you a little hold on +him."</p> + +<p>"My darling, my darling!" said Mrs. Dennistoun.</p> + +<p>"No," said Elinor, "there's nothing to pity me about, +nothing at all—Phil is always kind and good to me—but +you would have had a standing ground. It might +have given you a right to speak—about those dreadful, +dreadful city complications, mamma."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dennistoun went to bed that night a troubled +woman, and lay awake watching and expecting when +the usual midnight tumult should arise. But that +evening there was none. No sound but the key in the +latch, the shutting of a door or two, and all quiet. +Compunctions filled the mother's heart. What was +the wrong if, perhaps, she could satisfy Elinor, perhaps +get at the heart of Phil, who had a heart, though it was +getting strangled in all those intricacies of gambling +and wretched business. She turned over and over in +her mind all that she had, and all that she had any +power over. And she remembered a small sum she had +in a mortgage, which was after all in her own power. +No doubt it would be to throw the money away, which +would be so much gone from the future provision of +Elinor—but if by that means she could acquire an influence +as Elinor said—be allowed to speak—to protest +or perhaps even insist upon a change of course? +Thinking over such a question for a whole sleepless +night, and feeling beneath all that at least, at worst, +this sacrifice would give pleasure to Elinor, which was +really the one and sole motive, the only thing that could +give her any warrant for such a proceeding—is not a +process which is likely to strengthen the mind. In the +morning, as soon as she knew he was up, which was +not till late enough, she sent to ask if Phil would give +her five minutes before he went out. He appeared after +a while, extremely correct and <i>point device</i>, grave but +polite. "I must ask you to excuse me," he said, "if I +am hurried, for to-day is one of my Board days."</p> + +<p>"It was only to say, Philip—you spoke to me yesterday +of money—to be invested."</p> + +<p>"Yes?" he said politely, without moving a muscle.</p> + +<p>"I have been thinking it all over, and I remember +that there is a thousand pounds or two which John +Tatham placed for me in a mortgage, and which is in +my own power."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" he said, "a thousand pounds or two," with a +shrug of his shoulders; "it is scarcely worth while, is it, +changing an investment for so small a matter as a thousand +pounds?"</p> + +<p>"If you think so, Philip—it is all I can think of that +is in my own power."</p> + +<p>"It is really not worth the trouble," he said, "and I +am in a hurry." He made a step towards the door and +then turned round again. "Well," he said, "just to +show there is no ill-feeling, I'll find you something, perhaps, +to put your tuppenceha'penny in to-day."</p> + +<p>And then there was John Tatham to face after that!</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXI" id="CHAPTER_XXI"></a>CHAPTER XXI.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>It cost Mrs. Dennistoun a struggle to yield to her +daughter and her daughter's husband, and with her +eyes open and no delusion on the subject to throw away +her two thousand pounds. Two thousand pounds is a +big thing to throw away. There are many people much +richer than Mrs. Dennistoun who would have thought +it a wicked thing to do, and some who would have +quarrelled with both daughter and son-in-law rather +than do so foolish a thing. For it was not merely +making a present, so to speak, of the money, it was +throwing it away. To have given it to Elinor would +have been nothing, it would have been a pleasure; but +in Phil's investment Mrs. Dennistoun had no confidence. +It was throwing her money after Elinor's money into +that hungry sea which swallows up everything and +gives nothing again.</p> + +<p>But if that had been difficult for her, it may be imagined +with what feelings she contemplated her necessary +meeting with John Tatham. She knew everything +he would say—more, she knew what he would look: his +astonishment, his indignation, the amazement with +which he would regard it. John was far from being +incapable of a sacrifice. Mrs. Dennistoun, indeed, did +him more than justice in that respect, for she believed +that he had himself been on the eve of asking Elinor to +marry him when she was snatched up by, oh, so much +less satisfactory a man! which the reader knows is not +quite the case, though perhaps it required quite as +much self-denial on John's part to stand by Elinor and +maintain her cause under her altered circumstances as +if it had been the case. But notwithstanding this, she +knew that John would be angry with what she had +done or promised to do, and would put every possible +impediment in her way: and when she sent for him, in +order that she might carry out her promise, it was with +a heart as sick with fright and as much disturbed by +the idea of a scolding as ever child's was.</p> + +<p>John had been very little to the house at Curzon +Street. He had dined two or three times with Mrs. +Dennistoun alone, and once or twice Elinor had been +of the party; but the Comptons had never any guests +at that house, and the fact already mentioned that +Philip Compton never dined at home made it a difficult +matter for Mrs. Dennistoun to ask any but her +oldest friends to the curious little divided house, which +was neither hers nor theirs. Thus Cousin John had +met, but no more, Elinor's husband, and neither of the +gentlemen had shown the least desire to cultivate the +acquaintance. John had not expressed his sentiments +on the subject to any one, but Phil, as was natural, had +been more demonstrative. "I don't think much of +your relations, Nell," he said, "if that's a specimen: a +prig if ever there was one—and that old sheep that was +at the wedding, the father of him, I suppose<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"As they are my relations, Phil, you might speak +of them a little more respectfully."</p> + +<p>"Oh, respectfully! Bless us all! I have no respect +for my own, and why I should have for yours, my little +dear, I confess I can't see. Oh, by the way, this is +Cousin John, who I used to think by your blushing and +all that<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Phil, I think you are trying to make me angry. +Cousin John is the best man in the world; but I never +blushed—how ridiculous! I might as well have blushed +to speak of my brother."</p> + +<p>"I put no confidence in brothers, unless they're real +ones," said Phil; "but I'm glad I've seen him, Nell. I +doubt after all that you're such a fool, when you see us +together—eh?" He laughed that laugh of conscious +superiority which, when it is not perfectly well-founded, +sounds so fatuous to the hearer. Elinor did not +look at him. She turned her head away and made no +reply.</p> + +<p>John, on his part, as has been said, made no remark. +If he had possessed a wife at home to whom he could +have confided his sentiments, as Phil Compton had, it +is possible that he might have said something not unsimilar. +But then had he had a wife at home he would +have been more indifferent to Phil, and might not have +cared to criticise him at all.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dennistoun received him when he came in obedience +to her call, as a child might do who had the +power of receiving its future corrector. She abased +herself before him, servilely choosing his favourite subjects, +talking of what she thought would please him, of +former times at the Cottage, of Elinor, and her great +affection for Cousin John, and so forth. I imagine +that he had a suspicion of the cause of all this sweetness. +He looked at her suspiciously, though he allowed +himself to be drawn into reminiscences, and to feel +a half pleasure, half pain in the affectionate things +that Elinor had said. At length, after some time had +passed, he asked, in a pause of the conversation, "Was +this all you wanted with me, aunt, to talk of old times?"</p> + +<p>"Wasn't it a good enough pretext for the pleasure of +seeing you, John?"</p> + +<p>He laughed a little and shook his head.</p> + +<p>"An excellent pretext where none was wanted. It is +very kind of you to think it a pleasure: but you had +something also to say?"</p> + +<p>"It seems there is no deceiving you, John," she +said, and with many hesitations and much difficulty, +told him her story. She saw him begin to flame. She +saw his eyes light up, and Mrs. Dennistoun shook in +her chair. She was not a woman apt to be afraid, but +she was frightened now.</p> + +<p>Nevertheless, when she had finished her story, John +at first spoke no word: and when he did find a tongue +it was only to say,</p> + +<p>"You want to get back the money you have on that +mortgage. My dear aunt, why did not you tell me so +at once?"</p> + +<p>"But I have just told you, John."</p> + +<p>"Well, so be it. You know it will take a little +time; there are some formalities that must be gone +through. You cannot make a demand on people in +that way to pay you cash at once."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I thought it was so easy to get money—on +such very good security and paying such a good +adequate rate of interest."</p> + +<p>"It is easy," he said, "perfectly easy; but it wants a +little time: and people will naturally wonder, if it is +really good security and good interest, why you should +be in such a hurry to get out of it."</p> + +<p>"But surely, to say private reasons—family reasons, +that will be enough."</p> + +<p>"Oh, there is no occasion for giving any reason at +all. You wish to do it; that is reason enough."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Mrs. Dennistoun, with diffidence, yet +also a little self-assertion, "I think it is enough."</p> + +<p>"Of course, of course." But his eyes were flaming, +and Mrs. Dennistoun would not allow herself to believe +that she had got off. "And may I ask—not that I have +any right to ask, for of course you have better advisers—what +do you mean to put the money in, when you +have got it back?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, John," said Mrs. Dennistoun, "you are implacable, +though you pretend different. You know what I +want with the money, and you disapprove of it, and so +do I. I am going to throw it away. I know that just +as well as you do, and I am ashamed of myself: but I +am going to do it all the same."</p> + +<p>"You are going to give it to Elinor? I don't think +there is anything to disapprove of in that. It is the +most natural thing in the world."</p> + +<p>"If I could be sure that Elinor would get any good +by it," she said.</p> + +<p>And then his face suddenly blazed up, so that the +former flame in his eyes was nothing. He sat for a +moment staring at her, and then he said, "Yes, if—but +I suppose you take the risk." There were a great +many things on his lips to say, but he said none of +them, except hurriedly, "You have a motive, I suppose<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"I have a motive—as futile probably as my act—if I +could by that means, or any other, acquire an influence<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>John was very seldom, if ever, rude—it was not in +his way—but at this moment he was so bitterly exasperated +that he forgot his manners altogether. He +burst out into a loud laugh, and then he jumped up to +his feet and said, "Forgive me. I really have a dozen +engagements. I can't stay. I'll see to having this +business done for you as soon as possible. You would +rather old Lynch had no hand in it? I'll get it done +for you at once."</p> + +<p>She followed him out to the door as if they had been +in the country, and that the flowery cottage door, with +the great world of down and sky outside, instead of +Curzon Street: longing to say something that would +still, at the last moment, gain her John's approval, or +his understanding at least. But she could think of +nothing to say. He had promised to manage it all for +her: he had not reproached her; and yet not content +with that she wanted to extort a favourable word from +him before he should go. But she could not find a +word to say. He it was only who spoke. He asked +when she was going to return home, with his hand +upon the street door.</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I have not made any plans. The +house is taken till July."</p> + +<p>"And you have enjoyed it?" he said. "It has answered?"</p> + +<p>What a cruel, cruel question to put to her! She +going so unsuspectingly with him to the very door! +Philip Compton's servant, always about when he was +not wanted, spying about to see whom it was that +"down-stairs" was letting out, came strolling into +sight. Anyhow, whether that was the reason or not, she +made him no reply. He caught her look—a look that +said more than words—and turned round quickly and +held out his hand. "I did not mean to be cruel," he +said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, no, no—you did not mean it—you were +not cruel. The reverse—you are always so kind. Yes, +it has answered—I am more glad than I can tell you—that +I came."</p> + +<p>He it was now that looked at her anxiously, while she +smiled that well-worn smile which is kept for people in +trouble. She went in afterwards and sat silent for some +time, covering her face with her hands; in which attitude +Elinor found her after her afternoon visitors had +gone away.</p> + +<p>"What is it, mother? What is it, dear mother? +Something has happened to vex you."</p> + +<p>"Nothing, nothing, Elinor. John Tatham has been +here. He is going to do that little piece of business +for me."</p> + +<p>"And he—has been bullying you too? poor +mamma!"</p> + +<p>"On the contrary, he did not say a word. He considered +it—quite natural."</p> + +<p>Elinor gave her mother a kiss. She had nothing to +say. Neither of them had a word to say to the other. +The thought that passed through both their minds +was: "After all it is only two thousand pounds"—and +then, <i>après</i>? was Elinor's thought. And then, +never more, never more! was what passed through Mrs. +Dennistoun's mind.</p> + +<p>Phil Compton smiled upon her that day she handed +him over the money. "It is a great pity you took the +trouble," he said. "It is a pity to change an investment +for such a bagatelle as two thousand pounds. +Still, if you insist upon it, mamma. I suppose Nell's +been bragging of the big interest, but you never will +feel it on a scrap like this. If you would let me double +your income for you now."</p> + +<p>"You know, Philip, I cannot. The trustees would +never consent."</p> + +<p>"Bother trustees. They are the ruin of women," +he said, and as he left the room he turned back to ask +her how long she was going to stay in town.</p> + +<p>"How long do you stay?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, till Goodwood always," said Phil. "Nell's +looking forward to it, and there's generally some good +things just at the end when the heavy people have gone +away; but I thought you might not care to stay so +long."</p> + +<p>"I came not for town, but for Elinor, Philip."</p> + +<p>"Exactly so. But don't you think Elinor has shown +herself quite able to take care of herself—not to say +that she has me? It's a thousand pities to keep you +from the country which you prefer, especially as, after +all, Nell can be so little with you."</p> + +<p>"It would be much better for her at present, Philip, +to come with me, and rest at home, while you go to +Goodwood. For the sake of the future you ought to +persuade her to do it."</p> + +<p>"I daresay. Try yourself to persuade her to leave +me. She won't, you know. But why should you bore +yourself to death staying on here? You don't like it, +and nobody<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Wants me, you mean, Philip."</p> + +<p>"I never said anything so dashed straightforward. +I am not a chap of that kind. But what I say is, it's a +shame to keep you hanging on, disturbed in your rest +and all that sort of thing. That noisy beggar, Dismar, +that came in with us last night must have woke you up +with his idiotic bellowing."</p> + +<p>"It doesn't matter for me; but Elinor, Philip. It +does matter for your wife. If her rest is broken it will +react upon her in every way. I wish you would consent +to forego those visitors in the middle of the +night."</p> + +<p>He looked at her with a sort of satirical indifference. +"Sorry I can't oblige you," he said. "When a girl's +friends fork out handsomely a man has some reason for +paying a little attention. But when there's nothing, or +next to nothing, on her side, why of course he must +pick up a little where he can, as much for her sake as +his own."</p> + +<p>"Pick up a little!" said Mrs. Dennistoun.</p> + +<p>"I wish you wouldn't repeat what I say like that. +It makes a fellow nervous. Yes, of course, a man that +knows what he's about does pick up a little. About +your movements, however. I advise you to take my +advice and go back to your snug little house. It +would kill me in a week, but I know it suits you. +Why hang on for Nell? She's as well as can be, and +there's a few things that it would be good for us +to do."</p> + +<p>"Which you cannot do while I am here? Is that +what you mean, Philip?"</p> + +<p>"I never saw any good in being what the French +call brutal," he said, "I hate making a woman cry, or +that sort of thing. But you're a woman of sense, and +I'm sure you must see that a young couple like Nell +and me, who have our way to make in the world<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"You know it was for her sake entirely that I came +here."</p> + +<p>"Yes, oh, yes. To do coddling and that sort of +thing—which she doesn't require a bit; but if I must +be brutal you know there's things of much consequence +we could do if<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"If what, Philip?"</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, turning on his heel, "if we had the +house to ourselves."</p> + +<p>This was the influence Mrs. Dennistoun hoped to acquire +by the sacrifice of her two thousand pounds! +When he was gone, instead of covering her face as she +had done when John left her, Mrs. Dennistoun stared +into the vacant air for a minute and then she burst +into a laugh. It was not a mirthful laugh, it may be +supposed, or harmonious, and it startled her as she +heard it pealing into the silence. Whether it was loud +enough to wake Elinor up-stairs, or whether she was +already close by and heard it, I cannot tell, but she +came in with a little tap at the door and a smile, a +somewhat anxious and forced smile, it is true, upon +her face.</p> + +<p>"What is the joke?" she said. "I heard you laugh, +and I thought I might come in and share the fun. +Somehow, we don't have so much fun as we used to +have. What is it, mamma?"</p> + +<p>"It is only a witticism of Philip's, who has been in +to see me," said Mrs. Dennistoun. "I won't repeat it, +for probably I should lose the point of it—you know I +always did spoil a joke in repeating it. I have been +speaking to him," she said, after a little pause, during +which both her laugh and Elinor's smile evaporated in +the most curious way, leaving both of them very grave—"of +going away, Elinor."</p> + +<p>"Of going away!" Elinor suddenly assumed a +startled look; but there is a difference between doing +that and being really startled, which her mother, alas! +was quite enlightened enough to see; and surely once +more there was that mingled relief and relaxation in +the lines of her face which Mrs. Dennistoun had seen +before.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my darling," she said, "it is June, and everything +at the Cottage will be in full beauty. And, perhaps, +it would do you more good to come down there +for a day or two when there is nothing doing than to +have me here, which, after all, has not been of very +much use to you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't say that, mamma. Use!—it has been of +comfort unspeakable. But," Elinor added, hurriedly, +"I see the force of all you say. To remain in London +at this time of the year must be a far greater sacrifice +than I have any right to ask of you, mamma."</p> + +<p>Oh, the furtive, hurried, unreal words! which were +such pain and horror to say with the consciousness of +the true sentiment lying underneath; which made Elinor's +heart sink, yet were brought forth with a sort of +hateful fervour, to imitate truth.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dennistoun saw it all. There are times when +the understanding of such a woman is almost equal to +those "larger other eyes" with which it is our fond +hope those who have left us for a better country see, if +they are permitted to see, our petty doings, knowing, +better than we know ourselves, what excuses, what explanations, +they are capable of. "As for the sacrifice," +she said, "we will say nothing of that, Elinor. It is a +vain thing to say that if my life would do you any +pleasure—for you don't want to take my life, and probably +the best thing I can do for you is to go on as long +as I can. But in the meantime there's no question at +all of sacrifice—and if you can come down now and +then for a day, and sleep in the fresh air<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"I will, I will, mamma," said Elinor, hiding her face +on her mother's shoulder; and they would have been +something more than women if they had not cried together +as they held each other in that embrace—in +which there was so much more than met either eye or +ear.</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXII" id="CHAPTER_XXII"></a>CHAPTER XXII.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>It was about the 10th of June when Mrs. Dennistoun +left London. She had been in town for about five +weeks, which looked like as many months, and it was +with a mingled sense of relief, and of that feeling which +is like death in the heart, the sense of nothing further +to be done, of the end of opportunity, the conclusion of +all power to help, which sometimes comes over an anxious +mind, without in any respect diminishing the anxiety, +giving it indeed a depth and pang beyond any +other feeling that is known to the heart of man. What +could she do more for her child? Nothing. It was +her only policy to remain away, not to see, certainly +not to remark anything that was happening, to wait if +perhaps the moment might come when she would be of +use, and to hope that perhaps that moment might never +need to come, that by some wonderful turn of affairs +all might yet go well. She went back to Windyhill +with the promise of a visit "soon," Philip himself had +said—in the pleasure of getting the house, which was +her house, which she had paid for and provisioned, to +himself for his own uses. Mrs. Dennistoun could not +help hearing through her maid something of the festivities +which were in prospect after she was gone, the +dinners and gay receptions at which she would have +been <i>de trop</i>. She did not wish to hear of them, but +these are things that will make themselves known, and +Mrs. Dennistoun had to face the fact that Elinor was +more or less consenting to the certainty of her mother +being <i>de trop</i>, which gave her a momentary pang. But +after all, what did it matter? It was not her fault, +poor child. I have known a loving daughter in whose +mind there was a sentiment almost of relief amid her +deep grief when her tender mother died. Could such a +thing be possible? It was; because after then, however +miserable she might be, there was no conflict over +her, no rending of the strained heart both ways. A +woman who has known life learns to understand and +forgive a great many things; and Mrs. Dennistoun forgave +her Elinor, her only child, for whose happiness she +had lived, in that she was almost glad when her mother +went away.</p> + +<p>Such things, however, do not make a lonely little +house in the country more cheerful, or tend to make it +easier to content one's self with the Rector's family, +and the good old, simple-minded, retired people, with +their little complaints, yet general peacefulness, and incompetence +to understand what tragedy was. They +thought on the whole their neighbour at the Cottage +ought to be very thankful that she had got her daughter +well, or, if not very well, at least fashionably, married, +with good connections and all that, which are +always of use in the long run. It was better than +marrying a poor curate, which was almost the only +chance a girl had on Windyhill.</p> + +<p>It was a little hard upon Mrs. Dennistoun, however, +that she lost not only Elinor, but John, who had been +so good about coming down when she was all alone at +first. Of course, during the season, a young rising +man, with engagements growing upon him every day, +was very unlikely to have his Saturdays to Mondays +free. So many people live out of town nowadays, or, +at least, have a little house somewhere to which they +go from Saturday to Monday, taking their friends with +them. This was no doubt the reason why John never +came; and yet the poor lady suspected another reason, +and though she no longer laughed as she had done on +that occasion when the Honourable Phil gave her her +dismissal, a smile would come over her face sometimes +when she reflected that with her two thousand pounds +she had purchased the hostility of both Philip and John.</p> + +<p>John Tatham was indeed exceedingly angry with her +for the weakness with which she had yielded to Phil +Compton's arguments, though indeed he knew nothing +of Phil Compton's arguments, nor whether they had +been exercised at all on the woman who was first of all +Elinor's mother and ready to sacrifice everything to her +comfort. When he found that this foolish step on her +part had been followed by her retirement from London, +he was greatly mystified and quite unable to understand. +He met Elinor some time after at one of +those assemblies to which "everybody" goes. It was, +I think, the soirée at the Royal Academy—where amid +the persistent crowd in the great room there was a +whirling crowd, twisting in and out among the others, +bound for heaven knows how many other places, and +pausing here and there on tiptoe to greet an acquaintance, +at the tail of which, carried along by its impetus, +was Elinor. She was not looking either well or happy, +but she was responding more or less to the impulse of +her set, exchanging greetings and banal words with +dozens of people, and sometimes turning a wistful and +weary gaze towards the pictures on the walls, as if she +would gladly escape from the mob of her companions +to them, or anywhere. It was no impulse of taste or +artistic feeling, however, it is to be feared, but solely +the weariness of her mind. John watched her for some +time before he approached her. Phil was not of the +party, which was nothing extraordinary, for little serious +as that assembly is, it was still of much too serious +a kind for Phil; but Lady Mariamne was there, and +other ladies with whom Elinor was in the habit of pursuing +that gregarious hunt after pleasure which carries +the train of votaries along at so breakneck a pace, and +with so little time to enjoy the pleasure they are pursuing. +When he saw indications that the stream was +setting backwards to the entrance, again to separate +and take its various ways to other entertainments, he +broke into the throng and called Elinor's attention to +himself. For a moment she smiled with genuine +pleasure at the sight of him, but then changed her aspect +almost imperceptibly. "Oh, John!" she said +with that smile: but immediately looked towards Lady +Mariamne, as if undecided what to do.</p> + +<p>"You need not look—as if I would try to detain you, +Elinor."</p> + +<p>"Do you think I am afraid of your detaining me? +I thought I should be sure to meet you to-night, and +was on the outlook. How is it that we never see you +now?"</p> + +<p>He refused the natural retort that she had never +asked to see him, and only said, with a smile, "I hear +my aunt is gone."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean to say that you only came for her? +That is an unkind speech. Yes, she has gone. It was +cruel to keep her in town for the best part of the year."</p> + +<p>"But she intended to stay till July, Elinor."</p> + +<p>"Did she? I think you are mistaken, John. She +intended to watch over me—dear mamma, she thinks +too much of me—but when she saw that I was quite +well<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"You don't look to me so extraordinarily well."</p> + +<p>"Don't I? I must be a fraud then. Nobody could +be stronger. I'm going to a multitude of places to-night. +Wherever my Hebrew leader goes I go," said +Elinor, with a laugh. "I have given myself up for to-night, +and she is never satisfied with less than a +dozen."</p> + +<p>"Ten minutes to each."</p> + +<p>"Oh, half an hour at least: and with having our carriage +found for us at every place, and the risk of getting +into a <i>queue</i>, and all the delays of coming and +going, it cannot be much less than three-quarters of an +hour. This is the third. I think three more will weary +even the Jew."</p> + +<p>"You are with Lady Mariamne then, Elinor?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—oh, you need not make that face. She is as +good as the rest, and pretends to nothing, at least. I +have no carriage, you know, and Phil took fright at my +dear old fly. He thought a hired brougham was not +good when I was alone."</p> + +<p>"That was quite true. Nevertheless, I should like +above all things to keep you here a little longer to look +at some of the pictures, and take you home in a hansom +after."</p> + +<p>She laughed. "Oh, so should I—fancy, I have not +seen the pictures, not at all. We came in a mob to +the private view; and then one day I was coming with +mamma, but was stopped by something, and now<span class="norewrap">——</span> Always +people, people—nothing else. 'Did you see +So-and-so? There's some one bowing to you, Nell. +Be sure you speak a word to the Thises or the Thats'—while +I don't care for one of them. But I fear the +hansom would not do, John."</p> + +<p>"It would have done very well in the old days. +Your mother would not have been displeased."</p> + +<p>"The old days are gone and will never return," she +said, half sad, half smiling, shaking her head. "So far +as I can see, nothing ever returns. You have your +day, and if you do not make the best of that<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>She stopped, shaking her head again with a laugh, +and there were various ways in which that speech +might be interpreted. John for one knew a sense of +it which he believed had never entered Elinor's head. +He too might have had his day and let it slip. "So +you are making the most of yours," he said. "I hear +that you are very gay."</p> + +<p>Elinor coloured high under his look. "I don't +know who can have told you that. We have had a few +little dinners since mamma left us, chiefly Phil's business +friends. I would not have them while she was +with us—that is to say, to be honest," cried Elinor, +"while we were with her: which of course was the real +state of the case. I myself don't like those people, +John, but they would have been insupportable to +mamma. It was for her sake<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"I understand," he said.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but you must not say 'I understand' with that +air of knowing a great deal more than there is to understand," +she said, with heat. "Mamma said it would +do me much more good to go—home for a night now +and then and sleep in the fresh air than for her to stay; +and though I think she is a little insane on the subject +of my health, still it was certainly better than that she +should stay here, making herself wretched, her rest +broken, and all that. You know we keep such late +hours."</p> + +<p>"I should not have thought she would have minded +that."</p> + +<p>"But what would you have thought of me if I did +not mind it for her? There, John, do you see they +are all going? Ah, the pictures! I wish I could have +stayed with you and gone round the rooms. But it +must not be to-night. Come and see me!" she said, +turning round to him with a smile, and holding out her +hand.</p> + +<p>"I would gladly, Elinor—but should not I find myself +in the way of your fine friends like<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>He had not the heart to finish the sentence when he +met her eyes brimming full of tears.</p> + +<p>"Not my fine friends, but my coarse friends," she +said; "not friends at all, our worst enemies, I am +sure."</p> + +<p>"Nell!" cried Lady Mariamne, in her shrill voice.</p> + +<p>"You will come and see me, John?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, "and in the meantime I will take +you down-stairs, let your companions think as they +please."</p> + +<p>It proved when he did so that John had to escort +both ladies to the carriage, which it was not very easy +to find, no other cavalier being at hand for the moment; +and that Lady Mariamne invited him to accompany +them to their next stage. "You know the +Durfords, of course. You are going there? What +luck for us, Nell! Jump in, Mr. Tatham, we will take +you on."</p> + +<p>"Unfortunately Lady Durford has not taken the +trouble to invite me," said John.</p> + +<p>"What does that matter? Jump in, all the same, +she'll be delighted to see you, and as for not asking you, +when you are with me and Nell<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>But John turned a deaf ear to this siren's song.</p> + +<p>He went to Curzon Street a little while after to call, +as he had been invited to do, and went late to avoid the +bustle of the tea-table, and the usual rabble of that no +longer intimate but wildly gregarious house. And he +was not without his reward. Perhaps a habit he had +lately formed of passing by Curzon Street in the late +afternoon, when he was on his way to his club, after +work was over, had something to do with his choice of +this hour. He found Elinor, as he had hoped, alone. +She was sitting so close to the window that her white +dress mingled with the white curtains, so that he did +not at first perceive her, and so much abstracted in her +own thoughts that she did not pay any attention to the +servant's hurried murmur of his name at the door. +When she felt rather than saw that there was some one +in the room, Elinor jumped up with a shock of alarm +that seemed unnecessary in her own drawing-room; +then seeing who it was, was so much and so suddenly +moved that she shed a few tears in some sudden revulsion +of feeling as she said, "Oh, it is you, John!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, "but I am very sorry to see you so +nervous."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's nothing. I was always nervous"—which +indeed was the purest invention, for Elinor Dennistoun +had not known what nerves meant. "I mean I was +always startled by any sudden entrance—in this way," +she cried, and very gravely asked him to be seated, +with a curious assumption of dignity. Her demeanour +altogether was incomprehensible to John.</p> + +<p>"I hope," he said, "you were not displeased with +me, Elinor, for going off the other night. I should +have been too happy, you know, to go with you anywhere; +but Lady Mariamne is more than I can stand."</p> + +<p>"I was very glad you did not come," she said +with a sigh; then smiling faintly, "But you were ungrateful, +for Mariamne formed a most favourable opinion +of you. She said, 'Why didn't you tell me, Nell, you +had a cousin so presentable as that?'"</p> + +<p>"I am deeply obliged, Elinor; but it seems that +what was a compliment to me personally involved something +the reverse for your other relations."</p> + +<p>"It is one of their jokes," said Elinor, with a voice +that faltered a little, "to represent my relations as—not +in a complimentary way. I am supposed not to +mind, and it's all a joke, or so they tell me; but it is +not a joke I like," she said, with a flash from her eyes.</p> + +<p>"All families have jokes of that description," said +John; "but tell me, Nelly, are you really going down +to the cottage, to your mother?"</p> + +<p>Her eyes thanked him with a gleam of pleasure for +the old familiar name, and then the light went out of +them. "I don't know," she said, abruptly. "Phil was +to come; if he will not, I think I will not either. But +I will say nothing till I make sure."</p> + +<p>"Of course your first duty is to him," said John; +"but a day now or a day then interferes with nothing, +and the country would be good for you, Elinor. Doesn't +your husband see it? You are not looking like yourself."</p> + +<p>"Not like myself? I might easily look better than +myself. I wish I could. I am not so bigoted about +myself."</p> + +<p>"Your friends are, however," he said: "no one who +cares for you wants to change you, even for another +Elinor. Come, you are nervous altogether to-night, not +like yourself, as I told you. You always so courageous +and bright! This depressed state is not one of your +moods. London is too much for you, my little Nelly."</p> + +<p>"Your little Nellie has gone away somewhere John. +I doubt if she'll ever come back. Yes, London is rather +too much for me, I think. It's such a racket, as Phil +says. But then he's used to it, you know. He was +brought up to it, whereas I—I think I hate a racket, +John—and they all like it so. They prefer never having +a moment to themselves. I daresay one would +end by being just the same. It keeps you from thinking, +that is one very good thing."</p> + +<p>"You used not to think so, Elinor."</p> + +<p>"No," she said, "not at the Cottage among the +flowers, where nothing ever happened from one year's +end to another. I should die of it now in a week—at +least if not I, those who belong to me. So on the +whole perhaps London is the safest—unless Phil will +go."</p> + +<p>"I can only hope you will be able to persuade him," +said John, rising to go away, "for whatever you may +think, you are a country bird, and you want the fresh +air."</p> + +<p>"Are you going, John? Well, perhaps it is better. +Good-by. Don't trouble your mind about me whether +I go or stay."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean I am not to come again, Elinor?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, why should I mean that?" she said. "You +are so hard upon me in your thoughts;" but she did +not say that he was wrong, and John went out from the +door saying to himself that he would not go again. He +saw through the open door of the dining-room that the +table was prepared sumptuously for a dinner-party. +It was shining with silver and crystal, the silver Mrs. +Dennistoun's old service, which she had brought up +with her from Windyhill, and which as a matter of +convenience she had left behind with her daughter. +Would it ever, he wondered, see Windyhill again?</p> + +<p>He went on to his club, and there some one began to +amuse him with an account of Lady Durford's ball, to +which Lady Mariamne had wished to take him. "Are +not those Comptons relations of yours, Tatham?" he +said.</p> + +<p>"Connections," said John, "by marriage."</p> + +<p>"I'm very glad that's all. They are a queer lot. +Phil Compton you know—the dis-Honourable Phil, as he +used to be called—but I hear he's turned over a new +leaf<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"What of him?" said John.</p> + +<p>"Oh, nothing much: only that he was flirting desperately +all the evening with a Mrs. Harris, an American +widow. I believe he came with her—and his own +wife there—much younger, much prettier, a beautiful +young creature—looking on with astonishment. You +could see her eyes growing bigger and bigger. If it +had not been kind of amusing to a looker-on, it would +be the most pitiful sight in the world."</p> + +<p>"I advise you not to let yourself be amused by such +trifles," said John Tatham, with a look of fire and +flame.</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXIII.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>As a matter of fact, Elinor did not go to the Cottage +for the fresh air or anything else. She made one hurried +run in the afternoon to bid her mother good-by, +alone, which was not a visit, but the mere pretence of a +visit, hurried and breathless, in which there was no +time to talk of anything. She gave Mrs. Dennistoun an +account of the usual lists of visits that her husband and +she were to make in the autumn, which the mother, +with the usual instinct of mothers, thought too much. +"You will wear yourself to death, Elinor."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no," she said, "it is not that sort of thing that +wears one to death. I shall—enjoy it, I suppose, as +other people do<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"I don't know about enjoyment, Elinor, but I am +sure it would be much better for you to come and stay +here quietly with me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't talk to me of any paradises, mamma. +We are in the working-day world, and we must make +out our life as we can."</p> + +<p>"But you might let Philip go by himself and come +and stay quietly here for a little, for the sake of your +health, Elinor."</p> + +<p>"Not for the world, not for the world," she cried. +"I cannot leave Phil:" and then with a laugh that was +full of a nervous thrill, "You are always thinking of +my health, mamma, when my health is perfect: better, +far better, than almost anybody's. The most of them +have headaches and that sort of thing, and they stay in +bed for a day or two constantly, but I never need anything +of the kind."</p> + +<p>"My darling, it would not be leaving Philip to take, +say, a single week's rest."</p> + +<p>"While he went off without me I should not know +where," she said, sullenly; then gave her mother a +guilty look and laughed again. "No, no, mamma; he +would not like it. A man does not like his wife to be +an incapable, to have to leave him and be nursed up by +her mother. Besides, it is to the country we are going, +you know, to Scotland, the finest air; better even, if +that were possible, than Windyhill."</p> + +<p>This was all that was said, and there was indeed time +for little more; for as the visit was unexpected the +Hudsons, by bad luck, appeared to take tea with Mrs. +Dennistoun by way of cheering her in her loneliness, +and were of course enchanted to see Elinor, and to +hear, as Mrs. Hudson said, of all her doings in the +great world. "We always look out for your name at +all the parties. It gives one quite an interest in fashionable +life," said the Rector's wife, nodding her head, +"and Alice was eager to hear what the last month's +novelties were in the fashions, and if Elinor had any +nice new patterns, especially for under-things. But +what should you want with new under-things, with such +a trousseau as you had?" she added, regretfully. +Elinor in fact was quite taken from her mother for that +hour. Was it not, perhaps, better so? Her mother +herself was half inclined to think that it was, though +with an ache in her heart, and there could be no doubt +that Elinor herself was thankful that it so happened. +When there are many questions on one side that must +be asked, and very little answer possible on the other, +is it a good thing when the foolish outside world breaks +in with its <i>banal</i> interest and prevents this dangerous +interchange?</p> + +<p>So short time did Elinor stay that she had kept the +fly waiting which brought her from the station: and +she took leave of her mother with a sort of determination, +not allowing it even to be suggested that she +should accompany her. "I like to bid you good-by +here," she said, "at our own door, where you have +always come all my life to see me off, even when I was +only going to tea at the Rectory. Good-by, good-by, +mother dear." She drove off waving her hand, and +Mrs. Dennistoun sat out in the garden a long time till +she saw the fly go round the turn of the road, the white +line which came suddenly in sight from among the trees +and as suddenly disappeared again round the side of +the hill. Elinor waved her handkerchief from the +window and her mother answered—and then she was +gone like a dream, and the loneliness closed down more +overwhelming than ever before.</p> + +<p>Elinor was at Goodwood, her name in all the society +papers, and even a description of one of her dresses, +which delighted and made proud the whole population +of Windyhill. The paper which contained it, and which, +I believe, belonged originally to Miss Dale, passed from +hand to hand through almost the entire community; the +servants getting it at last, and handing it round among +the humbler friends, who read it, half a dozen women +together round a cottage door, wiping their hands upon +their aprons before they would touch the paper, with +many an exclamation and admiring outcry. And then +her name appeared among the lists of smart people who +were going to the North—now here, now there—in +company with many other fine names. It gave the +Windyhill people a great deal of amusement, and if +Mrs. Dennistoun did not quite share this feeling it was +a thing for which her friends blamed her gently. "For +only think what a fine thing for Elinor to go everywhere +among the best people, and see life like that!" +"My dear friend," said the Rector, "you know we +cannot hope to keep our children always with us. +They must go out into the world while we old birds +stay at home; and we must not—we really must not—grudge +them their good times, as the Americans say." +It was more wonderful than words could tell to Mrs. +Dennistoun that it should be imagined she was grudging +Elinor her "good time!"</p> + +<p>The autumn went on, with those occasional public +means of following her footsteps which, indeed, made +even John Tatham—who was not in an ordinary way +addicted to the <i>Morning Post</i>, being after his fashion a +Liberal in politics and far from aristocratical in his +sentiments generally—study that paper, and also other +papers less worthy: and with, of course, many letters +from Elinor, which gave more trustworthy accounts of +her proceedings. These letters, however, were far less +long, far less detailed, than they had once been; often +written in a hurry, and short, containing notes of where +she was going, and of a continual change of address, +rather than of anything that could be called information +about herself. John, I think, went only once to the +Cottage during the interval which followed. He went +abroad as usual in the Long Vacation, and then he had +this on his mind—that he had half-surreptitiously obtained +a new light upon the position of Elinor, which +he had every desire to keep from her mother; for Mrs. +Dennistoun, though she felt that her child was not +happy, attributed that to any reason rather than a +failure in her husband's love. Elinor's hot rejection of +the very idea of leaving Phil, her dislike of any suggestion +to that effect, even for a week, even for a day, +seemed to her mother a proof that her husband, at all +events, remained as dear to her as ever; and John +would rather have cut his tongue out than betray any +chance rumour he heard—and he heard many—to this +effect. He was of opinion, indeed, that in London, and +especially at a London club, not only is everything +known that is to be known, but much is known that has +never existed, and never will exist if not blown into +being by those whose office it is to invent the grief to +come; therefore he thought it wisest to keep away, lest +by any chance something might drop from him which +would awaken a new crowd of disquietudes in Mrs. +Dennistoun's heart. Another incident, even more disquieting +than gossip, had indeed occurred to John. It +had happened to him to meet Lady Mariamne at a great +<i>omnium gatherum</i> of a country house, where all sorts of +people were invited, and where that lady claimed his +acquaintance as one of the least alarming of the grave +"set." She not only claimed his acquaintance, but set +up a sort of friendship on the ground of his relationship +to Elinor, and in an unoccupied moment after dinner +one day poured a great many confidences into his +ear.</p> + +<p>"Isn't it such a pity," she said, "that Phil and she do +not get on? Oh, they did at first, like a house on fire! +And if she had only minded her ways they might still +have been as thick<span class="norewrap">——</span> But these little country girls, +however they may disguise it at first, they all turn like +that. The horridest little puritan! Phil does no more +than a hundred men—than almost all men do: amuse +himself with anything that throws itself in his way, don't +you know. And sometimes, perhaps, he does go rather +far. I think myself he sometimes goes a little too far—for +good taste you know, and that sort of thing."</p> + +<p>It was more amazing to hear Lady Mariamne talk of +good taste than anything that had ever come in John +Tatham's way before, but he was too horribly, desperately +interested to see the fun.</p> + +<p>"She will go following him about wherever he goes. +She oughtn't to do that, don't you know. She should +let him take his swing, and the chances are it will bring +him back all right. I've told her so a dozen times, but +she pays no attention to me. You're a great pal of hers. +Why don't you give her a hint? Phil's not the sort of +man to be kept in order like that. She ought to give +him his head."</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid," said John, "it's not a matter in which +I can interfere."</p> + +<p>"Well, some of her friends should, anyhow, and teach +her a little sense. You're a cautious man, I see," said +Lady Mariamne. "You think it's too delicate to advise +a woman who thinks herself an injured wife. I didn't +say to console her, mind you," she said with a shriek of +a laugh.</p> + +<p>It may be supposed that after this John was still more +unwilling to go to the Cottage, to run the risk of betraying +himself. He did write to Elinor, telling her +that he had heard of her from her sister-in-law; but +when he tried to take Lady Mariamne's advice and +"give her a hint," John felt his lips sealed. How could +he breathe a word even of such a suspicion to Elinor? +How could he let her know that he thought such a thing +possible?—or presume to advise her, to take her condition +for granted? It was impossible. He ended by +some aimless wish that he might meet her at the +Cottage for Christmas; "you and Mr. Compton," he +said—whom he did not wish to meet, the last person in +the world: and of whom there was no question that he +should go to the Cottage at Christmas or any other time. +But what could John do or say? To suggest to her that +he thought her an injured wife was beyond his power.</p> + +<p>It was somewhere about Christmas—just before—in +that dread moment for the lonely and those who are in +sorrow and distress, when all the rest of the world +is preparing for that family festival, or pretending to +prepare, that John Tatham was told one morning in his +chambers that a lady wanted to see him. He was occupied, +as it happened, with a client for whom he had +stayed in town longer than he had intended to stay, +and he paid little more attention than to direct his clerk +to ask the lady what her business was, or if she could +wait. The client was long-winded, and lingered, but +John's mind was not free enough nor his imagination +lively enough to rouse much curiosity in him in respect +to the lady who was waiting. It was only when +she was ushered in by his clerk, as the other went +away, and putting up her veil showed the pale and +anxious countenance of Mrs. Dennistoun, that the shock +as of sudden calamity reached him. "Aunt!" he cried, +springing from his chair.</p> + +<p>"Yes, John—I couldn't come anywhere but here—you +will feel for me more than any one."</p> + +<p>"Elinor?" he said.</p> + +<p>Her lips were dry, she spoke with a little difficulty, +but she nodded her head and held out to him a telegram +which was in her hand. It was dated from a +remote part of Scotland, far in the north. "Ill—come +instantly," was all it said.</p> + +<p>"And I cannot get away till night," cried Mrs. +Dennistoun, with a burst of subdued sobbing. "I +can't start till night."</p> + +<p>"Is this all? What was your last news?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing, but that they had gone there—to somebody's +shooting-box, which was lent them, I believe—at +the end of the world. I wrote to beg her to come to +me. She is—near a moment—of great anxiety. Oh, +John, support me: let me not break down."</p> + +<p>"You will not," he said; "you are wanted; you +must keep all your wits about you. What were they +doing there at this time of the year?"</p> + +<p>"They have been visiting about—they were invited to +Dunorban for Christmas, but she persuaded Philip, so +she said, to take this little house. I think he was to +join the party while she—I cannot tell you what was +the arrangement. She has written very vaguely for +some time. She ought to have been with me—I told +her so—but she has always said she could not leave +Philip."</p> + +<p>Could not leave Philip! The mother, fortunately, +had no idea why this determination was. "I went so far +as to write to Philip," she said, "to ask him if she +might not come to me, or, at least begging him to bring +her to town, or somewhere where she could have proper +attention. He answered me very briefly that he +wished her to go, but she would not: as he had told me +before I left town—that was all. It seemed to fret him—he +must have known that it was not a fit place for +her, in a stranger's house, and so far away. And to +think I cannot even get away till late to-night!"</p> + +<p>John had to comfort her as well as he could, to make +her eat something, to see that she had all the comforts +possible for her night journey. "You were always like +her brother," the poor lady said, finding at last relief in +tears. And then he went with her to the train, and +found her a comfortable carriage, and placed her in it +with all the solaces his mind could think of. A sleeping-carriage +on the Scotch lines is not such a ghastly pretence +of comfort as those on the Continent. The solaces +John brought her—the quantities of newspapers, the +picture papers and others, rugs and shawls innumerable—all +that he possessed in the shape of wraps, besides +those which she had with her. What more could +a man do? If she had been young he would have +bought her sugar-plums. All that they meant were the +dumb anxieties of his own breast, and the vague longing +to do something, anything that would be a help to +her on her desolate way.</p> + +<p>"You will send me a word, aunt, as soon as you get +there?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, at once, John."</p> + +<p>"You will tell me how she is—say as much as you +can—no three words, like that. I shall not leave town +till I hear."</p> + +<p>"Oh, John, why should this keep you from your +family? I could telegraph there as easily as here."</p> + +<p>He made a gesture almost of anger. "Do you think +I am likely to put myself out of the way—not to be +ready if you should want me?"</p> + +<p>How should she want him?—a mother summoned to +her daughter at such a moment—but she did not say so +to trouble him more: for John had got to that maddening +point of anxiety when nothing but doing something, +or at least keeping ready to do something, flattering +yourself that there must be something to do, affords any +balm to the soul.</p> + +<p>He saw her away by that night train, crowded with +people going home—people noisy with gayety, escaping +from their daily cares to the family meeting, the father's +house, all the associations of pleasure and warmth and +consolation—cold, but happy, in their third-class compartments—not +wrapped up in every conceivable solace +as she was, yet no one, perhaps, so heavy-hearted. He +watched for the last glimpse of her face just as the train +plunged into the darkness, and saw her smile and wave +her hand to him; then he, too, plunged into the darkness +like the train. He walked and walked through the +solitary streets not knowing where he was going, unable +to rest. Had he ever been, as people say, in love with +Elinor? He could not tell—he had never betrayed it +by word or look if he had. He had never taken any +step to draw her near him, to persuade her to be his +and not another's; on the contrary, he had avoided +everything that could lead to that. Neither could he +say, "She was as my sister," which his relationship +might have warranted him in doing. It was neither the +one nor the other—she was not his love nor his sister—she +was simply Elinor; and perhaps she was dying; +perhaps the news he would receive next day would be +the worst that the heart can hear. He walked and +walked through those dreary, semi-respectable streets +of London, the quiet, the sordid, the dismal, mile after +mile, and street after street, till half the night was +over and he was tired out, and might have a hope of +rest.</p> + +<p>But for three whole days—days which he could not +reckon, which seemed of the length of years—during +which he remained closeted in his chambers, the whole +world having, as it seemed, melted away around him, +leaving him alone, he did not have a word. He did not +go home, feeling that he must be on the spot, whatever +happened. Finally, when he was almost mad, on the +morning of the third day, he received the following +telegram: "Saved—as by a miracle; doing well. +Child—a boy."</p> + +<p>"Child—a boy!" Good heavens! what did he want +with that? it seemed an insult to him to tell him. What +did he care for the child, if it was a boy or not?—the +wretched, undesirable brat of such parentage, born to +perpetuate a name which was dishonoured. Altogether +the telegram, as so many telegrams, but lighted fresh +fires of anxiety in his mind. "Saved—as by a miracle!" +Then he had been right in the dreadful fancies that had +gone through his mind. He had passed by Death in +the dark; and was it now sure that the miracle would +last, that the danger would have passed away?</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXIV.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>It was not till nearly three weeks after this that John +received another brief dispatch. "At home: come and +see us." He had indeed got a short letter or two in the +interval, saying almost nothing—a brief report of +Elinor's health, and of the baby, against whom he had +taken an unreasoning disgust and repugnance. "Little +beast!" he said to himself, passing over that part of the +bulletin: for the letters were scarcely more than bulletins, +without a word about the circumstances which surrounded +her. A shooting lodge in Ross-shire in the +middle of the winter! What a place for a delicate +woman! John was well enough aware that many elements +of comfort were possible even in such a place; +but he shut his eyes, as was natural, to anything that +went against his own point of view.</p> + +<p>And now this telegram from Windyhill—"At home: +come and see us"—<i>us</i>. Was it a mistake of the telegraph +people?—of course they must make mistakes. +They had no doubt taken the <i>me</i> in Mrs. Dennistoun's +angular writing for <i>us</i>—or was it possible<span class="norewrap">——</span> John had +no peace in his mind until he had so managed matters +that he could go and see. There was no very pressing +business in the middle of January, when people had +hardly yet recovered the idleness of Christmas. He +started one windy afternoon, when everything was grey, +and arrived at Hurrymere station in the dim twilight, +still ruddy with tints of sunset. He was in a very contradictory +frame of mind, so that though his heart +jumped to see Mrs. Dennistoun awaiting him on the +platform, there mingled in his satisfaction in seeing her +and hearing what she had to tell so much sooner, a perverse +conviction of cold and discomfort in the long +drive up in the pony carriage which he felt sure was before +him. He was mistaken, however, on this point, +for the first thing she said was, "I have secured the fly, +John. Old Pearson will take your luggage. I have so +much to tell you." There was an air of excitement in +her face, but not that air of subdued and silent depression +which comes with solitude. She was evidently full +of the report she had to make; but yet the first thing +she did when she was ensconced in the fly with John beside +her was to cover her face with her hands, and subside +into her corner in a silent passion of tears.</p> + +<p>"For mercy's sake tell me what is the matter. What +has happened? Is Elinor ill?"</p> + +<p>He had almost asked is Elinor dead?</p> + +<p>She uncovered her face, which had suddenly lighted +up with a strange gleam of joy underneath the tears. +"John, Elinor is here," she said.</p> + +<p>"Here?"</p> + +<p>"At home—safe. I have brought her back—and the +child."</p> + +<p>"Confound the child!" John said in his excitement. +"Brought her back! What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, John, it is a long story. I have a hundred +things to tell you, and to ask your advice upon; but the +main thing is that she is here. I have brought her away +from him. She will go back no more."</p> + +<p>"She has left her husband?" he said, with a momentary +flicker of exultation in his dismay. But the dismay, +to do him justice, was the strongest. He looked +at his companion almost sternly. "Things," he said, +"must have been very serious to justify that."</p> + +<p>"They were more than serious—they had become +impossible," Mrs. Dennistoun said.</p> + +<p>And she told him her story, which was a long one. +She had arrived to find Elinor alone in the little solitary +lodge in the midst of the wilds, not without attention +indeed or comfort, but alone, her husband absent. She +had been very ill, and he had been at the neighbouring +castle, where a great party was assembled, and where, +the mother discovered at last, there was—the woman +who had made Elinor's life a burden to her. "I don't +know with what truth. I don't know whether there is +what people call any harm in it. It is possible he is +only amusing himself. I can't tell. But it has made +Elinor miserable this whole autumn through, that and a +multitude of other things. She would not let me send +for him when I got there. It had gone so far as that. +She said that the whole business disgusted him, that he +had lost all interest in her, that to hear it was over +might be a relief to him, but nothing more. Her heart +has turned altogether against him, John, in every way. +There have been a hundred things. You think I am +almost wickedly glad to have her home. And so I am. +I cannot deny it. To have her here even in her trouble +makes all the difference to me. But I am not so careless +as you think. I can look beyond to other things. +I shrink as much as you do from such a collapse of her +life. I don't want her to give up her duty, and now that +there is the additional bond of the child<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Oh, for heaven's sake," said John, "leave the child +out of it! I want to hear nothing of the child!"</p> + +<p>"That is one chief point, however, that we want your +advice about, John. A man, I suppose, does not understand +it; but her baby is everything to Elinor: and I +suppose—unless he can really be proved as guilty as +she thinks—he could take the child away."</p> + +<p>John smiled to himself a little bitterly: this was why +he was sent for in such a hurry, not for the sake of his +society, or from any affection for him, but that he +might tell them what steps to take to secure them in +possession of the child. He said nothing for some time, +nor did Mrs. Dennistoun, whose disappointment in the +coldness of his response was considerable, and who +waited in vain for him to speak. At length she said, +almost tremblingly, "I am afraid you disapprove very +much of the whole business, John."</p> + +<p>"I hope it has not been done rashly," he said. "The +husband's mere absence, though heartless as—as I +should have expected of the fellow—would yet not be +reason enough to satisfy any—court."</p> + +<p>"Any court! You don't think she means to bring +him before any court? She wants only to be left alone. +We ask nothing from him, not a penny, not any money—surely, +surely no revenge—only not to be molested. +There shall not be a word said on our side, if he will +but let her alone."</p> + +<p>John shook his head. "It all depends upon the view +the man takes of it," he said.</p> + +<p>Now this was very cold comfort to Mrs. Dennistoun, +who had by this time become very secure in her position, +feeling herself entirely justified in all that she had +done. "The man," she said, "the man is not the sufferer: +and surely the woman has some claim to be +heard."</p> + +<p>"Every claim," said John. "That is not what I was +thinking of. It is this: if the man has a leg to stand +upon, he will show fight. If he hasn't—why that will +make the whole difference, and probably Elinor's position +will be quite safe. But you yourself say<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"John, don't throw back upon me what I myself said. +I said that perhaps things were not so bad as she believed. +In my experience I have found that folly, and +playing with everything that is right is more common +than absolute wrong—and men like Philip Compton are +made up of levity and disregard of everything that is +serious."</p> + +<p>"In that case," said John, "if you are right, he will +not let her go."</p> + +<p>"Oh, John! oh, John! don't make me wish that he +may be a worse man than I think. He could not force +her to go back to him, feeling as she does."</p> + +<p>"Nobody can force a woman to do that; but he +could perhaps make her position untenable; he would, +perhaps, take away the child."</p> + +<p>"John," said Mrs. Dennistoun, in alarm, "if you +tell her that, she will fly off with him to the end of the +world. She will die before she will part with the child."</p> + +<p>"I suppose that's how women are made," said John, +not yet cured of his personal offence.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, "that's how women are made."</p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon," he said, coming to himself; +"but you know, aunt, a man may be pardoned for not +understanding that supreme fascination of the baby +who cares no more for one than another, poor little +animal, so long as it gets its food and is warm enough. +We must await and see what the man will do."</p> + +<p>"Is that the best?—is there nothing we can do to +defend ourselves in the meantime—to make any sort of +barricade against him?"</p> + +<p>"We must wait and see what he is going to do," said +John; and they went over and over the question, again +and again, as they climbed the hills. It grew quite +dark as they drove along, and when they came out upon +the open part of the road, from which the Cottage was +visible, they both looked out across the combe to the +lights in the windows with an involuntary movement. +The Cottage was transformed; instead of the one +lonely lighted window which had indicated to John in +former visits where Mrs. Dennistoun sat alone, there was +now a twinkle from various points, a glow of firelight, a +sensation of warmth, and company. Mrs. Dennistoun +looked out upon it and her face shone. It was not a +happy thing that Elinor should have made shipwreck +of her life, should have left her husband and sought +refuge in her mother's house. But how could it be +otherwise than happy that Elinor was there—Elinor +and the other little creature who was something more +than Elinor, herself and yet another? As for John, he +looked at it too, with an interest which stopped all +arguments on the cause of it. She was there—wrong, +perhaps, impatient; too quick to fly as she had been +too quick to go—but still Elinor all the same, whether +she was right or wrong.</p> + +<p>The cab arrived soberly at the door, where Pearson +with the pony carriage, coming by the shorter way with +the luggage, had just arrived also. Mrs. Dennistoun +said, hurriedly, "You will find Elinor in the drawing-room, +John," and herself went hastily through the +house and up the stairs. She was going to the baby! +John guessed this with a smile of astonishment and +half contempt. How strange it was! There could not +be a more sad position than that in which, in their +rashness, these two women had placed themselves; and +yet the mother, a woman of experience, who ought to +have known better, got out of the carriage like a girl, +without waiting to be helped or attended to, and went +up-stairs like the wind, forgetting everything else for +that child—that child, the inheritor of Phil Compton's +name and very likely of his qualities—fated from his +birth (most likely) to bring trouble to everybody connected +with him! And yet Elinor was of less interest +to her mother. What strange caprices of nature! what +extraordinary freaks of womankind!</p> + +<p>The Cottage down-stairs was warm and bright with +firelight and lamplight, and in the great chair by the +fire was reclining, lying back with her book laid on her +lap and her face full of eager attention to the sounds +outside, a pale young woman, surrounded by cushions +and warm wraps and everything an invalid could require, +who raised to him eyes more large and shining +than he had ever seen before, suffused with a dew of +pain and pleasure and eager welcome. Elinor, was it +Elinor? He had never seen her in any way like an invalid +before—never knew her to be ill, or weak, or unable +to walk out to the door and meet him or anyone +she cared for. The sight of her ailing, weak, with those +large glistening eyes, enlarged by feebleness, went to +his very heart. Fortunately he did not in any way connect +this enfeebled state with the phenomenon up-stairs, +which was best for all parties. He hurried up to +her, taking her thin hands into his own.</p> + +<p>"Elinor! my poor little Nelly—can this be you!"</p> + +<p>The water that was in her eyes rolled over in two +great tears; a brief convulsion went over her face. +"Yes, John," she said, almost in a whisper. "Strange +as it may seem, this is all that is left of me."</p> + +<p>He sat down beside her and for a moment neither of +them spoke. Pity, tenderness, wrath, surged up together +in John's breast; pity, tender compassion, most +strong of all. Poor little thing; this was how she had +come back to her home; her heart broken, her wings +broken, as it were; all her soaring and swiftness and +energy gone. He could scarcely look upon her for the +pity that overflowed his heart. But underneath lay +wrath, not only against the man who had brought her +to such a pass, but against herself too.</p> + +<p>"John," she said, after a while, "do you remember +saying to me that I was not one to bear, to put up with +things, to take the consequences if I tried a dangerous +experiment and failed?"</p> + +<p>"Did I ever say anything so silly and so cruel?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, no; it was neither silly nor unkind, but +quite, quite true. I have thought of it so often. I +used to think of it to stir up my pride, to remind myself +that I ought to try to be better than my nature, not +to allow you to be a true prophet. But it was so, and +I couldn't change it. You can see you were right, John, +for I have not been like a strong woman, able to endure; +I have only been able to run away."</p> + +<p>"My poor little Nelly!"</p> + +<p>"Don't pity me," she said, the tears running over +again. "I am too well off; I am too well taken care of. +A prodigal should not be made so much of as I am."</p> + +<p>"Don't call yourself a prodigal, Nelly! Perhaps +things may not be as bad as they appear. At least, it is +but the first fall—the greatest athlete gets many before +he can stand against the world."</p> + +<p>"I'll never be an athlete, John. Besides, I'm a woman, +you know, and a fall of any kind is fatal to a woman, +especially anything of this kind. No, I know very +well it's all over; I shall never hold up my head again. +But that's not the question—the question is, to be safe +and as free as can be. Mamma takes me in, you know, +just as if nothing had happened. She is quite willing +to take the burden of me on her shoulders—and of +baby. She has told you that there are two of me, now, +John—my baby, as well as myself."</p> + +<p>John could only nod an assent; he could not speak.</p> + +<p>"It's a wonderful thing to come out of a wreck with +a treasure in one's arms; everything going to pieces +behind one; the rafters coming down, the walls falling in +and yet one's treasure in one's arms. Oh, I had not the +heart or the strength to come out of the tumbling +house. My mother did it all, dragged me out, wrapped +me up in love and kindness, carried me away. I don't +want you to think I was good for anything. I should +just have lain there and died. One thing, I did not +mind dying at all—I had quite made up my mind. +That would not have been so disgraceful as running +away."</p> + +<p>"There is nothing that is disgraceful," said John, +"for heaven's sake don't say so, Nelly. It is unfortunate—beyond +words—but that is all. Nobody can +think that you are in any way disgraced. And if you +are allowed just to stay quietly here in your natural +home, I suppose you desire nothing more."</p> + +<p>"What should I desire more, John? You don't suppose +I should like to go and live in the world again, +and go into society and all that? I have had about +enough of society. Oh, I want nothing but to be quiet +and unmolested, and bring up my baby. They could +not take my baby from me, John?"</p> + +<p>"I do not think so," he said, with a grave face.</p> + +<p>"You do not—think so? Then you are not <i>sure</i>? +My mother says dreadful things, but I cannot believe +them. They would never take an infant from its mother +to give it to—to give it to—a man—who could do +nothing, nothing for it. What could a man do with a +young child? a man always on the move, who has no +settled home, who has no idea what an infant wants? +John, I know law is inhuman, but surely, surely not so +inhuman as that."</p> + +<p>"My dear Nelly," he said, "the law, you know, which, +as you say, is often inhuman, recognizes the child as +belonging to the father. He is responsible for it. For +instance, they never could come upon you for its maintenance +or education, or anything of that kind, until it +had been proved that the father<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"May I ask," said Elinor, with uplifted head, "of +what or of whom you are talking when you say <i>it</i>?"</p> + +<p>It was all John could do not to burst into a peal of +aggrieved and indignant laughter. He who had been +brought from town, from his own comforts such as they +were, to be consulted about this brat, this child which +belonged to the dis-Honourable Phil; and Elinor, <i>Elinor</i>, +of all people in the world, threw up her head and +confronted him with disdain because he called the brat +it, and not him or her, whichever it was. John recollected +well enough that sentence at which he had been +so indignant in the telegram—"child, a boy "—but he +affected to himself not to know what it was for the indulgence +of a little contumely: and the reward he had +got was contumely upon his own head. But when he +looked at Elinor's pale face, the eyes so much larger +than they ought to be, with tears welling out unawares, +dried up for a moment by indignation or quick hasty +temper, the temper which made her sweeter words all +the more sweet he had always thought—then rising +again unawares under the heavy lids, the lips so ready +to quiver, the pathetic lines about the mouth: when he +looked at all these John's heart smote him. He would +have called the child anything, if there had been a sex +superior to him the baby should have it. And what +was there that man could do that he would not do for +the deliverance of the mother and the child?</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXV" id="CHAPTER_XXV"></a>CHAPTER XXV.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>It cannot be said that this evening at the Cottage was +an agreeable one. To think that Elinor should be +there, and yet that there should be so little pleasure in +the fact that the old party, which had once been so +happy together, should be together again, was bewildering. +And yet there was one member of it who was +happy with a shamefaced unacknowledged joy. To +think that that which made her child miserable should +make her happy was a dreadful thought to Mrs. Dennistoun, +and yet how could she help it? Elinor was there, +and the baby was there, the new unthought-of creature +which had brought with it a new anxiety, a rush of new +thoughts and wishes. Already everything else in the +mind of Elinor's mother began to yield to the desire to +retain these two—the new mother and the child. But +she did not avow this desire. She was mostly silent, +taking little part in the discussion, which was indeed +a very curious discussion, since Elinor, debating the +question how she was to abandon her husband and defend +herself against him, never mentioned his name.</p> + +<p>She did not come in to dinner, which Mrs. Dennistoun +and John Tatham ate solemnly alone, saying but +little, trying to talk upon indifferent topics, with that +very wretched result which is usual when people at one +of the great crises of life have to make conversation for +each other while servants are about and the restraints +of common life are around them. Whether it is the +terrible flood of grief which has to be barred and kept +within bounds so that the functions of life may not +altogether be swept away, or the sharper but warmer +pang of anxiety, that which cuts like a serpent's tooth, +yet is not altogether beyond the reach of hope, what +poor pretences these are at interest in ordinary subjects; +what miserable gropings after something that +can furnish a thread of conversation just enough to keep +the intercourse of life going! These two were not +more successful than others in this dismal pursuit. +Mrs. Dennistoun found a moment when the meal was +over before she left John, poor pretence! to his wine. +"Remember that she will not mention his name; +nothing must be said about him," she said. "How can +we discuss him and what he is likely to do without +speaking of him?" said John, with a little scorn. "I +don't know," replied the poor lady. "But you will find +that she will not have his name mentioned. You must +try and humour her. Poor Elinor! For I know that +you are sorry for her, John."</p> + +<p>Sorry for her! He sat over his glass of mild claret +in the little dining-room that had once been so bright; +even now it was the cosiest little room, the curtains all +drawn, shutting out the cold wind, which in January +searches out every crevice, the firelight blazing fitfully, +bringing out all the pretty warm decorations, the gleam +of silver on the side-board, the pictures on the wall, the +mirror over the mantelpiece. There was nothing wanted +under that roof to make it the very home of domestic +warmth and comfort. And yet—sorry for Elinor! +That was not the word. His heart was sore for her, +torn away from all her moorings, drifting back a wreck +to the little youthful home, where all had been so tranquil +and so sweet. John had nothing in him of that +petty sentiment which derives satisfaction from a calamity +it has foreseen, nor had he even an old lover's +thrill of almost pleasure in the downfall of the clay idol +that has been preferred to his gold. His pain for +Elinor, the constriction in his heart at thought of her +position, were unmixed with any baser feeling. Sorry +for her! He would have given all he possessed to +restore her happiness—not in his way, but in the way +she had chosen, even, last abnegation of all, to make +the man worthy of her who had never been worthy. +Even his own indignation and wrath against that man +were subservient in John's honest breast to the desire +of somehow finding that it might be possible to whitewash +him, nay to reform him, to make him as near as +possible something which she could tolerate for life. +I doubt if a woman, notwithstanding the much more +ready power of sacrifice which women possess, could +have so fully desired this renewal and amendment as +John did. It was scarcely too much to say that he +hated Phil Compton: yet he would have given the half +of his substance at this moment to make Phil Compton +a good man; nay, even to make him a passable man—to +rehabilitate him in his wife's eyes.</p> + +<p>John stayed a long time over "his wine," the mild +glass of claret (or perhaps it was Burgundy) which was +all that was offered him—partly to think the matter +over, but also partly perhaps because he heard certain +faint gurglings, and the passage of certain steps, active +and full of energy, past the door of the room within +which he sat, going now to the drawing-room, now up-stairs, +from which he divined that the new inmate of +the house was at present in possession of the drawing-room, +and of all attention there. He smiled at himself +for his hostility to the child, which, of course, was +entirely innocent of all blame. Here the man was inferior +to the woman in comprehension and sympathy; +for he not only could not understand how they could +possibly obtain solace in their trouble from this unconscious +little creature, but he was angry and scornful +of them for doing so. Phil Compton's brat, no +doubt the germ of a thousand troubles to come, but +besides that a nothing, a being without love or thought, +or even consciousness, a mere little animal feeding and +sleeping—and yet the idol and object of all the thoughts +of two intelligent women, capable of so much better +things! This irritated John and disgusted him in the +midst of all his anxious thoughts, and his profound +compassion and deliberations how best to help: and it +was not till the passage of certain feeble sounds outside +his door, which proceeded audibly up-stairs, little +bleatings in which, if they had come from a lamb, or +even a puppy, John would have been interested, assured +him that the small enemy had disappeared—that +he finally rose and proceeded to "join the ladies," as +if he had been holding a little private debauch all by +himself.</p> + +<p>There was a little fragrance and air of the visitor still +in the room, a little disturbance of the usual arrangements, +a surreptitious, quite unjustifiable look as of +pleasure in Elinor's eyes, which were less expanded, +and if as liquid as ever, more softly bright than before. +Something white actually lay on the sofa, a +small garment which Mrs. Dennistoun whisked away. +They were conscious of John's critical eye upon them, +and received him with a warmth of conciliatory welcome +which betrayed that consciousness. Mrs. Dennistoun +drew a chair for him to the other side of the fire. +She took her own place in the middle at the table +with a large piece of white knitting, to which she gave +her whole attention, and thus the deliberation began.</p> + +<p>"Elinor wants to know, John, what you think we +ought to do—to make quite sure—that there will be no +risk, about the baby."</p> + +<p>"I must know more of the details of the question +before I can give any advice," said John.</p> + +<p>"John," said Elinor, raising herself in her chair, +"here are all the details that are necessary. I have +come away. I have come home, finding that life was +impossible there. That is the whole matter. It may +be, probably it is, my own fault. It is simply that life +became impossible. You know you said that I was not +one to endure, to put up with things. I scoffed at you +then, for I did not expect to have anything to put up +with; but you were quite right, and life had become +impossible—that is all there is any need to say."</p> + +<p>"To me, yes," said John, "but not enough, Elinor, +if it ever has to come within the reach of the law."</p> + +<p>"But why should it come within the reach of the +law? You, John, you are a lawyer; you know the +rights of everything. I thought you might have +arranged it all. Couldn't you try to make a kind of a +bargain? What bargain? Oh, am I a lawyer, do I +know? But you, John, who have it all at your fingers' +ends, who know what can be done and what can't be +done, and the rights that one has and that another has! +Dear John! if you were to try, don't you think that you +could settle it all, simply as between people who don't +want any exposure, any struggle, but only to be quiet +and to be let alone?"</p> + +<p>"Elinor, I don't know what I could do with so little +information as I have. To know that you found your +life impossible is enough for me. But you know most +people are right in their own eyes. If we have some +one opposed to us who thinks, for instance, that the +fault was yours?"</p> + +<p>"Well," she cried, eagerly, "I am willing to accept +that: say that the fault was mine! You could confirm +it, that it was likely to be mine. You could tell them +what an impatient person I was, and that you said I +was not one to try an experiment, for I never, never +could put up with anything. John, you could be a +witness as well as an advocate. You could prove that +you always expected—and that I am quite, quite willing +to allow that it was I<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Elinor, if I could only make you understand what I +mean! I am told that I am not to mention any names?"</p> + +<p>"No, no names, no names! What is the good? We +both know very well what we mean."</p> + +<p>"But I don't know very well what you mean. Don't +you see that if it is your fault—if the other party is +innocent—there can be no reason in the world why he +should consent to renounce his rights. It is not a +mere matter of feeling. There is right in it one way +or another—either on your side or else on the other side; +and if it is on the other side, why should a man give up +what belongs to him, why should he renounce what is—most +dear to him?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, John, John, John!" she made this appeal and +outcry, clasping her hands together with a mixture of +supplication and impatience. Then turning to her +mother—"Oh, tell him," she cried, "tell him!"—always +clasping those impatient yet beseeching hands.</p> + +<p>"You see, John," said Mrs. Dennistoun, "Elinor knows +that the right is on her side: but she will consent to say +nothing about it to any one—to give herself out as the +offender rather—that is to say, as an ill-disciplined person +that cannot put up with anything, as you seem to +have said."</p> + +<p>John laughed with vexation, yet a kind of amusement. +"I never said it nor thought it: still if it pleases her +to think so<span class="norewrap">——</span> The wiser thing if this separation is +final<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"If it is final!" Elinor cried. She raised herself up +again in her chair, and contemplated the unfortunate +John with a sort of tragic superiority. "Do you think +that of me," she said, "that I would take such a step as +this and that it should not be final? Is dying final? +Could one do such a thing as this and change?"</p> + +<p>"Such things have been done," said John. "Elinor, +forgive me. I must say it—it is all your life that +is in the balance, and another life. There is this infant +to be struggled over, perhaps rent in two by those who +should have united to take care of him—and it's a boy, +I hear. There's his name and his after-life to think of—a +child without a father, perhaps the heir of a family +to which he will not belong. Elinor—tell her, aunt, +you understand: is it my wish to hand her back to—to<span class="norewrap">——</span> No, +I'll speak no names. But you know I +disliked it always, opposed it always. It is not out of +any favour to—to the other side. But she ought to +take all these things into account. Her own position, +and the position in the future of the child<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>Elinor had crushed her fan with her hands, and Mrs. +Dennistoun let the knitting with which she had gone on +in spite of all fall at last in her lap. There was a little +pause. John Tatham's voice itself had began to falter, +or rather swelled in sound as when a stream swells in +flood.</p> + +<p>"I do not go into the question about women and +what they ought to put up with," said John, resuming. +"There's many things that law can do nothing for—and +nature in many ways makes it harder for women, I acknowledge. +We cannot change that. Think what her +position will be—neither a wife nor with the freedom +of a widow; and the boy, bearing the name of one he +must almost be taught to think badly of—for one of +them must be in the wrong<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"He shall never, never hear that name; he shall +know nothing, he shall be free of every bond; his mind +shall never be cramped or twisted or troubled by any—man—if +I live."</p> + +<p>This Elinor said, lifting her pale face from her hands +with eyes that flashed and shone with a blaze of excitement +and weakness.</p> + +<p>"There already," said John, "is a tremendous condition—if +you live! Who can make sure that they will +live? We must all die—some sooner, some later—and +you wearing yourself out with excitement, that never +were strong; you exposing your heart, the weakest +organ<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"John," said Mrs. Dennistoun, grasping him by the +arm, "you are talking nonsense, you don't know what +you are saying. My darling! she was never weak nor +had a feeble heart, nor—anything! She will live to bring +up <i>his</i> children, her baby's children, upon her knees."</p> + +<p>"And what would it matter?" said Elinor—looking +at him with clear eyes, from which the tears had disappeared +in the shock of this unlooked-for suggestion—"suppose +I have no more strength than that, suppose I +were to die? you shall be his guardian, John, bring him +up a good man; and his Heavenly Father will take +care of him. I am not afraid."</p> + +<p>A man had better not deal with such subjects between +two women. What with Mrs. Dennistoun's indignant +protest and Elinor's lofty submission, John was at his +wits' end. "I did not mean to carry things to such a +bitter end as that," he said. "You want to force me +into a corner and make me say things I never meant. +The question is serious enough without that."</p> + +<p>There was again a little pause, and then Elinor, with +one of those changes which are so perplexing to sober-minded +people, suddenly turned to him, holding out +both her hands.</p> + +<p>"John—we'll leave that in God's hands whatever is +to happen to me. But in the meantime, while I am living—and +perhaps my life depends upon being quiet and +having a little peace and rest. It is not that I care +very much for my life," said Elinor, with that clear, +open-eyed look, like the sky after rain—"I am shipwrecked, +John, as you say—but my mother does, and +it's of—some—consequence—to baby; and if it depends +upon whether I am left alone, you are too good a friend +to leave me in the lurch. And you said—one night—whatever +happened I was to send for you."</p> + +<p>John sprang up from his seat, dropping the hands +which he had taken into his own. She was like Queen +Katherine, "about to weep," and her breast strained +with the sobbing effort to keep it down.</p> + +<p>"For God's sake," he cried, "don't play upon our +hearts like this! I will do anything—everything—whatever +you choose to tell me. Aunt, don't let her +cry, don't let her go on like that. Why, good +heavens!" he cried, bursting himself into a kind of big +sob, "won't it be bad for that little brat of a baby or +something if she keeps going on in this way?"</p> + +<p>Thus John Tatham surrendered at discretion. What +could he do more? A man cannot be played upon like +an instrument without giving out sounds of which he +will, perhaps, be ashamed. And this woman appealing +to him—this girl—looking like the little Elinor he remembered, +younger and softer in her weakness and +trouble than she had been in her beauty and pride—was +the creature after all, though she would never know +it, whom he loved best in the world. He had wanted +to save her, in the one worldly way of saving her, from +open shipwreck, for her own sake, against every prejudice +and prepossession of his mind. But if she would +not have that, why it was his business to save her as +she wished, to do for her whatever she wanted; to act +as her agent, her champion, whatever she pleased.</p> + +<p>He was sent away presently, and accepted his dismissal +with thankfulness, to smoke his cigar. This is +one amusing thing in a feminine household. A man is +supposed to want all manner of little indulgences and +not to be able to do without them. He is carefully left +alone over "his wine"—the aforesaid glass of claret; +and ways and means are provided for him to smoke +his cigar, whether he wishes it or not. He had often +laughed at these regulations of his careful relatives, but +he was rather glad of them to-night. "I am going to +get Elinor to bed," said Mrs. Dennistoun. "It has, +perhaps, been a little too much for her: but when you +have finished your cigar, John, if you will come back to +the drawing-room for a few minutes you will find me +here."</p> + +<p>John did not smoke any cigar. It is all very well to +be soothed and consoled by tobacco in your own room, +at your own ease: but when you are put into a lady's +dining-room, where everything is nice, and where the +curtains will probably smell of smoke next morning: +and when your mind is exercised beyond even the +power of the body to keep still, that is not a time to +enjoy such calm and composing delights. But he +walked about the room in which he was shut up like a +wild beast in his cage, sometimes with long strides from +wall to wall, sometimes going round, with that abstract +trick of his, staring at the pictures, as if he did not know +every picture in the place by heart. He forgot that he +was to go back to the drawing-room again after Elinor +had been taken to bed, and it was only after having +waited for him a long time that Mrs. Dennistoun came, +almost timidly, knocking at her own dining-room door, +afraid to disturb her visitor in the evening rites which +she believed in so devoutly. She did go in, however, +and they stood together over the fire for a few minutes, +he staring down upon the glow at his feet, she contemplating +fitfully, unconsciously, her own pale face and +his in the dim mirror on the mantelpiece. They talked +in low tones about Elinor and her health, and her determination +which nothing would change.</p> + +<p>"Of course I will do it," said John; "anything—whatever +she may require of me—there are no two +words about that. There is only one thing: I will not +compromise her by taking any initiative. Let us wait +and see what they are going to do<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"But, John, might it not be better to disarm him by +making overtures? anything, I would do anything if he +would but let her remain unmolested—and the baby."</p> + +<p>"Do you mean money?" he said.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dennistoun gave him an abashed look, deprecatory +and wistful, but did not make any reply.</p> + +<p>"Phil Compton is a cad, and a brute, and a scamp of +the first water," said John, glad of some way to get rid +of his excitement; "but I do not think that even he +would sell his wife and his child for money. I wouldn't +do him so much discredit as that."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I beg your pardon, John," Mrs. Dennistoun +said.</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXVI.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>John left the Cottage next morning with the full conduct +of the affairs of the family placed in his hands. +The ladies were both a little doubtful if his plan was +the best—they were still frightened for what might +happen, and kept up a watch, as John perceived, fearing +every step that approached, trembling at every +shadow. They remembered many stories, such as rush +to the minds of persons in trouble, of similar cases, of +the machinations of the bad father whose only object +was to overcome and break down his wife, and who +stole his child away to let it languish and die. There +are some circumstances in which people forget all the +shades of character, and take it for granted that a man +who can go wrong in one matter will act like a very +demon in all. This was doubly strong in Mrs. Dennistoun, +a woman full of toleration and experience; but +the issues were so momentous to her, and the possible +results so terrible, that she lost her accustomed good +sense. It was more natural, perhaps, that Elinor, who +was weak in health and still full of the arbitrariness of +youth, should entertain this fear—without considering +that Phil was the very last man in the world to burden +himself with an infant of the most helpless age—which +seemed to John an almost quite unreasonable one. Almost—for, +of course, he too was compelled to allow, +when driven into a corner, that there was nothing that +an exasperated man might not do. Elinor had come +down early to see her cousin before he left the house, +bringing with her in her arms the little bundle of muslin +and flannel upon the safety of which her very life +seemed to depend. John looked at it, and at the small +pink face and unconscious flickering hands that formed +the small centre to all those wrappings, with a curious +mixture of pity and repugnance. It was like any other +blind new-born kitten or puppy, he thought, but not so +amusing—no, it was not blind, to be sure. At one +moment, without any warning, it suddenly opened a +pair of eyes, which by a lively exercise of fancy might +be supposed like Elinor's, and seemed to look him in +the face, which startled him very much, with a curious +notification of the fact that the thing was not a kitten +or a puppy. But then a little quiver came over the +small countenance, and the attendant said it was "the +wind." Perhaps the opening of the eyes was the wind +too, or some other automatic effect. He would not +hold out his finger to be clasped tight by the little +flickering fist, as Elinor would have had him. He would +none of those follies; he turned away from it not to +allow himself to be moved by the effect, quite a meretricious +one, of the baby in the young mother's arms. +That was all poetry, sentiment, the trick of the painter, +who had found the combination beautiful. Such ideas +belonged, indeed, to the conventional-sacred, and he +had never felt any profane resistance of mind against +the San Sisto picture or any of its kind. But Phil Compton's +brat was a very different thing. What did it matter +what became of it? If it were not for Elinor's perverse +feeling on the subject, and that perfectly imbecile +prostration of her mother, a sensible woman who ought +to have known better, before the little creature, he would +himself have been rather grateful to Phil Compton for +taking it away. But when he saw the look of terror +upon Elinor's face when an unexpected step came to +the door, when he saw her turn and fly, wrapping the +child in her arms, on her very heart as it seemed, bending +over it, covering it so that it disappeared altogether +in her embrace, John's heart was a little touched. It +was only a hawking tramp with pins and needles, who +came by mistake to the hall door, but her panic and +anguish of alarm were a spectacle which he could not +get out of his eyes.</p> + +<p>"You see, she never feels safe for a moment. It will +be hard to persuade her that that man, though I've seen +him about the roads for years, is not an emissary—or +a spy—to find out if she is here."</p> + +<p>"I am sure it is quite an unnecessary panic," said +John. "In the first place, Phil Compton's the last man +to burden himself with a child; in the second, he's not +a brute nor a monster."</p> + +<p>"You called him a brute last night, John."</p> + +<p>"I did not mean in that way. I don't mean to stand +by any rash word that may be forced from me in a moment +of irritation. Aunt, get her to give over that. +She'll torture herself to death for nothing. He'll not +try to take the child away—not just now, at all events, +not while it is a mere<span class="norewrap">——</span> Bring her to her senses on +that point. You surely can do that?"</p> + +<p>"If I was quite sure of being in my own," Mrs. Dennistoun +said, with a forlorn smile. "I am as much +frightened as she is, John. And, remember, if there +is anything to be done—anything<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"There is nothing but a little common sense wanted," +said John. But as he drove away from the door, and +saw the hawker with the needles still about, the ladies +had so infected him that it was all he could do to restrain +an inclination to take the vagrant by the collar +and throw him down the combe.</p> + +<p>"Who's that fellow hanging about?" he said to +Pearson, who was driving him; "and what does he +want here?"</p> + +<p>"Bless you, sir! that's Joe," Pearson said. "He's +after no harm. He's honest enough as long as there +ain't nothing much in his way; and he's waiting for +the pieces as cook gives him once a week when he +comes his rounds. There's no harm in poor Joe."</p> + +<p>"I suppose not, since you say so," said John; "but +you know the ladies are rather nervous, Pearson. You +must keep a look-out that no suspicious-looking person +hangs about the house."</p> + +<p>"Bless us! Mr. John," said Pearson, "what are they +nervous about?—the baby? But nobody wants to +steal a baby, bless your soul!"</p> + +<p>"I quite agree with you," said John, much relieved +(though he considered Pearson an old fool, in a general +way) to have his own opinion confirmed. "But, all +the same, I wish you would be doubly particular not to +admit anybody you don't know; and if any man should +appear to bother them send for me on the moment. +Do you hear?"</p> + +<p>"What do you call any man, sir?" said Pearson, +smartly. He had ideas of his own, though he might be +a fool.</p> + +<p>"I mean what I say," said John, more sharply still. +"Any one that molests or alarms them. Send me off +a telegram at once—'You're wanted!' That will be +quite enough. But don't go with it to the office yourself; +send somebody—there's always your boy about +the place—and keep about like a dragon yourself."</p> + +<p>"I'll do my best, sir," said Pearson, "though I don't +know what a dragon is, except it's the one in the Bible; +and that's not a thing anybody would want about the +place."</p> + +<p>It was a comfort to John, after all his troubles, to be +able to laugh, which he did with a heartiness which +surprised Pearson, who was quite unaware that he had +made any joke.</p> + +<p>These fears, however, which were imposed upon him +by the contagion of the terrors of the others, soon +passed from John's mind. He was convinced that +Phil Compton would take no such step; and that, however +much he might wish his wife to return, the possession +of the baby was not a thing which he would +struggle over. It cannot be denied, however, that he +was anxious, and eagerly inspected his letters in the +morning, and looked out for telegrams during the day. +Fortunately, however, no evil tidings came. Mrs. Dennistoun +reported unbroken peace in the Cottage and increasing +strength on the part of Elinor; and, in a parenthesis +with a sort of apology, of the baby. Nobody had +come near them to trouble them. Elinor had received +no letters. The tie between her and her husband +seemed to be cut as with a knife. "We cannot of +course," she said, "expect this tranquillity to last."</p> + +<p>And it came to be a very curious thought with John, +as week after week passed, whether it was to last—whether +Phil Compton, who had never been supposed +wanting in courage, intended to let his wife and child +drop off from him as if they had never been. This +seemed a thing impossible to conceive: but John said +to himself with much internal contempt that he knew +nothing of the workings of the mind of such a man, +and that it might for aught he knew be a common incident +in life with the Phil Comptons thus to shake off +their belongings when they got tired of them. The +fool! the booby! to get tired of Elinor! That rumour +which flies about the world so strangely and communicates +information about everybody to the vacant +ear, to be retailed to those whom it may concern, provided +him, as the days went by, with many particulars +which he had not been able to obtain from Elinor. +Phil, it appeared, had gone to Glenorban—the great +house to which he had been invited—alone, with an +excuse for his wife, whose state of health was not appropriate +to a large party, and had stayed there spending +Christmas with a brilliant houseful of guests, among +whom was the American lady who had captivated him. +Phil had paid one visit to the lodge to see Elinor, by +her mother's summons, at the crisis of her illness, but +had not hesitated to go away again when informed that +the crisis was over. Mrs. Dennistoun never told what +had passed between them on that occasion, but the +gossips of the club were credibly informed that she +had bullied and stormed at Phil, after the fashion of +mothers-in-law, till she had driven him away. Upon +which he had returned to his party and flirted with +Mrs. Harris more than ever. John discovered also that +the party having dispersed some time ago, Phil had +gone abroad. Whether in ignorance of his wife's +flight or not he could not discover; but it was almost +impossible to believe that he would have gone to +Monte Carlo without finding out something about Elinor—how +and where she was. But whether this was +the cause of his utter silence, or whether it was the +habit of men of his class to treat such tremendous incidents +in domestic life with levity, John Tatham could +not make out. He was congratulating himself, however, +upon keeping perfectly quiet, and leaving the conduct +of the matter to the other party, when the silence +was disturbed in what seemed to him the most curious +way.</p> + +<p>One afternoon when he returned from the court he +was aware, when he entered the outer office in which +his clerk abode, of what he described afterwards as a +smell fit to knock you down. It would have been described +more appropriately in a French novel as the +special perfume, subtle and exquisite, by which a beautiful +woman may be recognised wherever she goes. It +was, indeed, neither more nor less than the particular +scent used by Lady Mariamne, who came forward with +a sweep and rustle of her draperies, and the most ingratiating +of her smiles.</p> + +<p>"It appears to be fated that I am to wait for you," +she said. "How do you do, Mr. Tatham? Take me +out of this horrible dirty place. I am quite sure you +have some nice rooms in there." She pointed as she +spoke to the inner door, and moved towards it with +the air of a person who knew where she was going, +and was fully purposed to be admitted. John said +afterwards, that to think of this woman's abominable +scent being left in his room in which he lived (though +he also received his clients in it) was almost more than +he could bear. But, in the meantime, he could do +nothing but open the door to her, and offer her his +most comfortable chair.</p> + +<p>She seated herself with all those little tricks of movement +which are also part of the stock-in-trade of the +pretty woman. Lady Mariamne's prettiness was not of +a kind which had the slightest effect upon John, but +still it was a kind which received credit in society, being +the product of a great deal of pains and care and exquisite +arrangement and combination. She threw her fur +cloak back a little, arranged the strings of her bonnet +under her chin, which threw up the daintiness and rosiness +of a complexion about which there were many +questions among her closest friends. She shook up, +with what had often been commented upon as the +prettiest gesture, the bracelets from her wrists. She +arranged the veil, which just came over the tip of her +delicate nose, she put out her foot as if searching for a +footstool—which John made haste to supply, though he +remained unaffected otherwise by all these pretty preliminaries.</p> + +<p>"Sit down, Mr. Tatham," then said Lady Mariamne. +"It makes me wretchedly uncomfortable, as if you were +some dreadful man waiting to be paid or something, to +see you standing there."</p> + +<p>Though John's first impulse was that of wrath to be +thus requested to sit down in his own chambers, the +position was amusing as well as disagreeable, and he +laughed and drew a chair towards his writing-table, +which was as crowded and untidy as the writing-table +of a busy man usually is, and placed himself in an +attitude of attention, though without asking any question.</p> + +<p>"Well," said Lady Mariamne, slowly drawing off her +glove; "you know, of course, why I have come, Mr. +Tatham—to talk over with you, as a man who knows +the world, this deplorable business. You see it has +come about exactly as I said. I knew what would happen: +and though I am not one of those people who always +insist upon being proved right, you remember +what I said<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"I remember that you said something—to which, +perhaps, had I thought I should have been called upon +to give evidence as to its correctness—I should have +paid more attention, Lady Mariamne."</p> + +<p>"How rude you are!" she said, with her whole interest +concentrated upon the slow removal of her glove. +Then she smoothed a little, softly, the pretty hand which +was thus uncovered, and said, "How red one's hands +get in this weather," and then laughed. "You don't +mean to tell me, Mr. Tatham," she said, suddenly raising +her eyes to his, "that, considering what a very +particular person we were discussing, you can't remember +what I said?"</p> + +<p>John was obliged to confess that he remembered +more or less the gist of her discourse, and Lady +Mariamne nodded her head many times in acceptance +of his confession.</p> + +<p>"Well," she said, "you see what it has come to. An +open scandal, a separation, and everything broken up. +For one thing, I knew if she did not give him his head +a little that's what would happen. I don't believe he +cares a brass farthing for that other woman. She makes +fun of everybody, and that amused him. And it amused +him to put Nell in a state—that as much as anything. +Why couldn't she see that and learn to <i>prendre son parti</i> +like other people? She was free to say, 'You go your +way and I'll go mine:' the most of us do that sooner or +later: but to make a vulgar open rupture, and go off—like +this."</p> + +<p>"I fail to see the vulgarity in it," said John.</p> + +<p>"Oh, of course; everything she does is perfect to +you. But just think, if it had been your own case—followed +about and bullied by a jealous woman, in a +state of health that of itself disgusts a man<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Lady Mariamne, you must pardon me if I refuse to +listen to anything more of this kind," said John, starting +to his feet.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I warn you, you'll be compelled to listen to a +great deal more if you're her agent as I hear! Phil will +find means of compelling you to hear if you don't like +to take your information from me."</p> + +<p>"I should like to know how Mr. Phil Compton will +succeed in compelling me—to anything I don't choose +to do."</p> + +<p>"You think, perhaps, because there's no duelling in +this country he can't do anything. But there is, all the +same. He would shame you into it—he could say you +were—sheltering yourself<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"I am not a man to fight duels," said John, very +angry, but smiling, "in any circumstances, even were +such a thing not utterly ridiculous; but even a fighting +man might feel that to put himself on a level with the +dis-Hon<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>He stopped himself as he said it. How mean it was—to +a woman!—descending to their own methods. But +Lady Mariamne was too quick for him.</p> + +<p>"Oh," she said; "so you've heard of that, a nickname +that no gentleman<span class="norewrap">——</span>" then she too paused and looked +at him, with a momentary flush. He was going to +apologize abjectly, when with a slight laugh she turned +the subject aside.</p> + +<p>"Pretty fools we are, both of us, to talk such nonsense. +I didn't come here carrying Phil on my +shoulders, to spring at your throat if you expressed +your opinion. Look here—tell me, don't let us go beating +about the bush, Mr. Tatham—I suppose you have +seen Nell?"</p> + +<p>"I know my cousin's mind, at least," he said.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, just tell me as between friends—there's +no need we should quarrel because they have done so. +Tell me this, is she going to get up a divorce case<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"A divorce<span class="norewrap">——</span>!"</p> + +<p>"Because," said Lady Mariamne, "she'll find it precious +difficult to prove anything. I know she will. She +may prove the flirting and so forth—but what's that? +You can tell her from me, it wants somebody far better +up to things than she is to prove anything. I warn her +as a friend she'll not get much good by that move."</p> + +<p>"I am not aware," said John, "whether Mrs. Compton +has made up her mind about the further steps<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Then just you advise her not," cried Lady Mariamne. +"It doesn't matter to me: I shall be none +the worse whatever she does: but if you are her true +friend you will advise her not. She might tell what she +thinks, but that's no proof. Mr. Tatham, I know you +have great influence with Nell."</p> + +<p>"Not in a matter like this," said John, with great +gravity. "Of course she alone can be the judge."</p> + +<p>"What nonsense you talk, you men! Of course she +is not the least the judge, and of course she will be +guided by you."</p> + +<p>"You may be sure she shall have the best advice that +I can give," John said with a bow.</p> + +<p>"You want me to go, I see," said Lady Mariamne; +"you are dreadfully rude, standing up all the time to +show me I had better go." Hereupon she recommenced +her little <i>manège</i>, drawing on her glove, letting her +bracelets drop again, fastening the fur round her throat. +"Well, Mr. Tatham," she said, "I hope you mean to +have the civility to see after my carriage. I can't go +roaming about hailing it as if it were a hansom cab—in +this queer place."</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXVII.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>John went down to Windyhill that evening. His appearance +alarmed the little household more than words +could say. As he was admitted at once by the servants, +delighted to see him, he walked in suddenly into the +midst of a truly domestic scene. The baby lay on +Elinor's knee in the midst of a mass of white wrappings, +kicking out a pair of pink little legs in the front of the +fire. Elinor herself was seated on a very low chair, and +illuminated by the cheerful blaze, which threw a glare +upon her countenance, and called out unthought-of +lights in her hair, there was no appearance in her looks +of anxiety or trouble. She was altogether given up to +the baby and the joy of its new life. The little kicking +limbs, the pleasure of the little creature in the warmth, +the curling of its rosy little toes in the agreeable sensation +of the heat, were more to Elinor and to her mother, +who was kneeling beside her on the hearth-rug, than the +most refined and lofty pleasures in the world. The +most lofty of us have to come down to those primitive +sources of bliss, if we are happy enough to have them +placed in our way. The greatest poet by her side, the +music of the spheres sounding in her ear, would not +have made Elinor forget her troubles like the stretching +out towards the fire of those little pink toes.</p> + +<p>When the door opened, and the voice and step of a +man—dreaded sounds—were audible, a thrill of terror +ran over this little group. Mrs. Dennistoun sprang to +her feet and placed herself between the intruder and +the young mother, while Elinor gathered up, covering +him all over, so that he disappeared altogether, her +child in her arms.</p> + +<p>"It is John," said Mrs. Dennistoun. "God be +thanked, it is only John."</p> + +<p>But Elinor, quite overcome by the shock, burst +suddenly into tears, to which the baby responded by a +vigorous cry, not at all relishing the sudden huddling +up among its shawls to which it had been subjected. +It may be supposed what an effect this cloudy side of +the happiness, which he had not been able to deny to +himself made a very pretty scene, had upon John. He +said, not without a little offence, "I am sure I beg your +pardon humbly. I'll go away."</p> + +<p>Elinor turned round her head, smiling through her +tears. "It was only that you gave me a fright," +<ins title="original has she she">she</ins> said. "I am quite right again; don't, oh, don't go +away! unless you object to the sight of baby, and to +hear him cry; but he'll not cry now, any more than his +silly mother. Mamma, make John sit down and tell +us—Oh, I am sure he has something to tell us—Perhaps +I took comfort too soon; but the very sight of +John is a protection and a strength," she said, holding +out her hand to him. This sudden change of front reduced +John, who had been perhaps disposed for a moment +to stand on his dignity, to utter subjection. He +neither said nor even thought a word against the baby, +who was presently unfolded again, and turned once +more the toes of comfort towards the fire. He did not +approach too near, feeling that he had no particular +share in the scene, and indeed cut an almost absurd +figure in the midst of that group, but sat behind, contemplating +it from a little distance against the fire. +The evening had grown dark by this time, but the two +women, absorbed by their worship, had wanted no +light. It had happened to John by an extreme piece of +luck to catch the express train almost as soon as Lady +Mariamne had left him, and to reach the station at +Hurrymere before the February day was done.</p> + +<p>"You have something to tell us, John—good news +or bad?" Mrs. Dennistoun said.</p> + +<p>"Good; or I should not have come like this unannounced," +he said. "The post is quick enough for +bad. I think you may be quite at your ease about the +child—no claim will be made on the child. Elinor, I +think, will not be disturbed if—she means to take no +steps on her side."</p> + +<p>"What steps?" said Mrs. Dennistoun. Elinor turned +her head to look at him anxiously over the back of her +chair.</p> + +<p>"I have had a visit this afternoon," he said.</p> + +<p>"From—" Elinor drew a long hurried breath. She +said no name, but it was evident that one was on her +lips—a name she never meant to pronounce more, but +to which her whole being thrilled still even when it was +unspoken. She looked at him full of eagerness to hear +yet with a hand uplifted, as if to forbid any utterance.</p> + +<p>"From Lady Mariamne."</p> + +<p>How her countenance fell! She turned round again, +and bent over her baby. It was a pang of acute disappointment, +he could not but see, that went through her, +though she would not have allowed him to say that +name. Strange inconsistency! it ran over John too +with a sense of keen indignation, as if he had taken +from her an electric touch.</p> + +<p>"<span class="norewrap">——</span>Whose object in coming to me was to ascertain +whether you intended to bring a suit for—divorce."</p> + +<p>A cry rang through the room. Elinor turned upon +him for a moment a face blazing with hot and painful +colour. The lamp had been brought in, and he saw the +fierce blush and look of horror. Then she turned round +and buried it in her hands.</p> + +<p>"Divorce!" said Mrs. Dennistoun. "Elinor<span class="norewrap">——</span>! +To drag her private affairs before the world. Oh, John, +John, that could not be. You would not wish that to +be."</p> + +<p>"I!" he cried with a laugh of tuneless mirth. "Is +it likely that I would wish to drag Elinor before the +world?"</p> + +<p>Elinor did not say anything, but withdrew one hand +from her burning cheek and put it into his. These +women treated John as if he were a man of wood. +What he might be feeling, or if he were feeling anything, +did not enter their minds.</p> + +<p>"It was like her," said Elinor after a time in a low +hurried voice, "to think of that. She is the only one +who would think of it. As if I had ever thought or +dreamed<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"It is possible, however," he said, "that it might be +reasonable enough. I don't speak to Elinor," who had +let go his hand hastily, "but to you, aunt. If it is altogether +final, as she says, to be released would perhaps +be better, from a bond that was no bond."</p> + +<p>"John, John, would you have her add shame to +pain?"</p> + +<p>"The shame would not be to her, aunt."</p> + +<p>"The shame is to every one concerned—to every +one! My Elinor's name, her dear name, dragged +through all that mud! She a party, perhaps, to revelations—Oh, +never, never! We would bear anything +rather."</p> + +<p>"This of course," said John, "is perhaps a still more +bitter punishment for the other side."</p> + +<p>She looked round at him again. Looking up with a +look of pale horror, her eyelids in agonised curves over +her eyes, her mouth quivering. "What did you say, +John?"</p> + +<p>"I said it might be a more bitter punishment still +for—the other side."</p> + +<p>Elinor lifted up her baby to her breast, raising herself +with a new dignity, with her head high. "I meant +no punishment," she said, "I want none. I have left—what +killed me—behind me; many things, not one +only. I have brought my boy away that he may never—never— But +if it would be better that—another +should be free—"</p> + +<p>"I will never give my consent to it, Elinor."</p> + +<p>"Nor I with my own mind; but if it is vindictive—if +it is revenge, mother! I am not alone to think of +myself. If it were better for <span class="norewrap">——</span> that he should be free; +speak to John about it and tell me. I cannot, cannot +discuss it. I will leave it all to John and you. It will +kill me! but what does that matter?—it is not revenge +that I seek."</p> + +<p>She turned with the baby pressed to her breast and +walked away, her every movement showing the strain +and excitement of her soul.</p> + +<p>"Why did you do this, John, without at least consulting +me? You have thrown a new trouble into her +mind. She will never, never do this thing—nor would +I permit it. There are some things in which I must +take a part. I could not forbid her marriage; God +grant that I had had the strength to do it—but this I +will forbid, to expose her to the whole world, when +everything we have done has been with the idea of concealing +what had happened. Never, never. I will +never consent to it, John."</p> + +<p>"I had no intention of proposing such a step; but +the other side—as we are bound to call him—are frightened +about it. And when I saw her look up, so young +still, so sweet, with all her life before her, and thought +how she must spend it—alone; with no expanding, no +development, in this cottage or somewhere else, a life +shipwrecked, a being so capable, so full of possibilities—lost."</p> + +<p>"I have spent my life in this cottage," said Mrs. +Dennistoun. "My husband died when I was thirty—my +life was over, and still I was young; but I had Elinor. +There were some who pitied me too, but their +pity was uncalled for. Elinor will live like her mother, +she has her boy."</p> + +<p>"But it is different; you cannot but see the difference."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I see it—it is different; but not so different +that my Elinor's name should be placarded about the +streets and put in all the newspapers. Oh, never, +never, John. If the man suffers, it is his fault. She +will suffer, and it is not her fault; but I will not, to release +him, drag my child before the world."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dennistoun was so much excited that she began +to pace about the room, she who was usually so sober +and self restrained. She had borne much, but this she +was unable even to contemplate with calm. For once +in her life she had arrived at something which she +would not bear. John felt his own position very strange +sitting looking on as a spectator, while this woman, usually +so self-controlled, showed her impatience of circumstances +and fate. It was ruefully comic that this should +be, so to speak, his doing, though he was the last in the +world to desire any exposure of Elinor, or to have any +sympathy with those who sought justice for themselves +or revenge on others at such a cost.</p> + +<p>"I was rash perhaps to speak as I did," he said; "I +had no intention of doing it when I came. It was a +mere impulse, seeing Elinor: but you must know that +I agree with you perfectly. I see that Elinor's lot is +fixed anyhow. I believe that no decree of a court would +make any difference to her, and she would not change +the name that is the child's name. All that I recognise. +And one thing more, that neither you nor Elinor has +recognised. They—he is afraid of any proceedings—I +suppose I may mention him to you. It's rather absurd, +don't you think, speaking of a fellow of that sort, or +rather, not speaking of him at all, as if his name was +sacred? He is afraid of proceedings—whatever may be +the cause."</p> + +<p>"John, can't you understand that she cannot bear to +speak of him, a man she so fought for, against us all? +And now her eyes are opened, she is undeceived, she +knows him all through and through, more, far more, +than we do. She opened her mind to me once, and +only once. It was not <i>that</i> alone; oh, no, no. There +are things that rankle more than that, something he +did before they were married, and made her help him +to conceal. Something dishon—I can't say the word, +John."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said John, grimly, "you need not mind +me."</p> + +<p>"Well, the woman—I blush to have to speak to you +even of such a thing—the woman, John, was not the +worst. She almost might, I think, have forgiven that. +It was one thing after another, and that, that first business +the worst of all. She found it out somehow, and +he had made her take a part—I can't tell what. She +would never open her lips on the subject again. Only +that once it all burst forth. Oh, divorce! What would +that do to her, besides the shame? You understand +some things, John," said Mrs. Dennistoun, with a smile, +"though you are a man. She would never do anything +to give herself a name different from her child's."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said John, with a laugh, "I think I understand +a thing or two, though, as you say, my dear aunt, I am +only a man. However, it is just as well I am that imperfect +creature, to take care of you. It understands +the tactics of the wicked better than you do. And now +you must persuade Elinor and persuade yourself of +what I came here on purpose to tell you—not to disturb +you, as I have been so unfortunate as to do. You +are perfectly safe from him. I will not let the enemy +know your sentiments, or how decided you are on the +subject. I will perhaps, if you will let me, crack the +whip a little over their heads, and keep them in a pleasing +uncertainty. But as long as he is afraid that she +will take proceedings against him, he will take none, you +may be sure, against her. So you may throw aside all +your precautions and be happy over your treasure in +your own way."</p> + +<p>"Thank God for what you say, John; you take a +weight off my heart. But happy—how can you speak +of being happy after such a catastrophe?"</p> + +<p>"I thought I came in upon a very happy little scene. +It might be only pretence, but it looked uncommonly +like the real thing."</p> + +<p>"You mean the baby, John, the dear infant that +knows no harm. He does take off our thoughts a little, +and enable us to bear<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Oh, aunt, don't be a hypocrite; that was never a +fault of yours. Confess that with all your misery about +Elinor you are happy to have her here and her +child—notwithstanding everything—happy as you have not +been for many a day."</p> + +<p>She sat down by him and gave him her hand. "John, +to be a man you have wonderful insight, and it's I who +am a very, very imperfect creature. You don't think +worse of me to be glad to have her, even though it is +purchased by such misery and trouble? God knows," +cried the poor lady, drying her eyes, "that I would give +her up to-morrow, and with joy, and consent never to +see her again, if that would be for her happiness. John! +I've not thrust myself upon them, have I, nor done anything +against him, nor said a word? But now that she +is here, and the baby, and all to myself—which I never +hoped—would I not be an ungrateful woman if I did +not thank God for it, John?"</p> + +<p>"You are an excellent special pleader, aunt," he said, +with a laugh, "as most women whom I have known +are: and I agree with you in everything. You behaved +to them, while it was <i>them</i>, angelically: you effaced +yourself, and I fully believe you never said a word +against him. Also, I believe that if circumstances +changed, if anything happened to make her see that she +could go back to him<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dennistoun started in spite of herself, and +pressed her hands together, with a half sob of dismay.</p> + +<p>"I don't think it likely, but if it were so, you would +sacrifice yourself again—I haven't a doubt of it. Why, +then, set up this piece of humbug to me who know you +so well, and pretend that you are not very happy for the +moment? You are, and you have a good right to be: +and I say enjoy it, my dear aunt; take all the good of +it, you will have no trouble from him."</p> + +<p>"You think so, you really think so, John?"</p> + +<p>"I have no doubt of it: and you must persuade +Elinor. Don't think I am making light of the situation: +you'll have plenty to trouble you no doubt, when that +little shaver grows up<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"John!"</p> + +<p>"Well, he is a little shaver (whatever that may mean +I'm sure I don't know), if he were a little prince. +When he grows up you will have your business laid out +for you, and I don't envy you the clearing up<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"John don't speak as if a time would come when you +would not stand by us. I mean stand by Elinor."</p> + +<p>"Your first phrase was much the best. I will stand +by you both as a matter of course."</p> + +<p>"You must consider I shall be an old woman then; +and who knows if I may live to see the poor little +darling grow up?"</p> + +<p>"The poor little darling may never grow up, and +none of us may live to see it. One prediction is as +good as another: but I think better things of you, aunt, +than that you would go and die and desert Elinor, unless +'so be as you couldn't help it,' as Pearson says. +But, however, in the meantime, dying of anybody is +not in the question, and I hope both you and she will +take as much pleasure out of the baby and be as happy +as circumstances will allow. And I'll tell Pearson that +there is no need for him to act the dragon—either the +Bible one, whom he did not think you would like to +have about the house, or any other—for the danger is +over. Trust me at least for that."</p> + +<p>"I trust you for everything, John; but," added Mrs. +Dennistoun, "I wouldn't say anything to Pearson. If +you've told him to be a dragon, let him be a dragon +still. I am sure you are right, and I will tell Elinor so, +and comfort her heart; but we may as well keep a good +look out, and our eyes about us, all the same."</p> + +<p>"They are sure I am right, but think it better to go +on as if I were wrong," John said to himself as he went +to dress for dinner. And while he went through this +ceremony, he had a great many thoughts—half-impatient, +half-tender—of the wonderful ways of women +which are so amazing to men in general, as the ways of +men are amazing to women, and will be so, no doubt, +as long as the world goes on. The strange mixture of +the wise and the foolish, the altogether heroic, and the +involuntarily fictitious, struck his keen perception with +a humourous understanding, and amusement, and +sympathy. That Mrs. Dennistoun should pose a little +as a sufferer while she was unmitigatedly happy in the +possession of Elinor and the child, and be abashed when +she was forced to confess how ecstatic was the fearful +joy which she snatched in the midst of danger, was +strange enough. But that Elinor, at this dreadful +crisis of her life, when every bond was rent asunder, +and all that is ordinarily called happiness wrecked for +ever, should be moved to the kind of rapture he had +seen in her face by the reaching out and curling in of +those little pink toes in the warm light of the fire, was +inconceivable—a thing that was not in any philosophy. +She had made shipwreck of her life. She had torn the +man whom she loved out of her heart, and fled from +his neglect and treachery—a fugitive to her mother's +house. And yet as she sat before the fire with this little +infant cooing in the warmth—like a puppy or a little +pig, or any other little animal you can suggest—this was +the thought of the irreverent man—there was a look +of almost more than common happiness, of blessedness, +in her face. Who can fathom these things? They +were at least beyond the knowledge, though not the +sympathy, of this very rising member of the bar.</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXVIII.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>Thus there came a sort of settling down and composure +of affairs. Phil Compton and all belonging to +him disappeared from the scene, and Elinor returned +to all the habits of her old life—all the habits, with one +extraordinary and incalculable addition which changed +all these habits. The baby—so inconsiderable a little +creature, not able to show a feeling, or express a +thought, or make even a tremulous step from one pair +of loving arms to another—an altogether helpless little +bundle, but nevertheless one who had already altered +the existence of the cottage and its inhabitants, and +made life a totally different thing for them. Can I tell +how this was done? No doubt for the wisest objects, +to guard the sacred seed of the race as mere duty could +never guard it, rendering it the one thing most precious +in the world to those to whom it is confided—at least +to most of them. When that love fails, then is the deepest +abyss of misery reached. I do not say that Elinor +was happy in this dreadful breaking up of her life, or +that her heart did not go back, with those relentings +which are the worst part of every disruption, to the man +who had broken her heart and unsettled her nature. +The remembrance of him in his better moments would +flash upon her, and bear every resentment away. +Dreadful thoughts of how she might herself have done +otherwise, have rendered their mutual life better, would +come over her; and next moment recollections still +more terrible of what he had done and said, the scorn +she had borne, the insults, the neglect, and worse of all +the complicity he had forced upon her, by which he +had made her guilty when she knew and feared nothing—when +these thoughts overcame her, as they did +twenty times in a day, for it is the worst of such +troubles that they will not be settled by one struggle, +but come back and back, beginning over again at the +same point, after we have wrestled through them, and +have thought that we had come to a close—when these +thoughts, I say, overcame her, she would rush to the +room in which the baby held his throne, and press him +to the heart which was beating so hotly, till it grew +calm. And in the midst of all to sit down by the fire +with the little atom of humanity in her lap, and see it +spread and stretch its rosy limbs, would suffice to bring +again to her face that beatitude which had filled John +Tatham with wonder unspeakable. She took the baby +and laid him on her heart to take the pain away: and +so after a minute or two there was no more question +of pain, but of happiness, and delicious play, and the +raptures of motherhood. How strange were these +things! She could not understand it herself, and +fortunately did not try, but accepted that solace provided +by God. As for Mrs. Dennistoun, she made no +longer any pretences to herself, but allowed herself, as +John had advised, to take her blessedness frankly without +hypocrisy. When Elinor's dear face was veiled by +misery her mother was sympathetically miserable, but +at all other moments her heart sang for joy. She had +her child again, and she had her child's child, an endless +occupation, amusement, and delight. All this +might come to an end—who can tell when?—but for +the moment her house was no more lonely, the requirements +of her being were satisfied. She had +her Elinor—what more was to be said? And yet there +was more to be said, for in addition there was the +boy.</p> + +<p>This was very well so far as the interior of the house +and of their living was concerned, but very soon other +difficulties arose. It had been Mrs. Dennistoun's desire, +when she returned home, to communicate some modified +version of what had happened to the neighbours +around. She had thought it would not only be wise, +but easier for themselves, that their position should be +understood in the little parish society which, if it did +not know authoritatively, would certainly inquire and +investigate and divine, with the result of perhaps believing +more than the truth, perhaps setting up an entirely +fictitious explanation which it would be impossible +to set aside, and very hard to bear. It is the worst +of knowing a number of people intimately, and being +known by them from the time your children were in +their cradles, that every domestic incident requires +some sort of explanation to this close little circle of +spectators. But Elinor, who had not the experience of +her mother in such matters, nor the knowledge of life, +made a strenuous opposition to this. She would not +have anything said. It was better, she thought, to leave +it to their imagination, if they chose to interfere with +their neighbours' concerns and imagine anything. "But +why should they occupy themselves about us? And +they have no imaginations," she said, with a contempt +of her neighbours which is natural to young people, +though very unjustifiable. "But, my darling," Mrs. +Dennistoun would say, "the position is so strange. +There are not many young women who—And there +must be some way of accounting for it. Let us just +tell them<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"For heaven's sake, mamma, tell them nothing! I +have come to pay you a long visit after my neglect of +you for these two years, which, of course, they know +well enough. What more do they want to know? It is +a very good reason: and while baby is so young of +course it is far better for him to be in a settled home, +where he can be properly attended to, than moving +about. Isn't that enough?"</p> + +<p>"Well, Elinor; at least you will let me say as much +as that<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Oh, they can surely make it out for themselves. +What is the use of always talking a matter over, to lead +to a little more, and a little more, till the appetite for +gossip is satisfied? Surely, in our circumstances, least +said is soonest mended," Elinor said, with that air of +superior understanding which almost always resides in +persons of the younger generation. Mrs. Dennistoun +said no more to her, but she did take advantage of the +explanation thus suggested. She informed the anxious +circle at the Rectory that Elinor had come to her on a +long visit, "partly for me, and partly for the baby," she +said, with one of those smiles which are either the +height of duplicity or the most pathetic evidence of +self-control, according as you choose to regard them. +"She thinks she has neglected her mother, though I am +sure I have never blamed her; and she thinks—of which +there can be no doubt—that to carry an infant of that +age moving about from place to place is the worst thing +in the world; and that I am very thankful she should +think so, I need not say."</p> + +<p>"It is very nice for you, dear Mrs. Dennistoun," +Mrs. Hudson said.</p> + +<p>"And a good thing for Elinor," said Alice, "for she +is looking very poorly. I have always heard that +fashionable life took a great deal out of you if you are +not quite brought up to it. I am sure I couldn't stand +it," the young lady said with fervour, who had never +had that painful delight in her power.</p> + +<p>"That is all very well," said the Rector, rubbing his +hands, "but what does Mr. Compton say to it? I don't +want to say a word against your arrangements, my dear +lady, but you know there must be some one on the husband's +side. Now, I am on the husband's side, and I +am sorry for the poor young man. I hope he is going +to join his wife. I hope, excuse me for saying it, that +Elinor—though we are all so delighted to see her—will +not forsake him, for too long."</p> + +<p>And then Mrs. Dennistoun felt herself compelled to +embroider a little upon her theme.</p> + +<p>"He has to be a great deal abroad during this year," +she said; "he has a great many things to do. Elinor +does not know when he will be—home. That is one +reason<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"To be sure, to be sure," the Rector said, rubbing +his hands still more, and coming to her aid just as she +was breaking down. "Something diplomatic, of course. +Well, we must not inquire into the secrets of the State. +But what an ease to his mind, my dear lady, to think +that his wife and child will be safe with you while he's +away!"</p> + +<p>Mary Dale not being present could not of course say +anything. She was a person who was always dreadfully +well informed. It was a comfort unspeakable that at +this moment she was away!</p> + +<p>This explanation made the spring pass quietly +enough, but not without many questions that brought +the blood to Elinor's face. When she was asked by some +one, for the first time, "When do you expect Mr. +Compton, Elinor?" the sudden wild flush of colour +which flooded her countenance startled the questioner +as much as the question did herself. "Oh, I beg your +pardon!" said the injudicious but perfectly innocent +seeker for information. I fear that Elinor fell upon her +mother after this, and demanded to know what she had +said. But as Mrs. Dennistoun was innocent of anything +but having said that Philip was abroad, there was no +satisfaction to be got out of that. Some time after, one +of the Miss Hills congratulated Elinor, having seen in +the papers that Mr. Compton was returning to town for +the season. "I suppose, dear Elinor, we shan't have +you with us much longer," this lady said. And then it +became known at the Cottage that Mary Dale was returning +to the Rectory. This was the last aggravation, +and Elinor, who had now recovered her strength and +energy, and temper along with it, received the news +with an outburst of impatience which frightened her +mother. "You may as well go through the parish and +ring the bell, and tell everybody everything," she said. +"Mary Dale will have heard all, and a great deal more +than all; she will come with her budget, and pour it +out far and wide; she will report scenes that never took +place: and quarrels, and all that—that woman insinuated +to John—and she will be surrounded with people +who will shake their heads, and sink their voices when +we come in and say, 'Poor Elinor!' I cannot bear it, I +cannot bear it," she cried.</p> + +<p>"My darling! that was bound to come sooner or +later. We must set our faces like a rock, and look as if +we were unaware of anything<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"I cannot look as if I were unaware. I cannot meet +all their cruel eyes. I can see, now, the smile on Mary +Dale's face, that will say, 'I told you so.' I shall hear +her say it even when I am in my room, with the combe +between. I know exactly how she will say it—'If Elinor +had listened to me<span class="norewrap">——</span>'"</p> + +<p>"Elinor," said poor Mrs. Dennistoun, "I cannot contradict +you, dear. It will be so—but none of them are +cruel, not even Mary Dale. They will make their remarks—who +could help it? we should ourselves if it +were some one else's case: but they will not be cruel—don't +think so—they will be full of sympathy<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Which is a great deal worse," Elinor said, in her +unreason; "the one might be borne, but the other I +will not endure. Sympathy, yes! They will all be sorry +for me—they will say they knew how it would be. Oh, +I know I have not profited as I ought by what has +happened to me. I am unsubdued. I am as impatient and +as proud as ever. It is quite true, but it cannot be +mended. It is more than I can bear."</p> + +<p>"My darling," said her mother, again. "We all say +that in our trouble, and yet we know that we have got +to bear it all the same. It is intolerable—one says that +a thousand times—and yet it has to be put up with. +All the time that we have been flattering ourselves that +nobody took any notice it has been a delusion, Elinor. +How could it be otherwise? We must set our +faces<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Not I, mamma!" she said. "Not I! I must go +away<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Go away? Elinor!"</p> + +<p>"Among strangers; where nobody has heard of me +before—where nobody can make any remark. To live +like this, among a crowd of people who think they ought +to know everything that one is doing—who are nothing +to you, and yet whom you stand in awe of and must explain +everything to!—it is this that is intolerable. I +cannot, cannot bear it. Mother, I will take my baby, +and I will go away<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Where?" said Mrs. Dennistoun, with all the colour +fading out of her face. What panic had taken her I +cannot tell. She grew pale to her lips, and the words +were almost inaudible which she breathed forth. I +think she thought for a moment that Elinor's heart had +turned, that she was going back to her husband to find +refuge with him from the strife of tongues which she +could not encounter alone. All the blood went back +upon the mother's heart—yet she set herself to suppress +all emotion, and if this should be so, not to oppose it—for +was it not the thing of all others to be desired—the +thing which everybody would approve, the reuniting of +those whom God had put together? Though it might +be death to her, not a word of opposition would she +say.</p> + +<p>"Where? how can I tell where—anywhere, anywhere +out of the world," cried Elinor, in the boiling tide of +her impatience and wretchedness, "where nobody ever +heard of us before, where there will be no one to ask, +no one to require a reason, where we should be free to +move when we please and do as we please. Let me go, +mother. <ins title="original has I">It</ins> seemed too dear, too peaceful to come home, +but now home itself has become intolerable. I will +take my baby and I will go—to the farthest point the +railway can take me to—with no servant to betray me, +not even an address. Mother, let me go away and be +lost; let me be as if I had never been."</p> + +<p>"And me—am I to remain to bear the brunt behind?"</p> + +<p>"And you—mamma! Oh, I am the most unworthy +creature. I don't deserve to have you, I that am always +giving you pain. Why should I unroot you from your +place where you have lived so long—from your flowers, +and your landscape, and your pretty rooms that were +always a comfort to think of in that horrible time when +I was away? I always liked to think of you here, +happy and quiet, in the place you had chosen."</p> + +<p>"Flowers and landscapes are pretty things," said +Mrs. Dennistoun, whose colour had begun to come +again a little, "but they don't make up for one's children. +We must not do anything rashly, Elinor; but +if what you mean is really that you will go away to a +strange place among strangers<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"What else could I mean?" Elinor said, and then +she in her turn grew pale. "If you thought I could +mean that I would go—back<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Oh, my darling, my darling! God knows if we +are right or wrong—I not to advise you so, or you not +to take my advice. Elinor, it is my duty, and I will +say it though it were to break my heart. There only +could you avoid this strife of tongues. John spoke the +truth. He said, as the boy grew up we should have—many +troubles. I have known women endure everything +that their children might grow up in a natural +situation, in their proper sphere. Think of this—I am +saying it against my own interest, against my own +heart. But think of it, Elinor. Whatever you might +have to bear, you would be in your natural place."</p> + +<p>Elinor received this agitated address standing up, +holding her head high, her nostrils expanded, her lips +apart. "Have you quite done, mother?" she said.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dennistoun made an appealing movement with +her hands, and sank, without any power to add a word, +into a chair.</p> + +<p>"I am glad you said it against your heart. Now you +must feel that your conscience is clear. Mother, if I +had to wander the world from place to place, without +even a spot of ground on which to rest my foot, I would +never, never do what you say. What! take my child +to grow up in that tainted air; give him up to be +taught such things as they teach! Never, never, never! +His natural place, did you say? I would rather the +slums of London were his natural place. He would +have some chance there! If I could bear it for myself, +yet I could not for him—for him most of all. I +will take him up in my arms. Thank God, I am strong +now and can carry him—and go away—among +strangers, I don't care where—where there can be no +questions and no remarks."</p> + +<p>"But not without me, Elinor!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother, mother! What a child I am to you, +to rend your heart as I have done, and now to tear you +out of your house and home!"</p> + +<p>"My home is where my children are," Mrs. Dennistoun +said: and then she made a little pause. "But +we must think it over, Elinor. Such a step as this +must not be taken rashly. We will ask John to come +down and advise us. My dear<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"No, mother, not John or any one. I will go first if +you like and find a place, and you will join me after. +That woman" (it was poor Mary Dale, who was indeed +full of information, but meant no harm) "is coming +directly. I will not wait here to see her, or their faces +after she has told them all the lies she will have heard. +I am not going to take advice from any one. Let me +alone, mother. I must, I must go away."</p> + +<p>"But not by yourself, Elinor," Mrs. Dennistoun said.</p> + +<p>This was how it happened that John Tatham, who +had meant to go down to the Cottage the very next +Saturday to see how things were going, was driven +into a kind of stupefaction one morning in May by a +letter which reached him from the North, a letter conveying +news so unexpected and sudden, so unlike anything +that had seemed possible, that he laid it down, +when it was half read, with a gasp of astonishment, +unable to believe his eyes.</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXIX.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>It was Mrs. Dennistoun whose letter brought John +Tatham such dismay. It was dated Lakeside, Waterdale, +Penrith—an address with which he had no associations +whatever, and which he gazed at blankly for a +moment before he attempted to read the letter, not +knowing how to connect it with the well-known writing +which was as familiar as the common day.</p> + +<p> </p> + +<p>"You will wonder to see this address," she wrote. +"You will wonder still more, dear John, when I tell +you we have come here for good. I have left the +Cottage in an agent's hands with the hope of letting it. +Windyhill is such a healthy place that I hope somebody +will soon be found to take it. You know Elinor would +not let me make any explanation. And the constant +questions and allusions to <i>his</i> movements which people +had seen in the papers, and so forth, had got on her +nerves, poor child. You can understand how easily +this might come about. At last she got that she could +not bear it longer. Mary Dale, who always lives half +the year with her sister at the Rectory, was coming +back. You know it was she who brought the first tale +about him, and she knows, I think, all the gossip that +ever was got up about any one. Poor Elinor—though +I don't believe Mary had any bad meaning; and it +would, alas! have been for all our good had we listened +to what she said—Elinor cannot bear her; and when +she heard she was coming, she declared she would take +her baby and go away. I tried to bring her to reason, +but I could not. Naturally it was she who convinced +me—you know the process, John. Indeed, in many +things I can see it is the best thing we could do. I am +not supremely attached to Windyhill. The Cottage +had got to be very homelike after living in it so long, +but home is where those are whom one loves. And to +live among one set of people for so many years, if it has +great advantages, has at the same time very great disadvantages +too. You can't keep anything to yourself. +You must explain every step you take, and everything +that happens to you. This is a lovely country, a little +cold as yet, and a little damp perhaps, being so near +the lake—but the mountains are beautiful, and the air +delicious. Elinor is out all the day long, and baby +grows like a flower. You must come and see us as +soon as ever you can. That is one dreadful drawback, +that we shall not have you running up and down from +Saturday to Monday: and I am afraid you will be vexed +with us that we did not take your advice first—you, +who have always been our adviser. But Elinor would +not hear a word of any advice. I think she was afraid +you would disapprove: and it would have been worse +to fly in your face if you had disapproved than to come +away without consulting you: and you know how impetuous +she is. At all events the die is cast. Write +kindly to her; don't say anything to vex her. You can +let yourself out, if you are very angry, upon me.</p> + +<p>"One thing more. She desires that if you write you +should address her as <i>Mrs. Compton</i> only, no Honourable. +That might attract attention, and what we desire +is to escape notice altogether, which I am sure is a +thing you will thoroughly understand, now that we +have transplanted ourselves so completely. Dear John, +form the most favourable idea you can of this sudden +step, and come and see us as soon as it is possible.</p> + +<p class="signature"><span class="ind4r">"Yours affectly.,</span><br /> +"M. D."</p> +<p> </p> + +<p>To say that John was thunderstruck by this letter is +to describe his sensations mildly, for he was for a time +bitterly angry, wounded, disappointed, disturbed to the +bottom of his soul; but perhaps if truth were told +it could scarcely be said that he disapproved. He +thought it over, which he naturally did all that day, to +the great detriment of his work, first with a sort of rage +against Elinor and her impetuosity, which presently +shaded down into understanding of her feelings, and +ended in a sense that he might have known it from the +first, and that really no other conclusion was possible. +He came gradually to acquiesce in the step the ladies +had taken. To have to explain everything to the Hudsons, +and Hills, and Mary Dales, to open up your most +sacred heart in order that they might be able to form a +theory sufficient for their outside purposes of your +motives and methods, or, what was perhaps worse still—to +know that they were on the watch, guessing what +you did not tell them, putting things together, explaining +this and that in their own way—would have been +intolerable. "That is the good of having attached +friends," John exclaimed to himself, very unjustly: for +it is human nature that is to blame, if there is any +blame attaching to an exercise of ingenuity so inevitable. +As a matter of fact, when Miss Dale brought the true +or something like the true account to Windyhill, the +warmth of the sympathy for Elinor, the wrath of the +whole community with her unworthy husband, was +almost impassioned. Had she been there it would not +have been possible for those good people altogether to +conceal from her how sorry and how indignant they +were; even perhaps there might have been some who +could not have kept out of their eyes, who must have +betrayed in some word or shake of the head the "I told +you so" which is so dear to human nature. But how +was it possible that they could remain uninterested, +unaffected by the trouble in the midst of them, or even +appear to be so? John, like Elinor, threw a fiery dart +of impatience at the country neighbours, not allowing +that everywhere in the greatest town, in the most +cosmopolitan community, this would have been the same.</p> + +<p>"The chattering gossips!" he said, as if a club would +not have been a great deal worse, as if indeed his own +club, vaguely conscious of a connection by marriage between +him and the dis-Honourable Phil, had not discussed +it all, behind his back, long ago.</p> + +<p>But on the whole John was forced not to disapprove. +To say that he went the length of approving would be +too much, and to deny that he launched forth a tremendous +letter upon Mrs. Dennistoun, who always +bore the brunt, is more than my conscience would +permit. He did do this, throwing out, as the French +say, fire and flame, but a few days after followed it up +by a much milder letter (need I say this was addressed +to Elinor?), allowing that he understood their motives, +and that perhaps, from their own point of view, they +were not so very much to blame. "You will find it +very damp, very cold, very different from Windyhill," +he said, with a sort of savage satisfaction. But as it +happened to be unusually good weather among the +lakes when his letter came, this dart did not do much +harm. And that John felt the revolution in his habits +consequent upon this move very much, it would be +futile to deny. To have nowhere to go to freely when +he pleased from Saturday to Monday (he had at least +a score of places, but none like the Cottage) made a +wonderful difference in his life. But perhaps when he +came to think of it soberly, as he did so often in the +brilliant Saturday afternoons of early summer, when the +sunshine on the trees made his heart a little sick with +the idea that he had, as he said to himself, nowhere to +go to, he was not sure that the difference was not on the +whole to his advantage. A man perhaps should not +have it in his power to enjoy, in the most fraternal intimacy, +the society of another man's wife whenever he +pleased, even if to her he was, as he knew, of as little +importance (notwithstanding that she was, as she would +have said, so fond of John) as the postman, say, or any +other secondary (yet sufficiently interesting) figure in +the country neighbourhood. John knew in his heart +of hearts that this was not a good thing nor a wholesome +thing for him. He was not a man, as has been +said, who would ever have hurried events, or insisted +upon appropriating a woman, even when he loved her, +and securing her as his very own. He would always +have been able to put that off, to subordinate it to the +necessity of getting on in the world, and securing his +position: and he was by no means sure when he questioned +his own heart (which was a thing he did seldom, +knowing, like a wise man, that that shifty subject often +made queer revelations, and was not at all an easy object +to cross-examine), that the intercourse which he had +again dropped into with Elinor was not on the whole as +much as he required. There was no doubt that it kept +him alive from one period to another; kept his heart +moderately light and his mind wonderfully contented—as +nothing else had ever done. He looked forward to his +fortnightly or monthly visit to the Cottage (sometimes +one, and sometimes the other; he never indulged himself +so far as to go every week), and it gave him happiness +enough to tide over all the dull moments between: +and if anything came in his way and detained him even +from his usual to a later train, he was ridiculously, +absurdly angry. What right had he to feel so in respect +to another man's wife? What right had he to +watch the child—the child whom he disliked so much to +begin with—developing its baby faculties with an interest +he was half ashamed of, but which went on increasing? +Another man's wife and another man's child. He saw +now that it was not a wholesome thing for him, and he +could never have given it up had they remained. It had +become too much a part of his living; should he not +be glad therefore that they had taken it into their own +hands, and gone away? When it suddenly occurred +to John, however, that this perhaps had some share in +the ladies' hasty decision, that Mrs. Dennistoun perhaps +(all that was objectionable was attributed to this poor +lady) had been so abominably clear-sighted, so odiously +presuming as to have suspected this, his sudden blaze +of anger was <i>foudroyant</i>. Perhaps she had settled +upon it for his sake, to take temptation out of his way. +John could scarcely contain himself when this view of +the case flashed upon him, although he was quite aware +for himself that though it was a bitter wrench, yet it +was perhaps good for him that Elinor should go away.</p> + +<p>It was probably this wave of fierce and, as we are +aware, quite unreasonable anger rushing over him that +produced the change which everybody saw in John's life +about this time. It was about the beginning of the +season when people's enjoyments begin to multiply, +and for the first time in his life John plunged into +society like a very novice. He went everywhere. By +this time he had made a great start in life, had been +brought into note in one or two important cases, and +was, as everybody knew, a young man very well thought +of, and likely to do great things at the bar; so that he +was free of many houses, and had so many invitations +for his Sundays that he could well afford to be indifferent +to the loss of such a humble house as the Cottage +at Windyhill. Perhaps he wanted to persuade himself +that this was the case, and that there really was nothing +to regret. And it is certain that he did visit a great +deal during that season at one house where there were +two or three agreeable daughters; the house, indeed, of +Sir John Gaythorne, who was Solicitor-General at that +time, and a man who had always looked upon John +Tatham with a favourable eye. The Gaythornes had a +house near Dorking, where they often went from Saturday +to Monday with a few choice <i>convives</i>, and "picknicked," +as they themselves said, but it was a picknicking +of a highly comfortable sort. John went down with +them the very Saturday after he received that letter—the +Saturday on which he had intended to go to Windyhill. +And the party was very gay. To compare it for +a moment with the humdrum family at the Cottage +would have been absurd. The Gaythornes prided themselves +on always having pleasant people with them, and +they had several remarkably pleasant people that day, +among whom John himself was welcomed by most persons; +and the family themselves were lively and agreeable +to a high degree. A distinguished father, a very +nice mother, and three charming girls, up to everything +and who knew everybody; who had read or skimmed +all the new books of any importance, and had seen all +the new pictures; who could talk of serious things as +well as they could talk nonsense, and who were good +girls to boot, looking after the poor, and visiting at +hospitals, in the intervals of their gaieties, as was then +the highest fashion in town. I do not for a moment +mean to imply that the Miss Gaythornes did their good +work because it was the fashion: but the fact that it is +the fashion has liberated many girls, and allowed them +to carry out their natural wishes in that way, who +otherwise would have been restrained and hampered by +parents and friends, who would have upbraided them +with making themselves remarkable, if in a former generation +they had attempted to go to Whitechapel or St. +Thomas's with any active intentions. And Elinor had +never done anything of this kind, any more than she +had pursued music almost as a profession, which was +what Helena Gaythorne had done; or learned to draw, +like Maud (who once had a little thing in the Royal +Academy); or studied the Classics, like Gertrude. +John thought of her little tunes as he listened to Miss +Gaythorne's performance, and almost laughed out at the +comparison. He was very fond of music, and Miss Gaythorne's +playing was something which the most cultivated +audience might have been glad to listen to. He +was ashamed to confess to himself that he liked the +"tunes" best. No, he would not confess it even to +himself; but when he stood behind the performer listening, +it occurred to him that he was capable of walking +all the miles of hill and hollow which divided the +one place from the other, only for the inane satisfaction +of seeing that baby spread on Elinor's lap, or hearing +her play to him one of her "tunes."</p> + +<p>He went with the Gaythornes to their country-place +twice in the month of June, and dined at the house several +times, and was invited on other occasions, becoming, +in short, one of the <i>habitués</i> when there was +anything going on in the house—till people began to ask, +which was it? It was thought generally that Helena +was the attraction, for John was known to be a musical +man, always to be found where specially good music +was going. Some friends of the family had even gone +so far as to say among themselves what a good thing it +was that dear Helena's lot was likely to be cast with +one who would appreciate her gift. "It generally happens +in these cases that a girl marries somebody who +does not know one note from another," they said to +each other. When, all at once, John flagged in his visits; +went no more to Dorking; and finally ceased to +be more assiduous or more remarked than the other +young men who were on terms of partial intimacy at the +Gaythorne house. He had, indeed, tried very hard to +make himself fall in love with one of Sir John's girls. +It would have been an excellent connection, and the +man might think himself fortunate who secured any +one of the three for his wife. Proceeding from his certainty +on these points, and also a general liking for +their company, John had gone into it with a settled +purpose, determined to fall in love if he could: but he +found that the thing was not to be done. It was a pity; +but it could not be helped. He was in a condition now +when it would no longer be rash to marry, and he knew +now that there was the makings of a domestic man in +him. He never could have believed that he would take +an interest in the sprawling of the baby upon its +mother's knee, and he allowed to himself that it might +be sweet to have that scene taking place in a house of +his own. Ah! but the baby would have to be Elinor's. +It must be Elinor who should sit on that low chair with +the firelight on her face. And that was impossible. +Helena Gaythorne was an exceedingly nice girl, and he +wished her every success in life (which she attained +some time after by marrying Lord Ballinasloe, the eldest +son of the Earl of Athenree, a marriage which everybody +approved), but he could not persuade himself to +be in love with her, though with the best will in the +world.</p> + +<p>During this time he did not correspond much with +his relations in the country. He had, indeed, some letters +to answer from his father, in which the interrogatories +were very difficult: "Where has Mary Dennistoun +gone? What's become of Elinor and her baby? +Has that fashionable fellow of a husband deserted her? +What's the meaning of the move altogether?" And, +"Mind you keep yourself out of it," his father wrote. +John had great trouble in wording his replies so as to +convey as little information as possible. "I believe +Aunt Mary has got a house somewhere in the North, +probably to suit Elinor, who would be able to be more +with her if she were in that neighbourhood." (It must +be confessed that he thought this really clever as a way +of getting over the question.) "As for Compton, I know +very little about him. He was never a man much in +my way." Mr. Tatham's household saw nothing remarkable +in these replies; upon which, however, they built +an explanation, such as it was, of the other circumstances. +They concluded that it must be in order to be +near Elinor that Mrs. Dennistoun had gone to the +North, and that it was a very good thing that Elinor's +husband was not a man who was in John's way. "A +scamp, if I ever saw one!" Mr. Tatham said. "But +what's that Jack says about Gaythorne? Mary, I remember +Gaythorne years ago; a capital friend for a +young man. I'm glad your brother's making such nice +friends for himself; far better than mooning about +that wretched little cottage with Mary Dennistoun and +her girl."</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXX" id="CHAPTER_XXX"></a>CHAPTER XXX.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>It happened thus that it was not till the second +autumn after the settlement of the ladies in Waterdale, +when all the questions had died out, and there was no +more talk of them, except on occasions when a sudden +recollection cropped up among their friends at Windyhill, +that John Tatham paid them his first visit. He +had been very conscientious in his proposed bestowal +of himself. Perhaps it is scarcely quite complimentary +to a woman when she is made choice of by a man who +is consciously to himself "on the outlook," thinking +that he ought to marry, and investigating all the suitable +persons about with an eye to finding one who will +answer his requirements. This sensible way of approaching +the subject of matrimony does not somehow +commend itself to our insular notions. It is the right +way in every country except our own, but it has a cold-blooded +look to the Anglo-Saxon; and a girl is not +flattered (though perhaps she ought to be) by being the +subject of this sensible choice. "As if I were a housekeeper +or a cook!" she is apt to say, and is far better +pleased to be fallen in love with in the most rash and +irresponsible way than to be thus selected from the +crowd: though that, everybody must allow, after due +comparison and inspection, is by far the greater compliment. +John having arrived at the conclusion that it +would be better for him in many ways to marry, and +specially in the way of Elinor, fortifying him for ever +from all possible complications, and making it possible +for him to regard her evermore with the placid feelings +of a brother, which was, he expected, to be the consequence—worked +at the matter really with great pertinacity +and consistency. He kept his eyes open upon +the whole generation of girls whom he met with in society. +When he went abroad during the long vacation +(instead of going to Lakeside, as he was invited to do), +he directed his steps rather to the fashionable resorts, +where families disport themselves at the foot of the +mountains, than to the Alpine heights where he had +generally found a more robust amusement. And +wherever he went he bent his attention on the fairer +portion of the creation, the girls who fill all the hotels +with the flutter of their fresh toilettes and the babble +of their pleasant voices. It was very mean and poor of +him, seeing he was a mountaineer himself—but still it +must be recorded that the only young ladies he +systematically neglected were those in very short petticoats, +with very sunburnt faces and nails in their boots, who +ought to have been most congenial to him as sharing +his own tastes. It is said, I don't know with what truth, +that at Ouch, or Interlachen, or some other of the most +mundane and banal resorts of the tourists, he came +upon one girl who he thought might make him a suitable +wife: and that, though with much moderation and +prudence, he more or less followed her party for some +time, meeting them over and over again, with expressions +of astonishment, round the most well-known corners, +and persisting for a considerable time in this +quest. But whether he ever came the length of proposing +at all, or whether the young lady was engaged beforehand, +or if she thought the prospect of making a +suitable wife not good enough, I cannot say, and I +doubt whether any one knows—except, of course, the +parties immediately concerned. It is very clear, at all +events, that it came to nothing. John did not altogether +give it up, I fancy, for he went a great deal into +society still, especially in that <i>avant saison</i>, which people +who live in London declare to be the most enjoyable, +and when it is supposed you can enjoy the best of +company at your ease without the hurry and rush of +the summer crowd. He would have been very glad, +thankful, indeed, if he could have fallen in love. How +absurd to think that any silly boy can do it, to whom it +is probably nothing but a disadvantage and the silliest +of pastimes, and that he, a reasonable man with a good +income, and arrived at a time of life when it is becoming +and rational to marry, could not do it, let him try +as he would! There was something ludicrous in it, +when you came to think, as well as something very depressing. +Mothers who wanted a good position for +their daughters divined him, and many of them were +exceedingly civil to John, this man in search of a wife; +and many of the young ladies themselves divined him, +and with the half indignation, half mockery, appropriate +to the situation, were some of them not unaverse to +profit by it, and accordingly turned to him their worst +side in the self-consciousness produced by that knowledge. +And thus the second year turned round towards +the wane, and John was farther from success than ever.</p> + +<p>He said to himself then that it was clear he was not +a marrying man. He liked the society of ladies well +enough, but not in that way. He was not made for falling +in love. He might very well, he was aware, have dispensed +with the tradition, and found an excellent wife, +who would not at all have insisted upon it from her +side. But he had his prejudices, and could not do +this. Love he insisted upon, and love would not come. +Accordingly, when the second season was over he gave +up both the quest and the idea, and resolved to think +of marrying no more, which was a sensible relief to him. +For indeed he was exceedingly comfortable as he was; +his chambers were excellent, and he did not think that +any street or square in Belgravia would have reconciled +him to giving up the Temple. He had excellent servants, +a man and his wife, who took the greatest care +of him. He had settled into a life which was arranged +as he liked, with much freedom, and yet an agreeable +routine which John was too wise to despise. He relinquished +the idea of marrying then and there. To be +sure there is never any prophesying what may happen. +A little laughing gipsy of a girl may banish such a resolution +out of a man's mind in the twinkling of an eye, +at any moment. But short of such accidents as that, +and he smiled at the idea of anything of the kind, he +quite made up his mind on this point with a great sensation +of relief.</p> + +<p>It is curious how determined the mind of the English +public at least is on this subject—that the man or woman +who does not marry (especially the woman, by-the-bye) +has an unhappy life, and that a story which does +not end in a wedding is no story at all, or at least ends +badly, as people say. It happened to myself on one +occasion to put together in a book the story of some +friends of mine, in which this was the case. They +were young, they were hopeful, they had all life before +them, but they did not marry. And when the last +chapter came to the consciousness of the publisher he +struck, with the courage of a true Briton, not ashamed +of his principles, and refused to pay. He said it was +no story at all—so beautiful is marriage in the eyes of +our countrymen. I hope, however, that nobody will +think any harm of John Tatham because he concluded, +after considerable and patient trial, that he was not a +marrying man. There is no harm in that. A great +number of those Catholic priests whom it was the habit +in my youth to commiserate deeply, as if they were +vowed to the worst martyrdom, live very happy lives in +their celibacy and prefer it, as John Tatham did. It +will be apparent to the reader that he really preferred +it to Elinor, while Elinor was in his power. And +though afterwards it gave a comfort and grace to his life +to think that it was his faithful but subdued love for +Elinor which made him a bachelor all his days, I am +by no means certain that this was true. Perhaps he +never would have made up his mind had she remained +always within his reach. Certain it is that he was relieved +when he found that to give up the idea of marriage +was the best thing for him. He adopted the +conclusion with pleasure. His next brother had already +married, though he was younger than John; +but then he was a clergyman, which is a profession +naturally tending to that sort of thing. There was, +however, no kind of necessity laid upon him to provide +for the continuance of the race. And he was a happy +man.</p> + +<p>By what sequence of ideas it was that he considered +himself justified, having come to this conclusion, in immediately +paying his long-promised visit to Lakeside, +is a question which I need not enter into, and indeed do +not feel entirely able to cope with. It suited him, perhaps, +as he had been so long a time in Switzerland last +year: and he had an invitation to the far north for the +grouse, which he thought it would be pleasant to +accept. Going to Scotland or coming from it, Waterdale +of course lies full in the way. He took it last on +his way home, which was more convenient, and arrived +there in the latter part of September, when the hills +were golden with the yellow bracken. The Cumberland +hills are a little cold, in my opinion, without the +heather, which clothes with such a flush of life and +brightness our hills in the north. The greenness is +chilly in the frequent rain; one feels how sodden and +slippery it is—a moisture which does not belong to the +heather: but when the brackens have all turned, and +the slopes reflect themselves in the tranquil water like +hills of gold, then the landscape reaches its perfect +point. Lakeside was a white house standing out on a +small projection at the head of the lake, commanding +the group of hills above and part of the winding body +of water below, in which all these golden reflections +lay. A little steamer passed across the reflected glory, +and came to a stop not a hundred yards from the gate +of the house. It was a scene as unlike as could be conceived +to the Cottage at Windyhill: the trees were all +glorious in colour; yellow birches like trees made of +light, oaks all red and fiery, chestnuts and elms and +beeches in a hundred hues. The house was white, with +a sort of broad verandah round, supported on pillars, +furnishing a sheltered walk below and a broad balcony +above, which gave it a character of more importance +than perhaps its real size warranted. When John approached +there ran out to meet him into the wide +gravel drive before the door a little figure upon two +sturdy legs, calling out, in inarticulate shoutings, something +that sounded a little like his own name. It was, +"'tle John! 'tle John!" made into a sort of song by +the baby, nearly two years old, and "very forward," as +everybody assured the stranger, for his age. Uncle +John! his place was thus determined at once by +that little potentate and master of the house. Behind +the child came Elinor, no longer pale and languid as he +had seen her last, but matured into vigorous beauty, +bright-eyed, a little sober, as might have become maturer +years than hers. Perhaps there was something +in the style of her dress that favoured the idea, not of +age indeed, but of matronly years, and beyond those +which Elinor counted. She was dressed in black, of +the simplest description, not of distinctive character +like a widow's, yet something like what an ideal widow +beyond fashion or conventionalities of woe might wear. +It seemed to give John the key-note of the character +she had assumed in this new sphere.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dennistoun, who had not changed in the least, +stood in the open door. They gave him a welcome +such as John had not had, he said to himself, since he +had seen them before. They were unfeignedly glad to +see him, not wounded (which, to think of afterwards, +wounded him a little) that he had not come sooner, but +delighted that he was here now. Even when he went +home it was not usual to John to be met at the door in +this way by all his belongings. His sister might come +running down the stairs when she heard the dog-cart +draw up, but that was all. And Mary's eagerness to +see him was generally tempered by the advice she had +to give, to say that or not to say this, because of papa. +But in the present case it was the sight of himself +which was delightful to all, and, above all, though the +child could have no reason for it, to the little shouting +excited boy. "'Tle John! 'tle John!" What was +Uncle John to him? yet his little voice filled the room +with shouts of joy.</p> + +<p>"What does he know about me, the little beggar, +that he makes such a noise in my honour?" said John, +touched in spite of himself. "But I suppose anything +is good enough for a cry at that age."</p> + +<p>"Come," said Elinor, "you are not to be contemptuous +of my boy any longer. You called him <i>it</i> when he +was a baby."</p> + +<p>"And what is he now?" said John, whose heart +was affected by strange emotions, he, the man who +had just decided (with relief) that he was not a +marrying man. There came over him a curious wave +of sensation which he had no right to. If he had had a +right to it, if he had been coming home to those who +belonged to him, not distantly in the way of cousinship, +but by a dearer right, what sensations his would have +been! But sitting at the corner of the fire (which is +very necessary in Waterdale in the end of September) a +little in the shadow, his face was not very clearly perceptible: +though indeed had it been so the ladies would +have thought nothing but that John's kind heart was +touched, as was so natural, by this sight.</p> + +<p>"What is he now? Your nephew! Tell Uncle John +what you are now," said Elinor, lifting her child on her +lap; at which the child between the kisses which were +his encouragement and reward produced, in a large +infant voice, very treble, yet simulating hers, the statement, +"Mamma's bhoy."</p> + +<p>"Now, Elinor," said Mrs. Dennistoun, "he has played +his part beautifully; he has done everything you taught +him. He has told you who he is and who Uncle +John is. Let him go to his nursery now."</p> + +<p>"Come up-stairs, Pippo. Mother will carry her boy," +said Elinor. "They don't want us any more, these old +people. Say good-night to Uncle John, and come to +bed."</p> + +<p>"Dood-night, 'tle John," said the child; which, however, +was not enough, for he tilted himself out of his +mother's arms and put his rosy face and open mouth, +sweet but damp, upon John's face. This kiss was one +of the child's accomplishments. He himself was aware +that he had been good, and behaved himself in every +way as a child should do, as he was carried off crowing +and jabbering in his mother's arms. He had formed a +sort of little human bridge between them when he +made that dive from Elinor's arms upon John's face. +Ah, heaven! if it had been the other way, if the child +and the mother had both been his!</p> + +<p>"He has grown up very sweet. You may think we +are foolish, John; but you can't imagine what a delight +that child is. Hasn't he grown up sweet?"</p> + +<p>"If you call that grown up!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I know he is only a baby still; but so forward +for his age, such a little man, taking care of his +mother before he is two years old!"</p> + +<p>"What did I hear her call him?" John asked, and it +seemed to Mrs. Dennistoun that there was something +severe in the sound of his voice.</p> + +<p>"He had to be Philip. It is a pretty name, though +we may have reason to mourn the day—and belongs to +his family. We must not forget that he belongs to a +known family, however he may have suffered by it."</p> + +<p>"Then you intend the child to know about his +family? I am glad to hear it," said John, though his +voice perhaps was not so sweet as his words.</p> + +<p>"Oh, John, that is quite another thing! to know +about his family—at two! He has his mother—and +me to take care of them both, and what does he want +more?"</p> + +<p>"But he will not always be two," said John, the first +moment almost of his arrival, before he had seen the +house, or said a word about the lake, or anything. +She was so disappointed and cast down that she made +him no reply.</p> + +<p>"I am a wretched croaker," he said, after a moment, +"I know. I ought after all this time to try to make +myself more agreeable; but you must pardon me if +this was the first thing that came into my mind. Elinor +is looking a great deal better than when I saw her +last."</p> + +<p>"Isn't she! another creature. I don't say that I am +satisfied, John. Who would be satisfied in such a position +of affairs? but while the child is so very young +nothing matters very much. And she is quite happy. +I do think she is quite happy. And so well—this country +suits them both perfectly. Though there is a good +deal of rain, they are both out every day. And little +Pippo thrives, as you see, like a flower."</p> + +<p>"That is a very fantastic name to give the child."</p> + +<p>"How critical you are, John! perhaps it is, but what +does it matter at his age? any name does for a baby. +Why, you yourself, as grave as you are now<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Don't, aunt," said John. "It is a grave matter +enough as it appears to me."</p> + +<p>"Not for the present; not for the present, John."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps not for the present: if you prefer to put +off all the difficulties till they grow up and crush you. +Have there been any overtures, all this time, from—the +other side?"</p> + +<p>"Dear John, don't overwhelm me all in a moment, +in the first pleasure of seeing you, both with the +troubles that are behind and the troubles that are in +front of us," the poor lady said.</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXXI" id="CHAPTER_XXXI"></a>CHAPTER XXXI.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>The weather was fine, which was by no means always +a certainty at Waterdale, and Elinor had become a +great pedestrian, and was ready to accompany John in +his walks, which were long and varied. It was rather a +curious test to which to subject himself after the long +time he had been away, and the other tests through +which he had gone. Never had he been so entirely the +companion of Elinor, never before had they spent so +many hours together without other society. At Windyhill, +indeed, their interviews had been quite unrestrained, +but then Elinor had many friends and interests +in the parish and outside of it, visits to pay and duties +to perform. Now she had her child, which occupied +her mornings and evenings, but left her free for hours +of rambling among the hills, for long walks, from which +she came back blooming with the fresh air and breezes +which had blown her about, ruffling her hair, and stirring +up her spirits and thoughts. Sometimes when +there has been heavy and premature suffering there +occurs thus in the young another spring-time, an almost +childhood of natural, it may be said superficial pleasure—the +power of being amused, and of enjoying every +simple satisfaction without any <i>arrière pensée</i> like a +child. She had recovered her strength and vigour in +the mountain air—and in that freedom of being unknown, +with no look ever directed to her which reminded +her of the past, no question which brought +back her troubles, had blossomed out into that fine +youthful maturity of twenty-six, which has already an +advantage over the earlier girlhood, the perfection of +the woman grown. Elinor had thought of many things +and understood many things, which she had still regarded +with the high assumptions of ignorance three +or four years ago. And poor John, who had tried so +hard to find himself a mate that suited him, who had +studied so many girls more beautiful, more accomplished +than Elinor, in the hope of goading himself, so to +speak, into love, and had not succeeded—and who +had felt so strongly that another man's wife must not +occupy so much of his thoughts, nor another man's +child give him an unwilling pleasure which was almost +fatherly—poor John felt himself placed in a position +more trying than any he had known before, more +difficult to steer his way through. He had never had +so much of her company, and she did not conceal the +pleasure it was to her to have some one to walk with, +to talk with, who understood what she said and what +she did not say, and was in that unpurchasable sympathy +with herself which is not to be got by beauty, +or by will, or even by love itself, but comes by nature. +Elinor felt this with simple pleasure. Without any complicating +suspicion, she said, "What a brother John is! +I always felt him so, but now more than ever." "You +have been, so to speak, brought up together," said Mrs. +Dennistoun, whose mind was by no means so easy on +the subject. "That is the reason, I suppose," said +Elinor, with happy looks.</p> + +<p>But poor John said nothing of this kind. What he +felt was that he might have spared himself the trouble +of all those researches of his; that to roam about looking +for a young lady whom he might—not devour, but +learn to love, was pains as unnecessary as ever man +took. He still hugged himself, however, over the +thought that in no circumstances would he have been a +marrying man; that if Elinor had been free he would +have found plenty of reasons why they should remain +on their present terms and go no farther. As it was +clear that they must remain on their present terms, +and could go no farther, it was certainly better that he +should cherish that thought.</p> + +<p>And curiously enough, though they heard so little from +the outside world, they had heard just so much as this, +that John's assiduities to the Miss Gaythornes (which +the reader may remember was the first of all his +attempts, and quite antiquated in his recollection) had +occasioned remarks, and he had not been many evenings +at Lakeside before he was questioned on the subject. +Had it been true, or had he changed his mind +or had the lady<span class="norewrap">——</span>? It vexed him that there was +not the least little opposition or despite in their tones, +such as a man's female friends often show towards +the objects of his admiration, not from any feeling on +their own part, except that most natural one, which is +surprised and almost hurt to find that, "having known +me, he could decline"—a feeling which, in its original +expression, was not a woman's sentiment, but a man's, +and therefore is, I suppose, common to both sides. But +the ladies at Lakeside did not even betray this feeling. +They desired to know if there had been anything in it—with +smiles, it is true; but Mrs. Dennistoun at the +same time expressed her regret warmly.</p> + +<p>"We were in great hopes something would come of +it, John. Elinor has met the Gaythornes, and thought +them very nice; and if there is a thing in the world +that would give me pleasure, it would be to see you +with a nice wife, John."</p> + +<p>"I am sure I am much obliged to you, aunt; but +there really was nothing in it. That is, I was seized +with various impulses on the subject, and rather agreed +with you: but I never mentioned the matter to any of +the Miss Gaythornes. They are charming girls, and I +don't suppose would have looked at me. At the same +time, I did not feel it possible to imagine myself in love +with any of them. That's quite a long time since," he +added with a laugh.</p> + +<p>"Then there have been others since then? Let us +put him in the confessional, mother," cried Elinor with +a laugh. "He ought not to have any secrets of that description +from you and me."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, there have been others since," said John. +"To tell the truth, I have walked round a great many +nice girls asking myself whether I shouldn't find it +very delightful to have one of them belonging to me. +I wasn't worthy the least attractive of them all, I +quite knew; but still I am about the same as other +men. However, as I've said, I never mentioned the +matter to any of them."</p> + +<p>"Never?" cried Mrs. Dennistoun, feeling a hesitation +in his tone.</p> + +<p>He laughed a little, shamefaced: "Well, if you like, +I will say hardly ever," he said. "There was one that +might, perhaps, have taken pity upon me—but fortunately +an old lover of hers, who was much more enterprising, +turned up before anything decisive had been +said."</p> + +<p>"Fortunately, John?"</p> + +<p>"Well, yes, I thought so. You see I am not a marrying +man. I tried to screw myself up to the point, but +it was altogether, I am afraid, as a matter of principle. +I thought it would be a good thing, perhaps, to have a +wife."</p> + +<p>"That was a very cold-blooded idea. No wonder +you—it never came to anything. That is not the way +to go about it," said Elinor with the ringing laugh of a +child.</p> + +<p>And yet her way of going about it had been far from +a success. How curious that she did not remember that!</p> + +<p>"Yes," he said, "I am quite aware that I did not go +about it in the right way, but then that was the only +way in which it presented itself to me; and when I had +made up my mind at last that it was a failure, I confess +it was with a certain sense of relief. I suppose I was +born to live and die an old bachelor."</p> + +<p>"Do not be so sure of that," said Elinor. "Some day +or other, in the most unlooked-for moment, the fairy +princess will bound upon the scene, and the old bachelor +will be lost."</p> + +<p>"We'll wait quite contentedly for that day—which I +don't believe in," he said.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dennistoun did not take any part in the later +portion of this discussion; her smile was feeble at the +places where Elinor laughed. She said seriously after +this fireside conference, when he got up to prepare for +dinner, putting her hand tenderly on his shoulder, "I +wish you had found some one you could have loved, +John."</p> + +<p>"So did I—for a time," he said, lightly. "But you +see, it was not to be."</p> + +<p>She shook her head, standing against the firelight in +the dark room, so that he could not see her face. "I +wish," she said, "I wish—that I saw you with a nice +wife, John."</p> + +<p>"You might wish—to see me on the woolsack, aunt."</p> + +<p>"Well—and it might come to pass. I shall see you +high up—if I live long enough; but I wish I was as +sure of the other, John."</p> + +<p>"Well," he said with a laugh, "I did my best; but +there is no use in struggling against fate."</p> + +<p>No, indeed! how very, very little use there was. +He had kept away from them for nearly two years; +while he had done his best in the meantime to get a +permanent tenant for his heart which should prevent +any wandering tendencies. But he had not succeeded; +and now if ever a man could be put in circumstances of +danger it was he. If he did not appear in time for +their walk Elinor would call him. "Aren't you coming, +John?" And she overflowed in talk to him of +everything—excepting always of that one dark passage +in her life of which she never breathed a word. She +asked him about his work, and about his prospects, insisting +upon having everything explained to her—even +politics, to which he had a tendency, not without ideas +of their use in reaching the higher ranks of his profession. +Elinor entered into all with zest and almost +enthusiasm. She wrapped him up in her sympathy +and interest. There was nothing he did that she did +not wish to know about, did not desire to have a part +in. A sister in this respect is, as everybody knows, +often more full of enthusiasm than a wife, and Elinor, +who was vacant of all concerns of her own (except the +baby) was delighted to take up these subjects of excitement, +and follow John through them, hastening after +him on every line of indication or suggestion which he +gave—nay, often with her lively intelligence hastening +before him, making incursions into undiscovered countries +of which he had not yet perceived the importance. +They walked over all the country, into woods which +were a little damp, and up hill-sides where the scramble +was often difficult enough, and along the side of the +lake—or, for a variety, went rowing across to the other +side, or far down the gleaming water, out of sight, +round the wooded corner which, with all its autumnal +colours, blazed like a brilliant sentinel into the air +above and the water below. Mrs. Dennistoun watched +them, sometimes with a little trouble on her face. She +would not say a word to throw suspicions or doubts between +them. She would not awaken in Elinor's mind +the thought that any such possibilities as arise between +two young people free of all bonds could be imagined +as affecting her and any man such as her cousin John. +Poor John! if he must be the victim, the victim he +must be. Elinor could not be disturbed that he might +go free. And indeed, what good would it have done to +disturb Elinor? It would but have brought consciousness, +embarrassment, and a sense of danger where no +such sense was. She was trebly protected, and without +a thought of anything but the calm yet close relations +that had existed so long. He<span class="norewrap">——</span> but he could take +care of himself, Mrs. Dennistoun reflected in despair; +he must take care of himself. He was a man and must +understand what his own risks and perils were.</p> + +<p>"And do you think this plan is a success?" John +asked her one day as they were rowing homeward up +the lake. The time of his visit was drawing to a close; +indeed it had drawn to a close several times, and been +lengthened very unadvisedly, yet very irresistibly as he +felt.</p> + +<p>Her face grew graver than usual, as with a sudden +recollection of that shadow upon her life which Elinor +so often seemed to have forgotten. "As much of a +success," she said, "as anything of the kind is likely +to be."</p> + +<p>"It suits you better than Windyhill?"</p> + +<p>"Only in being more out of the world. It is partially +out of the world for a great part of the year; but I suppose +no place is so wholly. It seems impossible to keep +from making acquaintances."</p> + +<p>"Of course," he said, "I have noticed. You know +people here already."</p> + +<p>"How can we keep from knowing people? Mamma +says it is the same thing everywhere. If we lived up in +that little house which they say is the highest in England—at +the head of the pass—we should meet people +I suppose even there."</p> + +<p>"Most likely," he replied; "but the same difficulties +can hardly arise."</p> + +<p>"You mean we shall not know people so well as at—at +home, and will not be compelled to give an account +of ourselves whatever we do? Heaven knows! There +is a vicarage here, and there is a squire's house: and +there are two or three people besides who already begin +to inquire if we are related to So-and-So, if we are the +Scotch Dennistouns, or the Irish Comptons, or I don't +know what; and whether we are going to Penrith or +any other capital city for the winter." Elinor ended +with a laugh.</p> + +<p>"So soon?" John said.</p> + +<p>"So soon—very much sooner, the first year: with +mamma so friendly as she is and with me so silly, unable +to keep myself from smiling at anybody who smiles +at me!"</p> + +<p>"Poor Elinor!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you may laugh; but it is a real disadvantage. +I am sure there was not very much smile in me when +we came; and yet, notwithstanding, the first pleasant +look is enough for me, I cannot but respond; and I +shall always be so, I suppose," she said, with a sigh.</p> + +<p>"I hope so, Elinor. It would be an evil day for all +of us if you did not respond."</p> + +<p>"For how many, John? For my mother and—ah, +you are so good, more like my brother than my cousin—for +you, perhaps, a little; but what is it to anybody +else in the world whether I smile or sigh? It does not +matter, however," she said, flinging back her head; +"there it is, and I can't help it. If you smile at me I +must smile back again—and so we make friends; and +already I get a great deal of advice about little Pippo. +If we live here till he grows up, the same thing will +happen as at the Cottage. We will require to account +to everybody for what we do with him—for the school +he goes to, and all he does; to explain why he has +one kind of training or another; and, in short, all that +I ran away from: the world wherever one goes seems +to be so much the same."</p> + +<p>"The world is very much the same everywhere; and +you cannot get out of it were you to take refuge in a +cave on the hill. The best thing is generally to let it +know all that can be known, and so save the multitude +of guesses it always makes."</p> + +<p>Elinor looked at him for a moment with her lips +pressed tightly together, and a light in her eyes; then +she looked away across the water to the golden hills, +and said nothing; but there was a great deal in that +look of eager contradiction, yet forced agreement, of determination +above all, with which right and wrong had +nothing to do.</p> + +<p>"Elinor," he said, "do you mean that child to grow +up here between your mother and you—in ignorance +of all that there is in the world besides you two?"</p> + +<p>"That child!" she cried. "John, I think you dislike +my boy; for, of course, it is Pippo you mean."</p> + +<p>"I wish you would not call him by that absurd +name."</p> + +<p>"You are hard to please," she said, with an angry +laugh. "I think it is a very sweet little name."</p> + +<p>"The child will not always be a baby," said John.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no: I suppose if we all live long enough he +will some time be a—possibly disagreeable man, and +punish us well for all the care we have spent upon +him," Elinor said.</p> + +<p>"I don't want to make you angry, Elinor<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't suppose you do. You have been very +nice to me, John. You have neither scolded me nor +given me good advice. I never expected you would +have been so forbearing. But I have always felt you +must mean to give me a good knock at the end."</p> + +<p>"You do me great injustice," he said, much wounded. +"You know that I think only of what is best for you—and +the child."</p> + +<p>They were approaching the shore, and Mrs. Dennistoun's +white cap was visible in the waning light, looking +out for them from the door. Elinor said hastily, +"And the child? I don't think that you care much +for the child."</p> + +<p>"There you are mistaken, Elinor. I did not perhaps +at first: but I acknowledge that a little thing like +that does somehow creep into one's heart."</p> + +<p>Her face, which had been gloomy, brightened up as +if a sunbeam had suddenly burst upon it. "Oh, bless +you, John—Uncle John; how good and how kind, and +what a dear friend and brother you are! And I such +a wretch, ready to quarrel with those I love best! But, +John, let me keep quiet, let me keep still, don't make +me rake up the past. He is such a baby, such a baby! +There cannot be any question of telling him anything +for years and years!"</p> + +<p>"I thought you were lost," said Mrs. Dennistoun, +calling to them. "I began to think of all kinds of +things that might have happened—of the steamboat +running into you, or the boat going on a rock, or<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"You need not have had any fear when I was with +John," Elinor said, with a smile that made him warm at +once, like the sun. He knew very well, however, that +it was only because he had made that little pleasant +speech about her boy.</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXXII" id="CHAPTER_XXXII"></a>CHAPTER XXXII.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>There passed after this a number of years of which I +can make no record. The ladies remained at Lakeside, +seldom moving. When they took a holiday now +and then, it was more for the sake of the little community +which, just as in Windyhill, had gathered round +them, and which inquired, concerned, "Are you not +going to take a little change? Don't you think, dear +Mrs. Dennistoun, your daughter would be the better +for a change? Do you really think that a little sea +air and variety wouldn't be good for the boy?" +Forced by these kind speeches they did go away +now and then to unknown seaside places in the north +when little Philip was still a child, and to quiet places +abroad when he grew a boy, and it was thought a good +thing for him to learn languages, and to be taught +that there were other countries in the world besides +England. They were absent for one whole winter in +France and another in Germany with this motive, +that Philip should learn these languages, which he did +<i>tant bien que mal</i> with much assistance from his mother, +who taught herself everything that she thought the +boy should know, and shared his lessons in order to +push him gently forward. And on the whole, he did +very well in this particular of language, showing much +aptitude, though not perhaps much application. I +would not assert that the ladies, with an opinion very +common among women, and also among youth in general, +did not rather glory in the thought that he could +do almost anything he liked (which was their opinion, +and in some degree while he was very young, the +opinion of his masters), with the appearance of doing +nothing at all. But on the whole, his education was +the most difficult matter in which they had yet been engaged. +How was he to be educated? His birth and +condition pointed to one of the great public schools, +and Mrs. Dennistoun, who had made many economics +in that retirement, was quite able to give the child what +they both called the best education. But how could +they send him to Eton or Harrow? A boy who knew +nothing about his parentage or his family, a boy bearing +a well-known name, who would be subject to endless +questions where he came from, who he belonged +to? a hundred things which neither in Waterdale nor +in their travels had ever been asked of him. What the +Waterdale people thought on the subject, or how +much they knew, I should not like to inquire. There +are ways of finding out everything, and people who +possess family secrets are often extraordinarily deceived +in respect to what is known and what is not known of +those secrets. My own opinion is that there is scarcely +such a thing as a secret in the world. If any moment +of great revolution comes in your life you generally +find that your neighbours are not much surprised. +They have known it, or they have suspected it, all +along, and it is well if they have not suspected more +than the truth. So it is quite possible that these excellent +people knew all about Elinor: but Elinor did not +think so, which was the great thing.</p> + +<p>However, there cannot be any question that Philip's +education was a very great difficulty. John Tatham, +who paid them a visit soberly from time to time, but +did not now come as of old, never indeed came as on +that first occasion when he had been so happy and so +undeceived. To be sure, as Philip grew up it was of +course impossible for any one to be like that. From +the time Pippo was five or six he went everywhere with +his mother, her sole companion in general, and when +there was a visitor always making a third in the party, +a third who was really the first, for he appealed to his +mother on every occasion, directed her attention to +everything. He only learned with the greatest difficulty +that it was possible she should find it necessary +to give her attention in a greater degree to any one +else. When she said, "You know, Pippo, I must talk +to Uncle John," Pippo opened his great eyes, "Not +than to me, mamma?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, dearest, more than to you for the moment: +for he has come a long way to see us, and he will soon +have to go away again." When this was first explained +to him, Pippo inquired particularly when his Uncle +John was going away, and was delighted to hear that +it was to be very soon. However, as he grew older +the boy began to take great pleasure in Uncle John, +and hung upon his arm when they went out for their +walks, and instead of endeavouring to monopolise his +mother, turned the tables upon her by monopolising +this the only man who belonged to him, and to whom +he turned with the instinct of budding manhood. +John too was very willing to be thus appropriated, and +it came to pass that now and then Elinor was left out, +or left herself out of the calculation, urging that the +walk they were planning was too far for her, or too +steep for her, or too something, so that the boy might +have the enjoyment of the man's society all to himself. +This changed the position in many ways, and I am not +sure that at first it did not cost Elinor a little thus to +stand aside and put herself out of that first place +which had always been by all of them accorded to her. +But if this was so, it was soon lost in the consideration +of how good it was for Pippo to have a man like John +to talk to and to influence him in every way. A man +like John! That was the thing; not a common man, +not one who might teach him the baseness, or the frivolity, +or the falsehood of the world, but a good man, +who was also a distinguished man, a man of the world +in the best sense, knowing life in the best sense, and +able to modify the boy's conception of what he was to +find in the world, as women could never do.</p> + +<p>"For after all that can be said, we are not good for +much on those points, mother," Mrs. Compton would +say.</p> + +<p>"I don't know, Elinor; I doubt whether I would exchange +my own ideas for John's," the elder lady replied.</p> + +<p>"Ah, perhaps, mother; but for Pippo his experience +and his knowledge will do so much. A boy should not +be brought up entirely with women any more than a +girl should be with men."</p> + +<p>"I have often thought, my dear," said Mrs. Dennistoun, +"if in God's providence it had been a girl instead +of a boy<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said the younger mother, with a flush, "how +can you speak—how could you think of any possible +child but Pippo? I would not give him for a score of +girls."</p> + +<p>"And if he had been a girl you would not have +changed him for scores of boys," said Mrs. Dennistoun, +who added after a while, with a curious sense of competition, +and a determination to allow no inferiority, +"You forget, Elinor, that my only child is a girl." +The elder lady (whom they began to call the old lady) +showed a great deal of spirit in defence of her own.</p> + +<p>But Philip was approaching fourteen, and the great +question had to be decided now or never; where was +he to be sent to school? It was difficult now to send +him to bed to get him out of the way, he who was used +to be the person of first importance in the house—in +order that the others might settle what was to be his +fate. And accordingly the two ladies came down-stairs +again after the family had separated in the usual way, +in order to have their consultation with their adviser. +There was now a room in the house furnished as a library +in order that Philip might have a place in which to +carry on his studies, and where "the gentlemen" might +have their talks by themselves, when there was any one +in the house. And here they found John when they +stole in one after the other, soft-footed, that the boy +might suspect no complot. They had their scheme, it +need not be doubted, and John had his. He pronounced +at once for one of the great public schools, while the +ladies on their part had heard of one in the north, +an old foundation as old as Eton, where there was at +the moment a head master who was quite exceptional, +and where boys were winning honours in all directions. +There Pippo would be quite safe. He was not likely +to meet with anybody who would put awkward +questions, and yet he would receive an education as good +as any one's. "Probably better," said Elinor: "for +Mr. Sage will have few pupils like him, and therefore +will give him the more attention."</p> + +<p>"That means," said John, "that the boy will not be +among his equals, which is of all things I know the +worst for a boy."</p> + +<p>"We are not aristocrats, as you are, John. They will +be more than his equal in one way, because many of +them will be bigger and stronger than he, and that is +what counts most among boys. Besides, we have no +pretensions."</p> + +<p>"My dear Elinor," said John Tatham (who was by +this time an exceedingly successful lawyer, member for +his native borough, and within sight of a Solicitor-Generalship), +"your modesty is a little out of character, +don't you think? There can be no two opinions about +what the boy is: an aristocrat—if you choose to use that +word, every inch of him—a little gentleman, down to +his fingers' ends."</p> + +<p>"Oh, thank you, John," cried Pippo's inconsistent +mother; "that is the thing of all others that we hoped +you would say."</p> + +<p>"And yet you are going to send him among the farmers' +sons. Fine fellows, I grant you, but not of his +kind. Have you heard," he said, more gravely, "that +Reginald Compton died last year?"</p> + +<p>"We saw it in the papers," said Mrs. Dennistoun. +Elinor said nothing, but turned her head away.</p> + +<p>"And neither of the others are married, or likely to +marry; one of them is very much broken down<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Oh, John, John, for God's sake don't say anything +more!"</p> + +<p>"I must, Elinor. There is but one good life, and that +in a dangerous climate, and with all the risks of possible +fighting, between the boy and<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Don't, don't, John!"</p> + +<p>"And he does not know who he is. He is ignorant +of everything, even the fact, the great fact, which you +have no right to keep from him<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"John," she cried, starting to her feet, "the boy is +mine: I have a right to deal with him as I think best. +I will not hear a word you have to say."</p> + +<p>"It is vain to say anything," said Mrs. Dennistoun; +"she will not hear a word."</p> + +<p>"That is all very well, so far as she is concerned," +said John, "but I have a part of my own to play. You +give me the name of adviser and so forth—a man cannot +be your adviser if his mouth is closed before he +speaks. I have a right to speak, being summoned for +that purpose. I tell you, Elinor, that you have no right +to conceal from the boy who he is, and that his father +is alive."</p> + +<p>She gave a cry as if he had struck her, and shrank +away behind her mother, hiding her face in her hands.</p> + +<p>"I am, more or less, of your opinion, John. I have +told her the same. While he was a baby it mattered +nothing, now that he is a rational creature with an opinion +of his own, like any one of us<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Mother," cried Elinor, "you are unkind. Oh, you +are unkind! What did it matter so long as he was a +baby? But now he is just at the age when he would +be—if you don't wish to drive me out of my senses altogether, +don't say a word more to me of this kind."</p> + +<p>"Elinor," said John, "I have said nothing on the +subject for many years, though I have thought much: +and you must for once hear reason. The boy belongs—to +his father as much as to you. I have said it! I +cannot take it back. He belongs to the family of which +he may one day be the head. You cannot throw away +his birthright. And think, if you let him grow up like +this, not knowing that he has a family or a—unaware +whom he belongs to."</p> + +<p>"Have you done, John?" asked Elinor, who had +made two or three efforts to interrupt, and had been +beating her foot impatiently upon the ground.</p> + +<p>"If you ask me in that tone, I suppose I must say +yes: though I have a great deal more that I should like +to say."</p> + +<p>"Then hear me speak," cried Elinor. "Of us three +at least, I am the only one to whom he belongs. I only +have power to decide for him. And I say, No, no: whatever +argument there may be, whatever plea you may +bring forward, No and no, and after that No! What! +at fourteen, just the age when anything that was said +to him would tell the most; when he would learn a lesson +the quickest, learn what I would die to keep him +from! When he would take everything for gospel that +was said to him, when the very charm of—of that unknown +name<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>She stopped for a moment to take breath, half choked +by her own words.</p> + +<p>"And you ought to remember no one has ever laid +claim to him. Why should I tell him of one that never +even inquired<span class="norewrap">——</span> No, John, no, no, no! A baby he +might have been told, and it would have done him no +harm. Perhaps you were right, you and mother, and +I was wrong. He might have known it from the first, +and thought very little of it, and he may know when he +is a man, and his character is formed and he knows +what things mean—but a boy of fourteen! Imagine +the glamour there would be about the very name; how +he would feel we must all have been unjust and the—the +other injured. You know from yourself, John, how +he clings to you—you who are only a cousin; he knows +that, yet he insists upon Uncle John, the one man who +belongs to him, and looks up to you, and thinks nothing +of any of us in comparison. I like it! I like it!" cried +Elinor, dashing the tears from her eyes. "I am not +jealous: but fancy what it would be with the—other, +the real, the<span class="norewrap">——</span> I cannot, cannot, say the word; yes, +the father. If it is so with you, what would it be with +him?"</p> + +<p>John listened with his head bent down, leaning on +his hand: every word went to his heart. Yes, he was +nothing but a cousin, it was true. The boy did not belong +to him, was nothing to him. If the father stepped +in, the real father, the man of whom Philip had never +heard, in all the glory of his natural rights and the +novelty and wonder of his existence, how different would +that be from any feeling that could be raised by a +cousin, an uncle, with whom the boy had played all his +life! No doubt it was true: and Phil Compton would +probably charm the inexperienced boy with his handsome, +disreputable grace, and the unknown ways of the +man of the world. And yet, he thought to himself, +there is a perspicacity about children which is not always +present in a man. Philip had no precocious instincts +to be tempted by his father's habits; he had the +true sight of a boy trained amid everything that was +noble and pure. Would it indeed be more dangerous +now, when the boy was a boy, with all those safeguards +of nature, than when he was a man? John kept his +mind to this question with the firmness of a trained intelligence, +not letting himself go off into other matters, +or pausing to feel the sting that was in Elinor's words, +the reminder that though he had been so much, he was +still nothing to the family to whom he had consecrated +so much of his life, so much now of his thoughts.</p> + +<p>"I do not think I agree with you, Elinor," he said +at last. "I think it would have been better had he +always known that his father lived, and who he was, +and what family he belonged to; that is not to say that +you were to thrust him into his father's arms. And I +think now that, though we cannot redeem the past, it +should be done as soon as possible, and that he should +know before he goes to school. I think the effect will +be less now than if the discovery bursts upon him when +he is a young man, when he finds, perhaps, as may well +be, that his position and all his prospects are changed +in a moment, when he may be called upon without any +preparation to assume a name and a rank of which he +knows nothing."</p> + +<p>"Not a name. He has always borne his true name."</p> + +<p>"His true name may be changed at any moment, +Elinor. He may become Lord Lomond, and +the heir<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"My dear," said Mrs. Dennistoun, growing red, "that +is a chance we have never taken into account."</p> + +<p>"What has that to do with it?" she said. "Is his +happiness and his honour to be put in comparison with +a chance, a possibility that may never come true? John, +for the sake of everything that is good, let him wait +till he is a man and knows good from evil."</p> + +<p>"It is that I am thinking of, Elinor; a boy of fourteen +often knows good from evil much better than a +youth of twenty-one, which is, I suppose, what you call +a man. My opinion is that it would be better and safer +now."</p> + +<p>"No!" she said. "And no! I will never consent to +it. If you go and poison my boy's mind I will never +forgive you, John."</p> + +<p>"I have no right to do anything," he said; "it is of +course you who must decide, Elinor: I advise only; and +I might as well give that up," he added, "don't you +think? for you are not to be guided by me."</p> + +<p>And she was of course supreme in everything that +concerned her son. John, when he could do no more, +knew how to be silent, and Mrs. Dennistoun, if not so +wise in this respect, was yet more easily silenced than +John. And Philip Compton went to the old grammar-school +among the dales, where was the young and energetic +head-master, who, as Elinor anticipated, found +this one pupil like a pearl among the pebbles of the +shore, and spared no pains to polish him and perfect +him in every way known to the ambitious schoolmaster +of modern times.</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXIII.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>It is needless to say that the years which developed +Elinor's child into a youth on the verge of manhood, +had not passed by the others of the family without full +evidence of its progress. John Tatham was no longer +within the elastic boundaries of that conventional youth +which is allowed to stretch so far when a man remains +unmarried. He might have been characterized as +<i>encore jeune</i>, according to the fine distinction of our +neighbours in France, had he desired it. But he did +not desire it. He had never altogether neglected society, +having a wholesome liking for the company of +his fellow creatures, but neither had he ever plunged +into it as those do who must keep their places in the +crowd or die. John had pursued the middle path, +which is the most difficult. He had cultivated friends, +not a mob of acquaintances, although as people say he +"knew everybody," as a man who had attained his position +and won his success could scarcely fail to do. +He had succeeded indeed, not in the fabulous way that +some men do, but in a way which most men in his +profession looked upon as in the highest degree satisfactory. +He had a silk gown like any dowager. He +had been leading counsel in many cases which were +now of note. He was among, not the two or three perhaps, +but the twenty or thirty, who were at the head of +his profession. If he had not gone further it was perhaps +more from lack of ambition than from want of +power. He had been for years in Parliament, but preferred +his independence to the chance of office. It is +impossible to tell how John's character and wishes +might have been modified had he married and had +children round him like other men. Had the tall boy +in the north, the young hero of Lakeside, been his, +what a difference would that have made in his views of +life! But Philip was not his, nor Philip's mother—probably, +as he always said to himself, from his own +fault. This, as the reader is aware, had always been +fully recognised by John himself. Perhaps in the old +days, in those days when everything was possible, he +had not even recognised that there was but one woman +in the world whom he could ever wish to marry. Probably +it was only her appropriation by another that revealed +this fact to him. There are men like this to be +found everywhere; not so hotly constituted as to seize +for themselves what is most necessary for their personal +happiness—possessed by so many other subjects that +this seems a thing to be thought of by-and-by—which +by-and-by is generally too late.</p> + +<p>But John Tatham was neither a disappointed nor an +unhappy man. He might have attained a higher development +and more brilliant and full life, but that was +all; and how few men are there of whom this could not +be said! He had become Mr. Tatham of Tatham's +Cross, as well as Q.C. and M.P., a county gentleman +of modest but effective standing, a lawyer of high reputation, +quite eligible either for the bench or for political +elevation, had he cared for either, a member of Parliament +with a distinct standing, and therefore importance +of his own. There was probably throughout England +no society in which he could have found himself where +his position and importance would have been unknown. +He was a man approaching fifty, who had not yet lost +any of the power of enjoyment or begun to feel the inroads +of decay, at the very height of life, and unconscious +that the ground would shortly begin to slope downwards +under his feet; indeed, it showed no such indication +as yet, and probably would not do so for years. +The broad plateau of middle age lasts often till sixty, +or even beyond. There was no reason to doubt that for +John Tatham it would last as long as for any man. +His health was perfect, and his habits those of a man +whose self had never demanded indulgences of the vulgar +kind. He had given up with some regret, but years +before, his chambers in the Temple: that is, he retained +them as chambers, but lived in them no longer. He +had a house in one of the streets about Belgrave Square, +one of those little bits of awkward, three-cornered +streets where there are some of the pleasantest houses +of a moderate kind in London; furnished from top to +bottom, the stairs, the comfortable quaint landings, the +bits of corridor and passage, nothing naked or neglected +about it—no cold corner; but nothing fantastic; not +very much ornament, a few good pictures, a great deal +of highly-polished, old-fashioned dark mahogany, with +a general flavour of <ins title="sic">Sherraton</ins> and Chippendale: and +abundance of books everywhere. John was able to permit +himself various little indulgences on which wives +are said to look with jealous eyes. He had a fancy for +rare editions (in which I sympathise) and also for bindings, +which seems to me a weakness—however, it was +one which he indulged in moderation. He possessed in +his drawing-room (which was not very much used) a +beautiful old-fashioned harpsichord, and also he had belonging +to him a fiddle of value untold. I ought, of +course, to say violin, or rather to distinguish the instrument +by its family name; I have no doubt it was a +Stradivarius. But there is an affectionate humour in +the fiddle which does not consist with fine titles. He +had always been fond of music, but even the Stradivarius +did not beguile him, in the days of which I speak, +to play, nor perhaps was his performance worthy of it, +though his taste was said to be excellent. It will be +perceived by all this that John Tatham's life had many +pleasures.</p> + +<p>And I am not myself sorry for him because he was +not married, as many people will be. Perhaps it is a +little doleful coming home, when there is never anybody +looking out for you, expecting you. But then he +had never been accustomed to look for that, and the effect +might have been irksome rather than pleasant. +His household went on velvet under the care of a respectable +couple who had "done for" Mr. Tatham for +years. He would not have submitted to extortion or +waste, but everything was ample in the house; the +cook by no means stinted in respect to butter or any of +those condiments which are as necessary to good cooking +as air is to life. Mr. Tatham would not have understood +a lack of anything, or that what was served to +him should not have been the best, supplied and served +in the best way. Failure on such points would have so +much surprised him that he would scarcely have known +what steps to take. But Jervis, his butler, knew what +was best as well as Mr. Tatham did, and was quite as +little disposed to put up with any shortcoming. I say I +am not sorry for him that he was not married—up to +this time. But, as a matter of fact, the time does come +when one becomes sorry for the well-to-do, highly respectable, +refined, and agreeable man who has +everything that heart can desire, except the best things in +life—love, and the companionship of those who are his +very own. When old age looms in sight everything is +changed. But Mr. Tatham, as has been said, was not +quite fifty, and old age seemed as far off as if it could +never be.</p> + +<p>He was a man who was very good to a number of +people, and spent almost as much money in being kind +as if he had possessed extravagant children of his +own. His sister Mary, for instance, had married a +clergyman not very well off, and the natural result had +followed. How they could have existed without Uncle +John, much less how they could have stumbled into +public schools, scholarships, and all the rest of it, would +be difficult to tell, especially now in these days when a +girl's schooling ought, we are told, to cost as much as a +boy's. This latter is a grievance which must be apparent +to the meanest capacity. Unless the girl binds +herself by the most stringent vows <i>not</i> to marry a poor +curate or other penniless man the moment that you +have completed her expensive education, I do not think +she should in any case be permitted to go to Girton. +It is all very well when the parents are rich or the girls +have a sufficiency of their own. But to spend all that on +a process which, instead of fructifying in other schools +and colleges, or producing in life a highly accomplished +woman, is to be lost at once and swallowed up in another +nursery, is the most unprofitable of benefactions. +This is what Mary Tatham's eldest girl had just done, +almost before her bills at Newnham had been paid. A +wedding present had, so to speak, been demanded from +Uncle John at the end of the bayonet to show his satisfaction +in the event which had taken all meaning out +of his exertions for little Mary. He had given it indeed—in +the shape not of a biscuit-box, which is what +she would have deserved, but of a cheque—but he was +not pleased. Neither was he pleased, as has been seen, +by the proceedings of Elinor, who had slighted all his +advice yet clung to himself in a way some women have. +I do not know whether men expect you to be quite as +much their friend as ever after they have rejected your +counsel and taken their own (exactly opposite) way: +but women do, and indeed I think expect you to be +rather grateful that they have not taken amiss the advice +which they have rejected and despised. This was +Elinor's case. She hoped that John was ashamed of +advising her to make her boy acquainted with his family +and the fact of his father's existence, and that he duly +appreciated the fact that she did not resent that advice; +and then she expected from him the same attention to +herself and her son as if the boy had been guided in his +and not in her way. Thus it will be seen his friends +and relations expected a very great deal from John.</p> + +<p>He had gone to his chambers one afternoon after he +left the law courts, and was there very busily engaged +in getting up his notes for to-morrow's work, when he +received a visit which awakened at once echoes of the +past and alarms for the future in John's mind. It +was very early in the year, the end of January, and the +House was not sitting, so that his public duties were +less overwhelming than usual. His room was the same +in which we have already seen on various occasions, and +which Elinor in her youth, before anything had happened +to make life serious for her, had been in the +habit of calling the Star Chamber, for no reason in the +world except that law and penalties or judgments upon +herself in her unripe conviction, and suggestions of +what ought to be done, came from that place to which +Mrs. Dennistoun had made resort in her perplexities almost +from the very beginning of John's reign there. +Mr. Tatham had been detained beyond his usual time by +the importance of the case for which he was preparing, +and a clerk, very impatient to get free, yet obliged to +simulate content, had lighted the lamp and replenished +the fire. It had always been a comfortable room. The +lamp by which John worked had a green shade which +concentrated the light upon a table covered with that litter +of papers in which there seemed so little order, yet +which Mr. Tatham knew to the last scrap as if they had +been the tidiest in the world. The long glazed book-case +which filled up one side of the room gave a dark +reflection of the light and of the leaping brightness of +the fire. The curtains were drawn over the windows. +If the clerk fumed in the outer rooms, here all was +studious life and quiet. No spectator could have been +otherwise than impressed by the air of absolute self-concentration +with which the eminent lawyer gave himself +up to his work. He was like his lamp, giving all +the light in him to the special subject, indifferent to +everything outside.</p> + +<p>"What is it, Simmons?" he said abruptly, without +looking up.</p> + +<p>"A lady, sir, who says she has urgent business and +must see you."</p> + +<p>"A lady—who <i>must</i> see me." John Tatham smiled +at the very ineffectual <i>must</i>, which meant coercion and +distraction to him. "I don't see how she is going to +accomplish that."</p> + +<p>"I told her so," said the clerk.</p> + +<p>"Well, you must tell her so again." He had scarcely +lifted his head from his work, so that it was unnecessary +to return to it when the door closed, and Mr. +Tatham went on steadily as before.</p> + +<p>It is easy to concentrate the light of the lamp when +it is duly shaded and no wind to blow it about, and it +is easy to concentrate a man's attention in the absolute +quiet when nothing interrupts him; but when there +suddenly rises up a wind of talk in the room which is +separated from him only by a door, a tempest of chattering +words and laughter, shrill and bursting forth in +something like shrieks, making the student start, that +is altogether a different business. The lady outside, +who evidently had multiplied herself—unless it was +conceivable that the serious Simmons had made himself +her accomplice—had taken the cleverest way of +showing that she was not to be beat by any passive resistance +of busy man, though not even an audible conversation +with Simmons would have startled or disturbed +his master, to whom it would have been apparent +that his faithful vassal was thus defending his own +stronghold and innermost retirement. But this was +quite independent of Simmons, a discussion in two +voices, one high-pitched and shrill, the other softer, but +both absolutely unrestrained by any consciousness of +being in a place where the chatter of strange voices is +forbidden, and stillness and quiet a condition of being. +The sound of the talk rang through Mr. Tatham's head +as if all the city bells were ringing. One of the unseen +ladies had a very shrill laugh, to which she gave +vent freely. John fidgeted in his chair, raised up his +eyes above the level of his spectacles (he wore spectacles, +alas! by this time habitually when he worked) as +if lifting a voiceless appeal to those powers who interest +themselves in law cases to preserve him from disturbance, +then made a manly effort to disregard the sounds +that filled the air, returning with a shake of his head to +his reading. But at the end of a long day, and in the +dulness of the afternoon, perhaps a man is less capable +than at other moments to fight against interruption of +this kind and finally he threw down his papers and +touched his bell. Simmons came in full of pale indignation, +which made itself felt even beyond the circle +illuminated by the lamp.</p> + +<p>"What can I do?" he said. "They've planted themselves +by the fire, and there they mean to stay. 'Oh, +very well, we'll wait,' they said, quite calm. And I +make no doubt they will, having nothing else to do, till +all is blue."</p> + +<p>Mr. Simmons had a gift of expression of which all +his friends were flatteringly sensible, and he was very +friendly and condescending to John, of whom he had +taken care for many years.</p> + +<p>"What is to be done?" said Mr. Tatham. "Can't +you do anything to get them away?"</p> + +<p>Simmons shook his head. "There's two of them," +he said, "and they entertain each other, and they think +it's fun to jabber like that in a lawyer's office. The +young one says, 'What a queer place!' and the other, +she holds forth about other times when she's been +here."</p> + +<p>"Oh, she's been here other times<span class="norewrap">——</span> Do you know +her, Simmons?"</p> + +<p>"Not from Adam, Mr. Tatham—or, I should say, +from Eve, as she's a lady. But a real lady I should say, +though she don't behave herself as such—one of the +impudent ones. They are never impudent like that," +said Mr. Simmons, with profound observation, "unless +they are real high or—real low."</p> + +<p>"Hum!" said John, hesitating. And then he added, +"There is a young one, you say?"</p> + +<p>But I do not myself think, though the light-minded +may imagine it to be so, that it was because there was +a young one that John gave in. It was because he +could do nothing else, the noise and chatter of the +voices being entirely destructive of that undisturbed +state of the atmosphere in which work can be done. +It was not merely the sounds but the vibration they +made in the air, breaking all its harmony and concentration. +He tried a little longer, but was unsuccessful, +and finally in despair he said to Simmons, "You had +better show them in, and let me get done with them," +in an angry tone.</p> + +<p>"Oh, he will see us after all," said the high-pitched +voice. "So good of Mr. Tatham; but of course I +should have waited all the same. Dolly, take Toto; I +can't possibly get up while I have him on my knee. +You can tell Mr. Tatham I did not send in my name to +disturb him, which makes it all the more charitable of +him to receive me; but, dear me, of course I can tell +him that himself as he consents to see us. Dolly, don't +strangle my poor darling! I never saw a girl that didn't +know how to take up a dear dog before."</p> + +<p>"He's only a snappish little demon, and you spoil +him so," said the other voice. This was attended by +the sound of movement as if the party were getting +under weigh.</p> + +<p>"My poor darling pet, it is only her jealousy: is +that the way? Yes, to be sure it is the next room. +Now, Dolly, remember this is where all the poor people +are ruined and done for. Leave hope behind all ye +who enter here." A little shriek of laughter ended +this speech. And John, looking up, taking off his +spectacles, and raising a little the shade of the lamp, +saw in the doorway Lady Mariamne, altered as was inevitable +by the strain and stress of nearly twenty years.</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIV" id="CHAPTER_XXXIV"></a>CHAPTER XXXIV.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>I do not mean to assert that John Tatham had not +seen Lady Mariamne during these twenty years, or that +her changed appearance burst upon him with anything +like a shock. In society, when you are once a member +of that little world within a world, everybody sees +everybody else from time to time. He had not recognised +her voice, for he was not in the smallest degree +thinking of Lady Mariamne or of any member of her +family, notwithstanding that they now and then did +make a very marked appearance in his mind in respect +of the important question of that connection which +Elinor in her foolishness tried to ignore. And John +was not at all shocked by the progress of that twenty +years, as reflected in the appearance of this lady, who +was about his own standing, a woman very near fifty, +but who had fought strenuously against every sign of +her age, as some women foolishly do. The result was +in Lady Mariamne's case, as in many others, that the +number of her years looked more like a hundred and +fifty than their natural limit. A woman of her class +has but two alternatives as she gets old. She must get +stout, in which case, though she becomes unwieldy, she +preserves something of her bloom; or she may grow +thin, and become a spectre upon which art has to do so +much that nature, flouted and tortured, becomes vindictive, +and withdraws every modifying quality. Lady +Mariamne had, I fear, false hair, false teeth, false complexion, +everything that invention could do in a poor +little human countenance intended for no such manipulation. +The consequence was that every natural advantage +(and there are some which age confers, as well as +many that age takes away) was lost. The skin was +parchment, the eyes were like eyes of fishes, the teeth—too +white and too perfect—looked like the horrible +things in the dentists' windows, which was precisely +what they were. On such a woman, the very height +of the fashion, to which she so often attaches herself +with desperation, has an antiquated air. Everything +"swears," as the French say, with everything else. +The softness, the whiteness, the ease, the self-abnegation +of advancing age are all so many ornaments if +people but knew. But Lady Mariamne had none of +these. She wore a warm cloak in her carriage, it is +true, but that had dropped from her shoulders, leaving +her in all the bound-up rigidity in which youth is trim +and slim and elastic, as becomes it. It is true that many +a woman of fifty is, as John Tatham was, serenely dwelling +on that tableland which shows but little difference +between thirty-five, the crown of life, and fifty-five; +but Lady Mariamne was not one of these. She had +gone "too fast," she would herself have allowed; "the +pace" had been too much for such survivals. She was +of the awful order of superannuated beauties of which +Mr. Rider Haggard would in vain persuade us "She" +was not one. I am myself convinced that "She's" +thousands of years were all written on her fictitious +complexion, and that other people saw them clearly if +not her unfortunate lover. And Lady Mariamne had +come to be of the order of "She." By dint of wiping +out the traces of her fifty years, she had made herself +look as if she might have been a thousand, and in this +guise she appeared to the robust, ruddy, well-preserved +man of her own age, as she stood, with a fantastic little +giggle, calling his attention, on the threshold of his +door.</p> + +<p>Behind Lady Mariamne was a very different figure—that +of the serious and independent girl without any illusions, +who is in so many cases the child of such a +mother, and who is in revolt so complete from all that +mother's traditions, so highly set on the crown of every +opposite principle, that nature vindicates itself by the +possibility that she may at any moment topple over +and become again what her mother was. He would +have been a bold man, however, who in the present stage +would have prophesied any such fate for Dolly Prestwich, +who between working at Whitechapel, attending +on a ward in St. Thomas's, drawing three days a week +in the Slade School, and other labours of equally varied +descriptions, had her time very fully taken up, and only +on special occasions had time to accompany her mother. +She had been beguiled on this occasion by the family +history which was concerned, and which, <i>fin de siècle</i> +as Dolly was, excited her curiosity almost as much as +if she had been born in the "forties." Dolly was never +unkind, sometimes indeed was quite the reverse, to her +mother. When Mr. Tatham, with a man's brutal unconsciousness +of what is desirable, placed a chair for +Lady Mariamne in front of the fire, Dolly twisted it +round with a dexterous movement so as to shield the +countenance which was not adapted for any such illumination. +For herself, Dolly cared nothing, whether it +was the noonday sun or the blaze of a furnace that shone +upon her; she defied them both to make her wink. As +for complexion, she scorned that old-fashioned vanity. +She had not very much, it is true. Having been scorched +red and brown in Alpine expeditions in the autumn, +she was now of a somewhat dry whitish-greyish hue, +the result of much loss of cuticle and constant encounter +with London fogs and smoke. She carried Toto—who +was a shrinking, chilly Italian greyhound—in a coat, +carelessly under one arm, and sat down beside her +mother, studying the papers on John's table with exceedingly +curious eyes. She would have liked to go +over all his notes about his case, and form her own opinion +on it—which she would have done, we may be sure, +much more rapidly, and with more decision, than Mr. +Tatham could do.</p> + +<p>"So here I am again, you will say," said Lady Mariamne. +She had taken off her gloves, and was smoothing +her hands, from the points of the fingers downwards, +not, I believe, with any intention of demonstrating their +whiteness, but solely because she had once done so, +and the habit remained. She wore several fine rings, +and her hands were still pretty, and—unlike the rest +of her—younger than her age. They made a little show +with their sparkling diamonds, just catching the edge +of the light from John's shaded lamp. Her face by +Dolly's help was in the shadow of the green shade. +"You will say so, Mr. Tatham, I know: here she is +again—without thinking how self-denying I have been, +never to come, never to ask a single question, for all +these years."</p> + +<p>"The loss is mine, Lady Mariamne," said John, +gravely.</p> + +<p>"It's very pretty of you to say that, isn't it, Dolly? +One's old flirts don't always show up so well." And +here the lady gave a laugh, such as had once been supposed +to be one of Lady Mariamne's charms, but which +was rather like a giggle now—an antiquated giggle, +which is much less satisfactory than the genuine article. +"How I used to worry you about poor Phil, and that +little spitfire of a Nell—and what a mess they have +made of it! I suppose you know what changes have +happened in the family, Mr. Tatham, since those +days?"</p> + +<p>"I heard indeed, with regret, Lady Mariamne, that +you had lost a brother<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"A brother! two!" she cried. "Isn't it extraordinary—poor +Hal, that was the picture of health? How +little one knows! He just went, don't you know, without +any one ever thinking he would go. Regg in India +was different—you expect that sort of thing when a man +is in India. But poor Hal! I told you Mr. Tatham +wouldn't have heard of it, Dolly, not being in our own +set, don't you know."</p> + +<p>"It was in all the papers," said Miss Dolly.</p> + +<p>"Ah, well, you didn't notice it, I suppose: or perhaps +you were away. I always say it is of no use being married +or dying or anything else in September—your +friends never hear of it. You will wonder that I am not +in black, but black was always very unbecoming to me, +and dark grey is just as good, and doesn't make one +quite so ghastly. But the funny thing is that now Phil—who +looked as if he never could be in the running, +don't you know—is heir presumptive. Isn't it extraordinary? +Two gone, and Phil, that lived much faster +than either of them, and at one time kept up an awful +pace, has seen them both out. And St. Serf has never +married. He won't now, though I have been at him on +the subject for years. He says, not if he knows it, in +the horrid way men have. And I don't wonder much, +for he has had some nasty experiences, poor fellow. +There was Lady<span class="norewrap">——</span> Oh, I almost forgot you were +there, Dolly."</p> + +<p>"You needn't mind me," said Dolly, gravely; "I've +heard just as bad."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Lady Mariamne, with a giggle, "did +you ever know anything like those girls? They are not +afraid of anything. Now, when I was a girl—don't you +remember what an innocent dear I was, Mr. Tatham?—like +a lamb; never suspecting that there was any +naughtiness in the world<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>John endeavoured to put on a smile, in feeble sympathy +with the uproariousness of Lady Mariamne's laugh—but +her daughter took no such trouble. She sat as +grave as a young judge, never moving a muscle. The +dog, however, held in her arms, and not at all comfortable, +then making prodigious efforts to struggle on to its +mistress's more commodious lap, burst out into a responsive +bark, as shrill and not much unlike.</p> + +<p>"Darling Toto," said Lady Mariamne, "come!—it +always knows what it's mummy means. Did you ever +see such a darling little head, Mr. Tatham?—and the +faithful pet always laughs when I laugh. What was I +talking of?—St. Serf and his ladies. Well, it is not +much wonder, you know, is it? for he has always been +a sort of an invalid, and he will never marry now—and +poor Hal being gone there's only Phil. Phil's been going +a pace, Mr. Tatham; but he has had a bad illness, +too, and the other boys going has sobered him a bit; +and I do believe, <i>now</i>, that he'll probably mend. And +there he is, you know, tied to a<span class="norewrap">——</span> Oh, of course, <i>she</i> +is as right as a—as right as a—trivet, whatever that may +be. Those sort of heartless people always are: and then +there's the child. Is it living, Mr. Tatham?—that's what +I want to know."</p> + +<p>"Philip is alive and well, Lady Mariamne, if that is +what you want to know."</p> + +<p>"Philip!—she called him after Phil, after all! Well, +that is something wonderful. I expected to hear he +was John, or Jonathan, or something. Now, where is +he?" said Lady Mariamne, with the most insinuating +air.</p> + +<p>John burst into a short laugh. "I don't suppose you +expect me to tell you," he said.</p> + +<p>"Why not?—you can't hide a boy that is heir to a +peerage, Mr. Tatham!—it is impossible. Nell has done +the best she could in that way. They know nothing +about her in that awful place she was married from—of +course you remember it—a dreadful place, enough to +make one commit suicide, don't you know. The Cottage, +or whatever they call it, is let, and nobody knows +anything about them. I took the trouble to go there, +I assure you, on my own hook, to see if I could find out +something. Toto nearly died of it, didn't you, darling? +Not a drop of cream to be had for him, the poor angel; +only a little nasty skim milk. But Mr. Tatham has the +barbarity to smile," she went on, with a shrill outcry. +"Fancy, Toto—the cruelty to smile!"</p> + +<p>"No cream for the angel, and no information for his +mistress," said John.</p> + +<p>"You horrid, cruel, cold-blooded man!—and you sit +there at your ease, and will do nothing for us<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Should you like me," said John, "to send out for +cream for your dog, Lady Mariamne?"</p> + +<p>"Cream in the Temple?" said the lady. "What +sort of a compound would it be, Dolly? All plaster of +Paris, or stuff of that sort. Perhaps you have tea sometimes +in these parts<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Very seldom," said John; "but it might be obtainable +if you would like it." He put forward his hand, +but not with much alacrity, to the bell.</p> + +<p>"Mother never takes any tea," said Miss Dolly, hastily; +"she only crumbles down cake into it for that +little brute."</p> + +<p>"It is you who are a little brute, you unnatural child. +Toto likes his tea very much—he is dying for it. But +you must have patience, my pet, for probably it would +be very bad, and the cream all stucco, or something. +Mr. Tatham, do tell us what has become of Nell? Now, +have you hidden her somewhere in London, St. John's +Wood, and that sort of thing, don't you know? or where +is she? Is the old woman living? and how has that +boy been brought up? At a dame's school, or something +of that sort, I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Mother," said Dolly, "you ought to know there are +now no dame's schools. There's Board Schools, which +is what you mean, I suppose; and it would be very +good for him if he had been there. They would teach +him a great deal more than was ever taught to Uncle +Phil."</p> + +<p>"Teach him!" said Lady Mariamne, with another +shriek. "Did I ask anything about teaching? Heaven +forbid! Mr. Tatham knows what I mean, Dolly. Has +he been at any decent place—or has he been where it +will never be heard of? Eton and Harrow one knows, +and the dame's schools one knows, but horrible Board +Schools, or things, where they might say young Lord +Lomond was brought up—oh, goodness gracious! One +has to bear a great many things, but I could not bear +that."</p> + +<p>"It does not matter much, does it, so long as he does +not come within the range of his nearest relations?" +This was from John, who was almost at the end of his +patience. He began to put his papers back in a portfolio, +with the intention of carrying them home with +him, for his hour's work had been spoilt as well as his +temper. "I am afraid," he added, "that I cannot give +you any information, Lady Mariamne."</p> + +<p>"Oh, such nonsense, Mr. Tatham!—as if the heir to +a peerage could be hid."</p> + +<p>It was not often that Lady Mariamne produced an +unanswerable effect, but against this last sentence of +hers John had absolutely nothing to say. He stared at +her for a moment, and then he returned to his papers, +shovelling them into the portfolio with vehemence. +Fortunately, she did not herself see how potent was her +argument. She went on diluting it till it lost all its +power.</p> + +<p>"There is the 'Peerage,' if it was nothing else—they +must have the right particulars for that. Why, Dolly +is at full length in it, her age and all, poor child; and +Toto, too, for anything I know. Is du in the 'Peerage,' +dear Toto, darling? And yet Toto can't succeed, +nor Dolly either. And this year Phil will be in as heir +presumptive and his marriage and all—and then a blank +line. It's ridiculous, it's horrible, it's a thing that can't, +can't be! Only think of all the troops of people, nice +people, the best people, that read the 'Peerage,' Mr. +Tatham!—and that know Phil is married, and that +there is a child, and yet will see nothing but that blank +line. Nell was always a little fool, and never could see +things in a common-sense way. But a man ought to +know better—and a lawyer, with chambers in the Temple! +Why, people come and consult you on such matters—I +might be coming to ask you to send out detectives, +and that sort of thing. How do you dare to hide +away that boy?"</p> + +<p>Lady Mariamne stamped her foot at John, but this +proceeding very much incommoded Toto, who, disturbed +in his position on her knee, got upon his feet +and began to bark furiously, first at his mistress and +then, following her impulse, at the gentleman opposite +to her, backing against the lady's shoulder and setting +up his little nose furiously with vibrations of rage +against John, while stumbling upon the uncertain footing +of the lap, volcanically shaken by the movement. +The result of this onslaught was to send Lady Mariamne +into shrieks of laughter, in the midst of which +she half smothered Toto with mingled endearments and +attempts at restraint, until Dolly, coming to the rescue, +seized him summarily and snatched him away.</p> + +<p>"The darling!" cried Lady Mariamne, "he sees it, +and you can't see it, a great big lawyer though you +are. Dolly, don't throttle my angel child. Stands up +for his family, don't he, the dear? Mr. Tatham, how +can you be so bigoted and stubborn, when our dear little +Toto<span class="norewrap">——</span> But you always were the most obstinate +man. Do you remember once, when I wanted to +take you to Lady Dogberry's dance—wasn't it Lady +Dogberry's?—well, it was Lady Somebody's—and you +said you were not asked, and I said, what did it matter: +but to make you go, and Nell was with me—we might +as well have tried to make St. Paul's go<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"My dear Lady Mariamne," said John.</p> + +<p>She held up a finger at him with the engaging playfulness +of old. "How can I be your dear Lady Mariamne, +Mr. Tatham, when you won't do a thing I ask +you? What, Dolly? Yes, we must go, of course, or I +shall not have my nap before dinner. I always have a +nap before dinner, for the sake of my complexion, don't +you know—my beauty nap, they call it. Now, Mr. Tatham, +come to me to-morrow, and you shall give Toto his +cream, to show you bear no malice, and tell me all +about the boy. Don't be an obstinate pig, Mr. Tatham. +Now, I shall look for you—without fail. Shan't we look +for him, Dolly?—and Toto will give you a paw and forgive +you—and you must tell me all about the boy."</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXXV" id="CHAPTER_XXXV"></a>CHAPTER XXXV.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>To tell her all about the boy!</p> + +<p>John Tatham shovelled his papers into his portfolio, +and shut it up with a snap of embarrassment, a sort of +confession of weakness. He pushed back his chair with +the same sharpness, almost making a noise upon the old +Turkey carpet, and he touched his bell so that it +sounded with a shrill electric ping, almost like a pistol-shot. +Simmons understood all these signs, and he was +very sympathetic when he came in to take Mr. Tatham's +last orders and help him on with his coat.</p> + +<p>"Spoilt your evening's work," said Simmons, compassionately. +"I knew they would. Ladies never should +enter a gentleman's chambers if I could help it. They've +got nothing to do in the Temple."</p> + +<p>"You forget some men in the Temple are married, +Simmons."</p> + +<p>"What does that matter?" said the clerk; "let 'em +see their wives at home, sir. What I will maintain is +that ladies have no business here."</p> + +<p>This was a little ungrateful, it must be said, for Simmons +probably got off three-quarters of an hour earlier +than he would have done had Mr. Tatham remained +undisturbed. As it was, John had some ten minutes to +wait before his habitual hansom drew up at the door.</p> + +<p>It was not the first time by many times that Mr. Tatham +had considered the question which he now took +with him into his hansom, and which occupied him +more or less all the way to Halkin Street. Lady Mariamne, +however, had put it very neatly and very conclusively +when she said that you can't hide the heir to +a peerage—more concisely at least than John had himself +put it in his many thoughts on the subject—for, to +tell the truth, John had never considered the boy in +this aspect. That he should ever be the heir to a peerage +had seemed one of those possibilities which so outrage +nature, and are so very like fiction, that the sober +mind rejects them with almost a fling of impatience. +And yet how often they come true! He had never +heard—a fact of which he felt partly ashamed, for it was +an event of too much importance to be ignored by any +one connected with Elinor—of Hal Compton's death. +John was not acquainted with Hal Compton any more +than he was with other men who come and go in society, +occasionally seen, but open to no particular +remark. A son of Lord St. Serf—the best of the lot—a +Compton with very little against him: these were +things which he had heard said and had taken little +notice of. Hal was healthier, less objectionable, a +better life than Phil's, and yet Hal was gone, who ought +by all rights to have succeeded his invalid brother. It +was true that the invalid brother, who had seen the end +of two vigorous men, might also see out Phil. But +that would make little difference in the position, unless +indeed by modifying Elinor's feelings and removing her +reluctance to make her boy known. John shook his +head as he went on with his thoughts, and decided +within himself that this was the very reason why Phil +Compton should survive and become Lord St. Serf, and +make the imbroglio worse, if worse were possible. It +had not required this to make it a hideous imbroglio, +the most foolish and wanton that ever a woman made. +He wondered at himself when he thought of it how he +had ever consented to it, ever permitted such a state +of affairs; and yet what could he have done? He had +no right to interfere even in the way of advice, which +he had given until everybody was sick of him and his +counsels. He could not have betrayed his cousin. To +tell her that she was conducting her affairs very foolishly, +laying up untold troubles for herself, was what +he had done freely, going to the very edge of a breach. +And he had no right to do any more. He could not +force her to adopt his method, neither could he betray +her when she took her own way. Nevertheless, there +can be no doubt that John felt himself almost an accomplice, +involved in this unwise folly, with a sort of +responsibility for it, and almost guilt. It did not indeed +change young Philip's moral position in any way, +or make the discovery that he had a father living more +likely to shock and bewilder him that this discovery +should come mingled with many extraneous wonders. +And yet these facts did alter the circumstances. "You +cannot hide the heir to a peerage." Lady Mariamne +was far, very far, from being a philosopher or a person +of genius, and yet this which she had said was in reality +quite unanswerable. Phil Compton might have been +ignored for ever by his wife and child had he remained +only the <i>dis</i>-Honourable Phil, a younger son and a nobody. +But Phil Compton as Lord St. Serf could not +be ignored. Elinor had been wise enough never to +change her name, that is to say, she had been too proud +to do so, though nobody knew of the existence of that +prefix which was so inappropriate to her husband's +character. But now Mrs. Compton would no longer be +her name; and Philip, the boy at the big northern +grammar-school, would be Lord Lomond. An unlooked-for +summons like this has sometimes the power +of turning the heads of the heirs so suddenly ennobled, +but it did anything but convey elation to John's mind +in the prospect of its effect upon his relations. Would +she see reason <i>now?</i> Would she be brought to allow +that something must be done, or would she remain obdurate +to the end of the chapter? A great impatience +with Elinor filled John's mind. She was, as the reader +knows, the only woman to John Tatham; but what +does that matter? He did not approve of her any more +on that account. He was even more conscious of the +faults of which she was guilty. He was aware of her +obstinacy, her determined adherence to her own way +as no other man in the world was. Would she acknowledge +now at last that she was wrong, and give in? I +am obliged to confess that the giving in of Elinor was +the last spectacle in heaven or earth which John Tatham +could conceive.</p> + +<p>He went over these circumstances as he drove through +all of London that is to some people worth calling London, +on that dark January night, passing from the light +of the busy streets into the comparative darkness of +those in which people live, without in the least remarking +where he was going, except in his thoughts. He +had not the least intention of accepting the invitation +of Lady Mariamne, nor did his mind dwell upon her or +the change that age had wrought in her. But yet the +Compton family had gained an interest in John's eyes +which it did not possess even at the time when Elinor's +marriage first brought its name into his thoughts. +Philip—young Philip—the boy, as John called him in +his own mind, in fond identification—was as near John's +own child as anything ever could be in this world. He +had many nephews and nieces belonging to him by a +more authentic title, but none of these was in the least +like Philip, whom none of all the kindred knew but himself, +and who, so far as he was aware, had but one kinsman +in the world, who was Uncle John. He had followed +the development of the boy's mind always with +a reference to those facts of which Philip knew nothing, +which would be so wonderful to him when the revelation +came. To John that little world at Lakeside—where +the ladies had made an artificial existence for themselves, +which was at the same time so natural, so sweet, so full +of all the humanities and charities—was something like +what we might suppose this erring world to be to some +archangel great enough to see how everything is, not +great enough to give the impulse that would put it +right. If the great celestial intelligences are allowed +to know and mark out perverse human ways, how much +impatience with us must mingle with their tenderness +and pity! John Tatham had little perhaps that was +heavenly about him, but he loved Elinor and her son, +and was absolutely free of selfishness in respect to them. +Never, he was aware, could either woman or child be +more to him than they were now. Nay, they were everything +to him, but on their own account, not his; he +desired their welfare absolutely, and not his own through +them. Elinor was capable at any moment of turning +upon him, of saying, if not in words, yet in undeniable +inference, what is it to you? and the boy, though he +gladly referred to Uncle John when Uncle John was in +the way, took him with perfect composure as a being +apart from his life. They were everything to him, but +he was nothing to them. His whole heart was set upon +their peace, upon their comfort and well-being, but as +much apart from himself as if he had not been.</p> + +<p>Mr. Tatham was dining out that night, which was a +good thing for him to distract his thoughts from this +problem, which he could only torment himself about +and could not solve; and there was an evening party at +the same house—one of those quieter, less-frequented +parties which are, people in London tell you, so much +more agreeable than in the crowd of the season. It was +a curious kind of coincidence that at this little assembly, +which might have been thought not at all in her way, +he met Lady Mariamne, accompanied by her daughter, +again. It was not in her way, being a judge's house, +where frivolity, though it had a certain place, was not +the first element. But then when there are few things +to choose from, people must not be too particular, and +those who cannot have society absolutely of their own +choosing, are bound, as in other cases of necessity, to +take what they can get. And then Dolly liked to hear +people talking of things which she did not understand. +When Lady Mariamne saw that John Tatham was there +she gave a little shriek of satisfaction, and rushed at him +as if they had been the dearest friends in the world. +"So delighted to see you <i>again</i>," she cried, giving everybody +around the idea of the most intimate relationship. +"It was the most wonderful good fortune that I got +my Toto home in safety, poor darling; for you know, +Mr. Tatham, you would not give him any tea, and Dolly, +who is quite unnatural, pitched him into the carriage +and simply sat upon him—sat upon him, Mr. Tatham! +before I could interfere. Oh, you do not know half the +trials a woman has to go through! And now please +take me to have some coffee or something, and let us +finish the conversation we were having when Dolly made +me go away."</p> + +<p>John could not refuse his arm, nor his services in +respect to the coffee, but he was mute on the subject +on which his companion was bent. He tried to divert +her attention by some questions on the subject of Dolly +instead.</p> + +<p>"Dolly! oh, yes, she's a girl of the period, don't you +know—not what a girl of the period used to be in <i>our</i> +day, Mr. Tatham, when those nasty newspaper people +wrote us down. Look at her talking to those two men, +and laying down the law. Now, we never laid down the +law; we knew best about things in our sphere—dress, +and the drawing-room, and what people were doing in +society. But Dolly would tell you how to manage your +next great case, Mr. Tatham, or she could give one of +those doctor-men a wrinkle about cutting off a leg. +Gracious, I should have fainted only to hear of such a +thing! Tell me, are those doctor-men supposed to be +in society?" Lady Mariamne cried, putting up her thin +shoulder (which was far too like a specimen of anatomy) +in the direction of a famous physician who was blandly +smiling upon the instruction which Miss Dolly assuredly +intended to convey.</p> + +<p>"As much as lawyer-men are in society," replied +John.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Tatham, such nonsense! Lawyers have +always been in society. What are the Attorney General +and Lord Chancellor and so forth? They are all +lawyers; but I never heard of a doctor that was in the +Cabinet, which makes all the difference. Here is a quiet +corner, where nobody can disturb us. Sit down; it +will be for all the world like sitting out a dance together: +and tell me about Nell and her boy."</p> + +<p>"And what if I have nothing to tell?" said John, +who did not feel at all like sitting out a dance; but, on +the contrary, was much more upright and perpendicular +than even a queen's counsel of fifty has any need to be.</p> + +<p>"Oh, sit down, <i>please!</i> I never could bear a man +standing over me, as if he had swallowed a poker. Why +did she go off and leave Phil? Where did she go to? +I told you I went off on my own hook to that horrid +place where they lived, and knocked up the old clergyman +and the woman who wanted me to put on a shawl +over one of the prettiest gowns I ever had. Fancy, the +Vandal! But they knew nothing at all of her there. +Where is Nell, Mr. Tatham? You don't pretend not +to know. And the boy? Why he must be about eighteen—and +if St. Serf were to die<span class="norewrap">——</span> Mr. Tatham, +you know it is quite, quite intolerable, and not to be +borne! I don't know what steps Phil has taken. He +has been awfully good—he has never said a word. To +hear him you would think she was far too nice to be +mixed up with a set of people like us. But now, you +know, he must be got hold of—he must, he must! Why, +he'd be Lomond if St. Serf were to die! and everybody +would be crying out, 'Where's the heir?' After Phil +there's the Bagley Comptons, and they would set up +for being heirs presumptive, unless you can produce +that boy."</p> + +<p>"But the boy is not mine that I should produce him," +said John.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Mr. Tatham! when Nell is your relation, and +always, always was advised by you. You may tell that +to the Marines, or anybody that will believe it. You +need not think you can take me in."</p> + +<p>"I hope not to take in anybody. If being advised by +me means persistently declining to do what I suggest +and recommend<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Oh, then, you are of the same opinion as I am!" +said Lady Mariamne. "Bravo! now we shall manage +something. If you had been like that years ago when +I used to go to you, don't you remember, to beg you to +smooth things down—but you would never see it, till +the smash came."</p> + +<p>"I wish," said John, not without a little bitterness, +"that I could persuade you how little influence I have. +There are some women, I suppose, who take advice +when it is given to them; but the women whom I have +ever had anything to do with, I am sorry to say<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"I'll promise," cried Lady Mariamne, putting her +hands and rings together in an attitude of supplication, +"to do what you tell me faithfully, if you'll advise me +where I'll find the boy. Oh, let Nell alone, if you want +to keep her to yourself—I sha'n't spoil sport, Mr. Tatham, +I promise you," she cried, with her shrill laugh; +"only tell me where I'll find the boy. What is it you +want, Dolly, coming after me like a policeman? Don't +you see I am busy? We are sitting out the dance, Mr. +Tatham and I."</p> + +<p>Dolly did not join in her mother's laugh nor unbend +in the least. "As there is no dancing," she said, "and +everybody is going, I thought you would prefer to go +too."</p> + +<p>"But we shall see you to-morrow, Mr. Tatham? +Now, I cannot take any refusal. You must come, if it +were only for Toto's sake; and Dolly will go out, I +hope, on one of her great works and will not come to +disturb us, just when I have persuaded you to speak—for +you were just going to open your mouth. Now +you know you were! Five o'clock to-morrow, Mr. +Tatham, whatever happens. Now remember! and you +are to tell me everything." She held up her finger to +him, half threatening, half coaxing, and then, with a +peal of laughter, yielded to Dolly, and was taken +away.</p> + +<p>"I did not know, Tatham," said the Judge who was +his host, "that you were on terms of such friendship +with Lady Mariamne."</p> + +<p>"Nor did I," said John Tatham, with a yawn.</p> + +<p>"Queer thing this is about that old business, in +which her brother was mixed up—haven't you heard? +one of those companies that came to smash somewhere +about twenty years ago. The manager absconded, and +there was something queer about the books. Well, +the fellow, the manager, has been caught at last, and +there will be a trial. It's in your way—you will be offered +a brief, no doubt, with refreshers every day, you +lucky fellow. I have just as much trouble and no refreshers. +What a fool a man is, Tatham, ever to +change the Bar for the Bench! Don't you do it, my +dear fellow—take a man's advice who knows."</p> + +<p>"At least I shall wait till I am asked," said John.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you will be asked sooner or later—but don't +do it—take example by those who have gone before +you," said the great functionary, shaking his learned +head.</p> + +<p>And the Judge's wife had also a word to say. "Mr. +Tatham," she said, as he took his leave, "I know now +what I have to do when I want to secure Lady Mariamne—I +shall ask you."</p> + +<p>"Do you often want to secure Lady Mariamne?" +said John.</p> + +<p>"Oh, it is all very well to look as if you didn't care! +She is, perhaps, a little <i>passée</i>, but still a great many +people think her charming. Isn't there a family connection?" +Lady Wigsby said, with a curiosity which +she tried not to make too apparent, for she was acquainted +with the ways of the profession, and knew +that was the last thing likely to procure her the information +she sought.</p> + +<p>"It cannot be called a connection. There was a +marriage—which turned out badly."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I beg your pardon, Mr. Tatham, if the question +was indiscreet! I hear Lord St. Serf is worse again, +and not likely to last long; and there is some strange +story about a lost heir."</p> + +<p>"Good-night, Lady Wigsby," John replied.</p> + +<p>And he added, "Confound Lord St. Serf," under his +breath, as he went down-stairs.</p> + +<p>But it was not Lord St. Serf, poor man, who had +done him no harm, whom John wished to be confounded +because at last, after many threatenings, he was +about to be so ill-advised as to die. It was some one +very different. It was the woman who for much more +than twenty years had been the chief object of John +Tatham's thoughts.</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVI" id="CHAPTER_XXXVI"></a>CHAPTER XXXVI.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>Things relapsed into quietness for some time after +that combination which seemed to be directed against +John's peace of mind. If I said that it is not unusual +for the current of events to run very quietly before a +great crisis, I should not be saying anything original, +since the torrent's calmness ere it dash below has +been remarked before now. But it certainly was so in +this instance. John, I need scarcely say, did not present +himself at Lady Mariamne's on the afternoon at +five when he was expected. He wrote a very civil note +to say that he was unable to come, and still less able to +give the information her ladyship required; and, to tell +the truth, in his alarm lest Lady Mariamne should repeat +her invasion, Mr. Tatham was guilty of concerting +with his clerk, the excellent Simmons, various means +of eluding such a danger. And he exercised the greatest +circumspection in regard to his own invitations, and +went nowhere where there was the least danger of +meeting her. In this way for a few months he had +kept himself safe.</p> + +<p>It may be imagined, then, how great was his annoyance +when Simmons came in again, very diffident, +coughing behind his hand, and taking shelter in the +shaded part of the room, with the hesitating statement +that a lady—who would take no denial, who looked as if +she knew the chambers as well as he did, and could +hardly be kept from walking straight in—was waiting +to see Mr. Tatham. John sprang to his feet with +words which were not benedictions. "I thought," he +said, "you ass, that you knew exactly what to say."</p> + +<p>"But, sir," said Simmons, "it is not the same lady—it +is not at all the same lady. It is a lady who<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>But here the question was summarily settled, for the +door was pushed open though Simmons still held it +with his hand, and a voice, which was more like the +voice of Elinor Dennistoun at eighteen than that of +Mrs. Compton, said quickly, "I know, John, that your +door can't be shut for me."</p> + +<p>"Elinor!" he said, getting up from his chair.</p> + +<p>"I know," she repeated, "that there must be some +mistake—that your door could not be shut for me."</p> + +<p>"No, of course not," he said. "It is all right, Simmons; +but who could have thought of seeing you +here? It was a contingency I never anticipated. +When did you come? where are you staying? Is Philip +with you?" He overwhelmed her with questions, perhaps +by way of stopping her mouth lest she should put +questions still more difficult to answer to himself.</p> + +<p>"Let me take breath a little," she said. "I scarcely +have taken breath since the—thing happened which +has brought me here; but I feel a little confidence now +with the strong backing I have in you, John."</p> + +<p>"My dear Elinor," he said, "I am afraid you must +not look for any strong backing in me."</p> + +<p>"Why?" she cried. "Have you judged it all beforehand? +And do you know—are you quite, quite sure, +John, that I cannot avoid it in any way, that I am +obliged at all costs to appear? I would rather fly the +country, I would rather leave Lakeside altogether and +settle abroad. There is nothing in the world that I +would not rather do."</p> + +<p>"Elinor," said John, with some sternness, "you cannot +believe that I would oppose you in any possible +thing. Your pleasure has been a law to me. I may +have differed with you, but I have never made any difference."</p> + +<p>"John! you do not mean to say," she cried, turning +pale, "that you are going to abandon me now?"</p> + +<p>"Of course, that is merely a figure of speech," he +said. "How could I abandon you? But it is quite +true what that woman says, and I entirely agree with +her and not with you in this respect, that the heir to a +peerage cannot be hid<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"The heir to a peerage!" she faltered, looking at +him astonished. Gradually a sort of slowly growing +light seemed to diffuse itself over her face. "The heir +to a peerage, John! I don't know what you mean."</p> + +<p>"Is this not your reason for coming to town?"</p> + +<p>"There is nothing—that I know of—about the heir +to a peerage. Who is this heir to a peerage? I don't +know what you mean, but you frighten me. Is that a +reason why I should be dragged out of my seclusion +and made to appear in his defence? Oh, no—surely +no; if he is <i>that</i>, they will let him off. They will not +press it. I shall not be wanted. John, the more reason +that you should stand by me<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"We are at cross-purposes, Elinor. What has +brought you to London? Let me know on your side +and then I shall understand what I have got to do."</p> + +<p>"<i>That</i> has brought me to London." She handed +him a piece of paper which John knew very well the +appearance of. He understood it better than she did, +and he was not afraid of it, which she was, but he +opened it all the same with a great deal of surprise. +It was a subpœna charging Elinor Compton to appear +and bear testimony—in the case of the <i>Queen</i> versus +<i>Brown</i>.</p> + +<p>"The <i>Queen</i> versus <i>Brown!</i> What have you got to +do with such a case? You, Elinor, of all people in the +world! Oh!" he said suddenly as a light, but a dim +one, began to break upon him. It was the case of which +his friend the judge had spoken, and in which he had +been offered a retainer, as a matter of fact, shortly after +that talk. He had been obliged to refuse, his time being +already fully taken up, and he had not looked into +the case. But now it began slowly to dawn upon him +that the trial was that of the once absconded manager +of a certain joint-stock company, and that this was precisely +the company in which Elinor's money had been +all but invested by her husband. It might be upon +that subject that she had to appear.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, "I can imagine a possible reason +why you should be called, and yet not a good one; for +it was not of course you who were acting, but your—husband +for you. It is he that should appear, and not +you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, John," she cried. "Oh, John!" wringing her +hands. She had followed his looks eagerly, noticing +the light that seemed to dawn over his face with a +strange anxiety and keen interest. But John, it was +evident, had not got the clue which she expected, and +her face changed into impatience, disappointment, exasperation. +"You have not heard anything about it," +she said; "you don't know."</p> + +<p>"It was brought to me," he said, "but I could not +take it up—no, I don't know—except that it's curious +from the lapse of time—twenty years or thereabouts: +that's all I know."</p> + +<p>"The question is," she said, "about a date. There +were some books destroyed, and it is not known who +did it. Suspicion fell upon one—who might have been +guilty: but that on that day—he arrived at the house +of the girl—whom he was going to marry: and consequently +could not have been there<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Elinor!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, "that is what I am wanted for, John, +an excellent reason after all these years. I must appear +to—clear my husband: and that is how Pippo +will find out that I have a husband and he a father. +Oh, John, John! support me with your approval, and +help me, oh, help me to go away."</p> + +<p>"Good gracious!" was all that John could say.</p> + +<p>"I should have gone first and asked you after," she +cried, "for you are a lawyer, and I suppose you will +think you must not advise any one to fly in the face of +the law. And I don't even know whether it will be of +any use to fly. Will they have it in the papers all +the same? Will they put it in that his wife refused +to appear on his behalf, that she had gone away +to avoid the summons? Will it be all there for Pippo +to guess and wonder at the name and come to me with +questions, mother, who is this? and mother, what is +that? John, can't you answer me, you that I came to +to guide me, to tell me what I must do; have you nothing, +nothing to say?"</p> + +<p>"I am too much bewildered to know what I am doing, +Elinor. This is all sprung upon me like a mine: +and there was plenty before."</p> + +<p>"There was nothing before," she cried, indignantly, +"it was all plain sailing before. He knew nothing of +family troubles—how should he, poor child, being so +young? That was simple enough. And I think I see +a way still, John. I will take him off at Easter for a +trip abroad, and when we have started to go to Switzerland +or somewhere, I will change my mind, and make +him think of Greece or somewhere far, far away—the +East where there will be no newspapers. Tell me when +the trial will come on, and how long you think it will +last, and I will keep him away till it is all over. John! +you have nothing surely to say against that? Think +from how much it will save the boy."</p> + +<p>"It is impossible, Elinor, that the boy can be saved. +I never knew of this complication, but there are other +circumstances, of which I have lately heard."</p> + +<p>"What can any other circumstances have to do with +it, John, even if he must hear? I know, I know, you +have always been determined upon that. Is that the +way you would have him hear, not only that he has a +father, but that his father was involved in—in transactions +like that before ever he was born?"</p> + +<p>"Elinor, let us understand each other," said Mr. +Tatham. "You mean that you have it in your power +to exonerate your husband, and he has had you subpœnaed, +knowing this?"</p> + +<p>She looked at him with a look which he could not +fathom. Was it reluctance to save Phil Compton that +was in Elinor's eyes? Was she ready to leave her husband +to destruction when she could prevent it, in order +to save her boy from the knowledge of his existence? +John Tatham was horrified by the look she fixed upon +him, though he could not read it. He thought he +could read it, and read it that way, in the way of hate +and deliberate preference of her own will to all law and +justice. There could be no such tremendous testimony +to the power of that long continued, absolutely-faithful, +visionary love which John Tatham bore to Elinor than +that this discovery which he thought he had made did +not destroy it. He was greatly shocked, but it made +no difference in his feelings. Perhaps there was more +of the brotherly character in them than he thought. +For a moment they looked at each other, and he +thought he made this discovery—while she met his +eyes with that look which she did not know was inscrutable, +which she feared was full of self-betrayal. "I +believe," she said, bending her head, "that that is +what he thinks."</p> + +<p>"If it had been me," said John Tatham, moved out +of his habitual calm, "I would rather be proved guilty +of anything than owe my safety to such an expedient as +that. Drag in a woman who hates me to prove my alibi +as if she loved me! By Jove, Elinor! you women have +the gift of drawing out everything that's worst in men."</p> + +<p>"It seems to make you hate me, John, which I don't +think I have deserved."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, I don't hate you. It's a consequence, I +suppose, of use and wont. It makes little difference to +me<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>She gave him another look which he did not understand—a +wistful look, appealing to something, he did +not know what—to his ridiculous partiality, he thought, +and that stubborn domestic affection to which it was of +so little importance what she did, as long as she was +Elinor; and then she said with a woman's soft, endless +pertinacity, "Then you think I may go?"</p> + +<p>He sprang from his seat with that impatient despair +which is equally characteristic of the man. "Go!" he +said, "when you are called upon by law to vindicate a +man's character, and that man your husband! I ought +not to be surprised at anything with my experience, +but, Elinor, you take away my breath."</p> + +<p>She only smiled, giving him once more that look of +appeal.</p> + +<p>"How can you think of it?" he said. "The subpœna +is enough to keep any reasonable being, besides the +other motive. You must not budge. I should feel my +own character involved, as well as yours, if after consulting +me on the subject you were guilty of an evasion +after all."</p> + +<p>"It would not be your fault, John."</p> + +<p>"Elinor! you are mad—it must not be done," he +cried. "Don't defy me, I am capable of informing +upon you, and having you stopped—by force—if you +do not give this idea up."</p> + +<p>"By force!" she said, with her nostril dilating. "I +shall go, of course, if I am threatened."</p> + +<p>"Then Philip must not go. Do you know what has +happened in the family to which he belongs, and must +belong, whether you like it or not? Do you know—that +the boy may be Lord Lomond before the week is +out? that his uncle is dying, and that your husband is +the heir?"</p> + +<p>She turned round upon him slowly, fixing her eyes +upon his, with simple astonishment and no more in her +look. Her mind, so absorbed in other thoughts, hardly +took in what he could mean.</p> + +<p>"Have you not heard this, Elinor?"</p> + +<p>"But there is Hal," she said, "Hal—the other +brother—who comes first."</p> + +<p>"Hal is dead, and the one in India is dead, and Lord +St. Serf is dying. The boy is the heir. You must not, +you cannot, take him away. It is impossible, Elinor, it +is against all nature and justice. You have had him +for all these years; his father has a right to his heir."</p> + +<p>"Oh, John!" she cried, in a bitter note of reproach, +"oh, John, John!"</p> + +<p>"Well," he cried, "is not what I tell you the truth? +Would Philip give it up if it were offered to him? He +is almost a man—let him judge for himself."</p> + +<p>"Oh, John, John! when you know that the object +of my life has been to keep him from knowing—to +shut that chapter of my life altogether; to bring him +up apart from all evil influences, from all instructions<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"And from his birthright, Elinor?"</p> + +<p>She stopped, giving him another sudden look, the +natural language of a woman brought to bay. She +drew a long breath in impatience and desperation, not +knowing what to reply; for what could she reply? His +birthright! to be Lord Lomond, Lord St. Serf, the +head of the house. What was that? Far, far better +Philip Dennistoun, of Lakeside, the heir of his mother +and his grandmother, two stainless women, with +enough for everything that was honest and of good report, +enough to permit him to be an unworldly scholar, +a lover of art, a traveller, any play-profession that he +chose if he did not incline to graver work. Ah! but +she had not been so wise as that, she had not brought +him up as Philip Dennistoun. He was Philip Compton, +she had not been bold enough to change his name. +She stood at bay, surrounded as it were by her enemies, +and confronted John Tatham, who had been her +constant companion and defender, as if all that was +hostile to her, all that was against her peace was embodied +in him.</p> + +<p>"I must go a little further, Elinor," said John, +"though God knows that to add to your pain is the +last thing in the world I wish. You have been left unmolested +for a very long time, and we have all thought +your retreat was unknown. I confess it has surprised +me, for my experience has always been that everything +is known. But you have been subpœnaed for this trial, +therefore, my dear girl, we must give up that idea. +Everybody, that is virtually everybody, all that are of +any consequence, know where you are and all you are +about now."</p> + +<p>She sank into a chair, still keeping her eyes upon +him, as if it were possible that he might take some advantage +of her if she withdrew them; then, still not +knowing what to reply, seized at the last words because +they were the last, and had little to do with the main +issue. "All about me?" she said faintly, as if there +had been something else besides the place of her refuge +to conceal.</p> + +<p>"You know what I mean, Elinor. The moment that +your home is known all is known. That Philip lives +and is well, a promising boy; that you have brought +him up to do honour to any title or any position."</p> + +<p>He could not help saying this, and partly in the testimony +to her, partly for love of the boy, John Tatham's +voice faltered a little and the water came into his +eyes.</p> + +<p>"Ah, John! you say that!" she cried, as if it had +been an admission forced from him against his will.</p> + +<p>"What could I say otherwise? Elinor, because I +don't approve of all your proceedings, because I don't +think you have been wise in one respect, is that to say +that I do not understand and know <i>you?</i> I am not +such a fool or a formalist as you give me credit for being. +You have made him all that the fondest and +proudest could desire. You have done far better for +him, I do not doubt for a moment, than<span class="norewrap">——</span> But, my +dear cousin, my dear girl, my poor Nellie<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Yes, John?"</p> + +<p>He paused a moment, and then he said, "Right is +right, and justice is justice at the end of all."</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVII.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>When Elinor received the official document which +had so extraordinary an effect upon her life, and overturned +in a moment all the fabric of domestic quiet +and security which she had been building up for years, +it was outside the tranquil walls of the house at Lakeside, +in the garden which lay between it and the high-road, +opening upon that not very much-frequented road +by a pair of somewhat imposing gates, which gave the +little establishment an air of more pretension than it +really possessed. Some fine trees shrouded the little +avenue, and Elinor was standing under one of them, +stooping over a little nest of primroses at its roots, from +which the yellow buds were peeping forth, when she +heard behind her the sound of a vehicle at the gates, +and the quick leap to the ground of someone who +opened them. Then there was a pause; the carriage, +whatever it was, did not come farther, and presently +she herself, a little curious, turned round to see a man +approaching her, whom she did not know. A dog-cart +driven by another, whose face she recognized, waited +in the road while the stranger came forward. "You +are Mrs. Compton, ma'am?" he said. A swift thrill of +alarm, she could scarcely tell why, ran over Elinor from +head to foot. She had been settled for nearly eighteen +years at Lakeside. What could happen to frighten her +now? but it tingled to her very fingers' ends. And +then he said something to her which she scarcely understood, +but which sent that tingle to her very heart +and brain, and gave her the suspicious looking blue +paper which he held in his hand. It all passed in a +moment of time to her dazed yet excited consciousness. +The early primrose which she had gathered had not +had time to droop in her grasp, though she crushed the +stalk unconsciously in her fingers, before the gates were +closed again, the sound of the departing wheels growing +faint on the road, and she herself standing like one +paralyzed with that thing in her hand. A subpœna!—what +was a subpœna? She knew as little, perhaps less, +than the children in the parish school, who began to +troop along the road in their resounding clogs at their +dinner hour. The sound of this awoke her a little to a +frightened sense that she had better put this document +out of sight, at least until she could manage to understand +it. And then she sped swiftly away past the +pretty white house lying in the sunshine, with all its +doors and windows open, to the little wood behind, +where it would be possible to think and find out at her +leisure what this was. It was a small wood and a public +path ran through it; but where the public was so +limited as at Lakeside this scarcely impaired the privacy +of the inhabitants, at least in the morning, when +everybody in the parish was at work. Elinor hurried +past the house that her mother might not see her, and +climbed the woody hillock to a spot which was peculiarly +her own, and where a seat had been placed for +her special use. It was a little mount of vision from +which she could look out, up and down, at the long +winding line of the lake cleaving the green slopes, and +away to the rugged and solemn peaks among which lay, +in his mountain fastnesses, Helvellyn, with his hoary +brethren crowding round him. Elinor had watched the +changes of many a north-country day, full of endless +vicissitudes, of flying clouds and gleams of sunshine, +from that seat, and had hoped and tried to believe that +nothing, save these vicissitudes of nature, would ever +again disturb her. Had she really believed that? Her +heart thumping against her breast, and the pulses of her +brain beating loud in her ears, answered "No." She +had never believed it—she had known, notwithstanding +all her obstinacy, and indignant opposition to all who +warned her, that some day or other her home must be +broken up, and the storm burst upon her. But even +such a conviction, desperately fought against and resisted, +is a very different matter from the awful sense +of certainty that it has come, <i>now</i><span class="norewrap">——</span></p> + +<p>The trees were thick enough to conceal her from any +passer-by on the path, the young half-unfolded foliage +of the birches fluttered over her head, while a solid fir +or two stood, grim guardians, yet catching pathetic +airs from every passing wind to soothe her. But Elinor +neither heard nor saw lake, mountain, nor sunshine, +nor spring breezes, but only the bit of paper in +her hand, and the uncomprehended words she had +heard when it was given to her. It was not long, however, +before she perceived and knew exactly what it +meant. It was a subpœna in the case of "The Queen +<i>versus</i> Brown," to attend and give evidence on a certain +day in May, in London. It was for a few minutes a +mystery to her as great as it was alarming, notwithstanding +the swift and certain mental conviction she +had that it concerned infallibly the one secret and mystery +of her life. But as she sat there pondering, those +strange strays of recollection that come to the mind, of +things unnoted, yet unconsciously stored by memory, +drew gradually about her, piecing out the threads of +conviction. She remembered to have heard her mother +read, among the many scraps which Mrs. Dennistoun +loved to read out when the newspaper arrived, something +about a man who had absconded, whose name +was Brown, who had brought ruin on many, and had at +length, after a number of years, ventured back to England +and had been caught. It was one of the weaknesses +of Mrs. Dennistoun's advancing years to like +these bits of news, though there might be little interest +in them to so quiet a household; and her daughter +was wont to listen with a very vague attention, noting +but a word now and then, answering vaguely the lively +remarks her mother would make on the subjects. In +this case even she had paid no attention; and yet, the +moment that strong keynote had been struck, which vibrated +through her whole being, this echo suddenly +woke up and resounded as if it had been thundered in +her ears—"Brown!" She began to remember bit by +bit—and yet what had she to do with Brown? He had +not defrauded her; she had never seen him; she knew +nothing about his delinquencies. Then there came another +note faintly out of the distance of the years: her +husband's image, I need not say, had come suddenly +into her sight with the first burst of this new event. +His voice seemed to be in the air saying half-forgotten +things. What had he to do with this man? Oh, she +knew very well there was something—something! +which she would have given her life not to recollect; +which she knew in another moment would flash completely +upon her as she tried not to remember it. And +then suddenly her working mind caught another string +which was not that; which was a relief to that for +the moment. Brown!—who was it that had talked +of Brown?—and the books that were destroyed—and +the<span class="norewrap">——</span>and the<span class="norewrap">——</span> +day that Phil Compton arrived at +Windyhill?</p> + +<p>Elinor rose up from her seat with a gasp. She put +her arm round the rough stem of the fir-tree to support +herself, but it shook with her though there was no +wind, only the softest of morning airs. She saw before +her a scene very different from this—the flowery garden +at the cottage with the copse and the sandy road +beyond, and the man whom Phil had expected, whom +he had been so anxious to see—and his fingers catching +hers, keeping her by him, and the questions to which +she had replied. Twenty years! What a long time it +is! time enough for a boy to grow into almost a man +who had not been born or thought of—and yet what a +moment, what a nothing! Her mind flashed from that +scene in the garden to the little hall in the cottage, the +maid stooping down fastening the bolt of the door, the +calendar hanging on the wall with the big 6 showing so +visible, so obtrusive, forcing itself as it were on the +notice of all. "Only ten days, Nell!" And the maid's +glance upwards of shy sympathy, and the blank of Mrs. +Dennistoun's face, and his look. Oh, that look of his! +which was true and yet so false; which meant so much +besides, and yet surely, surely meant love too!</p> + +<p>The young fir-tree creaked and swayed in Elinor's +grip. She unloosed it as if the slim thing had cried +under the pressure, and sat down again. She had +nothing to grasp at, nothing. Oh, her life had not been +without support! Her mother—how extraordinary had +been her good fortune to have her mother to fall back +upon when she was shipwrecked in her life—to have a +home, a shelter, a perpetual protector and champion, +who, whether she approved or disapproved, would forsake +her never. And then the boy, God bless him! +who might quiver like the little fir if she flung herself +upon him, but who, she knew, would stand as true. +Oh, God forbid, God forbid that he should ever know! +Oh, God help her, God help her! how was she to keep +it from his knowledge? Elinor flung herself down upon +the mossy knoll in her despair as this came pouring into +her mind a flood of horrible light, of unimaginable +bitterness. He must not know, he must not know; and +yet how was it to be kept from his knowledge? It was +a public thing; it could not be hid. It would be in all +the papers, his father's name: and the boy did not +know he had a father living. And his mother's evidence +on behalf of her husband; and the boy thought +she had no husband.</p> + +<p>This was what had been said to her again and again +and again. Sometime the boy must know—and she had +pushed it from her angrily, indignantly asking why +should he know? though in the bottom of her own +heart she too was aware that it was the delusion of a +fool, and that the time must come<span class="norewrap">——</span> But how could +she ever have thought that it would come like this, that +the boy would discover his father through the summons +of his mother to a public court to defend her husband +from a criminal accusation? Oh, life that pardons +nothing! Oh, severe, unchanging heaven!—that this +should be the way!</p> + +<p>And then there came into Elinor's mind wild thoughts +of flight. She was not a woman whose nature it was +to endure. When things became intolerable to her +she fled from them, as the reader knows; escaped, +shutting her ears to all advice and her heart to all +thoughts except that life had become intolerable, and +that she could bear it no longer. It is not easy to hold +the balance even in such matters. Had Elinor fulfilled +what would appear to many her first duty, and stood by +Phil through neglect, ill-treatment, and misery, as she +had vowed, for better, for worse, she would by this +time have been not only a wretched but a deteriorated +woman, and her son most probably would have been +injured both in his moral and intellectual being. What +she had done was not the abstract duty of her marriage +vow, but it had been better—had it not been better +for them both? In such a question who is to be the +judge? And now again there came surging up into +Elinor's veins the impulse of flight. To take the boy +and fly. She could take him where he wished most to +go, to the scenes of that literature and history of which +his schoolboy head was full, to the happiest ideal wandering, +his mother and he, two companions almost better +than lovers. How his eyes would brighten at the +thought! among the summer seas, the golden islands, +the ideal countries—away from all the trouble and +cares, all the burdens of the past, all the fears of the +future! Why should she be held by that villainous +paper and obey that dreadful summons? Why allow +all her precautions, all the fabric of her life to fall in a +moment? Why pour upon the boy the horror of that +revelation, when everything she had done and planned +all his life had been to keep it from him? In the sudden +energy of that new possibility of escape Elinor rose +up again from the prostration of despair. She saw +once more the line of shining water at her feet full of +heavenly splendour, the mountain tops sunning themselves +in the morning light, the peace and the beauty +that was over all. And there was nothing needed but +a long journey, which would be delightful, full of pleasure +and refreshment, to secure her peace to her, and to +save her boy.</p> + +<p>When she had calmed herself with this new project, +which, the moment it took form in her mind seemed of +itself, without reference to the cause, the most delightful +project in the world and full of pleasure—Elinor +smoothed back her hair, put her garden hat, which had +got a little out of order, straight, and took her way +again towards the house. Her heart had already escaped +from the shock and horror and was beating +softly, exhausted yet refreshed, in her bosom. She +felt almost like a child who had sobbed all its troubles +out, or like a convalescent recovering from a brief but +violent illness, and pathetically happy in the cessation +of pain. She went along quietly, slowly, by the woodland +path among the trees full of the sweetness of the +morning which seemed to have come back to her. +Should she say anything about it to her mother, or only +by degrees announce to her the plan she had begun to +form for Pippo's pleasure, the long delightful ramble +which would come between his school-time and the +university? She had almost decided that she would do +this when she went into the house; but she had not +been half an hour with her mother when her intention +became untenable, for the good reason that she had +already told Mrs. Dennistoun of the new incident. +They were not in the habit of keeping secrets from +each other, and in that case there is nothing in the +world so difficult. It requires training to keep one's +affairs to one's self in the constant presence of those +who are our nearest and dearest. Some people may be +capable of this effort of self-control, but Elinor was +not. She had showed that alarming paper to her +mother with a partial return of her own terror at the +sight of it before she knew. And I need not say that +for a short time Mrs. Dennistoun was overwhelmed by +that natural horror too.</p> + +<p>"But," she said, "what do you know, what can you +tell about this Mr. Brown, Elinor? You never saw him +in your life."</p> + +<p>"I think I know what it means," said Elinor, with a +sudden dark glow of colour, which faded instantly, +leaving her quite pale. She added hurriedly, "There +were some books destroyed. I cannot tell you the +rights of the story. It is too dreadful altogether, but—another +was exculpated by the date of the day he arrived +at Windyhill. This must be the reason I am +called."</p> + +<p>"The date he arrived—before your marriage, Elinor? +But then they might call me, and you need not appear."</p> + +<p>"Not for the world, mother!" cried Elinor. The +colour rose again and faded. "Besides, you do not remember."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I could make it out," said Mrs. Dennistoun. +"It was when he came from Scotland, and went off in +the evening next day. I don't at this moment remember +what the day was, but I could make it out. It was +about a fortnight before, it was<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Do you remember, mother, the little calendar in +the hall, and what it marked, and what he said?"</p> + +<p>"I remember, of course, perfectly well the little calendar +in the hall. You gave it me at Christmas, and it +was always out of order, and never kept right. But I +could make it out without that."</p> + +<p>"You must not think of it for a moment," cried +Elinor, with a shudder. There had been so many +things to think of that it had scarcely occurred to her +what it was to which she had to bear witness. She +told her mother hurriedly the story of that incident, +and then she added, without stopping to take breath, +"But I will not appear. I cannot appear. We must +keep it out of the papers, at every cost. Mother, do +not think it dreadful of me. I will run away with +Pippo; far away, if you will not be anxious. This is +just his chance between school and college. I will take +him to Greece."</p> + +<p>"To Greece, Elinor?" Mrs. Dennistoun cried, with +almost a shriek.</p> + +<p>"Mother, dear, it is not so very far away."</p> + +<p>"I am not thinking how far away it is, Elinor. And +leave his father's reputation to suffer? Leave him perhaps +to be ruined—by a false charge?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother," cried Elinor, starting to her feet. +She was quite unprepared for such remonstrance.</p> + +<p>"My dear, I have not opposed you; though there +have been many things I have scarcely approved of. +But, Elinor, this must not be. Run away from the +law? Allow another to suffer when you can clear him? +Elinor, Elinor, this must not be—unless I can go and +be his witness in your place. I might do that," said +Mrs. Dennistoun, seriously. She paused a moment, +and then she said, "But I think you are wrong about +the sixth. He stayed only one night, and the night he +went away was the night that Alick Hudson—who was +going up for his examination. I can make it out exactly, +if you will give me a little time to think it over. +My poor child! that you should have this to disturb +your peace. But I will go, Elinor. I can clear him as +well as you."</p> + +<p>Elinor stood up before her, pallid as a ghost. "For +God's sake, mother, not another word," she said, with +a dreadful solemnity. "The burden is mine, and I +must bear it. Let us not say a word more."</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXXVIII" id="CHAPTER_XXXVIII"></a>CHAPTER XXXVIII.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>I will not confuse the reader with a description of +all Elinor's thoughts during the slow progress of that +afternoon and evening, which were as the slow passing +of a year to her impatient spirit. She took the usual +afternoon walk with her mother soberly, as became +Mrs. Dennistoun's increasing years, and then she made +a pretext of some errands in the village to occupy her +until dark, or rather to leave her free to twist the +thread of her own thoughts as she went along the silent +country road. Her thoughts varied in the afternoon +from those which had seized upon her with such vulture's +claws in the morning; but they were not less +overwhelming in that respect. Her mother's suggestion +that <i>she</i> and not Elinor should be the witness of +that date, and then her ponderings as to that date, her +slow certainty that she could make it out, or puzzle it +out, as Elinor in her impatience said, which was the +last of all things to be desired—had stung the daughter +into a new and miserable realization of what it was that +was demanded of her, which nobody could do but she. +What was it that would be demanded of her? To +stand up in the face of God and man and swear to tell +the truth, and tell—a lie: or else let the man who had +been her husband, the love of her youth, the father of +her boy, sink into an abyss of shame. She thought +rapidly, knowing nothing, that surely there could be no +punishment for him, even if it were proved, at the long +interval of twenty years. But, shame—there would be +shame. Nothing could save him from that. Shame +which would descend more or less to his son. And +then Elinor reflected, with hot moisture coming out +upon her forehead against the cold breeze of the +spring night, on what would be asked of her. Oh, no +doubt, it would be cleverly done! She would be +asked if she remembered his visit, and why she remembered +it. She would be led on carefully to tell the +story of the calendar in the hall, and of how it was but +ten days before her marriage—the last hurried, unexpected +visit of the lover before he came as a bridegroom +to take her away. It would be all true, every word, +and yet it would be a lie. And standing up there in +that public place, she would be made to repeat it, as +she had done in the flowery garden, in the sunshine, +twenty years ago—then dazed and bewildered, not +knowing what she did, and with something of the +blind confidence of youth and love in saying what she +was told to say; but now with clearer insight, with a +horrible certainty of the falsehood of that true story, +and the object with which it was required of her. +Happily for herself, Elinor did not think of the ordeal +of cross-examination through which witnesses have to +pass. She would not, I think, have feared that if the +instinct of combativeness had been roused in her: +her quick wit and ready spirit would not have failed in +defending herself, and in maintaining the accuracy +of the fact to which she had to bear witness. It was +herself, and not an opposing counsel, that was alarming +to Elinor. But I have promised that the reader +should not be compelled to go through all the trouble +and torment of her thoughts.</p> + +<p>Dinner, with the respect which is necessary for the +servant who waits, whether that may be a solemn butler +with his myrmidons, or a little maid—always makes +a pause in household communications; but when the +ladies were established afterwards by the pleasant fireside +which had been their centre of life for so many +years, and with the cheerful lamp on the table between +them which had lighted so many cheerful talks, readings, +discussions, and consultations, the new subject of +anxiety and interest immediately came forth again. It +was Mrs. Dennistoun who spoke first. She had grown +older, as we all do; she wore spectacles as she worked, +and often a white shawl on her shoulders, and was—as +sometimes her daughter felt, with shame of herself to +remark it—a little slower in speech, a little more pertinacious +and insistent, not perhaps perceiving with +such quick sympathy the changes and fluctuations of +other minds, and whether it was advisable or not to +follow a subject to the bitter end. She said, looking +up from her knitting, with a little rhetorical movement +of her hand which Elinor feared, and which showed +that she felt herself on assured and certain ground:</p> + +<p>"My dear, I have been thinking. I have made it +out day by day. God knows there were plenty of landmarks +in it to keep any one from forgetting. I can +now make out certainly the day—of which we were +speaking; and if you will give me your attention for a +minute or two, Elinor, you will see that whatever the +calendar said—which I never noticed, for it was as +often wrong as right—you are making a mis<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Oh, for Heaven's sake, mother," cried Elinor, "don't +let us talk of that any more!"</p> + +<p>"I have no desire to talk of it, my dear child; but +for what you said I should never<span class="norewrap">——</span> But of course we +must take some action about this thing—this paper you +have got. And it seems to me that the best thing +would be to write to John, and see whether he could +not manage to get it transferred from you to me. I +can't see what difficulty there could be about that."</p> + +<p>"I would not have it for the world, mother! And +what good would it do? The great thing in it, the +dreadful thing, would be unchanged. Whether you +appear or me, Pippo would be made to know, all the +same, what it has been our joint object to conceal from +him all his life."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dennistoun did not say anything, but she would +not have been mortal if she had not, very slightly, but +yet very visibly to keen eyes, shaken her head.</p> + +<p>"I know what you mean," said Elinor, vehemently, +"that it has been I, and not we, whose object has been +to conceal it from him. Oh, yes, I know you are right; +but at least you consented to it, you have helped in it, +it is your doing as well as mine."</p> + +<p>"Elinor, Elinor!" cried her mother, who, having +always protested, was not prepared for this accusation.</p> + +<p>"Is there any advantage to be got," said Elinor, like +an injured and indignant champion of the right, "in +opening up the whole question over again now?"</p> + +<p>What could poor Mrs. Dennistoun do? She was +confounded, as she often had been before, by those +swift and sudden tactics. She gave a glance up at her +daughter over her spectacles, but she said nothing. +Argument, she knew by long experience, was difficult +to keep up with such an opponent.</p> + +<p>"But John is an idea," said Elinor. "I don't know +why I should not have thought of him. He may suggest +something that could be done."</p> + +<p>"I thought of him, of course, at once," said Mrs. +Dennistoun, not able to refrain from that small piece +of self-assertion. "It is not a time that it would be +easy for him to leave town; but at least you could +write and lay your difficulties before him, and suggest<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you may be sure, mother," cried Elinor, "I +know what I have to say."</p> + +<p>"I never doubted it, my dear," said Mrs. Dennistoun, +gently.</p> + +<p>And then there was a little pause. They sat and +worked, the elder lady stumbling a little over her knitting, +her thoughts being so much engaged; the +younger one plying a flying needle, the passion and +impetus of her thoughts lending only additional swiftness +and vigour to everything she did. And for ten +minutes or more there was nothing to be heard in the +room but the little drop of ashes from the fire, the sudden +burst of a little gas-flame from the coals, the rustle +of Elinor's arm as it moved. The cat sat with her tail +curled round her before the fire, the image of dignified +repose, winking at the flames. The two human inhabitants, +save for the movements of their hands, might +have been in wax, they were so still. Suddenly, however, +the quietness was broken by an energetic movement. +Elinor threw her work down on the table and +rose from her chair. She went to the window and +drew the curtain aside, and looked out upon the night. +She shut it carefully again, and going to the writing-table, +struck a match and lighted the candles there, +and sat down and began, or appeared to begin, to +write. Then she rose quickly again and returned to +the table at which Mrs. Dennistoun was still seated, +knitting on, but watching every movement of her restless +companion. "Mother," she said, "I can't write, I +have far too much to say. I will run up to town to-morrow +myself and see John."</p> + +<p>"To town, Elinor, by yourself? My dear, you forget +it is not an hour's journey, as it was to Windyhill."</p> + +<p>"I know that very well, mother. But even the journey +will be an advantage. The movement will do me +good, and I can tell John much better than I could +write. Who could write about a complicated business +like this? He will understand me when he sees me at +half a word; whereas in writing one can never explain. +Don't oppose me, please, mother! I feel that to do +something, to get myself in motion, is the only thing +for me now."</p> + +<p>"I will not oppose you, Elinor. I have done so, +perhaps, too little, my dear; but we will not speak of +that. No doubt, as you say, you will understand each +other better if you tell him the circumstances face to +face. But, oh, my dear child, do nothing rash! Be +guided by John; he is a prudent adviser. The only +thing is that he, no more than I, has ever been able to +resist you, Elinor, if you had set your heart upon any +course. Oh, my dear, don't go to John with a foregone +conclusion. Hear first what he has to say!"</p> + +<p>Elinor came behind her mother with one of those +quick returns of affectionate impulse which were natural +to her, and put her arms suddenly round Mrs. +Dennistoun. "You have always been far too good to +me, mamma," she said, kissing her tenderly, "both +John and you."</p> + +<p>And next morning she carried out her swiftly conceived +intention and went to town, as the reader is +aware. A long railway journey is sometimes soothing +to one distracted with agitation and trouble. The +quiet and the noise, which serves as a kind of accompaniment, +half silencing, half promoting too active +thought; the forced abstraction and silence, and semi-imprisonment +of mind and body, which are equally +restless, but which in that enclosure are bound to +self-restraint, exercise, in spite of all struggles of the +subject, a subduing effect. And it was a strange thing +that in the seclusion of the railway compartment in +which she travelled alone there came for the first time +to Elinor a softening thought, the sudden sensation of +a feeling, of which she had not been sensible for years, +towards the man whose name she bore. It occurred +to her quite suddenly, she could not tell how, as if +some one invisible had thrown that reflection into her +mind (and I confess that I am of opinion they do: +those who are around us, who are unseen, darting into +our souls thoughts which do not originate with us, +thoughts not always of good, blasphemies as well as +blessings)—it occurred to her, I say, coming into her +mind like an arrow, that after all she had not been so +well hidden as she thought all these years, seeing that +she had been found at once without difficulty, it appeared, +when she was wanted. Did this mean that he +had known where she was all the time—known, but +never made any attempt to disturb her quiet? The +thought startled her very much, revealing to her a +momentary glimpse of something that looked like magnanimity, +like consideration and generous self-restraint. +Could these things be? He could have hurt her very +much had he pleased, even during the time she had +remained at Windyhill, when certainly he knew where +she was: and he had not done so. He might have +taken her child from her: at least he might have made +her life miserable with fears of losing her child: and +he had not done so. If indeed it was true that he had +known where she was all the time and had never done +anything to disturb her, what did that mean? This +thought gave Elinor perhaps the first sense of self-reproach +and guilt that she had ever known towards this +man, who was her husband, yet whom she had not seen +for more than eighteen years.</p> + +<p>And then there was another thing. After that +interval he was not afraid to put himself into her +hands—to trust to her loyalty for his salvation. He +knew that she could betray him—and he knew equally +well that she would not do so, notwithstanding the +eighteen years of estrangement and mutual wrong that +lay between. It did not matter that the loyalty he +felt sure of would be a false loyalty, an upholding of +what was not true. He would think little of that, as +likely as not he had forgotten all about that. He +would know that her testimony would clear him, and +he would not think of anything else; and even did he +think of it the fact of a woman making a little mis-statement +like that would never have affected Philip. +But the strange thing was that he had no fear she +would revenge herself by standing up against him—no +doubt of her response to his appeal; he was as ready +to put his fate in her hands as if she had been the most +devoted of wives—his constant companion and champion. +This had the most curious effect upon her mind, +almost greater than the other. She had shown no +faith in him, but he had faith in her. Reckless and +guilty as he was, he had not doubted her. He had put +it in her power to convict him not only of the worst +accusation that was brought against him, but of a +monstrous trick to prove his <i>alibi</i>, and a cruel wrong to +her compelling her to uphold that as true. She was +able to expose him, if she chose, as no one else could +do; but he had not been afraid of that. This second +thought, which burst upon Elinor without any volition +of her own, had the most curious effect upon her. +She abstained carefully, anxiously, from allowing +herself to be drawn into making any conclusion +from these darts of unintended thoughts. But they +moved her in spite of herself. They made her think +of him, which she had for a long time abstained from +doing. She had shut her heart for years from any +recollection of her husband, trying to ignore his existence +in thought as well as in fact. And she had succeeded +for a long time in doing this. But now in a +moment all her precautions were thrown to the winds. +He came into her memory with a sudden rush for +which she was no way responsible, breaking all the +barriers she had put up against him: that he should +have known where she was all this time, and never disturbed +her, respected her solitude all these years—that +when the moment of need came he should, without a +word to conciliate her, without an explanation or an +apology, have put his fate into her hands<span class="norewrap">——</span> To the +reader who understands I need not say more of the +effect upon the mind of Elinor, hasty, generous, impatient +as she was of these two strange facts. There +are many in the world who would have given quite a +different explanation—who would have made out of +the fact that he had not disturbed her only the explanation +that Phil Compton was tired of his wife and +glad to get rid of her at any price: and who would +have seen in his appeal to her now only audacity combined +with the conviction that she would not compromise +herself by saying anything more than she +could help about him. I need not say which of these +interpretations would have been the true one. But the +first will understand and not the other what it was that +for the first time for eighteen years awakened a struggle +and controversy which she could not ignore, and vainly +endeavoured to overcome, in Elinor's heart.</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XXXIX" id="CHAPTER_XXXIX"></a>CHAPTER XXXIX.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>Elinor had not been three days gone, indeed her +mother had but just received a hurried note announcing +her arrival in London, when as she sat alone in the +house which had become so silent, Mrs. Dennistoun +suddenly became aware of a rising of sound of the most +jubilant, almost riotous description. It began by the +barking of Yarrow, the old colley, who was fond of +lying at the gate watching in a philosophic way of his +own the mild traffic of the country road, the children +trooping by to school, who hung about him in clusters, +with lavish offerings of crust and scraps of biscuit, and +all the leisurely country <i>flâneurs</i> whom the good dog +despised, not thinking that he himself did nothing but +<i>flâner</i> at his own door in the sun. A bark from Yarrow +was no small thing in the stillness of the spring afternoon, +and little Urisk, the terrier, who lay wrapt in +dreams at Mrs. Dennistoun's feet, heard where he lay +entranced in the folds of sleep and cocked up an eager +ear and uttered a subdued interrogation under his +breath. The next thing was no bark, but a shriek of +joy from Yarrow, such as could mean nothing in the +world but "Philip!" or Pippo, which was what no +doubt the dogs called him between following their +mistress. Urisk heard and understood. He made but +one spring from the footstool on which he lay and +flung himself against the door. Mrs. Dennistoun sat +for a moment and listened, much disturbed. When +some troublous incident occurs in the deep quiet of +domestic life how often is it followed by another, and +her heart turned a little sick. She was not comforted +even by the fact that Urisk was waggling not his tail +only, but his whole little form in convulsions of joy, +barking, crying aloud for the door to open, to let him +forth. By this time all the friendly dogs about had +taken up the sound out of sympathy with Yarrow's yells +of delight—and into this came the clang of the gate, +the sound of wheels, an outcry in a human voice, that +of Barbara, the maid—and then a young shout that rang +through the air—"Where's my mother, Barbara, where's +granny?" Philip, it may be imagined, did not wait for +any answer, but came in headlong. Yarrow leaping after +him, Urisk springing into the air to meet him—himself +in too great a hurry to heed either, flinging himself +upon the astonished lady who rose to meet him, +with a sudden kiss, and a "Where's my mother, +granny?" of eager greeting.</p> + +<p>"Pippo! Good gracious, boy, what's brought you +home now?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing but good news," he said, "so good I +thought I must come. I've got it, granny: where <i>is</i> my +mother<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"You've got it?" she said, so full of other thoughts +that she could not recollect what it was he meant. +Pippo thought, as Elinor sometimes thought, that his +granny was getting slow of understanding—not so +bright as she used to be in her mind.</p> + +<p>"Oh, granny, you've been dozing: the scholarship! +I've got it—I thought you would know the moment you +heard me at the door<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"My dear boy," she said, putting her arms about +him, while the tall boy stood for the homage done to +him—the kiss of congratulation. "You have got the +scholarship! notwithstanding Howard and Musgrave +and the hard fight there was to be<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>Pippo nodded, with a bright face of pleasure. +"But," he said—"I can't say I'm sorry I've got it, +granny—but I wish there had been another for Musgrave: +for he worked harder than I did, and he wanted +so to win. But so did I, for that matter. And where +is my mother all this time?"</p> + +<p>"How delighted she will be: and what a comfort to +her just now when she is upset and troubled! My +dear, it'll be a dreadful disappointment to you: your +mother is in London. She had to hurry off the day +before yesterday—on business."</p> + +<p>"In London!" cried Pippo. His countenance fell: +he was so much disappointed that for a moment, big +boy as he was, he looked ready to cry. He had come +in bursting with his news, expecting a reception almost +as tumultuous as that given him by the dogs outside. +And he found only his grandmother, who forgot what +it was he was "in for"—and no mother at all!</p> + +<p>"It is a disappointment, Pippo—and it will be such +a disappointment to her not to hear it from your own +lips: but you must telegraph at once, and that will be +next best. She has some worrying business—things +that she hates to look after—and this will give her a +little heart."</p> + +<p>"What a bore!" said Pippo, with his crest down and +the light gone out of him. He gave himself up to the +dogs who had been jumping about him, biding their +time. "Yarrow knew," he said, laughing, to get the +water out of his eyes. "He gave me a cheer whenever +he saw me, dear old fellow—and little Risky too<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"And only granny forgot," said Mrs. Dennistoun; +"that was very hard upon you, Pippo; my thoughts +were all with your mother. And I couldn't think how +you could get back at this time<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Well," said the boy, "my work's over, you know. +There's nothing for a fellow to do after he's got the +scholarship. I needn't go back at all—unless you +and my mother wish it. I've—in a sort of a way, +done everything that I can do. Don't laugh at me, +granny!"</p> + +<p>"Laugh at you, my boy! It is likely I should +laugh at you. Don't you know I am as proud of you +as your mother herself can be? I am glad and proud," +said Mrs. Dennistoun, "for I am glad for her as well +as for you. Now, Pippo, you want something to eat."</p> + +<p>The boy looked up with a laugh. "Yes, granny," he +said, "you always divine that sort of thing. I do."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dennistoun did not occupy her mind with any +thought of that little unintentional and grateful jibe—that +she always divined that sort of thing. Among the +other great patiences of her life she had learnt to know +that the mother and son, loving and tender as they +were, had put her back unconsciously into the proper +place of the old woman—always consulted, always +thought of, never left out; but divining chiefly <i>that +sort of thing</i>, the actual needs, the more apparent +thoughts of those about her. She knew it, but she did +not dwell upon it—sometimes it made her smile, but it +scarcely hurt her, and never made her bitter, she comprehended +it all so well. Meanwhile Pippo, left alone, +devoted himself to the dogs for a minute or two, making +them almost too happy. Then, at the very climax +of riotous enjoyment, cast them off with a sudden, +"Down, Yarrow!" which took all the curl in a moment +out of the noble tail with which Yarrow was sweeping +all the unconsidered trifles off Mrs. Dennistoun's work-table. +The young autocrat walked to the window as +he shook off his adoring vassal, and stared out for a +little with his hands deeply dug into his pockets. And +then a new idea came into Pippo's head; the most +brilliant new idea, which restored at once the light to +his eyes and elevation to his crest. He said nothing of +this, however, till he had done justice to the excellent +luncheon, while his grandmother, seated beside him in +the dining-room with her knitting, looked on with +pride and pleasure and saw him eat. This was a thing, +they were all of accord, which she always thoroughly +understood.</p> + +<p>"You will run out now and telegraph to your mother. +She is in the old rooms in Ebury Street, Pippo."</p> + +<p>"Yes, granny; don't you think now a fellow of my +age, having done pretty well and all that, might be +trusted to—make a little expedition out of his own +head?"</p> + +<p>"My dear! you have always been trusted, Pippo, +you know. I can't remember when your mother or I +either have shown any want of trust<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's not that," said Pippo, confused. "I know +I've had lots, lots—far more than most fellows—of my +own way. It was not that exactly. I meant without +consulting any one, just to do a thing out of my own +head."</p> + +<p>"I have no doubt it will be quite a right thing, +Pippo; but I should know better if you were to tell +me."</p> + +<p>"That would scarcely be doing it out of my own +head, would it, granny? But I can't keep a thing to +myself; now Musgrave can, you know; that's the great +difference. I suppose it is having nobody but my +mother and you, who always spoil me, that has made +me that I can't keep a secret."</p> + +<p>"It is something about making it up to Musgrave +for not winning the scholarship?"</p> + +<p>Philip grew red all over with a burning blush of +shame. "What a beast I am!" he said. "You will +scarcely believe me, but I had forgotten that—though +I do wish I could. I do wish there was any way<span class="norewrap">——</span> +No, granny, it was all about myself."</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear?" she said, in her benignant, all-indulgent +grandmother's voice.</p> + +<p>"It is no use going beating about the bush," he +said. "Granny, I'm not going to telegraph to mamma. +I'll run up to London by the night mail."</p> + +<p>"Pippo!"</p> + +<p>"Well, it isn't so extraordinary; naturally I should +like to tell her better than to write. It didn't quite +come off, my telling it to you, did it? but my mother +will be excited about it—and then it will be a surprise +seeing me at all—and then if she is worried by business +it will be a good thing to have me to stand by her. +And—why there are a hundred reasons, granny, as you +must see. And then I should like it above all."</p> + +<p>"My dear," said Mrs. Dennistoun, trembling a little. +She had time during this long speech to collect +herself, to get over the first shock, but her nerves still +vibrated. "In ordinary circumstances, I should think +it an excellent plan. And you have worked well for it, +and won your holiday; and your mother always enjoys +wandering about town with you. Still, Pippo<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Now what can there be against it?" the boy said, +with the same spark of fire coming into his blue eyes +which had often been seen in Elinor's hazel ones. He +was like the Comptons, a refined image of his father, +with the blue eyes and very dark hair which had once +made Phil Compton irresistible. Pippo had the habit, +I am sorry to say, of being a little impatient with his +grandmother. Her objections seemed old-world and +obsolete at the first glance.</p> + +<p>"The chief thing against it is that I don't think your +mother—would wish it, Pippo."</p> + +<p>"Mamma—think me a bore, perhaps!" the lad cried, +with a laugh of almost scornful amusement at this ridiculous +idea.</p> + +<p>"She would never, of course, think you a bore in +any circumstances—but she will be very much confined—she +could not take you with her to—lawyers' offices. +She will scarcely have any time to herself."</p> + +<p>"What is this mysterious business, granny?"</p> + +<p>"Indeed, Pippo, I can scarcely tell you. It is something +connected with old times—that she wishes to +have settled and done with. I did not inquire very +closely; neither, I think, should you. You know your +poor mother has had troubles in her life<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Has she?" said Pippo, with wide open eyes. "I +have never seen any. I think, perhaps, don't you know, +granny, ladies—make mountains of molehills—or so +at least people say<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Do they?" said Mrs. Dennistoun, with a laugh. +"So you have begun to learn that sort of thing already, +Pippo, even here at the end of the world!"</p> + +<p>Pippo was a little mortified by her laugh, and a little +ashamed of what he had said. It is very tempting at +eighteen to put on a man's superiority, yet he was conscious +that it was perhaps a little ungenerous, he who +owed all that he was and had to these two ladies; but +naturally he was the more angry because of this.</p> + +<p>"I suppose," he said, "that what is in every book +that ever was written is likely to be true! But that +has nothing to do with the question. I won't do anything +against you if you forbid me absolutely, granny; +but short of that I will go<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dennistoun looked at the boy with all the heat +in him of his first burst of independence. It is only +wise to compute the forces opposed to one before one +launches a command which one may not have force to +ensure obedience to. He said that he would not disobey +her "absolutely" with his lips; but his eyes expressed +a less dutiful sentiment. She had no mind to +be beaten in such a struggle. Elinor had complained +of her mother in her youth that she was too reasonable, +too unwilling to command, too reluctant to assume the +responsibility of an act; and it was not to be supposed +that she had mended of this, in all the experience she +had had of her impatient daughter, and under the influence +of so many additional years. She looked at +Philip, and concluded that he would at least find some +way of eluding her authority if she exercised it, and it +did not consist with her dignity to be either "absolutely" +or partially disobeyed.</p> + +<p>"You forget," she said, "that I have never taken +such authority upon me since you were a child. I will +not forbid you to do what you have set your heart +upon. I can only say, Philip, that I don't think your +mother would wish you to go<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"If that's all, granny," said the boy, "I think I can +take my mother into my own hands. But why do you +call me Philip? You never call me that but when you +are angry."</p> + +<p>"Was I ever angry?" she said, with a smile; "but +if we are to consider you a man, looking down upon +women, and taking your movements upon your own +responsibility, my dear, it would be ridiculous that you +should be little Pippo any more."</p> + +<p>"Not little Pippo," he said, with a boyish, complacent +laugh, rising up to his full height. A young man +nearly six feet high, with a scholarship in his pocket, +how is he to be expected to take the law from his old +grandmother as to what he is to do?</p> + +<p>And young Philip did go to town triumphantly by +the night mail. He had never done such a thing before, +and his sense of manly independence, of daring, +almost of adventure, was more delightful than words +could say. There was not even any one, except the +man who had driven him into Penrith, to see him +away, he who was generally accompanied to the last +minute by precautions, and admonitions, and farewells. +To feel himself dart away into the night with nobody +to look back to on the platform, no gaze, half smiling, +half tearful, to follow him, was of itself an emancipation +to Pippo. He was a good boy and no rebel against the +double maternal bond which had lain so lightly yet so +closely upon him all his life. It was only for a year or +two that he had suspected that this was unusual, or +even imagined that for a growing man the sway of two +ladies, and even their devotion, might make others +smile. Perhaps he had been a little more particular in +his notions, in his manners, in his fastidious dislike to +dirt and careless habits, than was common in the somewhat +rough north country school which had so risen in +scholastic note under the last head master, but which +was very far from the refinements of Eton. And lately +it had begun to dawn upon him that a mother and a +grandmother to watch over him and care for him in +everything might be perhaps a little absurd for a young +man of his advanced age. Thus his escapade, which +was against the will of his elder guardian, and without +the knowledge of his mother—which was entirely his +own act, and on his own responsibility, went to Philip's +head, and gave him a sort of intoxication of pleasure. +That his mother should be displeased, really displeased, +should not want him—incredible thought! never entered +into his mind save as an accountable delusion of +granny's. His mother not want him! All the arguments +in the world would never have got that into +young Pippo's head.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dennistoun waking up in the middle of the +night to think of the boy rushing on through the dark +on his adventurous way, recollected only then with +much confusion and pain that she ought to have telegraphed +to Elinor, who might be so engaged as to +make it very embarrassing for her in her strange circumstances +to see Pippo—that the boy was coming. +In her agitation she had forgotten this precaution. +Was it perhaps true, as the young ones thought, that +she was getting a little slower in her movements, a +little dulled in her thoughts?</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XL" id="CHAPTER_XL"></a>CHAPTER XL.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>John Tatham had in vain attempted to persuade Elinor +to come to his house, to dine there in comfort—he +was going out himself—so that at least in this time of +excitement and trouble she might have the careful +service and admirable comfort of his well-managed +house. Elinor preferred her favourite lodgings and a +cup of tea to all the luxuries of Halkin Street. And +she was fit for no more consultations that night. She +had many, many things to think of, and some new +which as yet she barely comprehended. The rooms in +Ebury Street were small, and they were more or less +dingy, as such rooms are; but they were comfortable +enough, and had as much of home to Elinor as repeated +visits there with all her belongings could give them. +The room in which she slept was next to that in which +her boy had usually slept. That was enough to make +it no strange place. And I need not say that it became +the scene of many discussions during the few days that +followed. The papers by this time were full of the +strange trial which was coming on: the romance of +commercial life and ruin—the guilty man who had been +absent so long, enjoying his ill-gotten gains, and who +now was dragged back into the light to give an account +of himself—and of other guilt perhaps less black than +his own, yet dreadful enough to hear of. The story of +the destroyed books was a most remarkable and picturesque +incident in the narrative. The leading papers +looked up their own account of the facts given at the +time, and pointed out how evidently justified by the +new facts made known to the public was the theory +they had themselves given forth. As these theories, +however, were very different, and as all claimed to be +right, perhaps the conclusion was less certain than this +announcement gave warrant to believe. But each and +all promised "revelations" of the most surprising +kind—involving some of the highest aristocracy, the +democratic papers said—bringing to light an exciting +story of the private relations between husband and +wife, said those of society, and revealing a piquant +chapter of social history hushed up at the time. It +was a modest print indeed that contented itself with +the statement that its readers would find a romance of +real life involved in the trial which was about to take +place. Elinor did not, fortunately, see all these comments. +The <i>Times</i> and the <i>Morning Post</i> were dignified +and reticent, and she did not read, and was indeed +scarcely cognisant of the existence of most of the +others. But the faintest reference to the trial was +enough, it need hardly be said, to make the blood boil +in her veins.</p> + +<p>It was a curious thing in her state of mind, and with +the feelings she had towards her husband's family, that +one of the first things she did on establishing herself in +her Ebury Street rooms, was to look for an old "Peerage" +which had lain for several years she remembered +on a certain shelf. Genteel lodgings in Ebury Street +which did not possess somewhere an old "Peerage" +would be out of the world indeed. She found it in the +same corner as of old, where she had noted it so often +and avoided it as if it had been a serpent; but now the +first thing she did, as soon as her tray was brought her, +and all necessary explanations given, and the door shut, +was to take the book furtively from its place, almost as +if she were afraid of what she should see. What a list +there was of sons of Lord St. Serf! some she had +never known, who died young: and Reginald in India, +and Hal, who was so kind—what a good laugh he had, +she remembered, not a joyless cackle like Mariamne's, +a good natural laugh, and a kind light in his eyes: +and he had been kind. She could remember ever so +many things, nothings, things that made a little difference +in the dull, dull cloudy sky of a neglected wife. +Poor Hal! and he too was gone, and St. Serf dying, +and<span class="norewrap">——</span> Pippo the heir!—Pippo was perhaps, for any +thing she knew, Lord Lomond now.</p> + +<p>To say that this did not startle Elinor, did not make +her heart beat, did not open new complications and +vistas in life, would be a thing impossible. Pippo +Lord Lomond! Pippo, whom she had feared to expose +to his father's influence, whom she had kept apart, who +did not know anything about himself except that he +was her son—had she kept and guarded the boy thus +in the very obscurity of life, in the stillest and most +protected circumstances, only to plunge him suddenly +at last, without preparation, without warning, into the +fiery furnace of temptation, into a region where he +might pardonably (perhaps) put himself beyond her +influence, beyond her guidance? Poor Elinor! and +yet she was not wholly to be pitied either. For her +heart was fired by the thought of her boy's elevation +in spite of herself. It did not occur to her that such +an elevation for him meant something also for her. +That view of the case she did not take into consideration +for a moment. Nay, she did not think of it. +But that Pippo should be Lord Lomond went through +her like an arrow—like an arrow that gave a wound, +acute and sharp, yet no pain, if such a thing could be +said. That he should discover his father had been the +danger before her all his life, but if he must find out that +he had a father that was a way in which it might not be +all pain. I do not pretend that she was very clear in +all these thoughts. Indeed, she was not clear at all. +John Tatham, knowing but one side, had begun to +think vaguely of Elinor what Elinor thought of her +mother, that her mind was not quite as of old, not so +bright nor so vivid, not so clear in coming to a conclusion; +had he known everything he might not have been +so sure even on that point. But then had he known +everything that Elinor knew, and been aware of what +it was which Elinor had been summoned by all the +force of old fidelity and the honour of her name to do, +John would have been too much horrified to have been +able to form an opinion. No, poor Elinor was not at +all clear in her thoughts—less clear than ever after these +revelations—the way before her seemed dark in whatever +way she looked at it, complications were round her +on every side. She had instinctively, without a word +said, given up that idea of flight. Who was it that +said the heir to a peerage could not be hid? John +had said it, she remembered, and John was always +right. If she was to take him away to the uttermost +end of the earth, they would seek him out and find +him. And then there was—his father, who had known +all the time, had known and never disturbed her<span class="norewrap">——</span>No +wonder that poor Elinor's thoughts were mixed +and complicated. She walked up and down the room, +not thinking, but letting crowds and flights of thoughts +like birds fly through her mind; no longer clear indeed +as she had been wont to be, no longer coming to +sudden, sharp conclusions, admitting possibilities of +which Elinor once upon a time would never have +thought.</p> + +<p>And day by day as he saw her, John Tatham understood +her less and less. He did not know what she +meant, what she was going to do, what were her sentiments +towards her husband, what were her intentions +towards her son. He had found out a great deal about +the case, merely as a case, and it began to be clear to +him where Elinor's part came in. Elinor Compton +could not have appeared on her husband's behalf, and +whether there might not arise a question whether, +being now his wife, her evidence could be taken on +what had happened before she was his wife, was by no +means sure—"Why didn't they call your mother?" +John said, as Mrs. Dennistoun also had said—but he +did not at all understand, how could he? the dismay +that came over Elinor, and the "Not for the world," +which came from her lips. He had come in to see her +in the morning as he went down to his chambers, on +the very morning when Pippo, quite unexpected and +also not at all desired, was arriving at Euston Square.</p> + +<p>"It would have been much better," he said, "in +every way if they had called your mother—who of +course must know exactly what you know, Elinor, in +respect to this matter<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"No," said Elinor with dry lips. "She knows nothing. +She—calculates back by little incidents—she +does not remember: I—do<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"That's natural, I suppose," said John, with an impatient +sigh and a half-angry look. "Still—my +aunt<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Would do no good at all: you may believe me, +John. Don't let us speak of this any more. I know +what has to be done: my mother would twist herself +up among her calculations—about Alick Hudson's examination +and I know not what. Whereas I—there +is nothing, nothing more to be said. I thought I +could escape, and it is your doing if I now see that I +cannot escape. I can but hope that Providence will +protect my boy. He is at school, where they have little +time for reading the papers. He may never even +see—or at least if he does he may think it is another +Compton—some one whom he never heard of<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"And how if he becomes Lord Lomond, as I said, +before the secret is out?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, John," cried Elinor, wringing her hands—"don't, +don't torment me with that idea now—let only this +be past and then: Oh, I see, I see—I am not a fool—I +perceive that I cannot hide him as you say if that happens. +But oh, John, for pity's sake let this be over +first! Let us not hurry everything on at the same +time. He is at school. What do schoolboys care for +the newspapers, especially for trials in the law courts? +Oh, let this be over first! A boy at school—and he +need never know<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>It was at this moment that a hansom drew up, and a +rattling peal came at the door. Hansoms are not rare +in Ebury Street, and how can one tell in these small +houses if the peal is at one's door or the next? Elinor +was not disturbed. She paid no attention. She expected +no one, she was afraid of nothing new for the +present. Surely, surely, as she said, there was enough +for the present. It did not seem possible that any new +incident should come now.</p> + +<p>"I do not want to torment you, Elinor—you may +imagine I would be the last—I would only save you if +I could from what must be<span class="norewrap">——</span> What! what? who's +this?—<span class="smallcaps">Philip!</span> the boy!"</p> + +<p>The door had burst open with an eager, impatient +hand upon it, and there stood upon the threshold, in +all the mingled excitement and fatigue of his night +journey, pale, sleep in his eyes, yet happy expectation, +exultation, the certainty of open arms to receive him, +and cries of delight—the boy. He stood for a second +looking into the strange yet familiar room. John +Tatham had sprung to his feet and stood startled, hesitating, +while young Philip's eyes, noting him with a +glance, flashed past him to the other more important, +more beloved, the mother whom he had expected to +rush towards him with an outcry of joy.</p> + +<p>And Elinor sat still in her chair, struck dumb, grown +pale like a ghost, her eyes wide open, her lips apart. +The sight of the boy, her beloved child, her pride and +delight, was as a horrible spectacle to Elinor. She +stared at him like one horrified, and neither moved nor +spoke.</p> + +<p>"Elinor!" cried John, terrified, "there's nothing +wrong. Don't you see it's Philip? Boy, what do you +mean by giving her such a fright? She's fainting, I +believe."</p> + +<p>"I—give her a fright!" cried, half in anguish, half +in indignation, the astonished boy.</p> + +<p>"No, I'm not fainting. Pippo! there's nothing +wrong—at home?" Elinor cried, holding out her hand +to him—coming to herself, which meant only awakening +to the horror of a danger far more present than she +had ever dreamt, and to the sudden sight not of her +boy, but of that Nemesis which she had so carefully +prepared for herself, and which had been awaiting her +for years. She was not afraid of anything wrong at +home. It was the first shield she could find in the +shock which had almost paralysed her, to conceal her +terror and distress at the sight of him from the astonished, +disappointed, mortified, and angry boy.</p> + +<p>"I thought," he said, "you would have been glad to +see me, mother! No, there's nothing wrong at home."</p> + +<p>"Thank heaven for that!" cried Elinor, feeling herself +more and more a hypocrite as she recovered from +the shock. "Pippo, I was saying this moment that +you were at school. The words were scarcely off my +lips—and then to see you in a moment, standing +there."</p> + +<p>"I thought," he repeated again, trembling with the +disappointment and mortification, wounded in his +cheerful, confident affection, and in his young pride, +the monarch of all he surveyed—"I thought you would +have been pleased to see me, mother!"</p> + +<p>"Of course," said John, cheerfully, "your mother is +glad to see you: and so am I, you impetuous boy, +though you don't take the trouble of shaking hands +with me. He wants to be kissed and coddled, Elinor, +and I must be off to my chambers. But I should like +to know first what's up, boy? You've got something +to say."</p> + +<p>"Pippo, what is it, my dearest? You did give me a +great fright, and I am still nervous a little. Tell me, +Pippo; something has brought you—your uncle John +is right. I can see it in your eyes. You've got something +to tell me!"</p> + +<p>The tired and excited boy looked from one to another, +two faces both full of a veiled but intense anxiety, +looking at him as if what they expected was no +good news. He burst out into a big, hoarse laugh, the +only way to keep himself from crying. "You don't +even seem to remember anything about it," he cried, +flinging himself down in the nearest chair; "and for +my part I don't care any longer whether any one knows +or not."</p> + +<p>And Elinor, whose thoughts were on such different +things—whose whole mind was absorbed in the question +of what he could have heard about the trial, about +his father, about the new and strange future before +him—gazed at him with eyes that seemed hollowed out +all round with devouring anxiety. "What is it?" she +said, "what is it? For God's sake tell me! What +have you heard?"</p> + +<p>It goes against all prejudices to imagine that John +Tatham, a man who never had had a child, an old +bachelor not too tolerant of youth, should have divined +the boy better than his mother. But he did, perhaps +because he was a lawyer, and accustomed to investigate +the human countenance and eye. He saw that Philip +was full of something of his own, immediately interesting +to himself; and he cast about quickly in his mind +what it could be. Not that the boy was heir to a peerage: +he would never have come like <i>this</i> to announce +<i>that</i>: but something that Philip was cruelly disappointed +his mother did not remember. This passed +through John's mind like a flash, though it takes a +long time to describe. "Ah," he said, "I begin to +divine. Was not there something about a—scholarship?"</p> + +<p>"Pippo!" cried Elinor, lighting up great lamps of +relief, of sudden ease and quick coming joy, in her +brightened eyes and face. "My boy! you've won +your battle! You've got it, you've got it, Pippo! +And your foolish, stupid mother that thought for a moment +you could rush to her like this with anything but +good news!"</p> + +<p>It took a few moments to soothe Pippo down, and +mend his wounded feelings. "I began to think nobody +cared," he said, "and that made me that I didn't +care myself. I'd rather Musgrave had got it, if it had +not been to please you all. And you never seemed so +much as to remember—only Uncle John!" he added +after a moment, with a half scorn which made John +laugh at the never-failing candour of youth.</p> + +<p>"Only the least important of all," he said. "It was +atrocious of the ladies, Philip. Shake hands, my boy, +I owe you five pounds for the scholarship. And now +I'll take myself off, which will please you most of all."</p> + +<p>He went down-stairs laughing to himself all the way, +but got suddenly quite grave as he stepped outside—whether +because he remembered that it does not become +a Q.C. and M.P. to laugh in the street, or for +other causes, it does not become us to attempt to say.</p> + +<p>And Elinor meanwhile made it up to her boy amply, +and while her heart ached with the question what to do +with him, how to dispose of him during those dreadful +following days, behaved herself as if her head too was +half turned with joy and exultation, only tempered by +the regret that Musgrave, who had worked so hard, +could not have got the scholarship too.</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XLI" id="CHAPTER_XLI"></a>CHAPTER XLI.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>Elinor made much of her boy during that day and +the following days, to take away the sense of disappointment +which even after the first great mortification was +got over still haunted young Philip's mind. It surprised +him beyond measure to find that she did not +wish to go out with him, indeed in so far as was possible +avoided it altogether, save for a hurried drive to a few +places, during which she kept her veil down and sheltered +herself with an umbrella in the most ridiculous +way. "Are you afraid of your complexion, mother?" +the boy asked of her with disdain. "It looks like it," +she said, but with a laugh that was full of embarrassment, +"though it is a little late in the day." Elinor +was perhaps better aware than Pippo was that she had +a complexion which a girl might have envied, and was +still as fresh as a rose, notwithstanding that she was a +year or two over forty; but I need not say it was not of +her complexion she was thinking. She had been careful +to choose her time on previous visits to London so +as to risk as little as possible the chance of meeting her +husband. But now there was no doubt that he was in +town, and not the least that if he met her anywhere with +Pippo, her secret, so far as it had ever been a secret, +would be in his hands. Even when John took the boy +out it was with a beating heart that his mother saw him +go, for John was too well known to make any secret +possible about his movements, or who it was who was +with him. Perhaps it was for this reason that John +desired to take him out, and even cut short his day's +work on one or two occasions to act as cicerone to +Philip. He took him to the House, to the great excitement +and delight of the boy, who only wished that +the entertainment could have been made complete by a +speech from Uncle John, which was a point in which +his guide, philosopher, and friend, though in every +other way so complaisant, did not humour Pippo. On +one occasion during the first week they had an encounter +which made John's middle-aged pulses move a +little quicker. When they were walking along through +Hyde Park, having strolled that way in the fading of +the May afternoon, when the carriages were still promenading +up and down, before they returned to Halkin +Street to dinner, where Elinor awaited them—it happened +to Mr. Tatham to meet the roving eyes of Lady +Mariamne, who lay back languidly in her carriage, +wrapped in a fur cloak, and shivering in the chill of the +evening. She was not particularly interested in +anything or any person whom she had seen, and was a +little cross and desirous of getting home. But when +she saw John she roused up immediately, and gave a +sign to Dolly, who sat by her, to pull the check-string. +"Mr. Tatham!" she cried, in her shrill voice. Lady +Mariamne was not one of the people who object to hear +their voice in public or are reluctant to make their +wishes known to everybody. She felt herself to be of +the cast in which everybody is interested, and that the +public liked to know whom she honoured with her acquaintance. +"Mr. Tatham! are you going to carry +your rudeness so far as not to seem to know me? Oh, +come here this moment, you impertinent man!"</p> + +<p>"Can I be of any use to you, Lady Mariamne?" said +John, gravely, at the carriage door.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear no; you can't be of any use. What +should I have those men for if I wanted you to be of +use? Come and talk a moment, that's all; or get into the +carriage and I'll take you anywhere. Dolly and I have +driven round and round, and we have not seen a +creature we cared to see. Yes! there was a darling, +darling little Maltese terrier, with white silk curls hanging +over his eyes, on an odious woman's lap; but I cannot +expect you to find that angel for me. Mr. Tatham, +who is that tall boy?"</p> + +<p>"Pippo," said John, quickly (though probably he had +never in his life before used that name, which he disapproved +of angrily, as people often do of a childish +name which does not please them), "go on. I'll come +after you directly. The boy is a cousin of mine, Lady +Mariamne, just from school."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Tatham, I am quite sure it is Nell's boy. Call +after him. What's his name? Bring him back! John +Thomas, run after that young gentleman, and say with +my compliments<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Nothing," said John, stopping the footman with a +lifted hand and a still more emphatic look. "He is +hastening home to—an engagement. And it's evident +I had better go too—for your little friend there is showing +his teeth."</p> + +<p>"The darling!" said Lady Mariamne, "did it show +its little pearls at the wicked man that will not do what +its mummy says? Dolly, can't you jump down and run +after that boy? I am sure it is your Uncle Philip's +boy."</p> + +<p>"He is out of sight, mother," said Miss Dolly, calmly.</p> + +<p>"You are the most dreadful, wicked, unkind people, +all of you. Show its little teeth, then, darling! Oo's +the only one that has any feeling. Mr. Tatham, do tell +me something about this trial. What is going to be +done? Phil is mixed up in it. I know he is. Can they +do anything to anybody—after all this time? They +can't make you pay up, I know, after a certain time. +Oh, couldn't it all be hushed up and stopped and kept +out of the newspapers? I hate the newspapers, always +chuckling over every new discovery. But this cannot +be called a new discovery. If it's true it's old, as old +as the old beginning of the world. Don't you think +somebody could get at the newspaper men and have it +hushed up?"</p> + +<p>"I doubt if you could get hold of all of them, their +name is legion," said John.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't care what their name is. If you will +help me, Mr. Tatham, we could get hold of most of +them—won't you? You know, don't you, poor St. +Serf is so bad; it may be over any day—and then only +think what a complication! Dolly, turn your head the +other way; look at that silly young Huntsfield capering +about to catch your eye. I don't want you to hear +what I have got to say."</p> + +<p>"I don't in the least way want to hear what you have +got to say, dear mamma," said Dolly.</p> + +<p>"That would have made me listen to every word," +said Lady Mariamne; "but girls are more queer nowadays +than anything that ever was. Mr. Tatham"—she +put her hand upon his, which was on the carriage +door, and bent her perfumed, powdered face towards +him—"for goodness' sake—think how awkward it +would be—a man just succeeding to a title and that +sort of thing put in all the papers about him. Do, +do stop it, or try something to stop it, for goodness' +sake!"</p> + +<p>"I assure you," said John, "I can do nothing to stop +it. I am as powerless as you are."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't say that I am powerless," said Lady +Mariamne, with her shrill laugh. "One has one's little +ways of influence." Then she put her hand again upon +John with a sudden grip. "Mr. Tatham," she said, +"tell me, in confidence, was that Phil's boy?"</p> + +<p>"I have told you, Lady Mariamne, it is a nephew of +mine."</p> + +<p>"A nephew—oh, I know what kind of a nephew—<i>à +la mode de Bretagne</i>!"</p> + +<p>She turned her head to the other side, where her +daughter was gazing calmly in front of her.</p> + +<p>"Dolly! I was sure of it," she cried, "don't you hear? +Dolly, don't you hear?"</p> + +<p>"Which, mamma?" said Dolly, gravely; "of course +I could not help hearing it all. Which part was I to +notice? about the newspapers or about the boy?"</p> + +<p>Lady Mariamne appealed to earth and heaven with +the loud cackle of her laugh. "He can't deny it," she +said; "he as good as owns it. I am certain that's the +boy that will be Lomond."</p> + +<p>"Uncle St. Serf is not dead yet," said Dolly, reprovingly.</p> + +<p>"Poor Serf!—but he's so very bad," said Lady Mariamne, +"that it's almost the same thing. Mr. Tatham, +can't we take you anywhere? I'm so glad I've seen +Nell's boy. Can't we drive you home? Perhaps you've +got Nell there too?"</p> + +<p>John stood back from the carriage door, just in time +to escape the start of the horses as the remorseless +string was touched and the footman clambered up into +his seat. Lady Mariamne's smile went off her face, +and she had forgotten all about it, to judge from appearances, +before he had got himself in motion again. +And a little farther on, behind the next tree, he found +young Philip waiting, full of curiosity and questions.</p> + +<p>"Who was that lady, Uncle John? Was she asking +about me? I thought I heard her call. I had half a +mind to run back and say 'Here I am.'"</p> + +<p>"It was much better that you didn't do anything of +the kind. Never pay any attention when you think you +hear a fine lady calling you, Philip. It is better not to +hear the Siren's call."</p> + +<p>"When they're elderly Sirens like that!" said the +boy, with a laugh. "But I say, Uncle John, if you +won't tell me who the lady is, who is the girl? She +has a pair of eyes!—not like Sirens though—eyes that +go through you—like—like a pair of lancets."</p> + +<p>"A surgical operation in fact: and I shouldn't +wonder if she meant to be a doctor," said John. "The +mother has done nothing all her life, therefore the +daughter means to do much. It is the natural reaction +of the generations. But I never noticed that Miss Dolly +had any eyes—to speak of," said the highly indifferent +middle-aged man.</p> + +<p>The boy flushed with a sense of indignation. "Perhaps +you think the old lady's were finer?" he said.</p> + +<p>"I never admired the old lady, as you call her," said +John, shortly; and then he turned Philip's attention to +something, possibly with the easily satisfied conviction +of a spectator that the boy thought of it no more.</p> + +<p>"We met my Lady Mariamne in the park," he said +to Elinor when they sat at dinner an hour later at that +bachelor table in Halkin Street, where everything was +so exquisitely cared for. It was like Elinor, but most +unlike the place in which she found herself, that she +started so violently as to shake the whole table, crying +out in a tone of consternation, "John!" as if he did +not know very well what he might venture to say, or +as if he had any intention of betraying her to her son.</p> + +<p>"She was very anxious," he said, perhaps playing a +little with her excitement, "to have Philip presented to +her: but I sent him on—that is to say, I thought I sent +him on. The fellow went no farther than to the next +tree, where he stood and watched Miss Dolly, not feeling +any interest in the old lady, as he said."</p> + +<p>"Well, Uncle John—did you expect me to look at +the old lady? You are not so fond of old ladies yourself."</p> + +<p>"And who is Miss Dolly?" said Elinor, trying to +conceal the beating of her heart and the quiver on her +lips with a smile; and then she added, with a little +catch of her breath, "Oh, yes, I remember there was a +little girl."</p> + +<p>"You will be surprised to hear that we are by way +of being great friends. Her ladyship visits me in my +chambers<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>Again Elinor uttered that startled cry, "John!" but +she tried this time to cover it with a tremulous laugh. +"Are you becoming a flirt in your old age?"</p> + +<p>"It appears so," said John. And then he added, +"That aphorism, which struck you as it struck me, Elinor, +by its good sense—about the heir to a peerage—is +really her production, and not mine."</p> + +<p>"Miss Dolly's? And what was the aphorism, Uncle +John?" cried Philip.</p> + +<p>"No, it was not Miss Dolly's, my young man. It +was the mother's, and so of course does not interest +you any more."</p> + +<p>It did not as a matter of fact: the old lady was supremely +indifferent to Pippo; but as he looked up saying +something else which did not bear upon the subject, +it occurred to the boy, as it will sometimes occur +by the merest chance to a young observer, to notice his +mother. She caught his eye somehow in the most accidental +way; and Pippo was too well acquainted with +her looks not to perceive that there was a thrill in every +line of her countenance, a slight nervous tremble in her +hands and entire person, such as was in no way to be +accounted for (he thought) by anything that had been +said or done. There was nothing surely to disquiet +her in dining at Uncle John's, the three alone, not even +one other guest to fill up the vacant side of the table. +Philip had himself thought that Uncle John might have +asked some one to meet them. He should have remembered +that he himself, Philip, was now of an age +to dine out, and see a little society, and go into the +world. But what in the name of all that was wonderful +was there in this entertainment to agitate his +mother? And John Tatham had a look—which Philip +did not understand—the look of a man who was successful +in argument, who was almost crushing an opponent. +It was as if a duel had been going on between +them, and the man was the victor, which, as was natural, +immediately threw Philip violently on the other side.</p> + +<p>"You're not well, mother," he said.</p> + +<p>"Do you think not, Pippo? Well, perhaps you are +right. London is too much for me. I am a country +bird," said Elinor, with smiling yet trembling lips.</p> + +<p>"You shall not go to the theatre if you are not up to +it," said the boy in his imperious way.</p> + +<p>She gave him an affectionate look, and then she +looked across the table at John. What did that look +mean? There was a faint smile in it: and there was a +great deal which Philip did not understand, things understood +by Uncle John—who was after all what you +might call an outsider, no more—and not by him, her +son! Could anything be so monstrous? Philip blazed +up with sudden fire.</p> + +<p>"No," said John Tatham; "I think Philip's right. +We'll take her home to be coddled by her maid, and +we'll go off, two wild young fellows, to the play by +ourselves."</p> + +<p>"No," said Philip, "I'll leave her to be coddled by no +maid. I can take care of my mother myself."</p> + +<p>"My dear boy," said Elinor, "I want no coddling. +But I doubt whether I could stand the play. I like +you to go with Uncle John."</p> + +<p>And then it began to dawn upon Philip that his mother +had never meant to be of the party, and that this was +what had been settled all along. He was more angry; +more wounded and hurt in his spirit than he had of +course the least occasion to be. He was of opinion that +his mother had never had any secrets from him, that +she had taken him into her confidence since he was a +small boy, even things that Granny did not know! +And here all at once there was rising between them a +cloud, a mist, which there was no reason for. If he had +done anything to make him less worthy he would have +understood; had there been a bad report from school, +had he failed in his work and disappointed her, there +might have been some reason for it. But he had done +nothing of the kind! Never before had he been so deserving +of confidence; he had got his scholarship, he +had finished the first phase of his education in triumph, +and fulfilled all her expectations. And now just at this +point of all others, just when he was most fit to understand, +most worthy of trust, she turned from him. His +heart swelled as if it would burst, with anger first, almost +too strong to be repressed, and with that sense of +injured merit which is of all things the most hard to +bear. It is hard enough even when one is aware one +deserves no better. But to be conscious of your worth +and to feel that you are not appreciated, that is indeed +too much for any one. There was not even the satisfaction +of giving up the play which he had looked forward +to, making a sacrifice of it to his mother, in which +there would have been a severe pleasure. But she did +not want him! She preferred that he should leave her +by herself to be coddled by her maid, as Uncle John +(vulgarly) said. Or perhaps was there somebody else +coming, some old friend whom he knew nothing of, +somebody, some one or other like that old witch in the +carriage whom Pippo was not meant to know?</p> + +<p>It ended, however, in the carrying out of the plan +settled beforehand by those old conspirators. The old +conspirators do generally manage to carry out their +plans for the management of rebellious youth, however +injured the latter may feel. Pippo wound himself up +in solemn dignity and silence when he understood that +it was ordained that he should proceed to the play with +John Tatham. And the pair had got half way to Drury +Lane—or it may have been the Lyceum, or the Haymarket, +or any of half-a-dozen other theatres, for here +exact information fails—before he condescended to open +his lips for more than Yes or No. But Philip's gloom +did not survive the raising of the curtain, and he had +forgotten all offences and had taken his companion into +favour again, and was talking to Uncle John between the +acts with all the excitement of a country youth to whom +a play still was the greatest of novelties and delights, +when he suddenly saw a change come over John Tatham's +countenance and a slight bow of recognition directed +towards a box, which made Philip turn round and look +too. And there was the old witch of the carriage, and, +what was more interesting, the girl with the keen eyes, +who looked out suddenly from the shade of the draperies, +and fixed upon Philip—Philip himself—a look which +startled that young hero much. Nor was this all; for +later in the evening, after another act of the play, some +one else appeared in the same box, and fixed the dark +and impassive stare of a long pair of opera-glasses upon +Philip. It amused him at first, and afterwards it half +frightened him, and finally made him very angry. The +gazer was a man, of whom, however, Philip could make +nothing out but his white shirt front and his tall stature, +and the long black tubes of the opera-glass. Was it at +him the man was looking, or perhaps at Uncle John? +But the boy thought it on the whole unlikely that anybody +should stare in that way at anything so little out +of the ordinary as Uncle John.</p> + +<p>"I say," he said, in the next interval, "who is that +fellow staring at us out of your old lady's box?"</p> + +<p>"Staring at the ladies behind us, you mean," said +John. "Pippo, do you think we could make a rush for +it the moment the play's over? I've got something to +look over when I get home. Are you game to be out +the very first before the curtain's down?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly I'm game," said Philip, delighted, "if you +wish it, Uncle John."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I wish it," said the other, and he put his hand +on the boy's shoulder as the act finished and the characters +of the piece drew together for the final tableau. +And the pair managed it triumphantly, and were the +very first to get out at the head of the crowd, to Philip's +immense amusement and John Tatham's great relief. +The elder hurried the younger into the first hansom, all +in the twinkling of an eye: and then for the first time +his gravity relaxed. Philip took it all for a great joke +till they reached Ebury Street. But when his companion +left him, and he had time to think of it, he began +to ask himself why?</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XLII" id="CHAPTER_XLII"></a>CHAPTER XLII.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>I will not say that Philip's sleep was broken by this +question, but it undoubtedly recurred to his mind the +first thing in the morning when he jumped out of bed +very late for breakfast, and the events of the past +night and the lateness of the hour at which he got to +rest came back upon him as excuses in the first place +for his tardiness. And then, which was remarkable, it +was not the scene in the play in which he had been +most interested which came to his mind, but a vision +of that box and the man standing in front of it staring +at him through the black tubes of the opera-glass +which came before Philip like a picture. Uncle John +had said it was at the ladies behind, but the boy felt +sure it was no lady behind, but himself, on whom that +stare was fixed. Who would care to stare so at him? +It faintly gleamed across his thoughts that it might be +some one who had heard of the scholarship, but he dismissed +that thought instantly with a blush. It also +gleamed upon him with equal vagueness like a momentary +but entirely futile light, consciously derived from +story books, and of which he was much ashamed, that +the inexplicable attention given to himself might have +something to do with the girl who had such keen eyes. +Philip blushed fiery red at this involuntary thought, +and chased it from his mind like a mad dog; but he +could not put away the picture of the box, the girl putting +aside the curtain to look at him, and the opera-glass +fixed upon his face. And then why was Uncle +John in such a hurry to get away? It had seemed a +capital joke at that moment, but when he came to think +of it, it was rather strange that a man who might be +Solicitor-General to-morrow if he liked, and probably +Lord Chancellor in a few years, should make a schoolboy +rush from the stalls of a theatre with the object of +being first out. Philip disapproved of so undignified +a step on the part of his elderly relation. And he saw +now in the serious morning that Uncle John was very +unlikely to have done it for fun. What, then, did it +mean?</p> + +<p>He came down full of these thoughts, and rather +ashamed of being late, wondering whether his mother +would have waited for him (which would have annoyed +him), or if she would have finished her breakfast (which +would have annoyed him still more). Happily for +Elinor, she had hit the golden mean, and was pouring +out for herself a second cup of coffee (but Philip was +not aware it was the second) when the boy appeared. +She was quite restored to her usual serenity and freshness, +and as eager to know how he had enjoyed himself +as she always was. He gave her a brief sketch of the +play and of what pleased him in it as in duty bound. +"But," he added, "what interested me almost more +was that we had a sort of a—little play of our own."</p> + +<p>"What?" she cried, with a startled look in her eyes. +One thing that puzzled him was that she was so very +easily startled, which it seemed to Philip had never +been the case before.</p> + +<p>"Well," he said, "the lady was there whom Uncle +John met in the park—and the girl with her—and I +believe the little dog. She made all sorts of signs to +him, but he took scarcely any notice. But that's not +all, mother<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"It's a good deal, Pippo<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Is it? Why do you speak in that choked voice, +mother? I suppose it is just one of his society acquaintances. +But the thing was that before the last act +somebody else came forward to the front of the box, +and fixed—I was going to say his eyes, I mean his +opera-glasses upon us."</p> + +<p>Philip had meant to say upon me—but he had +produced already so great an effect on his mother's face +that he moderated instinctively the point of this description. +"And stared at us," he added, "all the +rest of the time, paying not the least attention to anything +that was going on. It's a queer sensation," he +went on, with a laugh, "to feel that black mysterious-looking +thing like the eyes of some monster with no +speculation in them, fixed upon you. Now, I want you +to tell me<span class="norewrap">——</span> What's the matter, mother?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing, Pippo; nothing," said Elinor, faintly, +stooping to lift up a book she had let fall. "Go on +with your story. I am very much interested; and +then, my dear?"</p> + +<p>"Mother," cried Philip, "I don't know what has +come over you, or over me. There's something going +on I can't understand. You never used to have any +secrets from me. I was always in your confidence—wasn't +I, mother?"</p> + +<p>It was not a book she had let fall, but a ring that +she had dropped from her finger, and which had to be +followed over the carpet. It made her red and flushed +when she half raised her head to say, "Yes, Pippo—you +know—I have always told you<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>Philip did not remark that what his mother said was +nothing after all. He got up to help her to look for +her ring, and put his arm round her waist as she knelt +on the floor.</p> + +<p>"Yes, mamma," he said, tenderly, protectingly, "I +do know: but something's changed; either it's in me +that makes you feel you can't trust me—or else it is in +you. And I don't know which would be worst."</p> + +<p>"There is no change," she said, after a moment, for +she could not help the ring being found, and immediately +when his quick, young eyes came to the search: +but she did not look him in the face. "There is no +change, dear. There is only some worrying business +which involves a great many troubles of my old life before +you were born. You shall hear—everything—in a +little while: but I cannot enter into it all at this moment. +It is full of complications and—secrets that +belong to other people. Pippo, you must promise me +to wait patiently, and to believe—to believe—always +the best you can—of your mother."</p> + +<p>The boy laughed as he raised her up, still holding +her with his arm. "Believe the best I can! Well, I +don't think that will be a great effort, mother. Only +to think that you can't trust me as you always have +done makes me wretched. We've been such friends, +haven't we, mamma? I've always told you everything, +or at least everything except just the nonsense at +school: and you've told me everything. And if we +are going to be different now<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"You've told me everything!" the boy was as sure +of it as that he was born. She had to hold by him to +support herself, and it cost her a strong effort to restrain +the shiver that ran through her. "We are not +going to be different," she said, "as soon as we leave +London—or before—you shall know everything about +this business of mine, Pippo. Will that satisfy you? +In the meantime it is not pleasant business, dear; and +you must bear with me if I am abstracted sometimes, +and occupied, and cross."</p> + +<p>"But, mother," said Philip, bending over her with +that young celestial foolish look of gravity and good +advice with which a neophyte will sometimes address +the much-experienced and heavily-laden pilgrim, "don't +you think it would be easier if it was all open between +us, and I took my share? If it is other people's secrets +I would not betray them, you know that."</p> + +<p>Unfortunately Elinor here murmured, scarcely knowing +what words came from her lips, "That is what +John says."</p> + +<p>"John," said the boy, furious with the quick rage of +injured tenderness and pride, "Uncle John! and you +tell him more, him, an outsider, than you tell me!"</p> + +<p>He let her go then, which was a great relief to Elinor, +for she could command herself better when he +was a little farther off, and could not feel the thrill that +was in her, and the thumping of her heart.</p> + +<p>"You must remember, Pippo," she said, "what I +have told you, that my present very disagreeable, very +painful business is about things that happened before +you were born, which John knew everything about. +He was my adviser then, as far as I would take any advice, +which I am afraid never was much, Pippo," she +said; "never, alas! all my life. Granny will tell you +that. But John, always the kindest friend and the +best brother in the world, did everything he could. +And it would have been better for us all if I had taken +his advice instead of always, I fear, always my own way."</p> + +<p>Strangely enough this cheered Pippo and swept the +cloud from his face. "I'm glad you didn't take anybody's +advice, mother. I shouldn't have liked it. I've +more faith in you than anybody. Well, then, now +about this man. What man in the world—I really +mean in the world, in what is called society, for that is +the kind of people they were—could have such a curiosity +about—me?"</p> + +<p>She had resumed her seat, and her face was turned +away from him. Also the exquisite tone of complacency +and innocent self-appreciation with which Philip expressed +this wonder helped her a little to surmount +the situation. Elinor could have laughed had her heart +been only a trifle less burdened. She said: "Are you +sure it was at you?"</p> + +<p>"Uncle John said something about ladies behind us, +but I am sure it was no ladies behind. It might, of +course," the boy added, cautiously, "have been <i>him</i>, +you know. I suppose Uncle John's a personage, isn't +he? But after all, you know, hang it, mother, it isn't +easy to believe that a fellow like that would stare so at +Uncle John."</p> + +<p>"Poor John! It is true there is not much novelty +about him," said Elinor, with a tremble in her voice, +which, if it was half agitation, was yet a little laughter +too: for there are scarcely any circumstances, however +painful, in which those who are that way moved by +nature are quite able to quench the unconquerable +laugh. She added, with a falter in which there was no +laughter, "and what—was the—fellow like?"</p> + +<p>"All that I could see was that he was a tall man. I +saw his large shirt-front and his black evening clothes, +and something like grey hair above those two big, black +goggles<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Grey hair!" Elinor said, with a low suppressed cry.</p> + +<p>"He never took them away from his eyes for a moment, +so of course I could not see his face, or anything +much except that he was more than common tall—like +myself," Pippo said, with a little air of pleased vanity in +the comparison.</p> + +<p>Like himself! She did not make any remark. It is +very doubtful whether she could have done so. There +came before her so many visions of the past, and such +a vague, confused, bewildering future, of which she +could form no definite idea what it would be. Was it +with a pang that she foresaw that drawing towards another +influence: that mingled instinct, curiosity, perhaps +admiration and wonder, which already seemed to +move her boy's unconscious mind? Elinor did not +even know whether that would hurt her at all. Even +now there seemed a curious pungent sense of half-pleasure +in the pain. Like himself! So he was. And +if it should be that it was his father, who for hours had +stood there, not taking his eyes off the boy (for hours +her imagination said, though Pippo had not said so), +his father who had known where she was and never +disturbed her, never interfered with her; the man who +had summoned her to perform her martyrdom for him, +never doubting—Phil, with grey hair! To say what +mingled feelings swept through Elinor's mind, with all +these elements in them, is beyond my power. She saw +him with his face concealed, standing up unconscious +of the crowded place and of the mimic life on the stage, +his eyes fixed upon his son whom he had never seen +before. Where was there any drama in which there +was a scene like this? His son, his only child, the +heir! Unconsciously even to herself that fact had some +influence, no doubt, on Elinor's thoughts. And it +would be impossible to say how much influence had +that unexpected subduing touch of the grey hair: and +the strange change in the scene altogether. The foolish, +noisy, "fast" woman, with her <i>tourbillon</i> of men +and dogs about her, turned into the old lady of Pippo's +careless remark, with her daughter beside her far more +important than she: and the tall figure in the front of +the box, with grey hair<span class="norewrap">——</span></p> + +<p>Young Philip had not the faintest light or guidance +in the discovery of his mother's thoughts. He was +much more easy and comfortable now that there had +been an explanation between them, though it was one of +those explanations which explained nothing. He even +forgave Uncle John for knowing more than he did, +moved thereto by the consolatory thought that John's +advice had never been taken, and that his mother had +always followed her own way. This was an incalculable +comfort to Pippo's mind, and gave him composure +to wait calmly for the clearing up of the mystery, and +the restoration of that perfect confidence between his +mother and himself which he was so firmly convinced +had existed all his life. He was a great deal happier +after, and gave her an excellent account of the play, +which he had managed to see quite satisfactorily, notwithstanding +the other "little play of our own" which +ran through everything. At Philip's age one can see +two things at once well enough. I knew a boy who at +one and the same moment got the benefit of (1st) his +own story book, which he read lying at full length before +the fire, half buried in the fur of a great rug; and +(2nd) of the novel which was being read out over his +head for the benefit of the other members of the family—or +at least he strenuously asserted he did, and indeed +proved himself acquainted with both. Philip in the +same way had taken in everything in the play, even +while his soul was intent upon the opera-glass in the +box. He had not missed anything of either. He gave +an account of the first, from which the drama might +have been written down had fate destroyed it: and had +noticed the <i>minauderies</i> of the heroine, and the eager +determination not to be second to her in anything +which distinguished the first gentleman, as if he had +nothing else in his mind: while all the time he had +been under the fascination of the two black eyeholes +<i>braqués</i> upon him, the mysterious gaze as of a ghost +from eyes which he never saw.</p> + +<p>This occupied some part of the forenoon, and Philip +was happy. But when he had completed his tale and +began to feel the necessity of going out, and remembered +that he had nowhere to go and nothing to do, +the prospect was not alluring. He tried very hard to +persuade his mother to go out with him, but this was a +risk from which Elinor shrank. She shrank, too, from +his proposal at last to go out to the park by himself.</p> + +<p>"To the Row. I sha'n't know the people except +those who are in <i>Punch</i> every week, and I shall envy the +fellows riding—but at least it will be something to see."</p> + +<p>"I wish you would not go to the Row, Pippo."</p> + +<p>"Why, mother? Doesn't everybody go? And you +never were here at this time of the year before."</p> + +<p>"No," she said, with a long breath of despair. No; +of all times of the year this was the one in which she +had never risked him in London. And, oh! that he +had been anywhere in the world except London now!</p> + +<p>Philip, who had been watching her countenance with +great interest, here patted her on the shoulder with +condescending, almost paternal, kindness. "Don't you +be frightened, mother. I'll not get into any mischief. +I'll neither be rode over, nor robbed, nor run away. I'll +take as great care of myself as if you had been there."</p> + +<p>"I'm not afraid that you will be ridden over or +robbed," she said, forcing a smile; "but there is one +thing, Pippo. Don't talk to anybody whom you—don't +know. Don't let yourself be drawn into<span class="norewrap">——</span> If you +should meet, for instance, that lady—who was in the +theatre last night."</p> + +<p>"Yes, mother?"</p> + +<p>"Don't let her make acquaintance with you; don't +speak to her, nor the girl, nor any one that may be with +her. At the risk even of being uncivil<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Why, mother," he said, elevating his eyebrows, +"how could I be uncivil to a lady?"</p> + +<p>"Because I tell you," she cried, "because you must—because +I shall sit here in terror counting every moment +till you come back, if you don't promise me this."</p> + +<p>He looked at her with the most wondering countenance, +half disapproving, half pitying. Was she going +mad? what was happening to her? was she after all, +though his mother, no better than the jealous foolish +women in books, who endeavoured at all costs to separate +their children from every influence but their own? +How could Pippo think such things of his mother? and +yet what else could he think?</p> + +<p>"I had better," he said, "if that is how you feel, +mother, not go to the Row at all."</p> + +<p>"Much better, much better!" she cried. "I'll tell +you what we'll do, Pippo—you have never been to see—the +Tower." She had run over all the most far-off +and unlikely places in her mind, and this occurred to +her as the most impossible of all to attract any visitor +of whom she could be afraid. "I have changed my +mind," she added. "Well have a hansom, and I will +go with you to see the Tower."</p> + +<p>"So long as you go with me," said Pippo, "I don't +care where I go."</p> + +<p>And they set out almost joyfully as in their old happy +expeditions of old, for that long drive through London +in the hansom. And yet the boy was only lulled for +the moment, and in his heart was more and more perplexed +what his mother could mean.</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XLIII" id="CHAPTER_XLIII"></a>CHAPTER XLIII.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>Fortune was favourable to Elinor that day. At the +Tower, where she duly went over everything that was +to be seen with Pippo, conscious all the time of his +keen observance of her through all that he was doing, +and even through his interest in what he saw—and feeling +for the first time in her life that there was between +her boy and her something that he felt, something that +was not explained by anything she had said, and that +awaited the dreadful moment when everything would +have to be told—at the Tower, as I say, they met some +friends from the north, the rector of the parish, who +had come up with his son to see town, and was naturally +taking his boy, as Elinor took hers, to see all that +was not town, in the usual sense of the word. They +were going to Woolwich and Greenwich next day, and +with a pang of mingled trouble and relief in her mind +Elinor contrived to engage Pippo to accompany them. +On the second day I think they were to go to St. Katherine's +Docks, or the Isle of Dogs, or some other equally +important and interesting sight—far better no doubt +for the two youths than to frequent such places as the +Row, and gaze at the stream of gaiety and luxury which +they could not join. Pippo in ordinary circumstances +would have been delighted to see Woolwich and the +docks—but it was so evident to him that his mother +was anxiously desirous to dispose of him so, that his +satisfaction was much lessened. The boy, however, +was magnanimous enough to consent without any appearance +of reluctance. In the many thoughts which +filled his mind Philip showed his fine nature, by having +already come to consent to the possibility that his +mother might have business of her own into which he +had no right to enter unless at her own time and with +her full consent. It cost him an effort, I allow, to come +to that: but yet he did so, and resolved, a little pride +helping him, to inquire no more, and if possible to +wonder or be offended no more, but to wait the time +she had promised, when the old rule of perfect confidence +should be re-established between them. The +old rule! if Pippo had but known! nothing yet had +given Elinor such a sense of guilt as his conviction that +she had told him everything, that there had been no +secrets between them during all the happy life that was +past.</p> + +<p>How entirely relieved Elinor was when he started to +join his friends next morning it would be impossible to +put into words. She watched all his lingering movements +before he went with eyes in which she tried to +quench the impatience, and look only with the fond admiration +and interest she felt upon all his little preparations, +his dawning sense of what was becoming in +apparel, the flower in his coat, the carefully rolled +umbrella, the hat brushed to the most exquisite smoothness, +the handkerchief just peeping from his breast-pocket. +It is always a revelation to a woman to find +that these details occupy as much of a young man's +attention as her own toilette occupies hers; and that he +is as tremulously alive to "what is worn" in many small +particulars that never catch her eye, as she is to details +which entirely escape him. She smiles at him as he +does at her, each in that conscious superiority to the +other, which is on the whole an indulgent sentiment. +Underneath all her anxiety to see him go, to get rid of +him (was that the dreadful truth in this terrible crisis +of her affairs?), she felt the amusement of the boy's +little coquetries, and the mother's admiration of his +fresh looks, his youthful brightness, his air of distinction; +how different from the Rector's boy, who was a +nice fellow enough, and a credit to his rectory, and +whose mother, I do not doubt, felt in his ruddy good +looks something much superior in robustness, and +strength, and manhood to the too-tall and too-slight +golden youth of the ladies at Lakeside! It even flitted +across Elinor's mind to give him within herself the title +that was to be his, everybody said—Lord Lomond! And +then she asked herself indignantly what honour it could +add to her spotless boy to have such a vain distinction; +a name that had been soiled by so much ignoble use? +Elinor had prided herself all her life on an indifference +to, almost a contempt for, the distinctions of rank: and +that it should occur to her to think of that title as an +embellishment to Pippo—nay, to think furtively, without +her own knowledge, so to speak, that Pippo looked +every inch a lord and heir to a peerage, was an involuntary +weakness almost incredible. She blushed for +herself as she realised it:—a peerage which had meant +so little that was excellent—a name connected with so +many undesirable precedents: still I suppose when it is +his own even the veriest democrat is conscious at least +of the picturesqueness, the superiority, as a mode of +distinguishing one man from another, of anything +that can in the remotest sense be called a historical +name.</p> + +<p>When Pippo was out of sight Elinor turned from the +window with a sigh, and came back to the dark chamber +of her own life, full at this moment of all the gathered +blackness of the past and of the future. She put her +hands over her eyes, and sank down upon a seat, as if +to shut out from herself all that was before her. But +shut it out as she might, there it was—the horrible court +with the judgment-seat, the rows of faces bent upon her, +the silence through which her own voice must rise alone, +saying—what? What was it she was called there to say? +Oh, how little they knew who suggested that her mother +should have been called instead of her, with all her +minute old-fashioned calculations and exact memory, +who even now, when all was over, would probably convict +Elinor of a mistake! Even at that penalty what +would not she give to have it over, the thing said, the +event done with, whatever it might bring after it! And +it could now be only a very short time till the moment +of the ordeal would come, when she should stand up in +the face of her country, before the solemn judge on his +bench, before all the gaping, wondering people—before, +oh! thought most dreadful of all, which we would not, +could not, contemplate—before one who knew everything, +and say<span class="norewrap">——</span> She picked herself up trembling as +it were, and uncovered her eyes, and protested to herself +that she would say nothing that was not true. Nothing +that was not true! She would tell her story—so +well remembered, so often conned; that story that +had been put into her lips twenty years ago which +she had repeated then confused, not knowing how it +was that what was a simple fact should nevertheless +not be true. Alas! she knew that very well now, +and yet would have to repeat it before God and +the world. But thinking would make it no better—thinking +could only make it worse. She sprang up +again, and began to occupy herself with something +she had to do: the less it was thought over the better: +for now the trial had begun, and her ordeal would soon +be done too. If only the boy could be occupied, kept +away—if only she could be left alone to do what she +had to do! That he should be there was the last aggravation +of which her fate was capable; there in idleness, +reading the papers in the morning, which was a thing +she had so lately calculated a boy at school was unlikely +to do; and what so likely as that his eye would be +caught by his own name in the report of the trial, which +would be an exciting trial and fully reported—a trial +which interested society. The boy would see his own +name: she could almost hear him cry out, looking up +from his breakfast, "Hallo, mother! here's something +about a Philip Compton!" And all the questions that +would follow—"Is he the same Comptons that we are? +What Comptons do we belong to? You never told me +anything about my family. Is this man any relation, I +wonder? Both surname and Christian name the same. +It's strange if there is no connection!" She could +almost hear the words he would say—all that and more—and +what should she reply?</p> + +<p>"I have only one thing to say, Elinor," said John, to +whom in her desperation she turned again, as she always +did, disturbing him, poor man, in his chambers as he was +collecting his notes and his thoughts in the afternoon +after his work was over: "it is the same as I have always +said; even now make a clean breast of it to the +boy. Tell him everything; better that he should hear +it from your own lips than that it should burst upon +him as a discovery. He has but to meet Lady +Mariamne in the park, the most likely thing in the +world<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"No, John," cried Elinor, "no; the Marshalls are +here, our Rector from Lakeside, and he is taking his +boy to see all the sights. I have got Pippo to go with +them. They are going to Woolwich to-day, and +afterwards to quite a long list of things—oh, entirely out of +everybody's way."</p> + +<p>Her little look of uneasy triumph and satisfaction +made John smile. She was not half so sure as she +tried to look; but, all the same, had a little pride, a little +pleasure in her own management, and in the happy +chance of the Marshalls being in London, which was a +thing that could not have been planned, an intervention +of Providence. He could not refuse to smile—partly +with her, partly at her simplicity—but, all the +same, he shook his head.</p> + +<p>"The only way in which there is any safety—the +only chance of preserving him from a shock, a painful +shock, Elinor, that may upset him for life<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"How do you mean, upset him for life?"</p> + +<p>"By showing him that his mother, whom he believes +in like heaven, has deceived him since ever he was born."</p> + +<p>She covered her face with her hands, and burst into +a sobbing cry. "Oh, John, you don't know how true +that is! He said to me only yesterday, 'You have always +told me everything, mother. There has never +been any secret between us.' Oh! John, John, only +think of having that said to me, and knowing what I +know!"</p> + +<p>"Well, Elinor; believe me, my dear, there is but +one thing to do. The boy is a good boy, full of love +and kindness."</p> + +<p>"Oh, isn't he, John? the best boy, the dearest<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"And adores his mother, as a boy should," John +got up from his chair and walked about the room for +a little, and then he came behind her and put his hand +on her shoulder. "Tell him, Elinor: my dear Nelly, +as if I had never said a word on the subject before, I +beseech you tell him, trust him fully, even now, at the +eleventh hour."</p> + +<p>She raised her head with a quivering, wistful smile. +"The moment the trial is over, the moment it is over! +I give you my word, John."</p> + +<p>"Do not wait till it is over, do it now; to-night +when he comes home."</p> + +<p>She began to tremble so that John Tatham was +alarmed—and kept looking at him with an imploring +look, her lips quivering and every line in her countenance. +"Oh, not to-night. Spare me to-night! After +the trial; after my part of it. At least—after—after—oh, +give me till to-morrow to think of it!"</p> + +<p>"My dear Elinor, I count for nothing in it. I am +not your judge; I am your partisan, you know, whatever +you do. But I am sure it will be the better done, and +even the easier done, the sooner you do it."</p> + +<p>"I will—I will: at the very latest the day after I +have done my part at the trial. Is not that enough to +think of at one time, for a poor woman who has never +stood up before the public in all her life, never had a +question put to her? Oh, John! oh, John!"</p> + +<p>"Elinor, Elinor! you are too sensible a woman to +make a fuss about a simple duty like this."</p> + +<p>"There speaks the man who has stood before the +world all his life, and is not afraid of any public," she +said, with a tremulous laugh. But she had won her +moment's delay, and thus was victorious after a fashion, +as it was her habit to be.</p> + +<p>I do not know that young Philip much amused himself +at Woolwich that day. He did and he did not. +He could not help being interested in all he saw, and he +liked the Marshalls well enough, and in ordinary circumstances +would have entered very heartily into any +sight-seeing. But he kept thinking all the time what +his mother was doing, and wondering over the mysterious +business which was to be explained to him sooner +or later, and which he had so magnanimously promised +to wait for the revelation of, and entertain no suspicions +about in the meantime. The worst of such magnanimity +is that it is subject to dreadful failings of the heart +in its time of waiting—never giving in, indeed, but yet +feeling the pressure whenever there is a moment to +think. This matter mixed itself up so with all Philip +saw that he never in after life saw a great cannon, or a +pyramid of balls (which is not, to be sure, an every-day +sight) without a vague sensation of trouble, as of +something lying behind which was concealed from him, and +which he would scarcely endure to have concealed. +When he left his friends in the evening, however, it was +with another engagement for to-morrow, and several +to-morrows after, and great jubilation on the part of +both father and son, as to their good luck in meeting, +and having his companionship in their pleasures. And, +in fact, these pleasures were carried on for several days, +always with the faint bitter in them to Philip, of that +consciousness that his mother was pleased to be rid of +him, glad to see his back turned, the most novel, extraordinary +sensation to the boy. And it must also be +confessed that he kept a very keen eye on all the passing +carriages, always hoping to see that one in which +the witch, as he called her, and the girl with the keen +eyes were—for he had not picked up the name of Lady +Mariamne, keen as his young ears were, and though +John had mentioned it in his presence, partly, perhaps, +because it was so very unlikely a name. As for the +man with the opera-glasses, he had not seen his face at +all, and therefore could not hope to recognise him. +And yet he felt a little thrill run through him when any +tall man with grey hair passed in the street. He almost +thought he could have known the tall slim figure +with a certain swaying movement in it, which was not +like anybody else. I need not say, however, that even +had these indications been stronger, Woolwich and the +Isle of Dogs were unlikely places in which to meet +Lady Mariamne, or any gentleman likely to be in attendance +on her. In Whitechapel, indeed, had he but +known, he might have met Miss Dolly: but then in +Whitechapel there were no sights which virtuous youth +is led to see. And Philip's man with the opera-glass was, +during these days, using that aid to vision in a very different +place, and had neither leisure nor inclination to +move vaguely about the world.</p> + +<p>For three days this went on successfully enough: +young Philip Compton and Ralph Marshall saw enough +to last them all the rest of their lives, and there was no +limit to the satisfaction of the good country clergyman, +who felt that he never could have succeeded so completely +in improving his son's mind, instead of delivering +him over to the frivolous amusements of town, if it +had not been for the companionship of Philip, who +made Ralph feel that it was all right, and that he was +not being victimised for nothing. But on the fourth +day a hitch occurred. John Tatham had been made +to give all sorts of orders and admissions for the party +to see every nook and corner of the Temple, much to +Elinor's alarm, who felt that place was too near to be +safe; but she was herself in circumstances too urgent +to permit her dwelling upon it. She had left the +house on that particular morning long before Philip +was ready, and every anxiety was dulled in her mind +for the moment by the overwhelming sense of the crisis +arrived. She went to his room before he had left it, +and gave him a kiss, and told him that she might be detained +for a long time; that she did know exactly at +what hour she should return. She was very pale, paler +than he had ever seen her, and her manner had a suppressed +agitation in it which startled Philip; but she +managed to smile as she assured him she was quite +well, and that there was nothing troubling her. +"Nothing, nothing that has to do with us—a little disturbed +for a friend—but that will be all over," she said, +"to-night, I hope." Philip made a leisurely breakfast +after she was gone, and it happened to him that morning +for the first time as he was alone to make a study +of the papers. And the consequence was that he said +to himself really those words which his mother in +imagination had so often heard him say, "Hallo! +Philip Compton, my name! I wonder if he is any +relation. I wonder if we have anything to do with +those St. Serf Comptons." Then he reflected, but +vaguely, that he did not know to what Comptons he belonged, +nor even what county he came from, to tell the +truth. And then it was time to hurry over his breakfast, +to swallow his cup of tea, to snatch up his hat and +gloves, and to rush off to meet his friends. But on +that day Philip was unlucky. When he got to the +place of meeting he found nothing but a telegram from +Ralph, announcing that his father was so knocked up +with his previous exertions that they were obliged +to take a quiet day. And thus Philip was left in the +Temple, of all places in the world, on the day when his +mother was to appear in the law-courts close by—on +the day of all others when if she could have sent him +for twenty-four hours to the end of the earth she +would have done so—on the day when so terrible was +the stress and strain upon herself that for once in the +world even Pippo had gone as completely out of her +mind as if he had not been.</p> + +<p>The boy looked about him for awhile, and reflected +what to do, and then he started out into the Strand, +conscientiously waiting for the Marshalls before he +should visit the Temple and all its historical ways; and +then he was amused and excited by seeing a barrister +or two in wig and gown pass by; and then he thought +of the trial in the newspapers, in which somebody who, +like himself, was called Philip Compton, was involved. +Philip was still lingering, wondering if he could get into +the court, a little shy of trying, but gradually growing +eager, thinking at least that he would try and get a +sight of the wonderful grand building, still so new, +when he suddenly saw Simmons, his uncle John's clerk, +passing through the quadrangle of the law-courts. +Here was his chance. He rushed forward and caught +the clerk by the arm, who was in a great hurry, as +everybody seemed to be. "Oh, Simmons, can you get +me into that Brown trial?" cried Philip. "Brown!" +Simmons said. "Mr. Tatham is not on in that." "Oh, +never mind about Mr. Tatham," said the boy. "Can't +you get me in? I have never seen a trial, and I take +an interest in that." "I advise you," said Simmons, +"to wait for one that your uncle's in." "Can't you get +me in?" said Philip, impatiently: and this touched +the pride of Simmons, who had many friends, if not in +high places, yet in low.</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XLIV" id="CHAPTER_XLIV"></a>CHAPTER XLIV.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>Philip had never been in a court of law before. I +am almost as ignorant as he was, yet I cannot imagine +anything more deeply interesting than to find one's self +suddenly one of a crowded assembly trying more or +less—for is not the public but a larger jury, sometimes +contradicting the verdict of the other, and when it does +so almost invariably winning the cause?—a fellow-creature, +following out the traces of his crime or his +innocence, looking on while a human drama is unrolled, +often far more interesting than any dramatic representation +of life. He was confused for the moment by the +crowd, by the new and unusual spectacle, by the bewilderment +of seeing for the first time what he had so +often heard of, the judge on the bench, the wigged +barristers below, the one who was speaking, so different +from any other public speaker Philip had ever heard, +addressing not the assembly, but the smaller circle +round him, interrupted by other voices: the accused +in his place and the witness—standing there more distinctly +at the bar than the culprit was—bearing his testimony +before earth and heaven, with the fate of another +hanging on his words. The boy was so full of the +novel sight—which yet he had heard of so often that +he could identify every part of it, and soon perceived +the scope of what was going on—that he did not at +first listen, so full was he of the interest of what he saw. +The imperturbable judge, grave, letting no emotion appear +on his face; the jury, just the reverse, showing +how this and that piece of evidence affected them; the +barristers who were engaged, so keenly alive to everything, +starting up now and then when the witness +swerved from the subject, when the opposition proposed +a leading question, or one that was irrelevant to +the issue; the others who were not "in it," as Simmons +said, so indifferent; and then the spectators who had +places about or near the central interest. Philip saw, +with a sudden leap of his heart, the ladies of the theatre +and park, the witch and the girl with the keen eyes, in +a conspicuous place; the old lady, as he called her, full +of movement and gesture, making signs to others near +her, keeping up an interrupted whispering, the girl at +her side as impassive as the judge himself. And then +Pippo's roving eye caught a figure seated among the +barristers with an opera-glass, which made his heart +jump still more. Was that the man? He had, at the +moment Philip perceived him, his opera-glass in his +hand: a tall man leaning back with a look of interest, +very conspicuous among the wigged heads about him, +with grey hair in a mass on his forehead as if it had +grown thin and had been coaxed to cover some denuded +place, and a face which it seemed to Philip he +had seen before, a face worn—was it with study, was it +with trouble? Pippo knew of no other ways in which +the eyes could be so hollowed out, and the lines so +deeply drawn. A man, perhaps, hard worn with life +and labor and sorrow. A strange sympathy sprang up +in the boy's mind: he was sure he knew the face. It +was a face full of records, though young Philip could +not read them—the face, he thought, of a man who +had had much to bear. Was it the same man who had +fixed so strange a gaze upon himself at the theatre? +And what interest could this man have in the trial that +was going on?</p> + +<p>The accused at the bar was certainly not of a kind to +arouse the interest which sprang into being at sight of +this worn and noble hero. He had the air of a comfortable +man of business, a man evidently well off, surprised +at once and indignant to find himself there, +sometimes bursting with eagerness to explain, sometimes +leaning back with an air of affected contempt—not +a good man in trouble, as Philip would have liked +to think him, nor a criminal fully conscious of what +might be awaiting him; but a man of the first respectability, +indignant and incredulous that anything +should be brought against him. Philip felt himself +able to take no interest whatever in Mr. Brown.</p> + +<p>It was not till he had gone through all these surprises +and observations that he began to note what was +being said. Philip was not learned in the procedure +of the law, nor did he know anything about the case; +but it became vaguely apparent to him after awhile +that the immediate question concerned the destruction +of the books of a joint-stock company, of which +Brown was the manager, an important point which the +prosecution had some difficulty in bringing home to +him. After it had been proved that the books had +been destroyed, and that so far as was known it was to +Brown's interest alone to destroy them, the evidence +as to what had been seen on the evening on which this +took place suddenly took a new turn, and seemed to +introduce a new actor on the scene. Some one had +been seen to enter the office in the twilight who could +not be identified with Brown; whom, indeed, even +Philip, with his boyish interest in the novelty of the +proceedings, vaguely perceived to be another man. +The action of the piece, so to speak (for it was like a +play to Philip), changed and wavered here—and he began +to be sensible of the character of the different +players in it. The counsel for the prosecution was a +well-known and eminent barrister, one of the most +noted of the time, a man before whom witnesses trembled, +and even the Bench itself was sometimes known +to quail. That this was the case on the present occasion +Philip vaguely perceived. There were points continually +arising which the opposing counsel made objections +to, appealing to the judge; but it rarely failed +that the stronger side, which was that of the prosecution, +won the day. The imperious accuser, whose resources +of precedent and argument seemed boundless, +carried everything with a high hand. The boy, of +course, was not aware of the weakness of the representative +of the majesty of the law, nor the inferiority, in +force and skill, of the defence; but he gradually came +to a practical perception of how the matter stood.</p> + +<p>Philip listened with growing interest, sometimes +amused, sometimes indignant, as the remorseless +prosecutor ploughed his way through the witnesses, whom +he bullied into admissions that they were certain of +nothing, and that in the dusk of that far-off evening, +the man whom they had sworn at the time to be quite +unlike him, might in reality have been Brown. Philip +got greatly interested in this question. He took up +the opposite side himself with much heat, feeling as +sure as if he had been there that it was not Brown: +and he was delighted in his excitement, when there +stood up one man who would not be bullied, a man +who had the air of a respectable clerk of the lower +class, and who held his own. He had been an office +boy, the son apparently of the housekeeper in charge +of the premises referred to when the incident occurred, +and the gist of his evidence was that the prisoner at +the bar—so awful a personage once to the little office +boy, so curtly discussed now as Brown—had left the +office at four o'clock in the afternoon of the 6th of September, +and had not appeared again.</p> + +<p>"A different gentleman altogether came in the evening, +a much taller man, with a large moustache."</p> + +<p>"Where was it that you saw this man?"</p> + +<p>"Slipping in at the side door of the office as if he +didn't want to be seen."</p> + +<p>"Was that a door which was generally open, or used +by the public?"</p> + +<p>"Never, sir; but none of the doors were used at +that time of night."</p> + +<p>"And how, then, could any one get admittance there?"</p> + +<p>"Only those that had private keys; the directors +had their private keys."</p> + +<p>"Then your conclusion was that it was a director, +and that he had a right to be there?"</p> + +<p>"I knew it was a director, sir, because I knew the +gentleman," the witness said.</p> + +<p>"You say it was late in the evening of the 6th of +September. Was it daylight at the time?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, sir; nearly dark—a sort of a half light."</p> + +<p>"Did the person you saw go in openly, or make any +attempt at concealment?"</p> + +<p>"He had a light coat on, like the coats gentlemen +wear when they go to the theatre, and something muffled +round his throat, and his hat pulled down over his +face."</p> + +<p>"Like a person who wished to conceal himself?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," said the witness.</p> + +<p>"And how, then, if he was muffled about the throat, +and his hat pulled over his face, in the half light late in +the evening, could you see that he had a large moustache?"</p> + +<p>The witness stood and stared with his mouth open, +and made no reply.</p> + +<p>The counsel, with a louder voice and those intonations +of contemptuous insinuation which are calculated to +make a man feel that he is convicted of the basest perjury, +and is being held up to the reprobation of the +world, repeated the question, "How could you see that +he had a large moustache?"</p> + +<p>"I saw it," said the witness, hotly, "because I knew +the gentleman."</p> + +<p>"And how did you know the gentleman? You +thought you recognised the gentleman, and therefore, +though you could not possibly perceive it, you saw his +moustache? I fear that is not an answer that will satisfy +the jury."</p> + +<p>"I submit," said the counsel for the defence, "that +it is very evident what the witness means. He recognised +a man with whose appearance he was perfectly +familiar."</p> + +<p>"I saw him," said the witness, "as clear as I see you, +sir."</p> + +<p>"What! in the dark, late on a September night, with +a coat collar up to his ears, and a hat pulled down over +his face! You see my learned friend in broad daylight, +and with the full advantage of standing opposite to him +and studying his looks at your leisure. You might as +well say because you know the gentleman that you could +see his half was dark and abundant under his wig."</p> + +<p>At this a laugh ran through the court, at which Philip, +listening, was furiously indignant, as it interrupted the +course of the investigation. It was through the sound +of this laugh that he heard the witness demand loudly, +"How could I be mistaken, when I saw Mr. Compton +every day?"</p> + +<p>Mr. Compton! Philip's heart began to beat like the +hammers of a steam-engine. Was this, then, the real +issue? And who was Mr. Compton? He could not +have told how it was that he somehow identified the +man whom the witness had seen, or had not seen, with +the man who had the opera-glass, and who had fixed a +dreadful blank stare upon the other in the witness-box +during a great part of this discussion. Was it he who +was on his trial, and not Brown? And who was he? +And where was it that Philip had known and grown +familiar with that face, which, so far as he could remember, +he had never seen before, but which belonged +to the man who bore his own name?</p> + +<p>When the counsel for the prosecution had turned the +unfortunate witness outside in, and proved that he knew +nothing and had seen nobody: and that, besides, he was +a man totally unworthy of credit, who had lied from his +cradle, and whose own mother and friends put no trust in +him, the court adjourned for lunch. But Philip forgot +that he required any lunch. His mind was filled with +echoes of that name. He began to feel a strange certainty +that it was the same man who had fixed him with the +same gaze in the theatre. Who was Mr. Compton, and +what was he? The question took the boy's breath away.</p> + +<p>He sat through the interval, finding a place where he +could see better, through the kind offices of the usher +to whom Simmons had commended him, and waiting +with impatience till the trial should be resumed. Nobody +remarked the boy among the crowd of the ordinary +public, many of whom remained, as he did, to see +it out, Philip cared nothing about Brown: all that he +wanted to know was about this namesake of his—this +Compton, this other man, who was not Brown. If it +was the man with the opera-glass, he was not so much +excited as his young namesake, for he went to luncheon +with the rest; while the boy remained counting the +minutes, eager to begin the story, the drama, again. +The impression left, however, on Philip's impartial mind +was that the last witness, though driven and badgered +out of what wits he had by the examination, had really +seen a man whom he perfectly knew, his recognition of +whom was not really affected either by the twilight or +the disguise.</p> + +<p>The thrill of interest which he felt running through +all his veins as the court filled again was like, but +stronger than, the interest with which he had ever seen +the curtain rise in the theatre. His heart beat: he felt +as if in some sort it was his own fate that was going to +be decided: all his prepossessions were in favour of that +other accused, yet not openly accused, person who was +not Brown; and yet he felt almost as sure as if he had +been there that the office boy of twenty years ago had +seen that man stealing in at the side door.</p> + +<p>Young Philip did not catch the name of the next witness +who was called; such a thing will happen sometimes +even with the quickest ear at a moment when +every whisper is important. If he had heard he would +probably have thought that he was deceived by his excitement, +impossible as it was that such a name should +have anything to do with this or any other trial. The +shock therefore was unbroken when, watching with all +the absorbed interest of a spectator at the most exciting +play, the boy saw a lady come slowly forward into the +witness-box. Philip had the same strange sense of knowing +who it was that he had felt the previous witness to +have in respect to the man whom he could not see, but +yet had infallibly recognised: but he said to himself, No! +it was not possible! No! it was not possible! She +came forward slowly, put up the veil that had covered +her face, and grasped the bar before her to support herself; +and then the boy sprang to his feet, in the terrible +shock which electrified him from head to feet! His +movements, and the stifled cry he uttered, made a little +commotion in the crowd, and called forth the cry of +"Silence in the court." His neighbours around him +hustled him back into his place, where he sank down +incapable indeed of movement, knowing that he could +not go and pluck her from that place—could not rush +to her side, could do nothing but sit there and gasp and +gaze at his mother. His mother, in such a place! in +such a case! with which—surely, surely—she could have +nothing to do. Elinor Compton, at the time referred +to Elinor Dennistoun, of Windyhill, in Surrey—there +was no doubt about the name now. And Philip had +time enough to identify everything, name and person, +for there rose a vague surging of contention about the +first questions put to her, which were not evidence, according +to the counsel on the other side, which he felt +with fury was done on purpose to prolong the agony. +During this time she stood immovable, holding on by +the rail before her, her eyes fixed upon it, perfectly pale, +like marble, and as still. Among all the moving, rustling, +palpitating crowd, and the sharp volleys of the +lawyers' voices, and even the contradictory opinions +elicited from the harassed judge himself—to look at +that figure standing there, which scarcely seemed to +breathe, had the most extraordinary effect. For a time +Philip was like her, scarcely breathing, holding on in an +unconscious sympathy to the back of the seat before +him, his eyes wide open, fixed upon her. But as his +nerves began to accustom themselves to that extraordinary, +inconceivable sight, the other particulars of the +scene came out of the mist, and grew apparent to him +in a lurid light that did not seem the light of day. He +saw the eager looks at her of the ladies in the privileged +places, the whispers that were exchanged among them. +He saw underneath the witness-box, almost within reach +of her, John Tatham, with an anxious look on his face. +And then he saw, what was the most extraordinary of +all, the man—who had been the centre of his interest +till now—the man whose name was Philip Compton, +like his own; he who fixed the last witness with the +stare of his opera-glass, who had kept it in perpetual +use. He had put it down now on the table before him, +his arms were folded on his breast, and his head bent. +Philip thought he detected now and then a furtive look +under his brows at the motionless witness awaiting +through the storm of words the moment when her turn +would come; but though he had leant forward all the +time, following every point of the proceedings with interest, +he now drew back, effaced himself, retired as it +were from the scene. What was there between these +two? Was there any link between them? What was +the drama about to be played out before Pippo's innocent +and ignorant eyes? At last the storm and +wrangling seemed to come to an end, and there came +out low but clear the sound of her voice. It seemed +only now, when he heard his mother speak, that he was +certified that so inconceivable a thing as that she should +be here was a matter of fact: his mother here! Philip +fixed his whole being upon her—eyes, thoughts, absorbed +attention, he scarcely seemed to breathe except +through her. Could she see him, he wondered, through +all that crowd? But then he perceived that she saw +nothing with those eyes that looked steadily in front of +her, not turning a glance either to the right or left.</p> + +<p>For some time Philip was baffled completely by the +questions put, which were those to which the counsel +on the other side objected as not evidence, and which +seemed, even to the boy's inexperienced mind, to be +mere play upon the subject, attempts to connect her in +some way with the question as to Brown's guilt or innocence. +Something in the appearance, at this stage, of +a lady so unlike the other witnesses, seemed to exercise +a certain strange effect, however, quickening everybody's +interest, and when the examining counsel approached +the question of the date which had already been shown +to be so momentous, all interruptions were silenced, and +the court in general, like Philip, held its breath. There +were many there expecting what are called in the newspapers +"revelations:" the defence was taken by surprise, +and did not know what new piece of evidence +was about to be produced: and even the examining +counsel was, for such a man, subdued a little by the +other complicating threads of the web among which he +had to pick his way.</p> + +<p>"You recollect," he said in his most soothing tones; +"the evening of the 6th September, 1863?"</p> + +<p>She bowed her head in reply. And then as if that +was sparing herself too much, added a low "Yes."</p> + +<p>"As I am instructed, you were not then married, but +engaged to Mr. Philip Compton. Is that so?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"One of the directors of the company of which the +defendant was manager?"</p> + +<p>"I believe so."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry to have to enter upon matters so private: +but there was some question, I believe, about an +investment to be made of a portion of your fortune in +the hands of this company?"</p> + +<p>"Yes."</p> + +<p>"You received a visit from Mr. Compton on the subject +on the day I have mentioned."</p> + +<p>The witness made a slight movement and pause: +then answered as before, but more firmly, "Yes:" she +added, "not on this subject," in a lower tone.</p> + +<p>"You can recollect, more or less exactly, the time of +his arrival?"</p> + +<p>"Yes. It was in the evening, after dinner; in the +darkening before the lamps were lit."</p> + +<p>"Were you looking for him on that night?"</p> + +<p>"No; it was an unexpected visit. He was going to +Ireland, and paused on his way through town to come +down to Windyhill."</p> + +<p>"You have particular reasons for remembering the +date, which make it impossible that there could be any +mistake?"</p> + +<p>"No; there could be no mistake."</p> + +<p>"You will perhaps inform the court, Mrs. Compton, +why your memory is so exact on this point."</p> + +<p>Once more she hesitated for a moment, and then replied—</p> + +<p>"It was exactly ten days before my marriage."</p> + +<p>"I think that will do, Mrs. Compton. I will trouble +you no further," the counsel said.</p> + +<p>The hubbub which sprang up upon this seemed to +Philip for the moment as if it were directed against his +mother, which, of course, was not the case, but intended +to express the indignant surprise of the defence at the +elaborate examination of a witness who had nothing to +say on the main subject.</p> + +<p>The leader on the other side, however, though taken +by surprise, and denouncing the trick which his learned +brother had played upon the court by producing evidence +which had really nothing to do with the matter, +announced his intention to put a further question or +two to Mrs. Compton. Young Philip in the crowd +started again from his seat with the feeling that he +would like to fly at that man's throat.</p> + +<p>"Twenty years is a long time," he said, "and it is +difficult to be sure of any circumstance at such a distance. +Perhaps the witness will kindly inform us what +were the circumstances which fixed this, no doubt one +of many visits, on her mind?"</p> + +<p>Elinor turned for the first time to the side from +which the question came with a little movement of that +impatience which was habitual to her, which three persons +in that crowd recognised in a moment as characteristic. +One of these was John Tatham, who had +brought her to the court, and kept near that she might +feel that she was not alone; the other was her son, of +whose presence there nobody knew; the third, sat with +his eyes cast down, and his arms folded on his breast, +not looking at her, yet seeing every movement she made.</p> + +<p>"It was a very simple circumstance," she said with +the added spirit of that impetuous impulse: but then +the hasty movement failed her, and she came back to +herself and to a consciousness of the scene in which she +stood. A sort of tremulous shiver came into her voice. +She paused and then resumed, "There was a calendar +hanging in the hall; it caught Mr. Compton's eye, and +he pointed it out to me. It marked the 6th. He said, +'Just ten days<span class="norewrap">——</span>'"</p> + +<p>Here her voice stopped altogether. She could say no +more. And there was an answering pause throughout the +whole crowded court, a holding of the general breath, +the response to a note of passion seldom struck in such a +place. Even in the cross-examination there was a pause.</p> + +<p>"Till when? What was the other date referred to?"</p> + +<p>"The sixteenth of September," she said in a voice +that was scarcely audible to the crowd. She added +still more low so that the judge curved his hand over +his ear to hear her, "Our wedding-day."</p> + +<p>"I regret to enter into private matters, Mrs. Compton, +but I believe it is not a secret that your married +life came to a—more rapid conclusion than could have +been augured from such a beginning. May I ask what +your reasons were for<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>But here the other counsel sprang to his feet, and the +contention arose again. Such a question was not clearly +permissible. And the prosecution was perfectly satisfied +with the evidence. It narrowed the question by +the production of this clear and unquestionable testimony—the +gentleman whom it had been attempted to +involve being thus placed out of the question, and all +the statements of the previous witness about the moustache +which he could not see, etc., set aside.</p> + +<p>Philip, it may be supposed, paid little attention to +this further discussion. His eyes and thoughts were +fixed upon his mother, who for a minute or two stood +motionless through it, as pale as ever, but with her +head a little thrown back, facing, though not looking +at, the circling lines of faces. Had she seen anything +she must have seen the tall boy standing up as pale as +she, following her movements with an unconscious repetition +which was more than sympathy, never taking his +gaze from her face.</p> + +<p>And then presently her place was empty, and she +was gone.</p> + +<p>Philip was not aware how the discussion of the lawyers +ended, but only that in a moment there was +vacancy where his mother had been standing, and his +gaze seemed thrown back to him by the blank where +she had been. He was left in the midst of the crowd, +which, after that one keen sensation, fell back upon the +real trial with interest much less keen.</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XLV" id="CHAPTER_XLV"></a>CHAPTER XLV.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>Philip did not know how long he remained, almost +paralysed, in the court, dazed in his mind, incapable of +movement. He was in the centre of a long row of +people, and to make his way out was difficult. He felt +that the noise would call attention to him, and that he +might be somehow identified—identified, as what? +He did not know—his head was not clear enough to +give any reason. When he came more to himself, and +his eyes regained a little their power of vision, it seemed +to him that everybody had stolen away. There was the +judge, indeed, still sitting imperturbable, the jury restless +in their box, the lawyers going on with their eternal +quarrel over a bewildered witness, all puppets carrying +on some unintelligible, wearisome, automaton process, +contending, contending for ever about nothing. But all +that had secured Philip's attention was gone. John +Tatham's head was no longer visible under the witness-box; +the ladies had disappeared from their elevated +seats; the man with the opera-glass was gone. They +were all gone, and the empty husks of a question which +only concerned the comfort and life of the commonplace +culprit in the dock were being turned over and over +like chaff by the wind. And yet it was some time before +poor young Pippo, shy of attracting attention, feeling +some subtle change even in himself which he did +not understand, afraid to have people look at him and +divine him, knowing more of him perhaps than he himself +knew, could make up his mind to move. He might +have remained there till the court broke up but for the +movement of some one beside him, who gathered up his +hat and umbrella, and with some commotion pushed his +way between the rows of seats. Philip followed, thankful +of the opportunity, and, as it happened, the sensation +of the day being over, many others followed too, +and thus he got out into the curious, wondering +daylight, which seemed to look him in the face, as if this +Philip had never been seen by it before. That was the +impression given him—that when he first came out the +atmosphere quivered round him with a strange novelty, +as if he were some other being, some one without a +name, new to the world, new to himself. He did not +seem sure that he would know his way home, and yet +he did not call a passing hansom, as he would have +done yesterday, with a schoolboy's pleasure in assuming +a man's careless, easy ways. It is a long way from the +Law Courts to Ebury Street, but it seemed a kind of +satisfaction to be in motion, to walk on along the +crowded streets. And, as a matter of fact, Philip did +lose his way, and got himself entangled in a web of +narrow streets and monotonous little openings, all so +like each other that it took him a long time to extricate +himself and find again the thread of a locality known to +him. He did not know what he was to do when he got +in. Should he find her there, in the little dingy drawing-room +as usual, with the tea on the table? Would she receive +him with her usual smile, and ask where he had +been and what he had seen, and if the Musgraves had +enjoyed it, exactly as if nothing had happened? Even +this wonder was faint in Philip's mind, for the chief +wonder to him was himself, and to find out how he had +changed since the morning—what he was now, who he +was? what were the relations to him of other people, of +that other Philip Compton who had been seated in the +court with the opera-glass, who had arrived at Windyhill +to visit Elinor Dennistoun on the 6th of September, +1863, twenty years ago? Who was that man? and +what was he, himself Philip Compton, of Lakeside, +named Pippo, whom his mother had never once in all +his life called by his real name?</p> + +<p>To his great wonder, and yet almost relief, Philip +found that his mother had not yet returned when he +got to Ebury Street. "Mrs. Compton said as she would +very likely be late. Can I get you some tea, sir? or, +perhaps you haven't had your lunch? you're looking +tired and worrited," said the landlady, who had known +Pippo all his life. He consented to have tea, partly to +fill up the time, and went up languidly to the deserted +room, which looked so miserable and desert a place +without her who put a soul into it and made it home. +He did not know what to do with himself, poor boy, +but sat down vacantly, and stared into empty space, +seeing, wherever he turned, the rows of faces, the ladies +making signs to each other, the red robes of the judge, +the lawyers contending, and that motionless pale figure +in the witness-box. He shut his eyes and saw the whole +scene, then opened them again, and still saw it—the +dingy walls disappearing, the greyness of the afternoon +giving a depth and distance to the limited space. Should +he always carry it about with him wherever he went, +the vision of that court, the shock of that revelation? +And yet he did not yet know what the revelation was; +the confusion in his mind was too great, and the dust +and mist that rose up about him as all the old building +of his life crumbled and fell away.</p> + +<p>"I'm sure as it's that nasty trial, sir, as has been turning +your mamma all out of her usual ways," said the +landlady, appearing with her tray.</p> + +<p>"Oh, the trial! Did you know about the trial?" +said Philip.</p> + +<p>"Not, Mr. Pippo, as ever she mentioned it to me. +Mrs. Compton is a lady as isn't that confidential, though +always an affable lady, and not a bit proud; but when +you've known folks for years and years, and take an interest, +and put this and that together<span class="norewrap">——</span> Dear, dear, +I hope as you don't think it's taking a liberty. It's +more kindness nor curiosity, and I hope as you won't +mention it to your mamma."</p> + +<p>Pippo shook his head and waved his hand, at once to +satisfy the woman and dismiss her if possible; but this +was not so easy to do.</p> + +<p>"And Lord St. Serf so bad, sir," she said. "Lord, +to think that before we know where we are there may +be such changes, and new names, and no knowing what +to say! But it's best not to talk of it till it comes to +pass, for there's many a slip between the cup and the +lip, and there's no saying what will happen with a man +that's been a-dying for years and years."</p> + +<p>What did the woman mean? He got rid of her at +length, chiefly by dint of making no reply: and then, +to tell the truth, Pippo's eye had been caught by the +pile of sandwiches which the kind woman, pitying his +tired looks, had brought up with the tea. He was +ashamed of himself for being hungry in such a dreadful +emergency as this, but he was so, and could not help +it, though nothing would have made him confess so +much, or even touch the sandwiches till she had gone +away. He pretended to ignore them till the door was +shut after her, but could not help vividly remembering +that he had eaten nothing since the morning. The +sandwiches did him a little good in his mind as well as +in his body. He got rid of the vision of the faces and +of the red figure on the bench. He began to believe +that when he saw her she would tell him. Had she +not said so? That after awhile he should hear everything, +and that all should be as it was before? All as +it was before—in the time when she told him everything, +even things that Granny did not know. But she +had never told him this, and the other day she had told +him that it was other people's secrets, not her own, that +she was keeping from him. "Other people's secrets"—the +secrets of the man who was Philip Compton, who +went to Windyhill on the 6th of September, ten days +before Elinor Dennistoun's marriage day. "What +Philip Compton? Who was he? What had he to do +with her? What, oh, what," Pippo said to himself, "has +he to do with me?" After all, that was the most tremendous +question. The others, or anything that had +happened twenty years ago, were nothing to that.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile Elinor, of all places in the world, was in +John Tatham's chambers, to which he had taken her to +rest. I cannot tell how Mr. Tatham, a man so much +occupied, managed to subtract from all he had to do +almost a whole day to see his cousin through the trial, +and stand by her, sparing her all the lesser annoyances +which surround and exaggerate such a great fact. He +had brought her out into the fresh air, feeling that +movement was the best thing for her, and instead of +taking her home in the carriage which was waiting, had +made her walk with him, supported on his arm, on +which she hung in a sort of suspended life, across the +street to the Temple, hoping thus to bring her back, by +the necessity of exertion, to herself. And indeed she +was almost more restored to herself by this remedy than +John Tatham had expected or hoped. For though he +placed her in the great easy-chair, in which her slender +person was engulfed and supported, expecting her to +rest there and lie motionless, perhaps even to faint, as +women are supposed to do when it is particularly inconvenient +and uncomfortable, Elinor had not been +there two minutes before she rose up again and began +to walk about the room, with an aspect so unlike that +of an exhausted and perhaps fainting woman, that even +John, used as he was to her capricious ways, was confounded. +Instead of being subdued and thankful that +it was over, and this dreadful crisis in her life accomplished, +Elinor walked up and down, wringing her +hands, moaning and murmuring to herself; what was it +she was saying? "God forgive me! God forgive me!" +over and over and over, unconscious apparently that she +was not alone, that any one heard or observed her. No +doubt there is in all our actions, the very best, much +for God to forgive; mingled motives, imperfect deeds, +thoughts full of alloy and selfishness; but in what her +conscience could accuse her now he could not understand. +She might be to blame in respect to her husband, +though he was very loth to allow the possibility; +but in this act of her life, which had been so great a +strain upon her, it was surely without any selfishness, +for his interest only, not for her own. And yet John +had never seen such a fervour of penitence, so strong a +consciousness of evil done. He went up to her and laid +his hand upon her arm.</p> + +<p>"Elinor, you are worn out. You have done too +much. Will you try and rest a little here, or shall I +take you home?"</p> + +<p>She started violently when he touched her. "What +was I saying?" she said.</p> + +<p>"It does not matter what you were saying. Sit +down and rest. You will wear yourself out. Don't +think any more. Take this and rest a little, and then +I will take you home."</p> + +<p>"It is easy to say so," she said, with a faint smile. +"Don't think! Is it possible to stop thinking at one's +pleasure?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said John, "quite possible; we must all do +it or we should die. And now your trial's over, Nelly, +for goodness' sake exert yourself and throw it off. You +have done your duty."</p> + +<p>"My duty! do you think that was my duty? Oh, +John, there are so many ways to look at it."</p> + +<p>"Only one way, when you have a man's safety in +your hands."</p> + +<p>"Only one way—when one has a man's safety—his +honour, honour! Do you think a woman is justified in +whatever she does, to save that?"</p> + +<p>"I don't understand you, Elinor; in anything you +have done, or could do, certainly you are justified. +My dear Nelly, sit down and take this. And then I +will take you home."</p> + +<p>She took the wine from his hand and swallowed a +little of it; and then looking up into his face with the +faint smile which she put on when she expected to be +blamed, and intended to deprecate and disarm him, as +she had done so often: "I don't know," she said, +"that I am so anxious to get home, John. You were +to take Pippo to dine with you, and to the House to-night."</p> + +<p>"So I was," he said. "We did not know what day +you would be called. It is a great nuisance, but if you +think the boy would be disappointed not to go<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"He would be much, much disappointed. The first +chance he has had of hearing a debate."</p> + +<p>"He would be much better at home, taking care of +you."</p> + +<p>"As if I wanted taking care of! or as if the boy, +who has always been the object of everybody's care +himself, would be the proper person to do it! If he +had been a girl, perhaps—but it is a little late at this +time of day to wish for that now."</p> + +<p>"You were to tell him everything to-night, Elinor."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I was to tell him! Do you think I have not +had enough for one day? enough to wear me out body +and soul? You have just been telling me so, John."</p> + +<p>He shook his head. "You know," he said, "and I +know, that in any case you will have it your own way, +Elinor; but you have promised to tell him."</p> + +<p>"John, you are unkind. You take advantage of me +being here, and so broken down, to say that I will have +my own way. Has this been my own way at all? I +would have fled if I could, and taken the boy far, far +away from it all; but you would not let me. Yes, yes, +I have promised. But I am tired to death. How +could I look him in the face and tell him<span class="norewrap">——</span>" She +hid her face suddenly in her hands with a moan.</p> + +<p>"It will be in the papers to-morrow morning, Elinor."</p> + +<p>"Well! I will tell him to-morrow morning," she +said.</p> + +<p>John shook his head again; but it was done behind +her, where she could not see the movement. He had +more pity of her than words could say. When she +covered her face with her hands in that most pathetic +of attitudes, there was nothing that he would not have +forgiven her. What was to become of her now? Her +position through all these years had never been so +dangerous, in John's opinion, never so sad, as now. +Philip Compton had been there looking on while she +put his accusers to silence, at what cost to herself John +only began dimly to guess—to divine, to forbid himself +to inquire. The fellow had been there all the time. +He had the grace not to look at her, not to distract her +with the sight of him—probably for his own sake, +John thought bitterly, that she might not risk breaking +down. But he was there, and knew where she was +to be found. And he had seen the boy, and had cared +enough to fix his gaze upon him, that gaze which John +had found intolerable at the theatre. And he was on +the eve of becoming Lord St. Serf, and Pippo his heir. +What was to be the issue of these complications? +What was to happen to her who had hid the boy so +long, who certainly could hide him no more?</p> + +<p>He took her home to Ebury Street shortly after, +where Philip, weary of waiting, and having made a meal +he much wanted off the sandwiches, had gone out again +in his restlessness and unhappiness. Elinor, who had +become paler and paler as the carriage approached +Ebury Street, and who by the time she reached the +house looked really as if at last she must swoon, her +heart choking her, her breathing quick and feverish, had +taken hold of John to support herself, clutching at his arm, +when she was told that Philip was out. She came to +herself instantly on the strength of that news. "Tell +him when he comes in to make haste," she said, "for +Mr. Tatham is waiting for him. As for me I am fit for +nothing but bed. I have had a very tiring day."</p> + +<p>"You do look tired, ma'am," said the sympathetic +landlady. "I'll run up and put your room ready, and +then I'll make you a nice cup of tea."</p> + +<p>John Tatham thought that, notwithstanding her exhaustion, +her anxiety, all the realities of troubles present +and to come that were in her mind and in her way, there +was a flash something like triumph in Elinor's eyes. +"Tell Pippo," she said, "he can come up and say good-night +to me before he goes. I am good for nothing but +my bed. If I can sleep I shall be able for all that is +before me to-morrow." The triumph was quenched, +however, if there had been triumph, when she gave him +her hand, with a wistful smile, and a sigh that filled +that to-morrow with the terror and the trouble that +must be in it, did she do what she said. John went up +to the little drawing-room to wait for Pippo, with a +heavy heart. It seemed to him that never had Elinor +been in so much danger. She had exposed herself to +the chance of losing the allegiance of her son: she was +at the mercy of her husband, that husband whom she +had renounced, yet whom she had not refused to save, +whose call she had obeyed to help him, though she had +thrown off all the bonds of love and duty towards him. +She had not had the strength either way to be consistent, +to carry out one steady policy. It was cruel of +John to say this, for but for him and his remonstrances +Elinor would, or might have, fled, and avoided this last +ordeal. But he had not done so, and now here she was +in the middle of her life, her frail ship of safety driven +about among the rocks, dependent upon the magnanimity +of the husband from whom she had fled, and the +child whom she had deceived.</p> + +<p>"Your mother is very tired, Philip," he said, when +the boy appeared. "I was to tell you to go up and bid +her good-night before you went out; for it will probably +be late before you get back, if you think you are +game to sit out the debate."</p> + +<p>"I will sit it out," said Philip, with no laughter in +his eye, with an almost solemn air, as if announcing a +grave resolution. He went up-stairs, not three steps at +a time, as was his wont, but soberly, as if his years had +been forty instead of eighteen. And he showed no +surprise to find the room darkened, though Elinor was a +woman who loved the light. He gave his mother a kiss +and smoothed her pillow with a tender touch of pity. +"Is your head very bad?" he said.</p> + +<p>"It is only that I am dreadfully tired, Pippo. I +hope I shall sleep: and it will help me to think you are +happy with Uncle John."</p> + +<p>"Then I shall try to be happy with Uncle John," he +said, with a sort of smile. "Good-night, mother; I +hope you'll be better to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes," she said. "To-morrow is always a new +day."</p> + +<p>He seemed in the half light to nod his head, and then +to shake it, as one that assents, but doubts—having +many troubled thoughts and questions in his mind. +But Pippo did not at all expect to be happy with Uncle +John.</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XLVI" id="CHAPTER_XLVI"></a>CHAPTER XLVI.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>It cannot be said that Uncle John was very happy +with Philip, but that was a thing the others did not +take into account. John Tatham was doing for the boy +as much as a man could do. A great debate was expected +that evening, in which many eminent persons +were to speak, and Mr. Tatham gave Philip a hasty +dinner in the House so that he should lose nothing, and +he found him a corner in the distinguished strangers' +gallery, telling him with a smile that he expected him +hereafter to prove his title to such a place. But Philip's +smile in return was very unlike the flush of pleasure +that would have lighted it up only yesterday. John felt +that the boy was not at all the delightful young companion, +full of interest in everything, that he had been. Perhaps +he was on his good behaviour, on his dignity, bent +upon showing how much of a man he was and how little +influenced by passing sentiments, as some boys do. +Anyhow it was certain that he was much less agreeable +in his self-subdued condition. But John was fortunately +much interested in the discussion, in which, indeed, he +took himself a slight part, and, save for a passing +wonder and the disappointment of the moment, did not +occupy himself so very much with Pippo. When he +looked into the corner, however, in a lull of the debate, +when one of those fools who rush in at unguarded +moments, when the Speaker chances to look their way, +had managed to get upon his foolish feet to the despair +of all around, the experienced man of the world +received a curious shock from the sight of young +Philip's intense gravity, and the self-absorbed, unconscious +look he wore. The boy had the look of hearing +nothing, seeing nothing that was around him, of being +lost in thoughts of his own, thoughts far too serious +and troubled for his age. Had he discovered something? +What did he know? This was the instinctive +question that rose in John's mind, and not an amused +anticipation of Pippo's original boyish view of the +question and the speakers, such as had delighted him +on the boy's previous visits to the House. And indeed +Philip's attention was little fixed upon the debate. He +tried hard to bring it back, to keep it there, to get the +question into his mind, but in spite of himself his +thoughts flew back to the other public assembly in +which he had sat unnoticed that day: till gradually the +aspect of things changed to him, the Speaker became +the judge, the wigged secretaries the pleaders, and he +almost expected to see that sudden apparition, that +sight that had plucked him out of his careless life of +boyhood and trust, the sight of his mother standing +before the world on trial for her life. Oh, no, no, not +on trial at all! he was aware of that: a harmless witness, +doing only good. The judge could have nothing but +polite regard for her, the jury admiration and thanks for +the clear testimony which took a weight from their shoulders. +But before her son she was on her trial, her trial +for more than life—and he who said with so much assurance +that his mother had no secrets from him! until the +moment arrived, without any warning, in the midst of +his security, which proved that everything had been +secret, and that all was mystery—all mystery! and +nothing sure in life.</p> + +<p>It crossed Philip's mind more than once to question +John Tatham upon this dreadful discovery of his—John, +who was a relation, who had been the universal referee +of the household as long as he could remember, Uncle +John must know. But there were two things which +held him back: first, the recollection of his own disdainful +offence at the suggestion that Uncle John, an +outsider, could know more than he did of the family +concerns; and partly from the proud determination to +ask no questions, to seek no information that was not +freely given to him. He made up his mind to this +while he looked out from his corner upon the lighted +House, seeing men move up and down, and voices +going on, and the sound of restless members coming +and going, while the business of the country went on. +It was far more important than any private affairs that +could be passing in an individual brain, and Philip +knew with what high-handed certainty he would have +put down the idea that to himself at his age there could +be anything private half so exciting, half so full of interest, +as a debate on the policy of the country which +might carry with it the highest issues. But conviction +comes readily on such subjects when the personal interest +comes which carries every other away. It was +while a minister was speaking, and everything hanging +on his words, that the boy made up his mind finally +that he would ask no questions. He would ignore +that scene in the Law Courts, as if it had not been. He +would say nothing, try to look as if nothing had passed, +and wait to see if any explanation would come.</p> + +<p>It was not, perhaps, then to be wondered at if John +found him a much less interesting companion than ever +before, as they walked home together in the small +hours of the night. Mr. Tatham's own speech had been +short, but he had the agreeable consciousness that it +had been an effective one, and he was prepared to find +the boy excited by it, and full of applause and satisfaction. +But Philip did not say a word about the +speech. He was only a boy, and it may be supposed +that any applause from him would have had little importance +for the famous lawyer—the highly-esteemed +member who kept his independence, and whose +speeches always secured the attention of the House, +and carried weight as among the few utterances which +concerned the real import of a question and not its +mere party meaning. But John was hurt more than +he could have thought possible by Philip's silence. He +even tried to lead the conversation artfully to that +point in the debate, thinking perhaps the boy was shy +of speaking on the subject—but with no effect. It was +exceedingly strange. Had he been deceived in Philip? +had the boy really no interest in subjects of an elevated +description? or was he ill? or what was the matter +with him? It troubled John to let him go on alone +from Halkin Street to his lodging, with a vague sense +that something might happen. But that was, of course, +too absurd. "Tell your mother I'll come round in the +afternoon to-morrow, as soon as I am free," he said, +holding Philip's hand. And then he added, paternally, +still holding that hand, "Go to bed at once, boy. +You've had a tiring day."</p> + +<p>"Yes—I suppose so," said Philip, drawing his hand +away.</p> + +<p>"I hope you haven't done too much," said John, still +lingering. "You're too young for politics—and to sit +up so late. I was wrong to keep you out of bed."</p> + +<p>"I hope I'm not such a child as that," said Philip, with +a half-smile: and then he went away, and John Tatham, +with an anxious heart, closed behind him his own door. +If it were not for Elinor and her boy what a life free of +anxiety John would have had! Never any need to +think with solicitude of anything outside that peaceful +door, no trouble with other people's feelings, with investigations +what this or that look or word meant. +But perhaps it was Elinor and her boy, after all (none +of his! thinking of him as an outsider, having nothing +to do with their most intimate circle of confidence and +natural defence), who, by means of that very anxiety, +kept alive the higher principles of humanity in John +Tatham's heart.</p> + +<p>Philip went home, walking quickly through the silent +streets. They were very silent at that advanced hour, +yet not so completely but that there was a woman who +came up to the boy at the corner. Philip neither knew +nor desired to know what she said. He thought nothing +about her one way or another. He took a shilling +out of his pocket and threw it to her as he passed—walking +on with the quick, elastic step which the sudden +acquaintance he had made with care had not been +able to subdue. He saw that there was still a faint +light in his mother's window when he reached the +house, but he would not disturb her. How little +would he have thought of disturbing her on any other +occasion! "Are you asleep, mother?" he would have +said, looking in; and the time had never been when +Elinor was asleep. She had always heard him, always +replied, always been delighted to hear the account of +what he had been doing, and how he had enjoyed himself. +But not to-night. With a heart full of longing, +yet of a sick revolt against the sight of her, he went +past her door to his room. He did not want to see +her, and yet—oh, if she had only called to him, if she +had but said a word!</p> + +<p>Elinor for her part was not asleep. She had slept a +little while she was sure that Philip was safely disposed +of and herself secured from all interruption; but when +the time came for his return she slept no longer, and +had been lying for a long time holding her breath, +listening to every sound, when she heard his key in the +latch and his foot on the stair. Would he come in as +he always did? or would he remember her complaint +of being tired, a complaint she so seldom made? It +was as a blow to Elinor when she heard his step go on +past her door: and yet she was glad. Had he come in +there was a desperate thought in her mind that she +would call him to her bedside and in the dark, with his +hand in hers, tell him—all that there was to tell. But +it was again a relief when he passed on, and she felt +that she was spared for an hour or two, spared for the +new day, which perhaps would give her courage. It +was an endless night, long hours of dark, and then +longer hours of morning light, too early for anything, +while still nobody in the house was stirring. She had +scarcely slept at all during that long age of weary and +terrible thought. For it was not as if she had but one +thing to think of. When her mind turned, like her +restless body, from one side to another, it was only to +a change of pain. What was it she had said, standing +up before earth and heaven, and calling God to witness +that what she said was true? It had been true, and yet +she knew that it was not, and that she had saved her +husband's honour at the cost of her own. Oh, not in +those serious and awful watches of the night can such a +defence be accepted as that the letter of her testimony +was true! She did not attempt to defend herself. She +only tried to turn to another thought that might be less +bitter: and then she was confronted by the confession +that she must make to her boy. She must tell him that +she had deceived him all his life, hid from him what he +ought to have known, separated him from his father and +his family, kept him in ignorance, despite all that had +been said to her, despite every argument. And when +Elinor in her misery fled from that thought, what was +there else to think of? There was her husband, Pippo's +father, from whom he could no longer be kept. If she +had thought herself justified in stealing her child away +out of fear of the influence that father might have upon +him, how would it be now when they must be restored +to each other, at an age much more dangerous for the +boy than in childhood, and with all the attractions of +mystery and novelty and the sense that his father had +been wronged! When she escaped from that, the most +terrible thought of all, feeling her brain whirl and her +heart burn as she imagined her child turning from the +mother who had deceived him to the father who had been +deprived of him, her mind went off to that father himself, +from whom she had fled, whom she had judged and +condemned, but who had repaid her by no persecution, +no interference, no pursuit, but an acceptance of her +verdict, never molesting her, leaving her safe in the +possession of her boy. Perhaps there were other ways +in which Phil Compton's magnanimity have been looked +at, in which it would have shown in less favourable +colours. But Elinor was not ready to take that view. +Her tower of justice and truth and honour had crumbled +over her head. She was standing among her ruins, +feeling that nothing was left to her, nothing upon which +she could build herself a structure of self-defence. All +was wrong; a series of mistakes and failures, to say no +worse. She had driven on ever wilful all through, +escaping from every pang she could avoid, throwing off +every yoke that she did not choose to bear: until now +here she stood to face all that she had fled from, unable +to elude them more, meeting them as so many ghosts +in her way. Oh, how true it was what John had said +to her so long, so long ago—that she was not one who +would bear, who if she were disappointed and wronged +could endure and surmount her trouble by patience! +Oh, no, no! She had been one who had put up with +nothing, who had taken her own way. And now she +was surrounded on every side by the difficulties she had +thrust away from her, but which now could be thrust +away no more.</p> + +<p>It may be imagined what the night was which Elinor +spent sleepless, struggling one after another with these +thoughts, finding no comfort anywhere wherever she +turned. She had not been without many a struggle +even in the most quiet of the years that had passed—in +one long dream of peace as it seemed now; but never +as now had she been met wherever she turned by another +and another lion in the way. She got up very +early, with a feeling that movement had something lulling +and soothing in it, and that to lie there a prey to all +these thoughts was like lying on the rack—to the great +surprise of the kind landlady, who came stealing into +her room with the inevitable cup of tea, and whose inquiry +how the poor lady was, was taken out of her +mouth by the unexpected apparition of the supposed +invalid, fully dressed, moving about the room, with all +the air of having been up for hours. Elinor asked, with +a sudden precaution, that the newspapers might be +brought up to her, not so much for her own satisfaction—for +it made her heart sick to think of reading +over in dreadful print, as would be done that morning +at millions of breakfast-tables, her own words: perhaps +with comments on herself and her history, which might +fall into Pippo's hands, and be read by him before he +knew: which was a sudden spur to herself and evidence +of the dread necessity of letting him know that story +from her own lips, which had not occurred to her before. +She glanced over the report with a sickening +sense that all the privacy of sheltered life and honourable +silence was torn off from her, and that she was exposed +as on a pillory to the stare and the remarks of +the world, and crushed the paper away like a noxious +thing into a drawer where the boy at least would never +find it. Vain thought! as if there was but one paper +in the world, as if he could not find it at every street +corner, thrust into his hand even as he walked along; +but at all events for the moment he would not see it, +and she would have time—time to tell him before that +revelation could come in his way. She went down-stairs, +with what a tremor in her and sinking of her heart it +would be impossible to say. To have to condemn herself +to her only child; to humble herself before him, +her boy, who thought there was no one like his mother; +to let him know that he had been deceived all his life, +he who thought she had always told him everything. +Oh, poor mother! and oh, poor boy!</p> + +<p>She was still sitting by the breakfast-table, waiting, +in a chill fever, if such a thing can be, for Philip, when +a thing occurred which no one could have thought of, +and yet which was the most natural thing in the world—which +came upon Elinor like a thunderbolt, shattering +all her plans again just at the moment when, after +so much shrinking and delay, she had at last made up +her mind to the one thing that must be done at once. +The sound of the driving up of a cab to the door made +her go to the window to look out, without producing +any expectation in her mind: for people were coming +and going in Ebury Street all day long. She saw, however, +a box which she recognised upon the cab, and then +the door was opened and Mrs. Dennistoun stepped out. +Her mother! the wonder was not that she came now, +but that she had not come much sooner. No letters for +several days, her child and her child's child in town, +and trouble in the air! Mrs. Dennistoun had borne it +as long as she could, but there had come a moment +when she could bear it no longer, and she too had followed +Pippo's example and taken the night mail. Elinor +stood motionless at the window, and saw her mother +arrive, and did not feel capable of going to meet her, +or of telling whether it was some dreadful aggravation +of evil, or an interposition of Providence to save her +for another hour at least from the ordeal before her.</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XLVII" id="CHAPTER_XLVII"></a>CHAPTER XLVII.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>Mrs. Dennistoun had a great deal to say about herself +and the motives which had at the last been too much +for her, which had forced her to come after her children +at a moment's notice, feeling that she could bear the +uncertainty about them no longer; and it was a thing +so unusual with her to have much to say about herself +that there was certainly something apologetic, something +self-defensive in this unaccustomed outburst. +Perhaps she had begun to feel a little the unconscious +criticism that gathers round the elder person in a house, +the inclination involuntarily—which every one would +repudiate, yet which nevertheless is true—to attribute +to her a want of perception, perhaps—oh, not unkindly!—a +little blunting of the faculties, a suggestion quite +unintentional that she is not what she once was. She +explained herself so distinctly that there was no doubt +there was some self-defence in it. "I had not had a +letter for three days."</p> + +<p>And Elinor was far more humble than her wont. "I +know, mother: I felt as if it were impossible to write—till +it was over<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"My darling! I thought at last I must come and +stand by you. I felt that I ought to have seen that all +the time—that you should have had your mother by +your side to give you countenance."</p> + +<p>"I had John with me, mother."</p> + +<p>"Then it is over!" Mrs. Dennistoun cried.</p> + +<p>And at that moment Pippo, very late, pale, and with +eyes which were red with sleeplessness, and perhaps +with tears, came in. Elinor gave her mother a quick +look, almost of blame, and then turned to the boy. She +did not mean it, and yet Mrs. Dennistoun felt as if the +suggestion, "He might never have known had you not +called out like that," was in her daughter's eyes.</p> + +<p>"Pippo!" she said. "Why, Elinor! what have you +been doing to the boy?"</p> + +<p>"He does not look well," said Elinor, suddenly waking +up to that anxiety which had been always so easily +roused in respect to Pippo. "He was very late last +night. He was at the House with John," she added, +involuntarily, with an apology to her mother for the +neglect which had extended to Pippo too.</p> + +<p>"There is nothing the matter with me," he said, with +a touch of sullenness in his tone.</p> + +<p>The two women looked at each other with all the +vague trouble in their eyes suddenly concentrated upon +young Philip, but they said nothing more, as he sat +down at table and began to play with the breakfast, for +which he had evidently no appetite. No one had ever +seen that sullen look in Pippo's face before. He bent +his head over the table as if he were intent upon the +food which choked him when he tried to eat, and which +he loathed the very sight of—and did not say a word. +They had certainly not been very light-hearted before, +but the sight of the boy thus obscured and changed +made all the misery more evident. There was always a +possibility of over-riding the storm so long as all was +well with Pippo: but his changed countenance veiled +the very sun in the skies.</p> + +<p>"You don't seem surprised to see me here," his grandmother +said.</p> + +<p>"Oh!—no, I am not surprised. I wonder you did +not come sooner. Have you been travelling all night?" +he said.</p> + +<p>"Just as you did, Pippo. I drove into Penrith last +night and caught the mail train. I was seized with a +panic about you, and felt that I must see for myself."</p> + +<p>"It is not the first time you have taken a panic about +us, mother," said Elinor, forcing a smile.</p> + +<p>"No; but it is almost the first time I have acted upon +it," said Mrs. Dennistoun, with that faint instinct of +self-defence; "but I think you must have needed me +more than usual to keep you in order. You must have +been going out too much, keeping late hours. You are +pale enough, Elinor, but Pippo—Pippo has suffered +still more."</p> + +<p>"I tell you," said Philip, raising his shoulders and +stooping his head over the table, "granny, that there +is nothing the matter with me."</p> + +<p>And he took no part in the conversation as they went +on talking, of any subjects but those that were most +near their hearts. They had, indeed, no thoughts at +all to spare but those that were occupied with the situation, +and with this new feature in it, Pippo's worn and +troubled looks, yet had to talk of something, of nothing, +while the meal went on, which was no meal at +all for any of them. When it was over at last Pippo +rose abruptly from the table.</p> + +<p>"Are you going out?" Elinor said, alarmed, rising +too. "Have you any engagement with the Marshalls +for to-day?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," Philip said; "Mr. Marshall was ill +yesterday. I didn't see them. I'm not going out. I +am going to my room."</p> + +<p>"You've got a headache, Pippo!"</p> + +<p>"Nothing of the kind! I tell you there is nothing +the matter with me. I'm only going to my +room."</p> + +<p>Elinor put her hands on his arm. "Pippo, I have +something to say to you before you go out. Will you +promise to let me know before you go out? I don't +want to keep you back from anything, but I have something +that I must say."</p> + +<p>He did not ask with his usual interest what it was. +He showed no curiosity; on the contrary, he drew his +arm out of her hold almost rudely. "Of course," he +said, "I will come in here before I go out. I have no +intention of going out now."</p> + +<p>And thus he left them, and went with a heavy step, +oh, how different from Pippo's flying foot: so that they +could count every step, up-stairs.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter, what is the matter, Elinor?"</p> + +<p>"I know nothing," she said; "nothing! He was +like himself yesterday morning, full of life. Unless he +is ill, I cannot understand it. But, mother, I have to +tell him—everything to-day."</p> + +<p>"God grant it may not be too late, Elinor!" Mrs. +Dennistoun said.</p> + +<p>"Too late? How can it be too late? Yes; perhaps +you are right, John and you. He ought to have known +from the beginning; he ought to have been told when +he was a child. I acknowledge that I was wrong; but +it is no use," she said, wiping away some fiery tears, +"to go back upon that now."</p> + +<p>"John could not have told him anything?" Mrs. +Dennistoun said, doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"John! my best friend, who has always stood by me. +Oh, never, never. How little you know him, mother! +He has been imploring me every day, almost upon his +knees, to tell Pippo everything; and I promised to do +it as soon as the time was come. And then last night I +was so glad to think that he was engaged with John, +and I so worn out, not fit for anything. And then this +morning<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Then—this morning I arrived, just when I would +have been better away!"</p> + +<p>"Don't say that, mother. It is always, always well +you should be with your children. And, oh, if I had +but taken your advice years and years ago!"</p> + +<p>How easy it is to wish this when fate overtakes us, +when the thing so long postponed, so long pushed +away from us, has to be done at last! There is, I fear, +no repentance in it, only the intolerable sense that +the painful act might have been over long ago, and +the soul free now of a burden which is so terrible to +bear.</p> + +<p>Philip did not leave his room all the morning. His +mother, overwhelmed now by the new anxiety about +his health, which had no part in her thoughts before, +went to his door and knocked several times, always +with the intention of going in, of insisting upon the removal +of all barriers, and of telling her story, the story +which now was as fire in her veins and had to be told. +But he had locked his door, and only answered from +within that he was reading—getting up something that +he had forgotten—and begged her to leave him undisturbed +till lunch. Poor Elinor! Her story was, as I +have said, like fire in her veins; but when the moment +came, and a little more delay, an hour, a morning was +possible, she accepted it like a boon from heaven, +though she knew very well all the same that it was but +prolonging the agony, and that to get it accomplished—to +get it over—was the only thing to desire. She +tried to arrange her thoughts, to think how she was +to tell it, in the hurrying yet flying minutes when she +sat alone, listening now and then to Philip's movements +over her head, for he was not still as a boy should +be who was reading, but moved about his room, with a +nervous restlessness that seemed almost equal to her +own. Mrs. Dennistoun, to leave her daughter free for +the conversation that ought to take place between +Elinor and her son, had gone to lie down, and lay in +Elinor's room, next door to the boy, listening to every +sound, and hoping, hoping that they would get it over +before she went down-stairs again. She did not believe +that Philip would stand out against his mother, whom +he loved. Oh, if they could but get it over, that explanation—if +the boy but knew! But it was apparent +enough, when she came down to luncheon, where Elinor +awaited her, pale and anxious, and where Philip +followed, so unlike himself, that no explanation had yet +taken place between them. And the luncheon was as +miserable a pretence at a meal as the breakfast had +been—worse as a repetition, yet better in so far that +poor Pippo, with his boyish wholesome appetite, was +by this time too hungry to be restrained even by the +unusual burden of his unhappiness, and ate heartily, +although he was bitterly ashamed of so doing: which +perhaps made him a little better, and certainly did a +great deal of good to the ladies, who thus were convinced +that whatever the matter might be, he was not +ill at least. He was about to return up-stairs after +luncheon was over, but Elinor caught him by the arm: +"You are not going to your room again, Pippo?"</p> + +<p>"I—have not finished my reading," he said.</p> + +<p>"I have a claim before your reading. I have a great +deal to say to you, and I cannot put it off any longer. +It must be said<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"As you please, mother," he replied, with an air of +endurance. And he opened the door for her and +followed her up to the drawing-room, the three generations +going one before the other, the anxious grandmother +first, full of sympathy for both; the mother +trembling in every limb, feeling the great crisis of her +life before her; the boy with his heart seared, half bitter, +half contemptuous of the explanation which he had +forestalled, which came too late. Mrs. Dennistoun +turned and kissed first one and then the other with +quivering lips. "Oh, Pippo, be kind to your mother; +she never will have such need of your kindness again in +all your life." The boy could almost have struck her for +this advice. It raised a kind of savage passion in him +to be told to be kind to his mother—kind to her, when +he had held her above all beings on the earth, and +prided himself all his life upon his devotion to her! +What Mrs. Dennistoun said to Elinor I cannot tell, but +she clasped her hands and gave her an imploring look, +which was almost as bitterly taken as her appeal to +Philip. It besought her to tell everything, to hide nothing; +and what was Elinor's meaning but to tell everything, +to lay bare her heart?</p> + +<p>But once more at this moment an interruption—the +most wonderful and unthought-of of all interruptions—came. +I suppose it must have been announced by +the usual summons at the street-door, and that in their +agitation they had not heard it. But all that I know +is, that when Mrs. Dennistoun turned to leave the +mother and son to their conversation, which was so full +of fate, the door of the drawing-room opened almost +upon her as she was about to go out, and with a little +demonstration and pride, as of a name which it was a +distinction even to be permitted to say, of a visitor +whose arrival could not be but an honour and delightful +surprise, the husband of the landlady—the man of +the house, once a butler of the highest pretensions, now +only condescending to serve his lodgers when the occasion +was dignified—swept into the room, noiseless and +solemn, holding open the door, and announced "Lord +St. Serf." Mrs. Dennistoun fell back as if she had met +a ghost; and Elinor, too, drew back a step, becoming +as pale as if she had been the ghost her mother saw. +The gasp of the long breath they both drew made a +sound in the room where the very air seemed to tingle; +and young Philip, raising his head, saw, coming in, the +man whom he had seen in court—the man who had +gazed at him in the theatre, the man of the opera-glass. +But was this then not the Philip Compton for whom +Elinor Dennistoun had stood forth, and borne witness +before all the world?</p> + +<p>He came in and stood without a word, waiting for a +moment till the servant was gone and the door closed; +and then he advanced with a step, the very assurance +and quickness of which showed his hesitation and uncertainty. +He did not hold out his hands—much less +his arms—to her. "Nell?" he said, as if he had been +asking a question, "Nell?"</p> + +<p>She seemed to open her lips to speak, but brought +forth no sound; and then Mrs. Dennistoun came in +with the grave voice of every day, "Will you sit down?"</p> + +<p>He looked round at her, perceiving her for the first +time. "Ah," he said, "mamma! how good that you +are here. It is a little droll though, don't you think, +when a man comes into the bosom of his family after +an absence of eighteen years, that the only thing that is +said to him should be, 'Will you sit down?' Better +that, however, a great deal, than 'Will you go away?'"</p> + +<p>He sat down as she invited him, with a short laugh. +He was perfectly composed in manner. Looking round +him with curious eyes, "Was this one of the places," he +said, "Nell, that we stayed in in the old times?"</p> + +<p>She answered "No" under her breath, her paleness +suddenly giving way to a hot flush of feverish agitation. +And then she took refuge in a vacant chair, unable to +support herself, and he sat too, and the party looked—but +for that agitation in Elinor's face, which she could +not master—as if the ladies were receiving and he paying +a morning call. The other two, however, did not sit +down. Young Philip, confused and excited, went away +to the second room, the little back drawing-room of the +little London house, which can never be made to look +anything but an anteroom—never a habitable place—and +went to the window, and stood there as if he were +looking out, though the window was of coloured glass, +and there was nothing to be seen. Mrs. Dennistoun +stood with her hand upon the back of a chair, her +heart beating too, and yet the most collected of them +all, waiting, with her eyes on <ins title="original has Elinora">Elinor, for a</ins> sign to know her +will, whether she should go or stay. It was the visitor +who was the first to speak.</p> + +<p>"Let me beg you," he said, with a little impatience +in his voice, "to sit down too. It is evident that Nell's +reception of me is not likely to be so warm as to make +it unpleasant for a third party. There was a fourth +party in the room a minute ago, if my eyes did not deceive +me. Ah!"—his glance went rapidly to where +Philip's tall boyish figure, with his back turned, was +visible against the further window—"that's all right," +he said, "now I presume everybody's here."</p> + +<p>"Had we expected your visit," said Mrs. Dennistoun, +faltering, after a moment, as Elinor did not speak, "we +should have been—better prepared to receive you, Mr. +Compton."</p> + +<p>"That's not spoken with your usual cleverness," he +said, with a laugh. "You used to be a great deal too +clever for me, you and Nell too. But if she did not expect +to see me, I don't know what she thought I was +made of—everything that is bad, I suppose: and yet +you know I could have worried your life out of you if I +had liked, Nell."</p> + +<p>She turned to him for the first time, and, putting her +hands together, said almost inaudibly, "I know—I +know. I have thought of that, and I am not ungrateful."</p> + +<p>"Grateful! Well, perhaps you have not much call +for that, poor little woman. I don't doubt I behaved +like a brute, and you were quite right in doing what +you did; but you've taken it out of me since, Nell, all +the same."</p> + +<p>Then there was again a silence, broken only by the +labouring, which she could not quite conceal, of her +breath.</p> + +<p>"You wouldn't believe me," he resumed after a moment, +"if I were to set up a sentimental pose, like a +sort of a disconsolate widower, eh, would you? Of +course it was a position that was not without its advantages. +I was not much made for a family man, and +both in the way of expense and in—other ways, it +suited me well enough. Nobody could expect me to +marry them or their daughters, don't you see, when +they knew I had a wife alive? So I was allowed my +little amusements. You never went in for that kind of +thing, Nell? Don't snap me up. You know I told you +I never was against a little flirtation. It makes a woman +more tolerant, in my opinion, just to know how to +amuse herself a little. But Nell was never one of that +kind<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"I hope not, indeed," said Mrs. Dennistoun, to whom +he had turned, with indignation.</p> + +<p>"I don't see where the emphasis comes in. She was +one that a man could be as sure of as of Westminster +Abbey. The heart of her husband rests upon her—isn't +that what the fellow in the Bible says, or words to that +effect? Nell was always a kind of a Bible to me. And +you may say that in that case to think of her amusing +herself! But you will allow she always did take everything +too much <i>au grand serieux</i>. No? to be sure, you'll +allow nothing. But still that was the truth. However, +I'll allow something if you won't. I'm past my first +youth. Oh, you, not a bit of it! You're just as fresh +and as pretty, by George! as ever you were. When +I saw you stand up in that court yesterday looking as +if—not a week had passed since I saw you last, by Jove! +Nell<span class="norewrap">——</span> And how you were hating it, poor old girl, +and had come out straining your poor little conscience, +and saying what you didn't want to say—for the sake of +a worthless fellow like me<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>A sob came out of Elinor's breast, and something half +inaudible besides, like a name.</p> + +<p>"I can tell you this," he said, turning to Mrs. Dennistoun +again, "I couldn't look at her. I'm an unlikely +brute for that sort of thing, but if I had looked at her I +should have cried. I daresay you don't believe me. +Never mind, but it's true."</p> + +<p>"I do believe you," said the mother, very low.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," he said, with a laugh. "I have always +said for a mother-in-law you were the least difficult to +get on with I ever saw. Do you remember giving me +that money to make ducks and drakes of? It was awfully +silly of you. You didn't deserve to be trusted +with money to throw it away like that, but still I have +not forgotten it. Well! I came to thank you for yesterday, +Nell. And there are things, you know, that we +must talk over. You never gave up your name. That +was like your pluck. But you will have to change it +now. It was indecent of me to have myself announced +like that and poor old St. Serf not in his grave yet. But +I daresay you didn't pay any attention. You are Lady +St. Serf now, my dear. You don't mind, I know, but it's +a change not without importance. Well, who is that +fellow behind there, standing in the window? I think +you ought to present him to me. Or I'll present him +to you instead. I saw him in the theatre, by Jove! +with that fellow Tatham, that cousin John of yours that +I never could bear, smirking and smiling at him as if it +were <i>his</i> son! but <i>I</i> saw the boy then for the first time. +Nell, I tell you there are some things in which you have +taken it well out of me<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Compton," she said, labouring to speak. +"Lord St. Serf. Oh, Phil, Phil!—--"</p> + +<p>"Ah," he said, with a start, "do you remember at +last? the garden at that poky old cottage with all the +flowers, and the days when you looked out for wild +Phil Compton that all the world warned you against? +And here I am an old fogey, without either wife or +child, and Tatham taking my boy about and Nell never +looking me in the face."</p> + +<p>Philip, at the window looking out at nothing through +the hideous-coloured glass, had heard every word, with +wonder, with horror, with consternation, with dreadful +disappointment and sinking of the heart. For indeed +he had a high ideal of a father, the highest, such +as fatherless boys form in their ignorance. And every +word made it more sure that this was his father, this +man who had so caught his eyes and filled him with such +a fever of interest. But to hear Phil Compton talk had +brought the boy's soaring imagination down, down to +the dust. He had not been prepared for anything like +this. Some tragic rending asunder he could have +believed in, some wild and strange mystery. But this +man of careless speech, of chaff and slang, so little +noble, so little serious, so far from tragic! The disappointment +had been too sudden and dreadful to +leave him with any ears for those tones that went to +his mother's heart. He had no pity or sense of the +pathos that was in them. He stood in his young absolutism +disgusted, miserable. This man his father!—this +man! so talking, so thinking. Young Philip +stood with his back to the group, more miserable than +words could say. He heard some movement behind, +but he was too sick of heart to think what it was, until +suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder, and most unwillingly +suffered himself to be turned round to meet +his father's eyes. He gave one glance up at the face, +which he did not now feel was worn with study and +care—which now that he saw it near was full of lines +and wrinkles which meant something else, and which +even the emotion in it, emotion of a kind which Pippo +did not understand, hidden by a laugh, did not make +more prepossessing—and then he stood with his eyes +cast down, not caring to see it again.</p> + +<p>The elder Philip Compton had, I think, though he +was, as he said, an unlikely subject for that mood, tears +in his eyes—and he had no inclination to see anything +that was painful in the face of his son, whose look he +had never read, whose voice he had never heard, till +now. He held the boy with his hands on his shoulders, +with a grasp more full perhaps of the tender strain of +love (though he did not know him) than ever he had +laid upon any human form before. The boy's looks +were not only satisfactory to him, but filled his own +heart with an unaccustomed spring of pride and delight—his +stature, his complexion, his features, making up +as it were the most wonderful compliment, the utmost +sweetness of flattery that he had ever known. For the +boy was himself over again, not like his mother, like +the unworthy father whom he had never seen. It took +him some time to master the sudden rush of this emotion +which almost overwhelmed him: and then he drew +the boy's arm through his own and led him back to +where the two ladies sat, Elinor still too much agitated +for speech. "I said I'd present my son to you, Nell—if +you wouldn't present him to me," he said, with a +break in his voice which sounded like a chuckle to that +son's angry ears. "I don't know what you call the fellow—but +he's big enough to have a name of his own, +and he's Lomond from this day."</p> + +<p>Pippo did not know what was meant by those words: +but he drew his arm from his father's and went and +stood behind Elinor's chair, forgetting in a moment all +grievances against her, taking her side with an energy +impossible to put into words, clinging to his mother as +he had done when he was a little child.</p> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<h3><a name="CHAPTER_XLVIII" id="CHAPTER_XLVIII"></a>CHAPTER XLVIII.</h3> +<p> </p> + +<p>It was while this conversation was going on that +John Tatham, anxious and troubled about many things, +knocked at the door in Ebury Street. He was anxious +to know how the explanations had got accomplished, +how the boy took it, how Elinor had borne the strain +upon her of such a revelation. Well as he knew Elinor, +he still thought, as is generally thought in circumstances +so painful, that a great crisis, a great mental +effort, would make her ill. He wanted to know how she +was, he wanted to know how Pippo had borne it, what +the boy thought. It had glanced across him that young +Philip might be excited by so wonderful a new thing, +and form some false impression of his father (whom +doubtless she would represent under the best light, +taking blame upon herself, not to destroy the boy's +ideal), and be eager to know him—which was a thing, +John felt, which would be very difficult to bear.</p> + +<p>The door was opened to him not by good Mrs. Jones, +the kind landlady, but by the magnificent Jones himself, +who rarely appeared. John said "Mrs. Compton?" +as a matter of course, and was about to pass in, in his +usual familiar way. But something in the man's air +made him pause. He looked at Jones again, who was +bursting with importance. "Perhaps she's engaged?" +he said.</p> + +<p>"I think, sir," said John, "that her ladyship is engaged—his +lordship is with her ladyship up-stairs."</p> + +<p>"His—what?" John Tatham cried.</p> + +<p>"His lordship, Mr. Tatham. I know, sir, as the title +is not usually assumed till after the funeral; but in the +very 'ouse where her ladyship is residing for the moment, +there's allowances to be made. Naturally we're +a little excited over it, being, if I may make so bold as +to say so, a sort of 'umble friends, and long patronized +by her ladyship, and young Lord Lomond too."</p> + +<p>"Young Lord Lomond too!" John Tatham stood +for a moment and stared at Mr. Jones; and then he +laughed out, and turned his back and walked away.</p> + +<p>Young Lord Lomond too! The boy! who had been +more like John's boy than anything else, but now tricked +out in a new name, a new position, his father's heir. +Oh, yes, it was John himself who had insisted on that +only a few days ago! "The heir to a peerage can't be +hid." It was he that had quoted this as an aphorism +worthy of a social sage. But when the moment came +and the boy was taken from him, and introduced into +that other sphere, by the side of that man who had once +been the <i>dis</i>-Honourable Phil! Good heavens, what +changes life is capable of! What wrongs, what cruelties, +what cuttings-off, what twists and alterations of +every sane thought and thing! John Tatham was a +sensible man as well as an eminent lawyer, and knew +that between Elinor's son, who was Phil Compton's son, +and himself, there was no external link at all—nothing +but affection and habit, and the ever-strengthening link +that had been twisted closer and closer with the progress +of these years; but nothing real, the merest +shadow of relationship, a cousin, who could count how +often removed? And it was he who had insisted, forced +upon Elinor the necessity of making his father known +to Philip, of informing him of his real position. Nobody +had interfered in this respect but John. He had +made himself a weariness to her by insisting, never giving +over, blaming her hourly for her delay. And yet +now, when the thing he had so worked for, so constantly +urged, was done<span class="norewrap">——</span>!</p> + +<p>He smiled grimly to himself as he walked away: they +were all together, the lordship and the ladyship, young +Lord Lomond too!—and Phil Compton, whitewashed, +a peer of the realm, and still, the scoundrel! a handsome +fellow enough: with an air about him, a man who +might still dazzle a youngster unaccustomed to the +world. He had re-entered the bosom of his family, and +doubtless was weeping upon Philip's neck, and bandying +about that name of "Nell" which had always +seemed to John an insult—an insult to himself. And +in that moment of bitterness John did not know how +she would take it, what effect it would produce upon +her. Perhaps the very sight of the fellow who had +once won her heart, the lover of her youth, with +whom John had never for a moment put himself in +competition, notwithstanding the bitter wonder in his +heart that Elinor—Elinor of all people!—could ever +have loved such a man. Yet she had loved him, and +the sight of him again after so many years, what effect +might it not produce? As he walked away, it was the +idea of a happy family that came into John Tatham's +mind—mutual forgiveness, mutual return to the old +traditions which are the most endearing of all; expansions, +confessions, recollections, and lives of reunion. +Something more than a prodigal's return, the return of +a sinner bringing a coronet in his hand, bringing distinction, +a place and position enough to dazzle any boy, +enough to make a woman forgive. And was not this +what John wished above all things, every advancement +for the boy, and an assured place in the world, as well as +every happiness that might be possible—happiness! +yet it was possible she might think it so—for Elinor? +Yes, this was what he had wished for, been ready to +make any sacrifice to secure. In the sudden shock Mr. +Tatham thought of the only other person who perhaps—yet +only perhaps—might feel a little as he did—the +mother, Mrs. Dennistoun, upon whom he thought all +this would come like a thunder-clap, not knowing that +she was up-stairs in the family party, among the lordships +and the ladyship too.</p> + +<p>He went home and into his handsome library, and +shut the door upon himself, to have it out there—or +rather to occupy himself in some more sensible way +and shut this foolish subject out of his mind. It occurred +to him, however, when he sat down that the best +thing to do would be to write an account of it all to +Mrs. Dennistoun, who doubtless in the excitement +would have a long time to wait for news of this great +change. He drew his blotting-book towards him with +this object, and opened it, and dipped his pen in the +ink, and wrote "My dear Aunt;" but he did not get +much further. He raised his head, thinking how to +introduce his narrative, for which she would in all likelihood +be wholly unprepared, and in so doing looked +round upon his book-cases, on one shelf of which the +reflection of a ray of afternoon sunshine caught in the +old Louis Treize mirror over the mantelpiece was throwing +a shaft of light. He got up to make sure that it +was only a reflection, nothing that would harm the +binding of a particular volume upon which he set great +store—though of course he knew very well that it could +only be a reflection, no impertinent reality of sunshine +being permitted to penetrate there. And then he paused +a little to draw his hand lovingly over the line of choice +books—very choice—worth a little fortune, which he +laughed at himself a little for being proud of, fully +knowing that what was inside them (which generally is +the cream of a book, as of a letter, according to Tony +Lumpkin) was in many cases worth nothing at all. And +then John went and stood upon the hearth-rug, and +looked round him upon this the heart of his domain. +It was a noble library, any man might have been proud +of it. He asked himself whether it did not suit him +better, with all the comforts and luxuries beyond it, than +if he had been like other men, with an entirely different +centre of life up-stairs in the empty drawing-room, +and the burden upon him of setting out children, boys +and girls, upon the world.</p> + +<p>When a man asks himself this question, however complacent +may be the reply, it betrays perhaps a doubt +whether the assurance he has is so very sure after all; +and he returned to his letter to Mrs. Dennistoun, which +would be quite easy to write if it were only once well +begun. But he had not written above a few words, +having spent some time in his previous reflections, when +he paused again at the sound of a tumultuous summons +at the street-door. As may be well supposed, his servant +took more time than usual to answer it, resenting +a noise so out of character with the house, during which +John listened half-angrily, fearing, yet wishing for, a +diversion. And then his own door burst open, not, I +need not say, by any intervention of legitimate hands, +but by the sudden rush of Philip, who seemed to come +in in a whirl of long limbs and eager eyes, flinging +himself into a chair and fixing his gaze across the corner +of the table upon his astonished yet expectant +friend. "Oh, Uncle John!" the boy cried, and had not +breath to say any more.</p> + +<p>John put forth his hand across the table, and grasped +the young flexible warm hand that wanted something +to hold. "Well, my boy," he said.</p> + +<p>"I suppose you know," said Philip. "I have nothing +to tell you, though it is all so strange to me."</p> + +<p>"I know—nothing about what interests me most at +present—yourself, Pippo, and what has happened to +you."</p> + +<p>John had always made a great stand against that particular +name, but several times had used it of late, not +knowing why.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you thought of me last night," +said the boy, "I was so miserable. May I tell you +everything, Uncle John?"</p> + +<p>What balm that question was! He clasped Pippo's +hand in his own, but scarcely could answer to bid him +go on.</p> + +<p>"It was unnecessary, all she wanted to tell me. I +fought it off all the morning. I was there yesterday in +the court and heard it all."</p> + +<p>"In the court! At the trial?"</p> + +<p>"I had no meaning in it," said Philip. "I went by +chance, as people say, because the Marshalls had not +turned up. I got Simmons to get me into the court. +I had always wanted to see a trial. And there I saw +my mother stand up—my mother, that I never could +bear the wind to blow on, standing up there alone with +all these people staring at her to be tried—for her life."</p> + +<p>"Don't be a fool, Philip," said John Tatham, dropping +his hand; "tried! she was only a witness. And +she was not alone. I was there to take care of her."</p> + +<p>"I saw you—but what was that? She was alone all +the same; and for me, it was she who was on her trial. +What did I know about any other? I heard it, every +word."</p> + +<p>"Poor boy!"</p> + +<p>"So what was the use of making herself miserable +to tell me? She tried to all this morning, and I fought +it off. I was miserable enough. Why should I be +made more miserable to hear her perhaps excusing herself +to me? But at last she had driven me into a corner, +angry as I was—Uncle John, I was angry, furious, +with my mother—fancy! with my mother."</p> + +<p>John did not say anything, but he nodded his head +in assent. How well he understood it all!</p> + +<p>"And just then, at that moment, he came. I am angry +with her no more. I know whatever happened +she was right. Angry with her, my poor dear, dearest +mother! Whatever happened she was right. It was +best that she should not tell me. I am on her side all +through—all through! Do you hear me, Uncle John! +I have seen you look as if you blamed her. Don't again +while I am there. Whatever she has done it has been +the right thing all through!"</p> + +<p>"Pippo," said John, with a little quivering about the +mouth, "give me your hand again, old fellow, you're +my own boy."</p> + +<p>"Nobody shall so much as look as if they blamed +her," cried the boy, "while I am alive!"</p> + +<p>Oh, how near he was to crying, and how resolute not +to break down, though something got into his throat +and almost choked him, and his eyes were so full that +it was a miracle they did not brim over. Excitement, +distress, pain, the first touch of human misery he had +ever known almost overmastered Philip. He got up +and walked about the room, and talked and talked. He +who had never concealed anything, who had never had +anything to conceal. And for four-and-twenty hours +he had been silent with a great secret upon his soul. +John was too wise to check the outpouring. He listened +to everything, assented, soothed, imperceptibly +led him to gentler thoughts.</p> + +<p>"And what does he mean," cried the boy at last, +"with his new name? I shall have no name but my +own, the one my mother gave me. I am Philip Compton, +and nothing else. What right has he, the first time +he ever saw me, to put upon me another name?"</p> + +<p>"What name?"</p> + +<p>"He called me Lomond—or something like that," +said young Philip: and then there came a sort of stillness +over his excitement, a lull in the storm. Some +vague idea what it meant came all at once into the boy's +mind: and a thrill of curiosity, of another kind of excitement, +of rising thoughts which he did not hardly +understand, struggled up through the other zone of +passion. He was half ashamed, having just poured +forth all his feelings, to show that there was something +else, something that was no longer indignation, nor +anger, nor the shock of discovery, something that had +a tremor perhaps of pleasure in it, behind. But John +was far too experienced a man not to read the boy +through and through. He liked him better in the first +phase, but this was natural too.</p> + +<p>"It happens very strangely," he said, "that all these +things should come upon you at once: but it is well +you should know now all about it. Lomond is the +second title of the Comptons, Earls of St. Serf. Haven't +I heard you ask what Comptons you belonged to, Philip? +It has all happened within a day or two. Your father +was only Philip Compton yesterday at the trial, and a +poor man. Now he is Lord St. Serf, if not rich, at least +no longer poor. Everything has changed for you—your +position, your importance in the world. The last Lord +Lomond bore the name creditably enough. I hope you +will make it shine." He took the boy by the hand and +grasped it heartily again. "I am thankful for it," said +John. "I would rather you were Lord Lomond +than<span class="norewrap">——</span>"</p> + +<p>"What! Uncle John?"</p> + +<p>"Steady, boy. I was going to say Philip Compton's +son; but Lord St. Serf is another man."</p> + +<p>There was a long pause in the room where John Tatham's +life was centred among his books. He had so +much to do with all this business, and yet so little. It +would pass away with all its tumults, and he after being +absorbed by it for a moment would be left alone to his +own thoughts and his own unbroken line of existence. +So much the better! It is not good for any man to be +swept up and put down again at the will of others in +matters in which he has no share. As for Philip, he +was silent chiefly to realise this great thing that had +come upon him. He, Lord Lomond, a peer's son, who +was only Pippo of Lakeside like any other lad in the +parish, and not half so important at school as Musgrave, +who did not get that scholarship. What the school +would say! the tempest that would arise! They would +ask a holiday, and the head master would grant it. +Compton a lord! Philip could hear the roar and rustle +among the boys, the scornful incredulity, the asseverations +of those who knew it was true. And a flush +that was pleasure had come over his musing face. It +would have been strange if in the wonder of it there +had not been some pleasure too.</p> + +<p>He had begun to tolerate his father before many days +were over, to cease to be indignant and angry that he +was not the ideal father of his dreams. That was not +Lord St. Serf's fault, who was not at all aware of his +son's dreams, and had never had an ideal in his life. +But John Tatham was right in saying that Lord St. +Serf was another man. The shock of a new responsibility, +of a position to occupy and duties to fulfil, were +things that might not have much moved the dis-Honourable +Phil two years before. But he was fifty, +and beginning to feel himself an old fogey, as he confessed. +And his son overawed Lord St. Serf. His +son, who was so like him, yet had the mother's quick, +impetuous eyes, so rapid to see through everything, so +disdainful of folly, so keen in perception. He was +afraid to bring upon himself one of those lightning +flashes from the eyes of his boy, and doubly afraid to +introduce his son anywhere, to show him anything that +might bring upon him the reproach of doing harm to +Pippo. His house, which had been very decent and +orderly in the late Lord St. Serf's time, became almost +prim in the terror Phil had lest they should say that it +was bad for the boy.</p> + +<p>As for Lady St. Serf, it was popularly reported that +the reason why she almost invariably lived in the +country was her health, which kept her out of society—a +report, I need not say, absolutely rejected by +society itself, which knew all the circumstances better +than you or I do: but which sufficed for the outsiders +who knew nothing. When Elinor did appear upon +great occasions, which she consented to do, her matured +beauty gave the fullest contradiction to the pretext on +which she continued to live her own life. But old +Lord St. Serf, who got old so long before he need to +have done, with perhaps the same sort of constitutional +weakness which had carried off all his brothers before +their time, or perhaps because he had too much abused +a constitution which was not weak—grew more and more +fond in his latter days of the country too, and kept appearing +at Lakeside so often that at last the ladies removed +much nearer town, to the country-house of the +St. Serfs, which had not been occupied for ages, where +they presented at last the appearance of a united family; +and where "Lomond" (who would have thought +it very strange now to be addressed by any other +name) brought his friends, and was not ill-pleased to +hear his father discourse, in a way which sometimes +still offended the home-bred Pippo, but which the other +young men found very amusing. It was not in the way +of morals, however, that Lord St. Serf ever offended. +The fear of Elinor kept him as blameless as any good-natured +preacher of the endless theme, that all is vanity, +could do.</p> + +<p>These family arrangements, however, and the modified +happiness obtained by their means, were still all +in the future, when John Tatham, a little afraid of the +encounter, yet anxious to have it over, went to Ebury +Street the day after these occurrences, to see Elinor for +the first time under her new character as Lady St. Serf. +He found her in a languor and exhaustion much unlike +Elinor, doing nothing, not even a book near, lying +back in her chair, fallen upon herself, as the French +say. Some of those words that mean nothing passed +between them, and then she said, "John, did Pippo +tell you that he had been there?"</p> + +<p>He nodded his head, finding nothing to say.</p> + +<p>"Without any warning, to see his mother stand up +before all the world to be tried—for her life."</p> + +<p>"Elinor," said John, "you are as fantastic as the +boy."</p> + +<p>"I was—being tried for my life—before him as the +judge. And he has acquitted me; but, oh, I wonder, I +wonder if he would have done so had he known all that +I know?"</p> + +<p>"I do so," said John, "perhaps a little more used to +the laws of evidence than Pippo."</p> + +<p>"Ah, you!" she said, giving him her hand, with a +look which John did not know how to take, whether as +the fullest expression of trust, or an affectionate disdain +of the man in whose partial judgment no justice +was. And then she asked a question which threw perhaps +the greatest perplexity he had ever known into +John Tatham's life. "When you tell a fact—that is +true: with the intention to deceive: John, you that +know the laws of evidence, is that a lie?"</p> +<p> </p> +<h4>THE END.</h4> + +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> + + +<div class="center"> +<p class="noindent"><i>BY THE SAME AUTHOR</i><br /> +<span class="small"><i>IN UNIFORM STYLE</i></span></p> + +<p class="noindent"><i>MARRIAGE OF ELINOR</i></p> + +<p class="noindent"><i>WHITELADIES</i></p> + +<p class="noindent"><i>THE MAKERS OF VENICE</i></p> + +<p class="noindent"><span class="small"><i>CHICAGO</i></span><br /> +<i>W. B. CONKEY COMPANY</i></p> +</div> + +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> +<h4>We are the Sole Publishers of Ella Wheeler Wilcox's Books</h4> + +<h3><i>The Poetical and Prose Works of</i></h3> + +<h2><i>ELLA WHEELER WILCOX</i></h2> + +<p><b>Mrs. Wilcox's writings have been the inspiration of many young +men and women. Her hopeful, practical, masterful views of life +give the reader new courage in the very reading and are a wholesome +spur to flagging effort. Words of truth so vital that they live in the +reader's memory and cause him to think—to his own betterment and +the lasting improvement of his own work in the world, in whatever +line it lies—flow from this talented woman's pen.</b></p> +<p> </p> + +<h3>MAURINE</h3> + +<p class="noindent"><small>Is a love story told in exquisite verse. "An ideal poem about +as true and lovable a woman as ever poet created." It has +repeatedly been compared with Owen Meredith's <i>Lucile</i>. In +point of human interest it excels that noted story.</small></p> + +<p><small>"Maurine" is issued in an <i>edition de luxe</i>, where the more +important incidents of the story are portrayed by means of +photographic studies from life.</small></p> + + +<div class="center"> +<table class="sm" style="margin : auto" border="0" cellpadding="1" summary="prices"> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">Presentation Edition, 12mo, olive green cloth</td><td align="right">$1.00</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">De Luxe Edition, white vellum, gold top</td><td align="right">1.50</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">New Illustrated Edition, extra cloth, gold top</td><td align="right">1.50</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">De Luxe New Illustrated Edition, white vellum, gold top </td><td align="right">2.00</td></tr> +</table> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<h3>POEMS OF POWER.</h3> + +<p><small>New and revised edition. This beautiful volume contains +more than <i>one hundred new poems</i>, displaying this popular +poet's well-known taste, cultivation, and originality. The +author says: "The final word in the title of the volume refers +to the Divine power in every human being, the recognition of +which is the secret of all success and happiness. It is this +idea which many of the verses endeavor to inculcate and to +illustrate."</small></p> + +<p><small>"The lines of Mrs. Wilcox show both sweetness and +strength."—<i>Chicago American</i>. "Ella Wheeler Wilcox has a +strong grip upon the affections of thousands all over the +world. Her productions are read to-day just as eagerly as +they were when her fame was new, no other divinity having +yet risen to take her place."—<i>Chicago Record-Herald.</i></small></p> + +<div class="center"> +<table class="sm" style="margin : auto" border="0" cellpadding="1" summary="prices"> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">Presentation Edition, 12mo, dark blue cloth </td><td align="right">$1.00</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">De Luxe Edition, white vellum, gold top</td><td align="right">1.50</td></tr> +</table> +</div> +<p> </p> + + +<h3>THREE WOMEN. A STORY IN VERSE.</h3> + +<p><small>"<span class="smallcaps">Three Women</span> is the best thing I have ever done."—<i>Ella +Wheeler Wilcox.</i></small></p> + +<p><small>This marvelous dramatic poem will compel instant praise +because it touches every note in the scale of human emotion. +It is intensely interesting, and will be read with sincere +relish and admiration.</small></p> + +<div class="center"> +<table class="sm" style="margin : auto" border="0" cellpadding="1" summary="prices"> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">Presentation Edition, 12mo, light red cloth </td><td align="right">$1.00</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">De Luxe Edition, white vellum, gold top</td><td align="right">1.50</td></tr> +</table> +</div> +<p> </p> + + +<h3>AN ERRING WOMAN'S LOVE.</h3> + +<p><small>There is always a fascination in Mrs. Wilcox's verse, but in +these beautiful examples of her genius she shows a wonderful +knowledge of the human heart.</small></p> + +<p><small>"Ella Wheeler Wilcox has impressed many thousands of +people with the extreme beauty of her philosophy and the +exceeding usefulness of her point of view."—<i>Boston Globe.</i></small></p> + +<p><small>"Mrs. Wilcox stands at the head of feminine writers, and +her verses and essays are more widely copied and read than +those of any other American literary woman."—<i>New York +World.</i> "Power and pathos characterize this magnificent +poem. A deep understanding of life and an intense sympathy +are beautifully expressed."—<i>Chicago Tribune.</i></small></p> + +<div class="center"> +<table class="sm" style="margin : auto" border="0" cellpadding="1" summary="prices"> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">Presentation Edition, 12mo, light brown cloth </td><td align="right">$1.00</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">De Luxe Edition, white vellum, gold top</td><td align="right">1.50</td></tr> +</table> +</div> +<p> </p> + +<h3>MEN, WOMEN AND EMOTIONS.</h3> + +<p><small>A skilful analysis of social habits, customs, and follies. A +common-sense view of life from its varied standpoints, … full +of sage advice.</small></p> + +<p><small>"These essays tend to meet difficulties that arise in almost +every life…. Full of sound and helpful admonition, and is +sure to assist in smoothing the rough ways of life wherever it +be read and heeded."—<i>Pittsburg Times.</i></small></p> + +<div class="center"> +<table class="sm" style="margin : auto" border="0" cellpadding="1" summary="prices"> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">12mo, heavy enameled paper</td><td align="right">$0.50</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">Presentation Edition, dark brown cloth </td><td align="right">1.00</td></tr> +</table> +</div> +<p> </p> + + +<h3>THE BEAUTIFUL LAND OF NOD.</h3> + +<p><small>A collection of poems, songs, stories, and allegories dealing +with child life. The work is profusely illustrated with dainty +line engravings and photographs from life.</small></p> + +<p><small>"The delight of the nursery; the foremost baby's book in +the world."—<i>N. O. Picayune.</i></small></p> +<div class="center"> +<table class="sm" style="margin : auto" border="0" cellpadding="0" summary="prices"> +<tr><td align="left" valign="top">Quarto, sage green cloth </td><td align="right">$1.00</td></tr> +</table> +</div> + +<p> </p> +<hr class="narrow" /> +<p> </p> +<table class="sm" border="0" style="background-color: #E6E6FA; margin: 0 auto" cellpadding="4" summary="Amendments"> +<tr> +<td colspan="2"> + <div class="center">TRANSCRIBER'S NOTE</div> + +<p class="noindent" style="background-color: #E6E6FA">Contemporary spellings have been retained even +when inconsistent. A small number of obvious typographical errors have been +corrected, and missing punctuation has been silently added. The list of additional +works by the author has been moved to the end.<br /> +<br /> +The following additional changes have been made; they can be identified +in the body of the text by a grey dotted underline:</p> +</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top">I seemed too dear, too peaceful</td> + <td valign="top"><i>It</i> seemed too dear, too peaceful</td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td valign="top">do a thing that its</td> + <td valign="top">do a thing that <i>is</i></td> + </tr> + + <tr> + <td valign="top">three tittle escapades</td> + <td valign="top">three <i>little</i> escapades</td> + </tr> + +<tr> + <td>"you gave me a fright," she she said </td> + <td>"you gave me a fright," <i>she</i> said </td> +</tr> + + <tr> + <td valign="top">waiting, with her eyes on Elinora, sign</td> + <td valign="top">waiting, with her eyes on <i>Elinor, for a</i> sign</td> + </tr> +</table> + +<div>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 28637 ***</div> +</body> +</html> + |