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diff --git a/4420-h/4420-h.htm b/4420-h/4420-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a51a93a --- /dev/null +++ b/4420-h/4420-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,24727 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!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" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Sandra Belloni, by George Meredith + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd7; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Sandra Belloni, Complete, by George Meredith + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Sandra Belloni, Complete + +Author: George Meredith + +Release Date: October 12, 2006 [EBook #4420] +Last Updated: February 26, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SANDRA BELLONI, COMPLETE *** + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + + <h1> + SANDRA BELLONI + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By George Meredith + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <blockquote> + <p class="toc"> + <big><b>CONTENTS</b></big> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>SANDRA BELLONI</b> </a><br /><br /> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER XII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER XIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER XIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER XV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER XVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER XVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER XVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER XIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER XX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER XXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XXVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XXVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XXVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> CHAPTER XXIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0030"> CHAPTER XXX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0031"> CHAPTER XXXI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0032"> CHAPTER XXXII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0033"> CHAPTER XXXIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0034"> CHAPTER XXXIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0035"> CHAPTER XXXV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0036"> CHAPTER, XXXVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0037"> CHAPTER XXXVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0038"> CHAPTER XXXVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0039"> CHAPTER XXXIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0040"> CHAPTER XL </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0041"> CHAPTER XLI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0042"> CHAPTER XLII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0043"> CHAPTER XLIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0044"> CHAPTER XLIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0045"> CHAPTER XLV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0046"> CHAPTER XLVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0047"> CHAPTER XLVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0048"> CHAPTER XLVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0049"> CHAPTER XLIX </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0050"> CHAPTER L </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0051"> CHAPTER LI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0052"> CHAPTER LII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0053"> CHAPTER LIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0054"> CHAPTER LIV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0055"> CHAPTER LV </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0056"> CHAPTER LVI </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0057"> CHAPTER LVII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0058"> CHAPTER LVIII </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0059"> CHAPTER LIX </a> + </p> + </blockquote> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h1> + SANDRA BELLONI + </h1> + <h3> + [ORIGINALLY EMILIA IN ENGLAND] + </h3> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I + </h2> + <p> + We are to make acquaintance with some serious damsels, as this English + generation knows them, and at a season verging upon May. The ladies of + Brookfield, Arabella, Cornelia, and Adela Pole, daughters of a flourishing + City-of-London merchant, had been told of a singular thing: that in the + neighbouring fir-wood a voice was to be heard by night, so wonderfully + sweet and richly toned, that it required their strong sense to correct + strange imaginings concerning it. Adela was herself the chief witness to + its unearthly sweetness, and her testimony was confirmed by Edward Buxley, + whose ear had likewise taken in the notes, though not on the same night, + as the pair publicly proved by dates. Both declared that the voice + belonged to an opera-singer or a spirit. The ladies of Brookfield, + declining the alternative, perceived that this was a surprise furnished + for their amusement by the latest celebrity of their circle, Mr. Pericles, + their father's business ally and fellow-speculator; Mr. Pericles, the + Greek, the man who held millions of money as dust compared to a human + voice. Fortified by this exquisite supposition, their strong sense at once + dismissed with scorn the idea of anything unearthly, however divine, being + heard at night, in the nineteenth century, within sixteen miles of London + City. They agreed that Mr. Pericles had hired some charming cantatrice to + draw them into the woods and delightfully bewilder them. It was to be + expected of his princely nature, they said. The Tinleys, of Bloxholme, + worshipped him for his wealth; the ladies of Brookfield assured their + friends that the fact of his being a money-maker was redeemed in their + sight by his devotion to music. Music was now the Art in the ascendant at + Brookfield. The ladies (for it is as well to know at once that they were + not of that poor order of women who yield their admiration to a thing for + its abstract virtue only)—the ladies were scaling society by the + help of the Arts. To this laudable end sacrifices were now made to Euterpe + to assist them. As mere daughters of a merchant, they were compelled to + make their house not simply attractive, but enticing; and, seeing that + they liked music, it seemed a very agreeable device. The Tinleys of + Bloxholme still kept to dancing, and had effectually driven away Mr. + Pericles from their gatherings. For Mr. Pericles said: “If that they will + go 'so,' I will be amused.” He presented a top-like triangular appearance + for one staggering second. The Tinleys did not go `so' at all, and + consequently they lost the satirical man, and were called 'the + ballet-dancers' by Adela which thorny scoff her sisters permitted to pass + about for a single day, and no more. The Tinleys were their match at + epithets, and any low contention of this kind obscured for them the social + summit they hoped to attain; the dream whereof was their prime + nourishment. + </p> + <p> + That the Tinleys really were their match, they acknowledged, upon the + admission of the despicable nature of the game. The Tinleys had winged a + dreadful shaft at them; not in itself to be dreaded, but that it struck a + weak point; it was a common shot that exploded a magazine; and for a time + it quite upset their social policy, causing them to act like simple young + ladies who feel things and resent them. The ladies of Brookfield had let + it be known that, in their privacy together, they were Pole, Polar, and + North Pole. Pole, Polar, and North Pole were designations of the three + shades of distance which they could convey in a bow: a form of salute they + cherished as peculiarly their own; being a method they had invented to + rebuke the intrusiveness of the outer world, and hold away all strangers + until approved worthy. Even friends had occasionally to submit to it in a + softened form. Arabella, the eldest, and Adela, the youngest, alternated + Pole and Polar; but North Pole was shared by Cornelia with none. She was + the fairest of the three; a nobly-built person; her eyes not vacant of + tenderness when she put off her armour. In her war-panoply before unhappy + strangers, she was a Britomart. They bowed to an iceberg, which replied to + them with the freezing indifference of the floating colossus, when the + Winter sun despatches a feeble greeting messenger-beam from his miserable + Arctic wallet. The simile must be accepted in its might, for no lesser one + will express the scornfulness toward men displayed by this strikingly + well-favoured, formal lady, whose heart of hearts demanded for her as + spouse, a lord, a philosopher, and a Christian, in one: and he must be a + member of Parliament. Hence her isolated air. + </p> + <p> + Now, when the ladies of Brookfield heard that their Pole, Polar, and North + Pole, the splendid image of themselves, had been transformed by the + Tinleys, and defiled by them to Pole, Polony, and Maypole, they should + have laughed contemptuously; but the terrible nerve of ridicule quivered + in witness against them, and was not to be stilled. They could not + understand why so coarse a thing should affect them. It stuck in their + flesh. It gave them the idea that they saw their features hideous, but + real, in a magnifying mirror. + </p> + <p> + There was therefore a feud between the Tinleys and the Poles; and when Mr. + Pericles entirely gave up the former, the latter rewarded him by spreading + abroad every possible kind interpretation of his atrocious bad manners. He + was a Greek, of Parisian gilding, whose Parisian hat flew off at a + moment's notice, and whose savage snarl was heard at the slightest + vexation. His talk of renowned prime-donne by their Christian names, and + the way that he would catalogue emperors, statesmen, and noblemen known to + him, with familiar indifference, as things below the musical Art, gave a + distinguishing tone to Brookfield, from which his French accentuation of + our tongue did not detract. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pericles grimaced bitterly at any claim to excellence being set up for + the mysterious voice in the woods. Tapping one forefinger on the uplifted + point of the other, he observed that to sing abroad in the night air of an + English Spring month was conclusive of imbecility; and that no imbecile + sang at all. Because, to sing, involved the highest accomplishment of + which the human spirit could boast. Did the ladies see? he asked. They + thought they saw that he carried on a deception admirably. In return, they + inquired whether he would come with them and hunt the voice, saying that + they would catch it for him. “I shall catch a cold for myself,” said Mr. + Pericles, from the elevation of a shrug, feeling that he was doomed to go + forth. He acted reluctance so well that the ladies affected a pretty + imperiousness; and when at last he consented to join the party, they + thanked him with a nicely simulated warmth, believing that they had + pleased him thoroughly. + </p> + <p> + Their brother Wilfrid was at Brookfield. Six months earlier he had + returned from India, an invalided cornet of light cavalry, with a + reputation for military dash and the prospect of a medal. Then he was + their heroic brother he was now their guard. They love him tenderly, and + admired him when it was necessary; but they had exhausted their own + sensations concerning his deeds of arms, and fancied that he had served + their purpose. And besides, valour is not an intellectual quality, they + said. They were ladies so aspiring, these daughters of the merchant Samuel + Bolton Pole, that, if Napoleon had been their brother, their imaginations + would have overtopped him after his six months' inaction in the Tuileries. + They would by that time have made a stepping-stone of the emperor. + 'Mounting' was the title given to this proceeding. They went on + perpetually mounting. It is still a good way from the head of the tallest + of men to the stars; so they had their work before them; but, as they + observed, they were young. To be brief, they were very ambitious damsels, + aiming at they knew not exactly what, save that it was something so wide + that it had not a name, and so high in the air that no one could see it. + They knew assuredly that their circle did not please them. So, therefore, + they were constantly extending and refining it: extending it perhaps for + the purpose of refining it. Their susceptibilities demanded that they + should escape from a city circle. Having no mother, they ruled their + father's house and him, and were at least commanders of whatsoever forces + they could summon for the task. + </p> + <p> + It may be seen that they were sentimentalists. That is to say, they + supposed that they enjoyed exclusive possession of the Nice Feelings, and + exclusively comprehended the Fine Shades. Whereof more will be said; but + in the meantime it will explain their propensity to mount; it will account + for their irritation at the material obstructions surrounding them; and + possibly the philosopher will now have his eye on the source of that + extraordinary sense of superiority to mankind which was the crown of their + complacent brows. Eclipsed as they may be in the gross appreciation of the + world by other people, who excel in this and that accomplishment, persons + that nourish Nice Feelings and are intimate with the Fine Shades carry + their own test of intrinsic value. + </p> + <p> + Nor let the philosopher venture hastily to despise them as pipers to + dilettante life. Such persons come to us in the order of civilization. In + their way they help to civilize us. Sentimentalists are a perfectly + natural growth of a fat soil. Wealthy communities must engender them. If + with attentive minds we mark the origin of classes, we shall discern that + the Nice Feelings and the Fine Shades play a principal part in our human + development and social history. I dare not say that civilized man is to be + studied with the eye of a naturalist; but my vulgar meaning might almost + be twisted to convey: that our sentimentalists are a variety owing their + existence to a certain prolonged term of comfortable feeding. The pig, it + will be retorted, passes likewise through this training. He does. But in + him it is not combined with an indigestion of high German romances. Here + is so notable a difference, that he cannot possibly be said to be of the + family. And I maintain it against him, who have nevertheless listened + attentively to the eulogies pronounced by the vendors of prize bacon. + </p> + <p> + After thus stating to you the vast pretensions of the ladies of + Brookfield, it would be unfair to sketch their portraits. Nothing but + comedy bordering on burlesque could issue from the contrast, though they + graced a drawing-room or a pew, and had properly elegant habits and taste + in dress, and were all fair to the sight. Moreover, Adela had not long + quitted school. Outwardly they were not unlike other young ladies with + wits alert. They were at the commencement of their labours on this night + of the expedition when they were fated to meet something greatly confusing + them. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II + </h2> + <p> + Half of a rosy mounting full moon was on the verge of the East as the + ladies, with attendant cavaliers, passed, humming softly, through the + garden-gates. Arabella had, by right of birth, made claim to Mr. Pericles: + not without an unwontedly fretful remonstrance from Cornelia, who said, + “My dear, you must allow that I have some talent for drawing men out.” + </p> + <p> + And Arabella replied: “Certainly, dear, you have; and I think I have some + too.” + </p> + <p> + The gentle altercation lasted half-an-hour, but they got no farther than + this. Mr. Pericles was either hopeless of protecting himself from such + shrewd assailants, or indifferent to their attacks, for all his defensive + measures were against the cold. He was muffled in a superbly mounted + bearskin, which came up so closely about his ears that Arabella had to + repeat to him all her questions, and as it were force a way for her voice + through the hide. This was provoking, since it not only stemmed the + natural flow of conversation, but prevented her imagination from + decorating the reminiscence of it subsequently (which was her profound + secret pleasure), besides letting in the outer world upon her. Take it as + an axiom, when you utter a sentimentalism, that more than one pair of ears + makes a cynical critic. A sentimentalism requires secresy. I can enjoy it, + and shall treat it respectfully if you will confide it to me alone; but I + and my friends must laugh at it outright. + </p> + <p> + “Does there not seem a soul in the moonlight?” for instance. Arabella, + after a rapturous glance at the rosy orb, put it to Mr. Pericles, in + subdued impressive tones. She had to repeat her phrase; Mr. Pericles then + echoing, with provoking monotony of tone, “Sol?”—whereupon “Soul!” + was reiterated, somewhat sharply: and Mr. Pericles, peering over the + collar of the bear, with half an eye, continued the sentence, in the + manner of one sent thereby farther from its meaning: “Ze moonlight?” + Despairing and exasperated, Arabella commenced afresh: “I said, there + seems a soul in it”; and Mr. Pericles assented bluntly: “In ze light!”—which + sounded so little satisfactory that Arabella explained, “I mean the + aspect;” and having said three times distinctly what she meant, in answer + to a terrific glare from the unsubmerged whites of the eyes of Mr. + Pericles, this was his comment, almost roared forth: + </p> + <p> + “Sol! you say so-whole—in ze moonlight—Luna? Hein? Ze aspect + is of Sol!—Yez.” + </p> + <p> + And Mr. Pericles sank into his bear again, while Wilfrid Pole, who was + swinging his long cavalry legs to rearward, shouted; and Mr. Sumner, a + rising young barrister, walking beside Cornelia, smiled a smile of extreme + rigidity. Arabella was punished for claiming rights of birth. She heard + the murmuring course of the dialogue between Cornelia and Mr. Sumner, + sufficiently clear to tell her it was not fictitious and was well + sustained, while her heart was kept thirsting for the key to it. In + advance were Adela and Edward Buxley, who was only a rich alderman's only + son, but had the virtue of an extraordinary power of drawing caricatures, + and was therefore useful in exaggerating the features of disagreeable + people, and showing how odious they were: besides endearing pleasant ones + exhibiting how comic they could be. Gossips averred that before Mr. Pole + had been worried by his daughters into giving that mighty sum for + Brookfield, Arabella had accepted Edward as her suitor; but for some + reason or other he had apparently fallen from his high estate. To tell the + truth, Arabella conceived that he had simply obeyed her wishes, while he + knew he was naughtily following his own; and Adela, without introspection + at all, was making her virgin effort at the caricaturing of our sex in his + person: an art for which she promised well. + </p> + <p> + Out of the long black shadows of the solitary trees of the park, and + through low yellow moonlight, they passed suddenly into the muffed ways of + the wood. Mr. Pericles was ineffably provoking. He had come for + gallantry's sake, and was not to be rallied, and would echo every question + in a roar, and there was no drawing of the man out at all. He knocked + against branches, and tripped over stumps, and ejaculated with energy; but + though he gave no heed or help to his fair associate, she thought not the + worse of him, so heroic can women be toward any creature that will permit + himself to be clothed by a mystery. At times the party hung still, + fancying the voice aloft, and then, after listening to the unrelieved + stillness, they laughed, and trod the stiff dry ferns and soft mosses once + more. At last they came to a decided halt, when the proposition to return + caused Adela to come up to Mr. Pericles and say to him, “Now, you must + confess! You have prohibited her from singing to-night so that we may + continue to be mystified. I call this quite shameful of you!” + </p> + <p> + And even as Mr. Pericles was protesting that he was the most mystified of + the company, his neck lengthened, and his head went round, and his ear was + turned to the sky, while he breathed an elaborate “Ah!” And sure enough + that was the voice of the woods, cleaving the night air, not distant. A + sleepy fire of early moonlight hung through the dusky fir-branches. The + voice had the woods to itself, and seemed to fill them and soar over them, + it was so full and rich, so light and sweet. And now, to add to the + marvel, they heard a harp accompaniment, the strings being faintly + touched, but with firm fingers. A woman's voice: on that could be no + dispute. Tell me, what opens heaven more flamingly to heart and mind, than + the voice of a woman, pouring clear accordant notes to the blue night sky, + that grows light blue to the moon? There was no flourish in her singing. + All the notes were firm, and rounded, and sovereignly distinct. She seemed + to have caught the ear of Night, and sang confident of her charm. It was a + grand old Italian air, requiring severity of tone and power. Now into + great mournful hollows the voice sank steadfastly. One soft sweep of the + strings succeeded a deep final note, and the hearers breathed freely. + </p> + <p> + “Stradella!” said the Greek, folding his arms. + </p> + <p> + The ladies were too deeply impressed to pursue their play with him. Real + emotions at once set aside the semi-credence they had given to their own + suggestions. + </p> + <p> + “Hush! she will sing again,” whispered Adela. “It is the most delicious + contralto.” Murmurs of objection to the voice being characterized at all + by any technical word, or even for a human quality, were heard. + </p> + <p> + “Let me find zis woman!” cried the prose enthusiast Mr. Pericles, + imperiously, with his bearskin thrown back on his shoulders, and forth + they stepped, following him. + </p> + <p> + In the middle of the wood there was a sandy mound, rising half the height + of the lesser firs, bounded by a green-grown vallum, where once an old + woman, hopelessly a witch, had squatted, and defied the authorities to + make her budge: nor could they accomplish the task before her witch-soul + had taken wing in the form of a black night-bird, often to be heard + jarring above the spot. Lank dry weeds and nettles, and great lumps of + green and gray moss, now stood on the poor old creature's place of + habitation, and the moon, slanting through the fir-clumps, was scattered + on the blossoms of twisted orchard-trees, gone wild again. Amid this + desolation, a dwarfed pine, whose roots were partially bared as they + grasped the broken bank that was its perch, threw far out a cedar-like + hand. In the shadow of it sat the fair singer. A musing touch of her + harp-strings drew the intruders to the charmed circle, though they could + discern nothing save the glimmer of the instrument and one set of fingers + caressing it. How she viewed their rather impertinent advance toward her, + till they had ranged in a half-circle nearer and nearer, could not be + guessed. She did not seem abashed in any way, for, having preluded, she + threw herself into another song. + </p> + <p> + The charm was now more human, though scarcely less powerful. This was a + different song from the last: it was not the sculptured music of the old + school, but had the richness and fulness of passionate blood that marks + the modern Italian, where there is much dallying with beauty in the thick + of sweet anguish. Here, at a certain passage of the song, she gathered + herself up and pitched a nervous note, so shrewdly triumphing, that, as + her voice sank to rest, her hearers could not restrain a deep murmur of + admiration. + </p> + <p> + Then came an awkward moment. The ladies did not wish to go, and they were + not justified in stopping. They were anxious to speak, and they could not + choose the word to utter. Mr. Pericles relieved them by moving forward and + doffing his hat, at the same time begging excuse for the rudeness they + were guilty of. + </p> + <p> + The fair singer answered, with the quickness that showed a girl: “Oh, + stay; do stay, if I please you!” A singular form of speech, it was thought + by the ladies. + </p> + <p> + She added: “I feel that I sing better when I have people to listen to me.” + </p> + <p> + “You find it more sympathetic, do you not?” remarked Cornelia. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know,” responded the unknown, with a very honest smile. “I like + it.” + </p> + <p> + She was evidently uneducated. “A professional?” whispered Adela to + Arabella. She wanted little invitation to exhibit her skill, at all + events, for, at a word, the clear, bold, but finely nervous voice, was + pealing to a brisker measure, that would have been joyous but for one fall + it had, coming unexpectedly, without harshness, and winding up the song in + a ringing melancholy. + </p> + <p> + After a few bars had been sung, Mr. Pericles was seen tapping his forehead + perplexedly. The moment it ended, he cried out, in a tone of vexed apology + for strange ignorance: “But I know not it? It is Italian—yes, I + swear it is Italian! But—who then? It is superbe! But I know not + it!” + </p> + <p> + “It is mine,” said the young person. + </p> + <p> + “Your music, miss?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean, I composed it.” + </p> + <p> + “Permit me to say, Brava!” + </p> + <p> + The ladies instantly petitioned to have it sung to them again; and whether + or not they thought more of it, or less, now that the authorship was known + to them, they were louder in their applause, which seemed to make the + little person very happy. + </p> + <p> + “You are sure it pleases you?” she exclaimed. + </p> + <p> + They were very sure it pleased them. Somehow the ladies were growing + gracious toward her, from having previously felt too humble, it may be. + She was girlish in her manner, and not imposing in her figure. She would + be a sweet mystery to talk about, they thought: but she had ceased to be + quite the same mystery to them. + </p> + <p> + “I would go on singing to you,” she said; “I could sing all night long: + but my people at the farm will not keep supper for me, when it's late, and + I shall have to go hungry to bed, if I wait.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you far to go?” ventured Adela. + </p> + <p> + “Only to Wilson's farm; about ten minutes' walk through the wood,” she + answered unhesitatingly. + </p> + <p> + Arabella wished to know whether she came frequently to this lovely spot. + </p> + <p> + “When it does not rain, every evening,” was the reply. + </p> + <p> + “You feel that the place inspires you?” said Cornelia. + </p> + <p> + “I am obliged to come,” she explained. “The good old dame at the farm is + ill, and she says that music all day is enough for her, and I must come + here, or I should get no chance of playing at all at night.” + </p> + <p> + “But surely you feel an inspiration in the place, do you not?” Cornelia + persisted. + </p> + <p> + She looked at this lady as if she had got a hard word given her to crack, + and muttered: “I feel it quite warm here. And I do begin to love the + place.” + </p> + <p> + The stately Cornelia fell back a step. + </p> + <p> + The moon was now a silver ball on the edge of the circle of grey blue + above the ring of firs, and by the light falling on the strange little + person, as she stood out of the shadow to muffle up her harp, it could be + seen that she was simply clad, and that her bonnet was not of the newest + fashion. The sisters remarked a boot-lace hanging loose. The peculiar + black lustre of her hair, and thickness of her long black eyebrows, struck + them likewise. Her harp being now comfortably mantled, Cornet Wilfrid + Pole, who had been watching her and balancing repeatedly on his forward + foot, made a stride, and “really could not allow her to carry it herself,” + and begged her permission that he might assist her. “It's very heavy, you + know,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “Too heavy for me,” she said, favouring him with a thankful smile. “I have + some one who does that. Where is Jim?” + </p> + <p> + She called for Jim, and from the back of the sandy hillock, where he had + been reclining, a broad-shouldered rustic came lurching round to them. + </p> + <p> + “Now, take my harp, if you please, and be as careful as possible of + branches, and don't stumble.” She uttered this as if she were giving Jim + his evening lesson: and then with a sudden cry she laughed out: “Oh! but I + haven't played you your tune, and you must have your tune!” + </p> + <p> + Forthwith she stript the harp half bare, and throwing a propitiatory + bright glance at her audience on the other side of her, she commenced + thrumming a kind of Giles Scroggins, native British, beer-begotten air, + while Jim smeared his mouth and grinned, as one who sees his love dragged + into public view, and is not the man to be ashamed of her, though he hopes + you will hardly put him to the trial. + </p> + <p> + “This is his favourite tune, that he taught me,” she emphasized to the + company. “I play to him every night, for a finish; and then he takes care + not to knock my poor harp to pieces and tumble about.” + </p> + <p> + The gentlemen were amused by the Giles Scroggins air, which she had + delivered with a sufficient sense of its lumping fun and leg-for-leg + jollity, and they laughed and applauded; but the ladies were silent after + the performance, until the moment came to thank her for the entertainment + she had afforded them: and then they broke into gentle smiles, and trusted + they might have the pleasure of hearing her another night. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! just as often and as much as you like,” she said, and first held her + hand to Arabella, next to Cornelia, and then to Adela. She seemed to be + hesitating before the gentlemen, and when Wilfrid raised his hat, she was + put to some confusion, and bowed rather awkwardly, and retired. + </p> + <p> + “Good night, miss!” called Mr. Pericles. + </p> + <p> + “Good night, sir!” she answered from a little distance, and they could see + that she was there emboldened to drop a proper curtsey in accompaniment. + </p> + <p> + Then the ladies stood together and talked of her, not with absolute + enthusiasm. For, “Was it not divine?” said Adela; and Cornelia asked her + if she meant the last piece; and, “Oh, gracious! not that!” Adela + exclaimed. And then it was discovered how their common observation had + fastened on the boot-lace; and this vagrant article became the key to + certain speculations on her condition and character. + </p> + <p> + “I wish I'd had a dozen bouquets, that's all!” cried Wilfrid, “she + deserved them.” + </p> + <p> + “Has she sentiment for what she sings? or is it only faculty?” Cornelia + put it to Mr. Sumner. + </p> + <p> + That gentleman faintly defended the stranger for the intrusion of the + bumpkin tune. “She did it so well!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I complain that she did it too well,” uttered Cornelia, whose use of + emphasis customarily implied that the argument remained with her. + </p> + <p> + Talking in this manner, and leisurely marching homeward, they were + startled to hear Mr. Pericles, who had wrapped himself impenetrably in the + bear, burst from his cogitation suddenly to cry out, in his harshest + foreign accent: “Yeaz!” And thereupon he threw open the folds, and laid + out a forefinger, and delivered himself: “I am made my mind! I send her + abroad to ze Academie for one, two, tree year. She shall be instructed as + was not before. Zen a noise at La Scala. No—Paris! No—London! + She shall astonish London fairst.—Yez! if I take a theatre! Yez! if + I buy a newspaper! Yez! if I pay feefty-sossand pound!” + </p> + <p> + His singular outlandish vehemence, and the sweeping grandeur of a + determination that lightly assumed the corruptibility of our Press, sent a + smile circling among the ladies and gentlemen. The youth who had wished to + throw the fair unknown a dozen bouquets, caught himself frowning at this + brilliant prospect for her, which was to give him his opportunity. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III + </h2> + <p> + The next morning there were many “tra-las” and “tum-te-turns” over the + family breakfast-table; a constant humming and crying, “I have it”; and + after two or three bars, baffled pauses and confusion of mind. Mr. + Pericles was almost abusive at the impotent efforts of the sisters to + revive in his memory that particular delicious melody, the composition of + the fair singer herself. At last he grew so impatient as to arrest their + opening notes, and even to interrupt their unmusical consultations, with + “No: it is no use; it is no use: no, no, I say!” But instantly he would + plunge his forehead into the palm of his hand, and rub it red, and work + his eyebrows frightfully, until tender humanity led the sisters to resume. + Adela's, “I'm sure it began low down—tum!” Cornelia's: “The + key-note, I am positive, was B flat—ta!” and Arabella's putting of + these two assertions together, and promise to combine them at the piano + when breakfast was at an end, though it was Sunday morning, were + exasperating to the exquisite lover of music. Mr. Pericles was really + suffering torments. Do you know what it is to pursue the sylph, and touch + her flying skirts, think you have caught her, and are sure of her—that + she is yours, the rapturous evanescent darling! when some well-meaning + earthly wretch interposes and trips you, and off she flies and leaves you + floundering? A lovely melody nearly grasped and lost in this fashion, + tries the temper. Apollo chasing Daphne could have been barely polite to + the wood-nymphs in his path, and Mr. Pericles was rude to the daughters of + his host. Smoothing his clean square chin and thick moustache hastily, + with outspread thumb and fingers, he implored them to spare his nerves. + Smiling rigidly, he trusted they would be merciful to a sensitive ear. Mr. + Pole—who, as an Englishman, could not understand anyone being so + serious in the pursuit of a tune—laughed, and asked questions, and + almost drove Mr. Pericles mad. On a sudden the Greek's sallow visage + lightened. “It is to you! it is to you!” he cried, stretching his finger + at Wilfrid. The young officer, having apparently waited till he had + finished with his knife and fork, was leaning his cheek on his fist, + looking at nobody, and quietly humming a part of the air. Mr. Pericles + complimented and thanked him. + </p> + <p> + “But you have ear for music extraordinaire!” he said. + </p> + <p> + Adela patted her brother fondly, remarking—“Yes, when his feelings + are concerned.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you repeat zat?” asked the Greek. “'To-to-ri:' hein? I lose it. + 'To-to-ru:' bah! I lose it; 'To-ri:—to—ru—ri ro:' it is + no use: I lose it.” + </p> + <p> + Neither his persuasions, nor his sneer, “Because it is Sunday, perhaps!” + would induce Wilfrid to be guilty of another attempt. The ladies tried + sisterly cajoleries on him fruitlessly, until Mr. Pole, seeing the + desperation of his guest, said: “Why not have her up here, toon and all, + some week-day? Sunday birds won't suit us, you know. We've got a piano for + her that's good enough for the first of 'em, if money means anything.” + </p> + <p> + The ladies murmured meekly: “Yes, papa.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall find her for you while you go to your charch,” said Mr. Pericles. + And here Wilfrid was seized with a yawn, and rose, and asked his eldest + sister if she meant to attend the service that morning. + </p> + <p> + “Undoubtedly,” she answered; and Mr. Pole took it up: “That's our + discipline, my boy. Must set an example: do our duty. All the house goes + to worship in the country.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, in ze country?” queried Mr. Pericles. + </p> + <p> + “Because”—Cornelia came to the rescue of her sire; but her + impetuosity was either unsupported by a reason, or she stooped to fit one + to the comprehension of the interrogator: “Oh, because—do you know, + we have very select music at our church?” + </p> + <p> + “We have a highly-paid organist,” added Arabella. + </p> + <p> + “Recently elected,” said Adela. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! mon Dieu!” Mr. Pericles ejaculated. “Some music sound well at afar—mellow, + you say. I prefer your charch music mellow.” + </p> + <p> + “Won't you come?” cried Wilfrid, with wonderful briskness. + </p> + <p> + “No. Mellow for me!” + </p> + <p> + The Greek's grinders flashed, and Wilfrid turned off from him sulkily. He + saw in fancy the robber-Greek prowling about Wilson's farm, setting snares + for the marvellous night-bird, and it was with more than his customary + inattention to his sisters' refined conversation that he formed part of + their male escort to the place of worship. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pericles met the church-goers on their return in one of the green + bowery lanes leading up to Brookfield. Cold as he was to English scenes + and sentiments, his alien ideas were not unimpressed by the picture of + those daintily-clad young women demurely stepping homeward, while the air + held a revel of skylarks, and the scented hedgeways quickened with + sunshine. + </p> + <p> + “You have missed a treat!” Arabella greeted him. + </p> + <p> + “A sermon?” said he. + </p> + <p> + The ladies would not tell him, until his complacent cynicism at the notion + of his having missed a sermon, spurred them to reveal that the organ had + been handled in a masterly manner; and that the voluntary played at the + close of the service was most exquisite. + </p> + <p> + “Even papa was in raptures.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good indeed,” said Mr. Pole. “I'm no judge; but you might listen to + that sort of playing after dinner.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pericles seemed to think that was scarcely a critical period, but he + merely grimaced, and inquired: “Did you see ze player?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no: they are hidden,” Arabella explained to him, “behind a curtain.” + </p> + <p> + “But, what!” shouted the impetuous Greek: “have you no curiosity? A woman! + And zen, you saw not her?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” remarked Cornelia, in the same aggravating sing-song voice of utter + indifference: “we don't know whether it was not a man. Our usual organist + is a man, I believe.” + </p> + <p> + The eyes of the Greek whitened savagely, and he relapsed into frigid + politeness. + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid was not present to point their apprehensions. He had loitered + behind; but when he joined them in the house subsequently, he was + cheerful, and had a look of triumph about him which made his sisters say, + “So, you have been with the Copleys:” and he allowed them to suppose it, + if they pleased; the Copleys being young ladies of position in the + neighbourhood, of much higher standing than the Tinleys, who, though very + wealthy, could not have given their brother such an air, the sisters + imagined. + </p> + <p> + At lunch, Wilfrid remarked carelessly: “By the way, I met that little girl + we saw last night.” + </p> + <p> + “The singer! where?” asked his sisters, with one voice. + </p> + <p> + “Coming out of church.” + </p> + <p> + “She goes to church, then!” + </p> + <p> + This exclamation showed the heathen they took her to be. + </p> + <p> + “Why, she played the organ,” said Wilfrid. + </p> + <p> + “And how does she look by day? How does she dress?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! very jolly little woman! Dresses quiet enough.” + </p> + <p> + “She played the organ! It was she, then! An organist! Is there anything + approaching to gentility in her appearance?” + </p> + <p> + “I—really I'm no judge,” said Wilfrid. “You had better ask Laura + Tinley. She was talking to her when I went up.” + </p> + <p> + The sisters exchanged looks. Presently they stood together in + consultation. Then they spoke with their aunt, Mrs. Lupin, and went to + their papa. The rapacity of those Tinleys for anything extraordinary was + known to them, but they would not have conceived that their own discovery, + their own treasure, could have been caught up so quickly. If the Tinleys + got possession of her, the defection of Mr. Pericles might be counted on, + and the display of a phenomenon would be lost to them. They decided to go + down to Wilson's farm that very day, and forestall their rivals by having + her up to Brookfield. The idea of doing this had been in a corner of their + minds all the morning: it seemed now the most sensible plan in the world. + It was patronage, in its right sense. And they might be of great service + to her, by giving a proper elevation and tone to her genius; while she + might amuse them, and their guests, and be let off, in fact, as a firework + for the nonce. Among the queenly cases of women who are designing to + become the heads of a circle (if I may use the term), an accurate + admeasurement of reciprocal advantages can scarcely be expected to rank; + but the knowledge that an act, depending upon us for execution, is capable + of benefiting both sides, will make the proceeding appear so unselfish, + that its wisdom is overlooked as well as its motives. The sisters felt + they were the patronesses of the little obscure genius whom they longed + for to illumine their household, before they knew her name. Cornet Wilfrid + Pole must have chuckled mightily to see them depart on their mission. + These ladies, who managed everybody, had themselves been very cleverly + managed. It is doubtful whether the scheme to surprise and delight Mr. + Pericles would have actuated the step they took, but for the dread of + seeing the rapacious Tinleys snatch up their lawful prey. The Tinleys were + known to be quite capable of doing so. They had, on a particular occasion, + made transparent overtures to a celebrity belonging to the Poles, whom + they had first met at Brookfield: could never have hoped to have seen had + they not met him at Brookfield; and girls who behaved in this way would do + anything. The resolution was taken to steal a march on them; nor did it + seem at all odd to people naturally so hospitable as the denizens of + Brookfield, that the stranger of yesterday should be the guest of to-day. + Kindness of heart, combined with a great scheme in the brain, easily put + aside conventional rules. + </p> + <p> + “But we don't know her name,” they said, when they had taken the advice of + the gentlemen on what they had already decided to do: all excepting Mr. + Pericles, for whom the surprise was in store. + </p> + <p> + “Belloni—Miss Belloni,” said Wilfrid. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure? How do you know—?” + </p> + <p> + “She told Laura Tinley.” + </p> + <p> + Within five minutes of the receipt of this intelligence the ladies were on + their way to Wilson's farm. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV + </h2> + <p> + The circle which the ladies of Brookfield were designing to establish just + now, was of this receipt:—Celebrities, London residents, and County + notables, all in their severally due proportions, were to meet, mix, and + revolve: the Celebrities to shine; the Metropolitans to act as satellites; + the County ignoramuses to feel flattered in knowing that all stood forth + for their amusement: they being the butts of the quick-witted + Metropolitans, whom they despised, while the sons of renown were + encouraged to be conscious of their magnanimous superiority over both + sets, for whose entertainment they were ticketed. + </p> + <p> + This is a pudding indeed! And the contemplation of the skill and energy + required to get together and compound such a Brookfield Pudding, well-nigh + leads one to think the work that is done out of doors a very inferior + business, and, as it were, mere gathering of fuel for the fire inside. It + was known in the neighbourhood that the ladies were preparing one; and + moreover that they had a new kind of plum; in other words, that they + intended to exhibit a prodigy of genius, who would flow upon the world + from Brookfield. To announce her with the invitations, rejecting the idea + of a surprise in the assembly, had been necessary, because there was no + other way of securing Lady Gosstre, who led the society of the district. + The great lady gave her promise to attend: “though,” as she said to + Arabella, “you must know I abominate musical parties, and think them the + most absurd of entertainments possible; but if you have anything to show, + that's another matter.” + </p> + <p> + Two or three chosen friends were invited down beforehand to inspect the + strange girl, and say what they thought of her; for the ladies themselves + were perplexed. They had found her to be commonplace: a creature without + ideas and with a decided appetite. So when Tracy Runningbrook, who had + also been a plum in his day, and was still a poet, said that she was + exquisitely comic, they were induced to take the humorous view of the + inexplicable side in the character of Miss Belloni, and tried to laugh at + her eccentricities. Seeing that Mr. Pericles approved of her voice as a + singer, and Tracy Runningbrook let pass her behaviour as a girl, they + conceived that on the whole they were safe in sounding a trumpet loudly. + These gentlemen were connoisseurs, each in his walk. + </p> + <p> + Concerning her position and parentage, nothing was known. She had met + Adela's delicately-searching touches in that direction with a marked + reserve. It was impossible to ask her point-blank, after probing her with + a dozen suggestions, for the ingenuousness of an indifferent inquiry could + not then be assumed, so that Adela was constantly baked and felt that she + must some day be excessively 'fond with her,' which was annoying. The girl + lit up at any sign of affection. A kind look gave Summer depths to her + dark eyes. Otherwise she maintained a simple discretion and walked in her + own path, content to look quietly pleased on everybody, as one who had + plenty to think of and a voice in her ear. + </p> + <p> + Apparently she was not to be taught to understand 'limits': which must be + explained as a sort of magnetic submissiveness to the variations of Polar + caprice; so that she should move about with ease, be cheerful, friendly, + and, at a signal, affectionate; still not failing to recognize the + particular nooks where the family chalk had traced a line. As the day of + exhibition approached, Adela thought she would give her a lesson in + limits. She ventured to bestow a small caress on the girl, after a + compliment; thinking that the compliment would be a check: but the + compliment was passed, and the caress instantly replied to with two arms + and a tender mouth. At which, Adela took fright and was glad to slip away. + </p> + <p> + At last the pudding flowed into the bag. + </p> + <p> + Emilia was posted by the ladies in a corner of the room. Receiving her + assurance that she was not hungry, they felt satisfied that she wanted + nothing. Wilfrid came up to her to console her for her loneliness, until + Mr. Pericles had stationed himself at the back of her chair, and then + Wilfrid nodded languidly and attended to his graver duties. Who would have + imagined that she had hurt him? But she certainly looked with greater + animation on Mr. Pericles; and when Tracy Runningbrook sat down by her, a + perfect little carol of chatter sprang up between them. These two + presented such a noticeable contrast, side by side, that the ladies had to + send a message to separate them. She was perhaps a little the taller of + the two; with smoothed hair that had the gloss of black briony leaves, and + eyes like burning brands in a cave; while Tracy's hair was red as blown + flame, with eyes of a grey-green hue, that may be seen glistening over wet + sunset. People, who knew him, asked: “Who is she?” and it was not in the + design of the ladies to have her noted just yet. + </p> + <p> + Lady Gosstre's exclamation on entering the room was presently heard. + “Well! and where's our extraordinary genius? Pray, let me see her + immediately.” + </p> + <p> + Thereat Laura Tinley, with gross ill-breeding, rushed up to Arabella, who + was receiving her ladyship, and touching her arm, as if privileges were + permitted her, cried: “I'm dying to see her. Has she come?” + </p> + <p> + Arabella embraced the offensive girl in a hostess's smile, and talked + flowingly to the great lady. + </p> + <p> + Laura Tinley was punished by being requested to lead off with a favourite + song in a buzz. She acceded, quite aware of the honour intended, and sat + at the piano, taming as much as possible her pantomime of one that would + be audible. Lady Gosstre scanned the room, while Adela, following her + ladyship's eyeglass, named the guests. + </p> + <p> + “You get together a quaint set of men,” said Lady Gosstre. + </p> + <p> + “Women!” was on Adela's tongue's tip. She had really thought well of her + men. Her heart sank. + </p> + <p> + “In the country!” she began. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes!” went my lady. + </p> + <p> + These were the lessons that made the ladies of Brookfield put a check upon + youth's tendency to feel delightful satisfaction with its immediate work, + and speedily conceive a discontented suspicion of anything whatsoever that + served them. + </p> + <p> + Two other sacrifices were offered at the piano after Laura Tinley. Poor + victims of ambition, they arranged their dresses, smiled at the leaves, + and deliberately gave utterance to the dreadful nonsense of the laureates + of our drawing-rooms. Mr. Pericles and Emilia exchanged scientific glances + during the performance. She was merciless to indifferent music. Wilfrid + saw the glances pass. So, now, when Emilia was beckoned to the piano, she + passed by Wilfrid, and had a cold look in return for beaming eyes. + </p> + <p> + According to directions, Emilia sang a simple Neapolitan air. The singer + was unknown, and was generally taken for another sacrifice. + </p> + <p> + “Come; that's rather pretty,” Lady Gosstre hailed the close. + </p> + <p> + “It is of ze people—such as zat,” assented Mr. Pericles. + </p> + <p> + Adela heard my lady ask for the singer's name. She made her way to her + sisters. Adela was ordinarily the promoter, Cornelia the sifter, and + Arabella the director, of schemes in this management. The ladies had a + moment for counsel over a music-book, for Arabella was about to do duty at + the piano. During a pause, Mr. Pole lifting his white waistcoat with the + effort, sent a word abroad, loudly and heartily, regardless of its + guardian aspirate, like a bold-faced hoyden flying from her chaperon. They + had dreaded it. They loved their father, but declined to think his grammar + parental. Hushing together, they agreed that it had been a false move to + invite Lady Gosstre, who did not care a bit for music, until the success + of their Genius was assured by persons who did. To suppose that she would + recognize a Genius, failing a special introduction, was absurd. The ladies + could turn upon aristocracy too, when it suited them. + </p> + <p> + Arabella had now to go through a quartett. The fever of ill-luck had + seized the violin. He would not tune. Then his string broke; and while he + was arranging it the footman came up to Arabella. Misfortunes, we know, + are the most united family on earth. The news brought to her was that a + lady of the name of Mrs. Chump was below. Holding her features rigidly + bound, not to betray perturbation, Arabella confided the fact to Cornelia, + who, with a similar mental and muscular compression, said instantly, + “Manoeuvre her.” Adela remarked, “If you tell her the company is grand, + she will come, and her Irish once heard here will destroy us. The very + name of Chump!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Chump was the wealthy Irish widow of an alderman, whose unaccountable + bad taste in going to Ireland for a wife, yet filled the ladies with + astonishment. She pretended to be in difficulties with her lawyers; for + which reason she strove to be perpetually in consultation with her old + flame and present trustee Mr. Pole. The ladies had fought against her in + London, and since their installation at Brookfield they had announced to + their father that she was not to be endured there. Mr. Pole had + plaintively attempted to dilate on the virtues of Martha Chump. “In her + place,” said the ladies, and illustrated to him that amid a nosegay of + flowers there was no fit room for an exuberant vegetable. The old man had + sighed and seemed to surrender. One thing was certain: Mrs. Chump had + never been seen at Brookfield. “She never shall be, save by the servants,” + said the ladies. + </p> + <p> + Emilia, not unmarked of Mr. Pericles, had gone over to Wilfrid once or + twice, to ask him if haply he disapproved of anything she had done. Mr. + Pericles shrugged, and went “Ah!” as who should say, “This must be + stopped.” Adela now came to her and caught her hand, showering sweet + whispers on her, and bidding her go to her harp and do her best. “We love + you; we all love you!” was her parting instigation. + </p> + <p> + The quartett was abandoned. Arabella had departed with a firm countenance + to combat Mrs. Chump. + </p> + <p> + Emilia sat by her harp. The saloon was critically still; so still that + Adela fancied she heard a faint Irish protest from the parlour. Wilfrid + was perhaps the most critical auditor present: for he doubted whether she + could renew that singular charm of her singing in the pale lighted woods. + The first smooth contralto notes took him captive. He scarcely believed + that this could be the raw girl whom his sisters delicately pitied. + </p> + <p> + A murmur of plaudits, the low thunder of gathering acclamation, went + round. Lady Gosstre looked a satisfied, “This will do.” Wilfrid saw + Emilia's eyes appeal hopefully to Mr. Pericles. The connoisseur shrugged. + A pain lodged visibly on her black eyebrows. She gripped her harp, and her + eyelids appeared to quiver as she took the notes. Again, and still + singing, she turned her head to him. The eyes of Mr. Pericles were white, + as if upraised to intercede for her with the Powers of Harmony. Her voice + grew unnerved. On a sudden she excited herself to pitch and give volume to + that note which had been the enchantment of the night in the woods. It + quavered. One might have thought her caught by the throat. + </p> + <p> + Emilia gazed at no one now. She rose, without a word or an apology, + keeping her eyes down. + </p> + <p> + “Fiasco!” cruelly cried Mr. Pericles. + </p> + <p> + That was better to her than the silly kindness of the people who deemed it + well to encourage her with applause. Emilia could not bear the clapping of + hands, and fled. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V + </h2> + <p> + The night was warm under a slowly-floating moon. Full of compassion for + the poor girl, who had moved him if she had failed in winning the + assembly, Wilfrid stepped into the garden, where he expected to find her, + and to be the first to pet and console her. Threading the scented shrubs, + he came upon a turn in one of the alleys, from which point he had a view + of her figure, as she stood near a Portugal laurel on the lawn. Mr. + Pericles was by her side. Wilfrid's intention was to join them. A loud sob + from Emilia checked his foot. + </p> + <p> + “You are cruel,” he heard her say. + </p> + <p> + “If it is good, I tell it you; if it is bad; abominable, I tell it you, + juste ze same,” responded Mr. Pericles. + </p> + <p> + “The others did not think it very bad.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! bah!” Mr. Pericles cut her short. + </p> + <p> + Had they been talking of matters secret and too sweet, Wilfrid would have + retired, like a man of honour. As it was, he continued to listen. The + tears of his poor little friend, moreover, seemed to hold him there in the + hope that he might afford some help. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I do not care for the others,” she resumed. “You praised me the + night I first saw you.” + </p> + <p> + “It is perhaps zat you can sing to z' moon,” returned Mr. Pericles. “But, + what! a singer, she must sing in a house. To-night it is warm, to-morrow + it is cold. If you sing through a cold, what noise do we hear? It is a + nose, not a voice. It is a trompet.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia, with a whimpering firmness, replied: “You said I am lazy. I am + not.” + </p> + <p> + “Not lazy,” Mr. Pericles assented. + </p> + <p> + “Do I care for praise from people who do not understand music? It is not + true. I only like to please them.” + </p> + <p> + “Be a street-organ,” Mr. Pericles retorted. + </p> + <p> + “I must like to see them pleased when I sing,” said Emilia desperately. + </p> + <p> + “And you like ze clap of ze hands. Yez. It is quite natural. Yess. You are + a good child, it is clear. But, look. You are a voice uncultivated, + sauvage. You go wrong: I hear you: and dese claps of zese noodels send you + into squeaks and shrills, and false! false away you go. It is a gallop ze + wrong way.” + </p> + <p> + Here Mr. Pericles attempted the most horrible reproduction of Emilia's + failure. She cried out as if she had been bitten. + </p> + <p> + “What am I to do?” she asked sadly. + </p> + <p> + “Not now,” Mr. Pericles answered. “You live in London?—at where?” + </p> + <p> + “Must I tell you?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, you must tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “But, I am not going there; I mean, not yet.” + </p> + <p> + “You are going to sing to z' moon through z' nose. Yez. For how long?” + </p> + <p> + “These ladies have asked me to stay with them. They make me so happy. When + I leave them—then!” + </p> + <p> + Emilia sighed. + </p> + <p> + “And zen?” quoth Mr. Pericles. + </p> + <p> + “Then, while my money lasts, I shall stay in the country.” + </p> + <p> + “How much money?” + </p> + <p> + “How much money have I?” Emilia frankly and accurately summed up the + condition of her treasury. “Four pounds and nineteen shillings.” + </p> + <p> + “Hom! it is spent, and you go to your father again?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “To ze old Belloni?” + </p> + <p> + “My father.” + </p> + <p> + “No!” cried Mr. Pericles, upon Emilia's melancholy utterance. He bent to + her ear and rapidly spoke, in an undertone, what seemed to be a vivid + sketch of a new course of fortune for her. Emilia gave one joyful outcry; + and now Wilfrid retreated, questioning within himself whether he should + have remained so long. But, as he argued, if he was convinced that the + rascally Greek fellow meant mischief to her, was he not bound to employ + every stratagem to be her safeguard? The influence of Mr. Pericles already + exercised over her was immense and mysterious. Within ten minutes she was + singing triumphantly indoors. Wilfrid could hear that her voice was firm + and assured. She was singing the song of the woods. He found to his + surprise that his heart dropped under some burden, as if he had no longer + force to sustain it. + </p> + <p> + By-and-by some of the members of the company issued forth. Carriages were + heard on the gravel, and young men in couples, preparing to light the + ensign of happy release from the ladies (or of indemnification for their + absence, if you please), strolled about the grounds. + </p> + <p> + “Did you see that little passage between Laura Tinley and Bella Pole?” + said one, and forthwith mimicked them: “Laura commencing:-'We must have + her over to us.' 'I fear we have pre-engaged her.'—'Oh, but you, + dear, will do us the favour to come, too?' 'I fear, dear, our immediate + engagements will preclude the possibility.'—'Surely, dear Miss Pole, + we may hope that you have not abandoned us?'—'That, my dear Miss + Tinley, is out of the question.'—'May we not name a day?'—'If + it depends upon us, frankly, we cannot bid you do so.'” + </p> + <p> + The other joined him in laughter, adding: “'Frankly' 's capital! What + absurd creatures women are! How the deuce did you manage to remember it + all?” + </p> + <p> + “My sister was at my elbow. She repeated it, word for word.” + </p> + <p> + “Pon my honour, women are wonderful creatures!” + </p> + <p> + The two young men continued their remarks, with a sense of perfect + consistency. + </p> + <p> + Lady Gosstre, as she was being conducted to her carriage, had pronounced + aloud that Emilia was decidedly worth hearing. + </p> + <p> + “She's better worth knowing,” said Tracy Runningbrook. “I see you are all + bent on spoiling her. If you were to sit and talk with her, you would + perceive that she's meant for more than to make a machine of her throat. + What a throat it is! She has the most comical notion of things. I fancy + I'm looking at the budding of my own brain. She's a born artist, but I'm + afraid everybody's conspiring to ruin her.” + </p> + <p> + “Surely,” said Adela, “we shall not do that, if we encourage her in her + Art.” + </p> + <p> + “He means another kind of art,” said Lady Gosstre. “The term 'artist,' + applied to our sex, signifies 'Frenchwoman' with him. He does not allow us + to be anything but women. As artists then we are largely privileged, I + assure you.” + </p> + <p> + “Are we placed under a professor to learn the art?” Adela inquired, + pleased with the subject under such high patronage. + </p> + <p> + “Each new experience is your accomplished professor,” said Tracy. “One + I'll call Cleopatra a professor: she's but an illustrious example.” + </p> + <p> + “Imp! you are corrupt.” With which my lady tapped farewell on his + shoulder. Leaning from the carriage window, she said: “I suppose I shall + see you at Richford? Merthyr Powys is coming this week. And that reminds + me: he would be the man to appreciate your 'born artist.' Bring her to me. + We will have a dinner. I will despatch a formal invitation to-morrow. The + season's bad out of town for getting decent people to meet you. I will do + my best.” + </p> + <p> + She bowed to Adela and Tracy. Mr. Pole, who had hovered around the + unfamiliar dialogue to attend the great lady to the door, here came in for + a recognition, and bowed obsequiously to the back of the carriage. + </p> + <p> + Arabella did not tell her sisters what weapons she had employed to effect + the rout of Mrs. Chump. She gravely remarked that the woman had consented + to go, and her sisters thanked her. They were mystified by Laura's + non-recognition of Emilia, and only suspected Wilfrid so faintly that they + were able to think they did not suspect him at all. On the whole, the + evening had been a success. It justified the ladies in repeating a + well-known Brookfield phrase: “We may be wrong in many things, but never + in our judgement of the merits of any given person.” In the case of Tracy + Runningbrook, they had furnished a signal instance of their discernment. + Him they had met at the house of a friend of the Tinleys (a Colonel's wife + distantly connected with great houses). The Tinleys laughed at his flaming + head and him, but the ladies of Brookfield had ears and eyes for a certain + tone and style about him, before they learnt that he was of the blood of + dukes, and would be a famous poet. When this was mentioned, after his + departure, they had made him theirs, and the Tinleys had no chance. + Through Tracy, they achieved their introduction to Lady Gosstre. And now + they were to dine with her. They did not say that this was through Emilia. + In fact, they felt a little that they had this evening been a sort of + background to their prodigy: which was not in the design. Having observed, + “She sang deliciously,” they dismissed her, and referred to dresses, + gaucheries of members of the company, pretensions here and there, Lady + Gosstre's walk, the way to shuffle men and women, how to start themes for + them to converse upon, and so forth. Not Juno and her Court surveying our + mortal requirements in divine independence of fatigue, could have been + more considerate for the shortcomings of humanity. And while they were + legislating this and that for others, they still accepted hints for their + own improvement, as those who have Perfection in view may do. Lady + Gosstre's carriage of her shoulders, and general manner, were admitted to + be worthy of study. “And did you notice when Laura Tinley interrupted her + conversation with Tracy Runningbrook, how quietly she replied to the fact + and nothing else, so that Laura had not another word?”—“And did you + observe her deference to papa, as host?”—“And did you not see, on + more than one occasion, with what consummate ease she would turn a current + of dialogue when it had gone far enough?” They had all noticed, seen, and + observed. They agreed that there was a quality beyond art, beyond genius, + beyond any special cleverness; and that was, the great social quality of + taking, as by nature, without assumption, a queenly position in a circle, + and making harmony of all the instruments to be found in it. High praise + of Lady Gosstre ensued. The ladies of Brookfield allowed themselves to bow + to her with the greater humility, owing to the secret sense they nursed of + overtopping her still in that ineffable Something which they alone + possessed: a casket little people will be wise in not hurrying our Father + Time to open for them, if they would continue to enjoy the jewel they + suppose it to contain. Finally, these energetic young ladies said their + prayers by the morning twitter of the birds, and went to their beds, less + from a desire for rest than because custom demanded it. + </p> + <p> + Three days later Emilia was a resident in the house, receiving lessons in + demeanour from Cornelia, and in horsemanship from Wilfrid. She expressed + no gratitude for kindnesses or wonder at the change in her fortune, save + that pleasure sat like an inextinguishable light on her face. A splendid + new harp arrived one day, ticketed, “For Miss Emilia Belloni.” + </p> + <p> + “He does not know I have a second Christian name,” was her first remark, + after an examination of the instrument. + </p> + <p> + “'He?'” quoth Adela. “May it not have been a lady's gift?” + </p> + <p> + Emilia clearly thought not. + </p> + <p> + “And to whom do you ascribe it?” + </p> + <p> + “Who sent it to me? Mr. Pericles, of course.” + </p> + <p> + She touched the strings immediately, and sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Are you discontented with the tone, child?” asked Adela. + </p> + <p> + “No. I—I'll guess what it cost!” + </p> + <p> + Surely the ladies had reason to think her commonplace! + </p> + <p> + She explained herself better to Wilfrid, when he returned to Brookfield + after a short absence. Showing the harp, “See what Mr. Pericles thinks me + worth!” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Not more than that?” was his gallant rejoinder. “Does it suit you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; in every way.” + </p> + <p> + This was all she said about it. + </p> + <p> + In the morning after breakfast, she sat at harp or piano, and then ran out + to gather wild flowers and learn the names of trees and birds. On almost + all occasions Wilfrid was her companion. He laughed at the little sisterly + revelations the ladies confided concerning her too heartily for them to + have any fear that she was other than a toy to him. Few women are aware + with how much ease sentimental men can laugh outwardly at what is internal + torment. They had apprised him of their wish to know what her origin was, + and of her peculiar reserve on that topic: whereat he assured them that + she would have no secrets from him. His conduct of affairs was so open + that none could have supposed the gallant cornet entangled in a maze of + sentiment. For, veritably, this girl was the last sort of girl to please + his fancy; and he saw not a little of fair ladies: by virtue of his heroic + antecedents, he was himself well seen of them. The gallant cornet adored + delicacy and a gilded refinement. The female flower could not be too + exquisitely cultivated to satisfy him. And here he was, running after a + little unformed girl, who had no care to conceal the fact that she was an + animal, nor any notion of the necessity for doing so! He had good reason + to laugh when his sisters talked of her. It was not a pleasant note which + came from the gallant cornet then. But, in the meadows, or kindly + conducting Emilia's horse, he yielded pretty music. Emilia wore Arabella's + riding-habit, Adela's hat, and Cornelia's gloves. Politic as the ladies of + Brookfield were, they were full of natural kindness; and Wilfrid, albeit a + diplomatist, was not yet mature enough to control and guide a very + sentimental heart. There was an element of dim imagination in all the + family: and it was this that consciously elevated them over the world in + prospect, and made them unconsciously subject to what I must call the + spell of the poetic power. + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid in his soul wished that Emilia should date from the day she had + entered Brookfield. But at times it seemed to him that a knowledge of her + antecedents might relieve him from his ridiculous perplexity of feeling. + Besides though her voice struck emotion, she herself was unimpressionable. + “Cold by nature,” he said; looking at the unkindled fire. She shook hands + like a boy. If her fingers were touched and retained, they continued to be + fingers for as long as you pleased. Murmurs and whispers passed by her + like the breeze. She appeared also to have no enthusiasm for her Art, so + that not even there could Wilfrid find common ground. Italy, however, he + discovered to be the subject that made her light up. Of Italy he would + speak frequently, and with much simulated fervour. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Pericles is going to take me there,” said Emilia. “He told me to keep + it secret. I have no secrets from my friends. I am to learn in the academy + at Milan.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you not rather let me take you?” + </p> + <p> + “Not quite.” She shook her head. “No; because you do not understand music + as he does. And are you as rich? I cost a great deal of money even for + eating alone. But you will be glad when you hear me when I come back. Do + you hear that nightingale? It must be a nightingale.” + </p> + <p> + She listened. “What things he makes us feel!” + </p> + <p> + Bending her head, she walked on silently. Wilfrid, he knew not why, had + got a sudden hunger for all the days of her life. He caught her hand and, + drawing her to a garden seat, said: “Come; now tell me all about yourself + before I knew you. Do you mind?” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tell you anything you want to hear,” said Emilia. + </p> + <p> + He enjoined her to begin from the beginning. + </p> + <p> + “Everything about myself?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Everything. I have your permission to smoke?” + </p> + <p> + Emilia smiled. “I wish I had some Italian cigars to give you. My father + sometimes has plenty given to him.” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid did not contemplate his havannah with less favour. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Emilia, taking a last sniff of the flowers before surrendering + her nostril to the invading smoke. She looked at the scene fronting her + under a blue sky with slow flocks of clouds: “How I like this!” she + exclaimed. “I almost forget that I long for Italy, here.” + </p> + <p> + Beyond a plot of flowers, a gold-green meadow dipped to a ridge of gorse + bordered by dark firs and the tips of greenest larches. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI + </h2> + <h3> + “My father is one of the most wonderful men in the whole world!” + </h3> + <p> + Wilfrid lifted an eyelid. + </p> + <p> + “He is one of the first-violins at the Italian Opera!” + </p> + <p> + The gallant cornet's critical appreciation of this impressive announcement + was expressed in a spiral ebullition of smoke from his mouth. + </p> + <p> + “He is such a proud man! And I don't wonder at that: he has reason to be + proud.” + </p> + <p> + Again Wilfrid lifted an eyelid, and there is no knowing but that ideas of + a connection with foreign Counts, Cardinals, and Princes passed hopefully + through him. + </p> + <p> + “Would you believe that he is really the own nephew of Andronizetti!” + </p> + <p> + “Deuce he is!” said Wilfrid, in a mist. “Which one?” + </p> + <p> + “The composer!” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid emitted more smoke. + </p> + <p> + “Who composed—how I love him!—that lovely 'la, la, la, la,' + and the 'te-de, ta-da, te-dio,' that pleases you, out of 'Il Maladetto.' + And I am descended from him! Let me hope I shall not be unworthy of him. + You will never tell it till people think as much of me, or nearly. My + father says I shall never be so great, because I am half English. It's not + my fault. My mother was English. But I feel that I am much more Italian + than English. How I long for Italy—like a thing underground! My + father did something against the Austrians, when he was a young man. Would + not I have done it? I am sure I would—I don't know what. Whenever I + think of Italy, night or day, pant-pant goes my heart. The name of Italy + is my nightingale: I feel that somebody lives that I love, and is + ill-treated shamefully, crying out to me for help. My father had to run + away to save his life. He was fifteen days lying in the rice-fields to + escape from the soldiers—which makes me hate a white coat. There was + my father; and at night he used to steal out to one of the villages, where + was a good, true woman—so they are, most, in Italy! She gave him + food; maize-bread and wine, sometimes meat; sometimes a bottle of good + wine. When my father thinks of it he cries, if there is gin smelling near + him. At last my father had to stop there day and night. Then that good + woman's daughter came to him to keep him from starving; she risked being + stripped naked and beaten with rods, to keep my father from starving. When + my father speaks of Sandra now, it makes my mother—she does not like + it. I am named after her: Emilia Alessandra Belloni. 'Sandra' is short for + it. She did not know why I was christened that, and will never call me + anything but Emilia, though my father says Sandra, always. My father never + speaks of that dear Sandra herself, except when he is tipsy. Once I used + to wish him to be tipsy; for then I used to sit at my piano while he + talked, and I made all his words go into music. One night I did it so + well, my father jumped right up from his chair, shouting 'Italia!' and he + caught his wig off his head, and threw it into the fire, and rushed out + into the street quite bald, and people thought him mad. + </p> + <p> + “It was the beginning of all our misfortunes! My father was taken and + locked up in a place as a tipsy man. That he has never forgiven the + English for! It has made me and my mother miserable ever since. My mother + is sure it is all since that night. Do you know, I remember, though I was + so young, that I felt the music—oh! like a devil in my bosom? + Perhaps it was, and it passed out of me into him. Do you think it was?” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid answered: “Well, no! I shouldn't think you had anything to do with + the devil.” Indeed, he was beginning to think her one of the smallest of + frocked female essences. + </p> + <p> + “I lost my piano through it,” she went on. “I could not practise. I was + the most miserable creature in all the world till I fell in love with my + harp. My father would not play to get money. He sat in his chair, and only + spoke to ask about meal-time, and we had no money for food, except by + selling everything we had. Then my piano went. So then I said to my + mother, I will advertize to give lessons, as other people do, and make + money for us all, myself. So we paid money for a brass-plate, and our + landlady's kind son put it up on the door for nothing, and we waited for + pupils to come. I used to pray to the Virgin that she would blessedly send + me pupils, for my poor mother's complaints were so shrill and out of tune + it's impossible to tell you what I suffered. But by-and-by my father saw + the brass-plate. He fell into one of his dreadful passions. We had to buy + him another wig. His passions were so expensive: my mother used to say, + 'There goes our poor dinner out of the window!' But, well! he went to get + employment now. He can, always, when he pleases; for such a touch on the + violin as my father has, you never heard. You feel yourself from top to + toe, when my father plays. I feel as if I breathed music like air. One day + came news from Italy, all in the newspaper, of my father's friends and old + companions shot and murdered by the Austrians. He read it in the evening, + after we had a quiet day. I thought he did not mind it much, for he read + it out to us quite quietly; and then he made me sit on his knee and read + it out. I cried with rage, and he called to me, 'Sandra! Peace!' and began + walking up and down the room, while my mother got the bread and cheese and + spread it on the table, for we were beginning to be richer. I saw my + father take out his violin. He put it on the cloth and looked at it. Then + he took it up, and laid his chin on it like a man full of love, and drew + the bow across just once. He whirled away the bow, and knocked down our + candle, and in the darkness I heard something snap and break with a hollow + sound. When I could see, he had broken it, the neck from the body—the + dear old violin! I could cry still. I—I was too late to save it. I + saw it broken, and the empty belly, and the loose strings! It was + murdering a spirit—that was! My father sat in a corner one whole + week, moping like such an old man! I was nearly dead with my mother's + voice. By-and-by we were all silent, for there was nothing to eat. So I + said to my mother, 'I will earn money.' My mother cried. I proposed to + take a lodging for myself, all by myself; go there in the morning and + return at night, and give lessons, and get money for them. My landlady's + good son gave me the brass-plate again. Emilia Alessandra Belloni! I was + glad to see my name. I got two pupils very quickly one, an old lady, and + one, a young one. The old lady—I mean, she was not grey—wanted + a gentleman to marry her, and the landlady told me—I mean my pupil—it + makes me laugh—asked him what he thought of her voice: for I had + been singing. I earned a great deal of money: two pounds ten shillings a + week. I could afford to pay for lessons myself, I thought. What an + expense! I had to pay ten shillings for one lesson! Some have to pay + twenty; but I would pay it to learn from the best masters;—and I had + to make my father and mother live on potatoes, and myself too, of course. + If you buy potatoes carefully, they are extremely cheap things to live + upon, and make you forget your hunger more than anything else. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose,” added Emilia, “you have never lived upon potatoes entirely? + Oh, no!” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid gave a quiet negative. + </p> + <p> + “But I was pining to learn, and was obliged to keep them low. I could + pitch any notes, and I was clear but I was always ornamenting, and what I + want is to be an accurate singer. My music-master was a German—not + an Austrian—oh, no!—I'm sure he was not. At least, I don't + think so, for I liked him. He was harsh with me, but sometimes he did + stretch his fingers on my head, and turn it round, and say words that I + pretended not to think of, though they sent me home burning. I began to + compose, and this gentleman tore up the whole sheet in a rage, when I + showed it him; but he gave me a dinner, and left off charging me ten + shillings—only seven, and then five—and he gave me more time + than he gave others. He also did something which I don't know yet whether + I can thank him for. He made me know the music of the great German. I used + to listen: I could not believe such music could come from a German. He + followed me about, telling me I was his slave. For some time I could not + sleep. I laughed at myself for composing. He was not an Austrian: but when + he was alive he lived in Vienna, the capital of Austria. He ate Austrian + bread, and why God gave him such a soul of music I never can think!—Well, + by-and-by my father wanted to know what I did in the day, and why they + never had anything but potatoes for dinner. My mother came to me, and I + told her to say, I took walks. My father said I was an idle girl, and like + my mother—who was a slave to work. People are often unjust! So my + father said he would watch me. I had to cross the park to give a lesson to + a lady who had a husband, and she wanted to sing to him to keep him at + home in the evening. I used to pray he might not have much ear for music. + One day a gentleman came behind me in the park. He showed me a + handkerchief, and asked me if it was mine. I felt for my own and found it + in my pocket. He was certain I had dropped it. He looked in the corners + for the name, I told him my name—Emilia Alessandra Belloni. He found + A.F.G. there. It was a beautiful cambric handkerchief, white and smooth. I + told him it must be a gentleman's, as it was so large; but he said he had + picked it up close by me, and he could not take it, and I must; and I was + obliged to keep it, though I would much rather not. Near the end of the + park he left me.” + </p> + <p> + At this point Wilfrid roused up. “You met him the next day near the same + place?” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + She turned to him with astonishment on her features. “How did you know + that? How could you know?” + </p> + <p> + “Sort of thing that generally happens,” said Wilfrid. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; he was there,” Emilia slowly pursued, controlling her inclination to + question further. “He had forgotten about the handkerchief, for when I saw + him, I fancied he might have found the owner. We talked together. He told + me he was in the Army, and I spoke of my father's playing and my singing. + He was so fond of music that I promised him he should hear us both. He + used to examine my hand, and said they were sensitive fingers for playing. + I knew that. He had great hopes of me. He said he would give me a box at + the Opera, now and then. I was mad with joy; and so delighted to have made + a friend. I had never before made a rich friend. I sang to him in the + park. His eyes looked beautiful with pleasure. I know I enchanted him.” + </p> + <p> + “How old were you then?” inquired Wilfrid. + </p> + <p> + “Sixteen. I can sing better now, I know; but I had voice then, and he felt + that I had. I forgot where we were, till people stood round us, and he + hurried me away from them, and said I must sing to him in some quiet + place. I promised to, and he promised he would have dinner for me at + Richmond Hill, in the country, and he would bring friends to hear me.” + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” said Wilfrid, rather sharply. + </p> + <p> + She sighed. “I only saw him once after that. It was such a miserable day! + It rained. It was Saturday. I did not expect to find him in the rain; but + there he stood, exactly where he had given me the handkerchief. He smiled + kindly, as I came up. I dislike gloomy people! His face was always fresh + and nice. His moustache reminded me of Italy. I used to think of him under + a great warm sky, with olives and vine-trees and mulberries like my father + used to speak of. I could have flung my arms about his neck.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you?” The cornet gave a strangled note. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no!” said Emilia seriously. “But I told him how happy the thought of + going into the country made me, and that it was almost like going to + Italy. He told me he would take me to Italy, if I liked. I could have + knelt at his feet. Unfortunately his friends could not come. Still, I was + to go, and dine, and float on the water, plucking flowers. I determined to + fancy myself in Venice, which is the place my husband must take me to, + when I am married to him. I will give him my whole body and soul for his + love, when I am there!” + </p> + <p> + Here the cornet was capable of articulate music for a moment, but it + resolved itself into: “Well, well! Yes, go on!” + </p> + <p> + “I took his arm this time. It gave me my first timid feeling that I + remember, and he laughed at me, and drove it quite away, telling me his + name: Augustus Frederick what was it? Augustus Frederick—it began + with G something. O me! have I really forgotten? Christian names are + always easier to remember. A captain he was—a riding one; just like + you. I think you are all kind!” + </p> + <p> + “Extremely,” muttered the ironical cornet. “A.F.G.;—those are the + initials on the handkerchief!” + </p> + <p> + “They are!” cried Emilia. “It must have been his own handkerchief!” + </p> + <p> + “You have achieved the discovery,” quoth Wilfrid. “He dropped it there + overnight, and found it just as you were passing in the morning.” + </p> + <p> + “That must be impossible,” said Emilia, and dismissed the subject + forthwith, in a feminine power of resolve to be blind to it. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid,” she took up her narrative, “my father is sometimes really + almost mad. He does such things! I had walked under this gentleman's + umbrella to the bridge between the park and the gardens with the sheep, + and beautiful flowers in beds. In an instant my father came up right in + our faces. He caught hold of my left hand. I thought he wanted to shake + it, for he imitates English ways at times, even with us at home, and + shakes our hands when he comes in. But he swung me round. He stood looking + angrily at this gentleman, and cried 'Yes! yes!' to every word he spoke. + The gentleman bowed to me, and asked me to take his umbrella; but I was + afraid to; and my father came to me,—oh, Madonna, think of what he + did! I saw that his pockets were very big. He snatched out potatoes, and + began throwing them as hard as he could throw them at the gentleman, and + struck him with some of them. He threw nine large potatoes! I begged him + to think of our dinner; but he cried 'Yes! it is our dinner we give to + your head, vagabond!' in his English. I could not help running up to the + gentleman to beg for his pardon. He told me not to cry, and put some + potatoes he had been picking up all into my hand. They were muddy, but he + wiped them first; and he said it was not the first time he had stood fire, + and then said good-bye; and I slipped the potatoes into my pocket + immediately, thankful that they were not wasted. My father pulled me away + roughly from the laughing and staring people on the bridge. But I knew the + potatoes were only bruised. Even three potatoes will prevent you from + starving. They were very fine ones, for I always took care to buy them + good. When I reached home—” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid had risen, and was yawning with a desperate grimace. He bade her + continue, and pitched back heavily into his seat. + </p> + <p> + “When I reached home and could be alone with my mother, she told me my + father had been out watching me the day before, and that he had filled his + pockets that morning. She thought he was going to walk out in the country + and get people on the road to cook them for him. That is what he has done + when he was miserable,—to make himself quite miserable, I think, for + he loves streets best. Guess my surprise! My mother was making my head + ache with her complaints, when, as I drew out the potatoes to show her we + had some food, there was a purse at the bottom of my pocket,—a + beautiful green purse! O that kind gentleman! He must have put it in my + hand with the potatoes that my father flung at him! How I have cried to + think that I may never sing to him my best to please him! My mother and I + opened the purse eagerly. It had ten pounds in paper money, and five + sovereigns, and silver,—I think four shillings. We determined to + keep it a secret; and then we thought of the best way of spending it, and + decided not to spend it all, but to keep some for when we wanted it + dreadfully, and for a lesson or two for me now and then, and a + music-score, and perhaps a good violin for my father, and new strings for + him and me, and meat dinners now and then, and perhaps a day in the + country: for that was always one of my dreams as I watched the clouds + flying over London. They seemed to be always coming from happy places and + going to happy places, never stopping where I was! I cannot be sorrowful + long. You know that song of mine that you like so much—my own + composing? It was a song about that kind gentleman. I got words to suit it + as well as I could, from a penny paper, but they don't mean anything that + I mean, and they are only words.” + </p> + <p> + She did not appear to hear the gallant cornet's denial that he cared + particularly for that song. + </p> + <p> + “What I meant was,—that gentleman speaks—I have fought for + Italy; I am an English hero and have fought for Italy, because of an + Italian child; but now I am wounded and a prisoner. When you shoot me, + cruel Austrians, I shall hear her voice and think of nothing else, so you + cannot hurt me.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia turned spitefully on herself at this close. “How I spoil it! My + words are always stupid, when I feel.—Well, now my mother and I were + quite peaceful, and my father was better fed. One night he brought home a + Jew gentleman, beautifully dressed, with diamonds all over him. He + sparkled like the Christmas cakes in pastry-cooks' windows. I sang to him, + and he made quite a noise about me. But the man made me so uncomfortable, + touching my shoulders, and I could not bear his hands, even when he was + praising me. I sang to him till the landlady made me leave off, because of + the other lodgers who wanted to sleep. He came every evening; and then + said I should sing at a concert. It turned out to be a public-house, and + my father would not let me go; but I was sorry; for in public the man + could not touch me as he did. It damped the voice!” + </p> + <p> + “I should like to know where that fellow lives,” cried the cornet. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, I'm sure,” she said. “He lends money. Do you want any? I + heard your sisters say something, one day. You can always have all that I + have, you know.” + </p> + <p> + A quick spirit of pity and honest kindness went through Wilfrid's veins + and threatened to play the woman with his eyes, for a moment. He took her + hand and pressed it. She put her lips to his fingers. + </p> + <p> + “Once,” she continued, “when the Jew gentleman had left, I spoke to my + father of his way with me, and then my father took me on his knee, and the + things he told me of what that man felt for me made my mother come and + tear me away to bed. I was obliged to submit to the Jew gentleman patting + and touching me always. He used to crush my dreams afterwards! I know my + voice was going. My father was so eager for me to please him, I did my + best; but I felt dull, and used to sit and shake my head at my harp, + crying; or else I felt like an angry animal, and could have torn the + strings. + </p> + <p> + “Think how astonished I was when my mother came to me to say my father had + money in his pockets!—one pound, seventeen shillings, she counted: + and he had not been playing! Then he brought home a new violin, and he + said to me, 'I shall go; I shall play; I am Orphee, and dinners shall + rise!' I was glad, and kissed him; and he said, 'This is Sandra's gift to + me,' showing the violin. I only knew what that meant two days afterwards. + Is a girl not seventeen fit to be married?” + </p> + <p> + With this abrupt and singular question she had taken an indignant figure, + and her eyes were fiery: so that Wilfrid thought her much fitter than a + minute before. + </p> + <p> + “Married!” she exclaimed. “My mother told me about that. You do not belong + to yourself: you are tied down. You are a slave, a drudge; mustn't dream, + mustn't think! I hate it. By-and-by, I suppose it will happen. Not yet! + And yet that man offered to take me to Italy. It was the Jew gentleman. He + said I should make money, if he took me, and grow as rich as princesses. + He brought a friend to hear me, another Jew gentleman; and he was + delighted, and he met me near our door the very next morning, and offered + me a ring with blue stones, and he proposed to marry me also, and take me + to Italy, if I would give up his friend and choose him instead. This man + did not touch me, and, do you know, for some time I really thought I + almost, very nearly, might,—if it had not been for his face! It was + impossible to go to Italy—yes, to go to heaven! through that face of + his! That face of his was just like the pictures of dancing men with + animals' hairy legs and hoofs in an old thick poetry book belonging to my + mother. Just fancy a nose that seemed to be pecking at great fat red lips! + He met me and pressed me to go continually, till all of a sudden up came + the first Jew gentleman, and he cried out quite loud in the street that he + was being robbed by the other; and they stood and made a noise in the + street, and I ran away. But then I heard that my father had borrowed money + from the one who came first, and that his violin came from that man; and + my father told me the violin would be taken from him, and he would have to + go to prison, if I did not marry that man. I went and cried in my mother's + arms. I shall never forget her kindness; for though she could never see + anybody crying without crying herself, she did not, and was quiet as a + mouse, because she knew how her voice hurt me. There's a large print-shop + in one of the great streets of London, with coloured views of Italy. I + used to go there once, and stand there for I don't know how long, looking + at them, and trying to get those Jew gentlemen—” + </p> + <p> + “Call them Jews—they're not gentlemen,” interposed Wilfrid. + </p> + <p> + “Jews,” she obeyed the dictate, “out of my mind. When I saw the views of + Italy they danced and grinned up and down the pictures. Oh, horrible! + There was no singing for me then. My music died. At last that oldish lady + gave up her lessons, and said to me, 'You little rogue! you will do what I + do, some day;' for she was going to be married to that young man who + thought her voice so much improved; and she paid me three pounds, and gave + me one pound more, and some ribbons and gloves. I went at once to my + mother, and made her give me five pounds out of the gentleman's purse. I + took my harp and music-scores. I did not know where I was going, but only + that I could not stop. My mother cried: but she helped to pack my things. + If she disobeys me I act my father, and tower over her, and frown, and + make her mild. She was such a poor good slave to me that day! but I + trusted her no farther than the door. There I kissed her, full of love, + and reached the railway. They asked me where I was going, and named places + to me: I did not know one. I shut my eyes, and prayed to be directed, and + chose Hillford. In the train I was full of music in a moment. There I met + farmer Wilson, of the farm near us—where your sisters found me; and + he was kind, and asked me about myself; and I mentioned lodgings, and that + I longed for woods and meadows. Just as we were getting out of the train, + he said I was to come with him; and I did, very gladly. Then I met you; + and I am here. All because I prayed to be directed—I do think that!” + </p> + <p> + Emilia clasped her hands, and looked pensively at the horizon sky, with a + face of calm gratefulness. + </p> + <p> + The cornet was on his legs. “So!” he said. “And you never saw anything + more of that fellow you kissed in the park?” + </p> + <p> + “Kissed?—that gentleman?” returned Emilia. “I have not kissed him. + He did not want it. Men kiss us when we are happy, and we kiss them when + they are unhappy.” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid was perhaps incompetent to test the truth of this profound + aphoristic remark, delivered with the simplicity of natural conviction. + The narrative had, to his thinking, quite released from him his temporary + subjection to this little lady's sway. All that he felt for her personally + now was pity. It speaks something for the strength of the sentiment with + which he had first conceived her, that it was not pelted to death, and + turned to infinite disgust, by her potatoes. For sentiment is a dainty, + delicate thing, incapable of bearing much: revengeful, too, when it is + outraged. Bruised and disfigured, it stood up still, and fought against + them. They were very fine ones, as Emilia said, and they hit him hard. + However, he pitied her, and that protected him like a shield. He told his + sisters a tale of his own concerning the strange damsel, humorously enough + to make them see that he enjoyed her presence as that of no common oddity. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII + </h2> + <p> + While Emilia was giving Wilfrid her history in the garden, the ladies of + Brookfield were holding consultation over a matter which was well + calculated to perplex and irritate them excessively. Mr. Pole had received + a curious short epistle from Mrs. Chump, informing him of the atrocious + treatment she had met with at the hands of his daughter; and instead of + reviewing the orthography, incoherence, and deliberate vulgarity of the + said piece of writing with the contempt it deserved, he had taken the + unwonted course of telling Arabella that she had done a thing she must + necessarily repent of, or in any case make apology for. An Eastern Queen, + thus addressed by her Minister of the treasury, could not have felt + greater indignation. Arabella had never seen her father show such + perturbation of mind. He spoke violently and imperiously. The apology was + ordered to be despatched by that night's post, after having been submitted + to his inspection. Mr. Pole had uttered mysterious phrases: “You don't + know what you've been doing:—You think the ship'll go on sailing + without wind: You'll drive the horse till he drops,” and such like; + together with mutterings. The words were of no import whatsoever to the + ladies. They were writings on the wall; untranslateable. But, as when the + earth quakes our noble edifices totter, their Palace of the Fine Shades + and the Nice Feelings groaned and creaked, and for a moment they thought: + “Where are we?” Very soon they concluded, that the speech Arabella had + heard was due to their darling papa's defective education. + </p> + <p> + In the Council of Three, with reference to the letter of apology to Mrs. + Chump, Adela proposed, if it pleased Arabella, to fight the battle of the + Republic. She was young, and wished both to fight and to lead, as Arabella + knew. She was checked. “It must be left to me,” said Arabella. + </p> + <p> + “Of course you resist, dear?” Cornelia carelessly questioned. + </p> + <p> + “Assuredly I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Better humiliation! better anything! better marriage! than to submit in + such a case,” cried Adela. + </p> + <p> + For, so united were the ladies of Brookfield, and so bent on their grand + hazy object, that they looked upon married life unfavourably: and they had + besides an idea that Wedlock, until 'late in life' (the age of thirty, + say), was the burial alive of woman intellectual. + </p> + <p> + Toward midday the ladies put on their garden hats and went into the + grounds together, for no particular purpose. Near the West copse they + beheld Mr. Pole with Wilfrid and Emilia talking to a strange gentleman. + Assuming a proper dignity, they advanced, when, to their horror, Emilia + ran up to them crying: “This is Mr. Purcell Barrett, the gentleman who + plays the organ at church. I met him in the woods before I knew you. I + played for him the other Sunday, and I want you to know him.” + </p> + <p> + She had hold of Arabella's hand and was drawing her on. There was no + opportunity for retreat. Wilfrid looked as if he had already swallowed the + dose. Almost precipitated into the arms of the ladies, Mr. Barrett bowed. + He was a tolerably youthful man, as decently attired as old black cloth + could help him to be. A sharp inspection satisfied the ladies that his hat + and boots were inoffensive: whereupon they gave him the three shades of + distance, tempered so as not to wound his susceptible poverty. + </p> + <p> + The superlative Polar degree appeared to invigorate Mr. Barrett. He + devoted his remarks mainly to Cornelia, and cheerfully received her frozen + monosyllables in exchange. The ladies talked of Organs and Art, Emilia and + Opera. He knew this and that great organ, and all the operas; but he + amazed the ladies by talking as if he knew great people likewise. This + brought out Mr. Pole, who, since he had purchased Brookfield, had been + extinguished by them and had not once thoroughly enjoyed his money's + worth. A courtly poor man was a real pleasure to him. + </p> + <p> + Giving a semicircular sweep of his arm: “Here you see my little estate, + sir,” he said. “You've seen plenty bigger in Germany, and England too. We + can't get more than this handful in our tight little island. Unless born + to it, of course. Well! we must be grateful that all our nobility don't go + to the dogs. We must preserve our great names. I speak against my own + interest.” + </p> + <p> + He lifted Adela's chin on his forefinger. She kept her eyes demurely + downward, and then gazed at her sisters with gravity. These ladies took a + view of Mr. Barrett. His features wore an admirable expression of simple + interest. “Well, sir; suppose you dine with us to-day?” Mr. Pole bounced + out. “Neighbours should be neighbourly.” + </p> + <p> + This abrupt invitation was decorously accepted. + </p> + <p> + “Plain dinner, you know. Nothing like what you get at the tables of those + Erzhogs, as you call 'em, over in Germany. Simple fare; sound wine! At all + events, it won't hurt you. You'll come?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Barrett bowed, murmuring thanks. This was the very man Mr. Pole wanted + to have at his board occasionally: one who had known great people, and + would be thankful for a dinner. He could depreciate himself as a mere + wealthy British merchant imposingly before such a man. His daughters had + completely cut him off from his cronies; and the sense of restriction, and + compression, and that his own house was fast becoming alien territory to + him, made him pounce upon the gentlemanly organist. His daughters wondered + why he should, in the presence of this stranger, exaggerate his peculiar + style of speech. But the worthy merchant's consciousness of his identity + was vanishing under the iron social rule of the ladies. His perishing + individuality prompted the inexplicable invitation, and the form of it. + </p> + <p> + After Mr. Barrett had departed, the ladies ventured to remonstrate with + their papa. He at once replied by asking whether the letter to Mrs. Chump + had been written; and hearing that it had not, he desired that Arabella + should go into the house and compose it straightway. The ladies coloured. + To Adela's astonishment, she found that Arabella had turned. Joining her, + she said, “Dearest, what a moment you have lost! We could have stood firm, + continually changing the theme from Chump to Barrett, Barrett to Chump, + till papa's head would have twirled. He would have begun to think Mr. + Barrett the Irish widow, and Mrs. Chump the organist.” + </p> + <p> + Arabella rejoined: “Your wit misleads you, darling. I know what I am + about. I decline a wordy contest. To approach to a quarrel, or, say + dispute, with one's parent apropos of such a person, is something worse + than evil policy, don't you think?” + </p> + <p> + So strongly did the sisters admire this delicate way of masking a piece of + rank cowardice, that they forgave her. The craven feeling was common to + them all, which made it still more difficult to forgive her. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, we resist?” said Cornelia. + </p> + <p> + “Undoubtedly.” + </p> + <p> + “We retire and retire,” Adela remarked. “We waste the royal forces. But, + dear me, that makes us insurgents!” + </p> + <p> + She laughed, being slightly frivolous. Her elders had the proper + sentimental worship of youth and its supposed quality of innocence, and + caressed her. + </p> + <p> + At the ringing of the second dinner-bell, Mr. Pole ran to the foot of the + stairs and shouted for Arabella, who returned no answer, and was late in + her appearance at table. Grace concluded, Mr. Pole said, “Letter gone? I + wanted to see it, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “It was as well not, papa,” Arabella replied. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pole shook his head seriously. The ladies were thankful for the + presence of Mr. Barrett. And lo! this man was in perfect evening uniform. + He looked as gentlemanly a visitor as one might wish to see. There was no + trace of the poor organist. Poverty seemed rather a gold-edge to his + tail-coat than a rebuke to it; just as, contrariwise, great wealth is, to + the imagination, really set off by a careless costume. One need not + explain how the mind acts in such cases: the fact, as I have put it, is + indisputable. And let the young men of our generation mark the present + chapter, that they may know the virtue residing in a tail-coat, and cling + to it, whether buffeted by the waves, or burnt out by the fire, of evil + angry fortune. His tail-coat safe, the youthful Briton is always ready for + any change in the mind of the moody Goddess. And it is an almost certain + thing that, presuming her to have a damsel of condition in view for him as + a compensation for the slaps he has received, he must lose her, he cannot + enter a mutual path with her, if he shall have failed to retain this + article of a black tail, his social passport. I mean of course that he + retain respect for the article in question. Respect for it firmly seated + in his mind, the tail may be said to be always handy. It is fortune's + uniform in Britain: the candlestick, if I may dare to say so, to the + candle; nor need any young islander despair of getting to himself her best + gifts, while he has her uniform at command, as glossy as may be. + </p> + <p> + The ladies of Brookfield were really stormed by Mr. Barrett's elegant + tail. When, the first glass of wine nodded over, Mr. Pole continued the + discourse of the morning, with allusions to French cooks, and his cook, + their sympathies were taken captive by Mr. Barrett's tact: the door to + their sympathies having been opened to him as it were by his attire. They + could not guess what necessity urged Mr. Pole to assert his locked-up self + so vehemently; but it certainly made the stranger shine with a beautiful + mild lustre. Their spirits partly succumbed to him by a process too + lengthened to explain here. Indeed, I dare do no more than hint at these + mysteries of feminine emotion. I beg you to believe that when we are + dealing with that wonder, the human heart female, the part played by a + tail-coat and a composed demeanour is not insignificant. No doubt the + ladies of Brookfield would have rebutted the idea of a tail-coat + influencing them in any way as monstrous. But why was it, when Mr. Pole + again harped on his cook, in almost similar words, that they were drawn to + meet the eyes of the stranger, on whom they printed one of the most + fabulously faint fleeting looks imaginable, with a proportionately big + meaning for him that might read it? It must have been that this uniform of + a tail had laid a basis of equality for the hour, otherwise they never + would have done so; nor would he have enjoyed the chance of showing them + that he could respond to the remotest mystic indications, with a muffled + adroitness equal to their own, and so encouraged them to commence a + language leading to intimacy with a rapidity that may well appear magical + to the uninitiated. In short, the man really had the language of the very + elect of polite society. If you are not versed in this alphabet of mute + intelligence, you are in the ranks with waiters and linen-drapers, and + are, as far as ladies are concerned, tail-coated to no purpose. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pole's fresh allusion to his cook: “I hope you don't think I keep a + man! No; no; not in the country. Wouldn't do. Plays the deuce, you know. + My opinion is, Mrs. Mallow's as clever as any man-cook going. I'd back + her:” and Mr. Barrett's speech: “She is an excellent person!” delivered + briefly, with no obtrusion of weariness, confirmed the triumph of the + latter; a triumph all the greater, that he seemed unconscious of it. They + leaped at one bound to the conclusion that there was a romance attached to + him. Do not be startled. An attested tail-coat, clearly out of its + element, must contain a story: that story must be interesting; until its + secret is divulged, the subtle essence of it spreads an aureole around the + tail. The ladies declared, in their subsequent midnight conference, that + Mr. Barrett was fit for any society. They had visions of a great family + reduced; of a proud son choosing to earn his bread honourably and humbly, + by turning an exquisite taste to account. Many visions of him they had, + and were pleased. + </p> + <p> + Patronage of those beneath, much more than the courting of those above + them, delighted the ladies of Brookfield. They allowed Emilia to give Mr. + Barrett invitations, and he became a frequent visitor; always neat, + pathetically well-brushed, and a pleasanter pet than Emilia, because he + never shocked their niceties. He was an excellent talker, and was very + soon engaged in regular contests with the argumentative Cornelia. Their + political views were not always the same, as Cornelia sometimes had read + the paper before he arrived. Happily, on questions of religion, they + coincided. Theories of education occupied them mainly. In these contests + Mr. Barrett did not fail to acknowledge his errors, when convicted, and + his acknowledgment was hearty and ample. She had many clear triumphs. + Still, he could be positive; a very great charm in him. Women cannot + repose on a man who is not positive; nor have they much gratification in + confounding him. Wouldst thou, man, amorously inclining! attract to thee + superior women, be positive. Be stupidly positive, rather than dubious at + all. Face fearful questions with a vizor of brass. Array thyself in + dogmas. Show thy decisive judgement on the side of established power, or + thy enthusiasm in the rebel ranks, if it must be so; but be firm. Waver + not. If women could tolerate waverings and weakness, and did not rush to + the adoration of decision of mind, we should not behold them turning + contemptuously from philosophers in their agony, to find refuge in the + arms of smirking orthodoxy. I do not say that Mr. Barrett ventured to play + the intelligent Cornelia like a fish; but such a fish was best secured by + the method he adopted: that of giving her signal victory in trifles, while + on vital matters he held his own. + </p> + <p> + Very pleasant evenings now passed at Brookfield, which were not at all + disturbed by the wonder expressed from time to time by Mr. Pole, that he + had not heard from Martha, meaning Mrs. Chump. “You have Emilia,” the + ladies said; this being equivalent to “She is one of that sort;” and Mr. + Pole understood it so, and fastened Emilia in one arm, with “Now, a kiss, + my dear, and then a toon.” Emilia readily gave both. As often as he heard + instances of her want of ladylike training, he would say, “Keep her here; + we'll better her.” Mr. Barrett assisted the ladies to see that there was + more in Emilia than even Mr. Pericles had perceived. Her story had become + partially known to them; and with two friendly dependents of the + household, one a gentleman and the other a genius, they felt that they had + really attained a certain eminence, which is a thing to be felt only when + we have something under our feet. Flying about with a desperate grip on + the extreme skirts of aristocracy, the ladies knew to be the elevation of + dependency, not true eminence; and though they admired the kite, they by + no means wished to form a part of its tail. They had brains. A circle was + what they wanted, and they had not to learn that this is to be found or + made only in the liberally-educated class, into the atmosphere of which + they pressed like dungeoned plants. The parasite completes the animal, and + a dependent assures us of our position. The ladies of Brookfield, + therefore, let Emilia cling to them, remarking, that it seemed to be their + papa's settled wish that she should reside among them for a time. + Consequently, if the indulgence had ever to be regretted, they would not + be to blame. In their hearts they were aware that it was Emilia who had + obtained for them their first invitation to Lady Gosstre's. Gratitude was + not a part of their policy, but when it assisted a recognition of material + facts they did not repress it. “And if,” they said, “we can succeed in + polishing her and toning her, she may have something to thank us for, in + the event of her ultimately making a name.” That event being of course + necessary for the development of so proper a sentiment. Thus the rides + with Wilfrid continued, and the sweet quiet evenings when she sang. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII + </h2> + <p> + The windows of Brookfield were thrown open to the air of May, and bees + wandered into the rooms, gold spots of sunshine danced along the floors. + The garden-walks were dazzling, and the ladies went from flower-bed to + flower-bed in broad garden hats that were, as an occasional light glance + flung at a window-pane assured Adela, becoming. Sunshine had burst on them + suddenly, and there was no hat to be found for Emilia, so Wilfrid placed + his gold-laced foraging-cap on her head, and the ladies, after a moment's + misgiving, allowed her to wear it, and turned to observe her now and then. + There was never pertness in Emilia's look, which on the contrary was + singularly large and calm when it reposed: perhaps her dramatic instinct + prompted her half-jaunty manner of leaning against the sunny corner of the + house where the Chinese honeysuckle climbed. She was talking to Wilfrid. + Her laughter seemed careless and easy, and in keeping with the Southern + litheness of her attitude. + </p> + <p> + “To suit the cap; it's all to suit the cap,” said Adela, the keen of eye. + Yet, critical as was this lady, she acknowledged that it was no mere + acting effort to suit the cap. + </p> + <p> + The philosopher (I would keep him back if I could) bids us mark that the + crown and flower of the nervous system, the head, is necessarily + sensitive, and to that degree that whatsoever we place on it, does, for a + certain period, change and shape us. Of course the instant we call up the + forces of the brain, much of the impression departs but what remains is + powerful, and fine-nerved. Woman is especially subject to it. A girl may + put on her brother's boots, and they will not affect her spirit strongly; + but as soon as she puts on her brother's hat, she gives him a manly nod. + The same philosopher who fathers his dulness on me, asserts that the + modern vice or fastness ('Trotting on the Epicene Border,' he has it) is + bred by apparently harmless practices of this description. He offers to + turn the current of a Republican's brain, by resting a coronet on his + forehead for just five seconds. + </p> + <p> + Howsoever these things be, it was true that Emilia's feet presently + crossed, and she was soon to be seen with her right elbow doubled against + her head as she leaned to the wall, and the little left fist stuck at her + belt. And I maintain that she had no sense at all of acting Spanish prince + disguised as page. Nor had she an idea that she was making her friend + Wilfrid's heart perform to her lightest words and actions, like any + trained milk-white steed in a circus. Sunlight, as well as Wilfrid's + braided cap, had some magical influence on her. He assured her that she + looked a charming boy, and she said, “Do I?” just lifting her chin. + </p> + <p> + A gardener was shaving the lawn. + </p> + <p> + “Please, spare those daisies,” cried Emilia. “Why do you cut away + daisies?” + </p> + <p> + The gardener objected that he really must make the lawn smooth. Emilia + called to Adela, who came, and hearing the case, said: “Now this is nice + of you. I like you to love daisies and wish to protect them. They + disfigure a lawn, you know.” And Adela stooped, and picked one, and called + it a pet name, and dropped it. + </p> + <p> + She returned to her sisters in the conservatory, and meeting Mr. Barren at + the door, made the incident a topic. “You know how greatly our Emilia + rejoices us when she shows sentiment, and our thirst is to direct her to + appreciate Nature in its humility as well as its grandeur.” + </p> + <p> + “One expects her to have all poetical feelings,” said Mr. Barrett, while + they walked forth to the lawn sloping to the tufted park grass. + </p> + <p> + Cornelia said: “You have read Mr. Runningbrook's story?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + But the man had not brought it back, and her name was in it, written with + her own hand. + </p> + <p> + “Are you of my opinion in the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “In the matter of the style? I am and I am not. Your condemnation may be + correct in itself; but you say, 'He coins words'; and he certainly forces + the phrase here and there, I must admit. The point to be considered is, + whether friction demands a perfectly smooth surface. Undoubtedly a + scientific work does, and a philosophical treatise should. When we ask for + facts simply, we feel the intrusion of a style. Of fiction it is part. In + the one case the classical robe, in the other any mediaeval phantasy of + clothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; true;” said Cornelia, hesitating over her argument. “Well, I must + conclude that I am not imaginative.” + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, permit me to say that you are. But your imagination is + unpractised, and asks to be fed with a spoon. We English are more + imaginative than most nations.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, why is it not manifested?” + </p> + <p> + “We are still fighting against the Puritan element, in literature as + elsewhere.” + </p> + <p> + “Your old bugbear, Mr. Barrett!” + </p> + <p> + “And more than this: our language is not rich in subtleties for prose. A + writer who is not servile and has insight, must coin from his own mint. In + poetry we are rich enough; but in prose also we owe everything to the + licence our poets have taken in the teeth of critics. Shall I give you + examples? It is not necessary. Our simplest prose style is nearer to + poetry with us, for this reason, that the poets have made it. Read French + poetry. With the first couplet the sails are full, and you have left the + shores of prose far behind. Mr. Runningbrook coins words and risks + expressions because an imaginative Englishman, pen in hand, is the cadet + and vagabond of the family—an exploring adventurer; whereas to a + Frenchman it all comes inherited like a well filled purse. The audacity of + the French mind, and the French habit of quick social intercourse, have + made them nationally far richer in language. Let me add, individually as + much poorer. Read their stereotyped descriptions. They all say the same + things. They have one big Gallic trumpet. Wonderfully eloquent: we feel + that: but the person does not speak. And now, you will be surprised to + learn that, notwithstanding what I have said, I should still side with Mr. + Runningbrook's fair critic, rather than with him. The reason is, that the + necessity to write as he does is so great that a strong barrier—a + chevaux-de-frise of pen points—must be raised against every newly + minted word and hazardous coiner, or we shall be inundated. If he can leap + the barrier he and his goods must be admitted. So it has been with our + greatest, so it must be with the rest of them, or we shall have a + Transatlantic literature. By no means desirable, I think. Yet, see: when a + piece of Transatlantic slang happens to be tellingly true—something + coined from an absolute experience; from a fight with the elements—we + cannot resist it: it invades us. In the same way poetic rashness of the + right quality enriches the language. I would make it prove its quality.” + </p> + <p> + Cornelia walked on gravely. His excuse for dilating on the theme, prompted + her to say: “You give me new views”: while all her reflections sounded + from the depths: “And yet, the man who talks thus is a hired + organ-player!” + </p> + <p> + This recurring thought, more than the cogency of the new views, kept her + from combating certain fallacies in them which had struck her. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you not write yourself, Mr. Barrett?” + </p> + <p> + “I have not the habit.” + </p> + <p> + “The habit!” + </p> + <p> + “I have not heard the call.” + </p> + <p> + “Should it not come from within?” + </p> + <p> + “And how are we to know it?” + </p> + <p> + “If it calls to you loudly!” + </p> + <p> + “Then I know it to be vanity.” + </p> + <p> + “But the wish to make a name is not vanity.” + </p> + <p> + “The wish to conceal a name may exist.” + </p> + <p> + Cornelia took one of those little sly glances at his features which print + them on the brain. The melancholy of his words threw a somber hue about + him, and she began to think with mournfulness of those firm thin lips + fronting misfortune: those sunken blue eyes under its shadow. + </p> + <p> + They walked up to Mr. Pole, who was standing with Wilfrid and Emilia on + the lawn; giving ear to a noise in the distance. + </p> + <p> + A big drum sounded on the confines of the Brookfield estate. Soon it was + seen entering the precincts at one of the principal gates, followed by + trombone, and horn, and fife. In the rear trooped a regiment of + Sunday-garmented villagers, with a rambling tail of loose-minded boys and + girls. Blue and yellow ribands dangled from broad beaver hats, and there + were rosettes of the true-blue mingled with yellow at buttonholes; and + there was fun on the line of march. Jokes plumped deep into the ribs, and + were answered with intelligent vivacity in the shape of hearty thwacks, + delivered wherever a surface was favourable: a mode of repartee worthy of + general adoption, inasmuch as it can be passed on, and so with certainty + made to strike your neighbour as forcibly as yourself: of which felicity + of propagation verbal wit cannot always boast. In the line of procession, + the hat of a member of the corps shot sheer into the sky from the + compressed energy of his brain; for he and all his comrades vociferously + denied having cast it up, and no other solution was possible. This + mysterious incident may tell you that beer was thus early in the morning + abroad. In fact, it was the procession day of a provincial Club-feast or + celebration of the nuptials of Beef and Beer; whereof later you shall + behold the illustrious offspring. + </p> + <p> + All the Brookfield household were now upon the lawn, awaiting the attack. + Mr. Pole would have liked to impound the impouring host, drum and all, for + the audacity of the trespass, and then to have fed them liberally, as a + return for the compliment. Aware that he was being treated to the honours + of a great man of the neighbourhood, he determined to take it cheerfully. + </p> + <p> + “Come; no laughing!” he said, directing a glance at the maids who were + ranged behind their mistresses. “'Hem! we must look pleased: we mustn't + mind their music, if they mean well.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia, whose face was dismally screwed up at the nerve-searching discord, + said: “Why do they try to play anything but a drum?” + </p> + <p> + “In the country, in the country;” Mr. Pole emphasized. “We put up with + this kind of thing in the country. Different in town; but we—a—say + nothing in the country. We must encourage respect for the gentry, in the + country. One of the penalties of a country life. Not much harm in it. New + duties in the country.” + </p> + <p> + He continued to speak to himself. In proportion as he grew aware of the + unnecessary nervous agitation into which the drum was throwing him, he + assumed an air of repose, and said to Wilfrid: “Read the paper to-day?” + and to Arabella, “Quiet family dinner, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” he remarked to Mr. Barrett, as if resuming an old + conversation: “I dare say, you've seen better marching in foreign parts. + Right—left; right—left. Ha! ha! And not so bad, not so bad, I + call it! with their right—left; right—left. Ha! ha! You've + seen better. No need to tell me that. But, in England, we look to the + meaning of things. We're a practical people. What's more, we're + volunteers. Volunteers in everything. We can't make a regiment of + ploughmen march like clock-work in a minute; and we don't want to. But, + give me the choice; I'll back a body of volunteers any day.” + </p> + <p> + “I would rather be backed by them, sir,” said Mr. Barrett. + </p> + <p> + “Very good. I mean that. Honest intelligent industry backing rank and + wealth! That makes a nation strong. Look at England!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Barrett observed him stand out largely, as if filled by the spirit of + the big drum. + </p> + <p> + That instrument now gave a final flourish and bang whereat Sound, as if + knocked on the head, died languishingly. + </p> + <p> + And behold, a spokesman was seen in relief upon a background of grins, + that were oddly intermixed with countenances of extraordinary solemnity. + </p> + <p> + The same commenced his propitiatory remarks by assuring the proprietor of + Brookfield that he, the spokesman, and every man present, knew they had + taken a liberty in coming upon Squire Pole's grounds without leave or + warning. They knew likewise that Squire Pole excused them. + </p> + <p> + Chorus of shouts from the divining brethren. + </p> + <p> + Right glad they were to have such a gentleman as Squire Pole among them: + and if nobody gave him a welcome last year, that was not the fault of the + Yellow-and-Blues. Eh, my boys? + </p> + <p> + Groans and cheers. + </p> + <p> + Right sure was spokesman that Squire Pole was the friend of the poor man, + and liked nothing better than to see him enjoy his holiday. As why + shouldn't he enjoy his holiday now and then, and have a bit of relaxation + as well as other men? + </p> + <p> + Acquiescent token on the part of the new dignitary, Squire Pole. + </p> + <p> + Spokesman was hereby encouraged to put it boldly, whether a man was not a + man all the world over. + </p> + <p> + “For a' that!” was sung out by some rare bookworm to rearward: but no Scot + being present, no frenzy followed the quotation. + </p> + <p> + It was announced that the Club had come to do homage to Squire Pole and + ladies: the Junction Club of Ipley and Hillford. What did Junction mean? + Junction meant Harmony. Harmonious they were, to be sure: so they joined + to good purpose. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Barrett sought Emilia's eyes smilingly, but she was intent on the + proceedings. + </p> + <p> + A cry of “Bundle o' sticks, Tom Breeks. Don't let slip 'bout bundle o' + sticks,” pulled spokesman up short. He turned hurriedly to say, “All + right,” and inflated his chest to do justice to the illustration of the + faggots of Aesop: but Mr. Tom Breeks had either taken in too much air, or + the ale that had hitherto successfully prompted him was antipathetic to + the nice delicacy of an apologue; for now his arm began to work and his + forehead had to be mopped, and he lashed the words “Union and Harmony” + right and left, until, coming on a sentence that sounded in his ears like + the close of his speech, he stared ahead, with a dim idea that he had + missed a point. “Bundle o' sticks,” lustily shouted, revived his + apprehension; but the sole effect was to make him look on the ground and + lift his hat on the point of a perplexed finger. He could not conceive how + the bundle of sticks was to be brought in now; or what to say concerning + them. Union and Harmony:—what more could be said? Mr. Tom Breeks + tried a remonstrance with his backers. He declared to them that he had + finished, and had brought in the Bundle. They replied that they had not + heard it; that the Bundle was the foundation—sentiment of the Club; + the first toast, after the Crown; and that he must go on until the Bundle + had been brought in. Hereat, the unhappy man faced Squire Pole again. It + was too abject a position for an Englishman to endure. Tom Breeks cast his + hat to earth. “I'm dashed if I can bring in the bundle!” + </p> + <p> + There was no telling how conduct like this might have been received by the + Yellow-and-Blues if Mr. Barrett had not spoken. “You mean everything when + you say 'Union,' and you're quite right not to be tautological. You can't + give such a blow with your fingers as you can with your fists, can you?” + </p> + <p> + Up went a score of fists. “We've the fists: we've the fists,” was shouted. + </p> + <p> + Cornelia, smiling on Mr. Barrett, asked him why he had confused the poor + people with the long word “tautological.” + </p> + <p> + “I threw it as a bone,” said he. “I think you will observe that they are + already quieter. They are reflecting on what it signifies, and will + by-and-by quarrel as to the spelling of it. At any rate it occupies them.” + </p> + <p> + Cornelia laughed inwardly, and marked with pain that his own humour gave + him no merriment. + </p> + <p> + At the subsiding of the echoes that coupled Squire Pole and the Junction + Club together, Squire Pole replied. He wished them well. He was glad to + see them, and sorry he had not ale enough on the premises to regale every + man of them. Clubs were great institutions. One fist was stronger than a + thousand fingers—“as my friend here said just now.” Hereat the + eyelids of Cornelia shed another queenly smile on the happy originator of + the remark. + </p> + <p> + Squire Pole then descended to business. He named the amount of his + donation. At this practical sign of his support, heaven heard the + gratitude of the good fellows. The drum awoke from its torpor, and + summoned its brethren of the band to give their various versions of the + National Anthem. + </p> + <p> + “Can't they be stopped?” Emilia murmured, clenching her little hands. + </p> + <p> + The patriotic melody, delivered in sturdy democratic fashion, had to be + endured. It died hard, but did come to an end, piecemeal. Tom Breeks then + retired from the front, and became a unit once more. There were flourishes + that indicated a termination of the proceedings, when another fellow was + propelled in advance, and he, shuffling and ducking his head, to the cries + of “Out wi' it, Jim!” and, “Where's your stomach?” came still further + forward, and showed a most obsequious grin. + </p> + <p> + “Why, it's Jim!” exclaimed Emilia, on whom Jim's eyes were fastened. + Stepping nearer, she said, “Do you want to speak to me?” + </p> + <p> + Jim had this to say: which, divested of his petition for pardon on the + strength of his perfect knowledge that he took a liberty, was, that the + young lady had promised, while staying at Wilson's farm, that she would + sing to the Club-fellows on the night of their feast. + </p> + <p> + “I towl'd 'em they'd have a rare treat, miss,” mumbled Jim, “and they're + all right mad for 't, that they be—bain't ye, boys?” + </p> + <p> + That they were! with not a few of the gesticulations of madness too. + </p> + <p> + Emilia said: “I promised I would sing to them. I remember it quite well. + Of course I will keep my promise.” + </p> + <p> + A tumult of acclamation welcomed her words, and Jim looked immensely + delighted. + </p> + <p> + She was informed by several voices that they were the Yellow-and-Blues, + and not the Blues: that she must not go to the wrong set: and that their + booth was on Ipley Common: and that they, the Junction Club, only would + honour her rightly for the honour she was going to do them: all of which + Emilia said she would bear in mind. + </p> + <p> + Jim then retired hastily, having done something that stout morning ale + would alone have qualified him to perform. The drum, in the noble belief + that it was leading, announced the return march, and with three cheers for + Squire Pole, and a crowning one for the ladies, away trooped the + procession. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX + </h2> + <p> + Hardly had the last sound of the drum passed out of hearing, when the + elastic thunder of a fresh one claimed attention. The truth being, that + the Junction Club of Ipley and Hillford, whose colours were yellow and + blue, was a seceder from the old-established Hillford Club, on which it + had this day shamefully stolen a march by parading everywhere in the place + of it, and disputing not only its pasture-grounds but its identity. + </p> + <p> + There is no instrument the sound of which proclaims such a vast internal + satisfaction as the drum. I know not whether it be that the sense we have + of the corpulency of this instrument predisposes us to imagine it + supremely content: as when an alderman is heard snoring the world is + assured that it listens to the voice of its own exceeding gratulation. A + light heart in a fat body ravishes not only the world but the philosopher. + If monotonous, the one note of the drum is very correct. Like the speaking + of great Nature, what it means is implied by the measure. When the drum + beats to the measure of a common human pulsation it has a conquering + power: inspiring us neither to dance nor to trail the members, but to + march as life does, regularly, and in hearty good order, and with a not + exhaustive jollity. It is a sacred instrument. + </p> + <p> + Now the drum which is heard to play in this cheerful fashion, while at the + same time we know that discomfiture is cruelly harrying it: that its + inmost feelings are wounded, and that worse is in store for it, affects + the contemplative mind with an inexpressibly grotesque commiseration. Do + but listen to this one, which is the joint corporate voice of the men of + Hillford. Outgeneraled, plundered, turned to ridicule, it thumps with + unabated briskness. Here indeed might Sentimentalism shed a fertile tear! + </p> + <p> + Anticipating that it will eventually be hung up among our national + symbols, I proceed. The drum of Hillford entered the Brookfield grounds as + Ipley had done, and with a similar body of decorated Clubmen; sounding + along until it faced the astonished proprietor, who held up his hand and + requested to know the purpose of the visit. One sentence of explanation + sufficed. + </p> + <p> + “What!” cried Mr. Pole, “do you think you can milk a cow twice in ten + minutes?” + </p> + <p> + Several of the Hillford men acknowledged that it would be rather sharp + work. + </p> + <p> + Their case was stated: whereupon Mr. Pole told them that he had just been + 'milked,' and regretted it, but requested them to see that he could not + possibly be equal to any second proceeding of the sort. On their turning + to consult together, he advised them to bear it with fortitude. “All + right, sir!” they said: and a voice from the ranks informed him that their + word was 'Jolly.' Then a signal was given, and these indomitable fellows + cheered the lord of Brookfield as lustily as if they had accomplished the + feat of milking him twice in an hour. Their lively hurrahs set him + blinking in extreme discomposure of spirit, and he was fumbling at his + pocket, when the drum a little precipitately thumped: the ranks fell into + order, and the departure was led by the tune of the 'King of the Cannibal + islands:' a tune that is certain to create a chorus on the march. On this + occasion, the line:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Oh! didn't you know you were done, sir?” + </pre> + <p> + became general at the winding up of the tune. Boys with their elders + frisked as they chimed it, casting an emphasis of infinite relish on the + declaration 'done'; as if they delighted in applying it to Mr. Pole, + though at their own expense. + </p> + <p> + Soon a verse grew up:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “We march'd and call'd on Mister Pole, + Who hadn't a penny, upon his soul, + For Ipley came and took the whole, + And didn't you know you were done, sir!” + </pre> + <p> + I need not point out to the sagacious that Hillford and not Mr. Pole had + been 'done;' but this was the genius of the men who transferred the + opprobrium to him. Nevertheless, though their manner of welcoming + misfortune was such, I, knowing that there was not a deadlier animal than + a 'done' Briton, have shudders for Ipley. + </p> + <p> + We relinquished the stream of an epic in turning away from these mighty + drums. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pole stood questioning all who surrounded him: “What could I do? I + couldn't subscribe to both. They don't expect that of a lord, and I'm a + commoner. If these fellows quarrel and split, are we to suffer for it? + They can't agree, and want us to pay double fines. This is how they serve + us.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Barrett, rather at a loss to account for his excitement, said, that it + must be admitted they had borne the trick played upon them, with + remarkable good humour. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but,” Mr. Pole fumed, “I don't. They put me in the wrong, between + them. They make me uncomfortable. I've a good mind to withdraw my + subscription to those rascals who came first, and have nothing to do with + any of them. Then, you see, down I go for a niggardly fellow. That's the + reputation I get. Nothing of this in London! you make your money, pay your + rates, and nobody bothers a man.” + </p> + <p> + “You should have done as our darling here did, papa,” said Adela. “You + should have hinted something that might be construed a promise or not, as + we please to read it.” + </p> + <p> + “If I promise I perform,” returned Mr. Pole. + </p> + <p> + “Our Hillford people have cause for complaint,” Mr. Barrett observed. And + to Emilia: “You will hardly favour one party more than another, will you?” + </p> + <p> + “I am for that poor man Jim,” said Emilia, “He carried my harp evening + after evening, and would not even take sixpence for the trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you really going to sing there?” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't you hear? I promised.” + </p> + <p> + “To-night?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you know what it is you have promised?” + </p> + <p> + “To sing.” + </p> + <p> + Adela glided to her sisters near at hand, and these ladies presently + hemmed Emilia in. They had a method of treating matters they did not + countenance, as if nature had never conceived them, and such were the + monstrous issue of diseased imaginations. It was hard for Emilia to hear + that what she designed to do was “utterly out of the question and not to + be for one moment thought of.” She reiterated, with the same interpreting + stress, that she had given her promise. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know, I praised you for putting them off so cleverly,” said Adela + in tones of gentle reproach that bewildered Emilia. + </p> + <p> + “Must we remind you, then, that you are bound by a previous promise?” + Cornelia made a counter-demonstration with the word. “Have you not + promised to dine with us at Lady Gosstre's to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, of course I shall keep that,” replied Emilia. “I intend to. I will + sing there, and then I will go and sing to those poor people, who never + hear anything but dreadful music—not music at all, but something + that seems to tear your flesh!” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind our flesh,” said Adela pettishly: melodiously remonstrating + the next instant: “I really thought you could not be in earnest.” + </p> + <p> + “But,” said Arabella, “can you find pleasure in wasting your voice and + really great capabilities on such people?” + </p> + <p> + Emilia caught her up—“This poor man? But he loves music: he really + knows the good from the bad. He never looks proud but when I sing to him.” + </p> + <p> + The situation was one that Cornelia particularly enjoyed. Here was a low + form of intellect to be instructed as to the precise meaning of a word, + the nature of a pledge. “There can be no harm that I see, in your singing + to this man,” she commenced. “You can bid him come to one of the + out-houses here, if you desire, and sing to him. In the evening, after his + labour, will be the fit time. But, as your friends, we cannot permit you + to demean yourself by going from our house to a public booth, where vulgar + men are smoking and drinking beer. I wonder you have the courage to + contemplate such an act! You have pledged your word. But if you had + pledged your word, child, to swing upon that tree, suspended by your arms, + for an hour, could you keep it? I think not; and to recognize an + impossibility economizes time and is one of the virtues of a clear + understanding. It is incompatible that you should dine with Lady Gosstre, + and then run away to a drinking booth. Society will never tolerate one who + is familiar with boors. If you are to succeed in life, as we, your + friends, can conscientiously say that we most earnestly hope and trust you + will do, you must be on good terms with Society. You must! You pledge your + word to a piece of folly. Emancipate yourself from it as quickly as + possible. Do you see? This is foolish: it, therefore, cannot be. Decide, + as a sensible creature.” + </p> + <p> + At the close of this harangue, Cornelia, who had stooped slightly to + deliver it, regained her stately posture, beautified in Mr. Barrett's + sight by the flush which an unwonted exercise in speech had thrown upon + her cheeks. + </p> + <p> + Emilia stood blinking like one sensible of having been chidden in a + strange tongue. + </p> + <p> + “Does it offend you—my going?” she faltered. + </p> + <p> + “Offend!—our concern is entirely for you,” observed Cornelia. + </p> + <p> + The explanation drew out a happy sparkle from Emilia's eyes. She seized + her hand, kissed it, and cried: “I do thank you. I know I promised, but + indeed I am quite pleased to go!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Barrett swung hurriedly round and walked some paces away with his head + downward. The ladies remained in a tolerant attitude for a minute or so, + silent. They then wheeled with one accord, and Emilia was left to herself. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X + </h2> + <p> + Richford was an easy drive from Brookfield, through lanes of elm and white + hawthorn. + </p> + <p> + The ladies never acted so well as when they were in the presence of a fact + which they acknowledged, but did not recognize. Albeit constrained to + admit that this was the first occasion of their ever being on their way to + the dinner-table of a person of quality, they could refuse to look the + admission in the face. A peculiar lightness of heart beset them; for + brooding ambition is richer in that first realizing step it takes, + insignificant though it seem, than in any subsequent achievement. I fear + to say that the hearts of the ladies boiled, because visages so sedate, + and voices so monotonously indifferent, would witness decidedly against + me. The common avoidance of any allusion to Richford testified to the + direction of their thoughts; and the absence of a sign of exultation may + be accepted as a proof of the magnitude of that happiness of which they + might not exhibit a feature. The effort to repress it must have cost them + horrible pain. Adela, the youngest of the three, transferred her inward + joy to the cottage children, whose staring faces from garden porch and + gate flashed by the carriage windows. “How delighted they look!” she + exclaimed more than once, and informed her sisters that a country life was + surely the next thing to Paradise. “Those children do look so happy!” Thus + did the weak one cunningly relieve herself. Arabella occupied her mind by + giving Emilia leading hints for conduct in the great house. “On the whole, + though there is no harm in your praising particular dishes, as you do at + home, it is better in society to say nothing on those subjects until your + opinion is asked: and when you speak, it should be as one who passes the + subject by. Appreciate flavours, but no dwelling on them! The degrees of + an expression of approbation, naturally enough, vary with age. Did my + instinct prompt me to the discussion of these themes, I should be allowed + greater licence than you.” And here Arabella was unable to resist a little + bit of the indulgence Adela had taken: “You are sure to pass a most + agreeable evening, and one that you will remember.” + </p> + <p> + North Pole sat high above such petty consolation; seldom speaking, save + just to show that her ideas ranged at liberty, and could be spontaneously + sympathetic on selected topics. + </p> + <p> + Their ceremonious entrance to the state-room of Richford accomplished, the + ladies received the greeting of the affable hostess; quietly perturbed, + but not enough so to disorder their artistic contemplation of her open + actions, choice of phrase, and by-play. Without communication or + pre-arrangement, each knew that the other would not let slip the + opportunity, and, after the first five minutes of languid general + converse; they were mentally at work comparing notes with one another's + imaginary conversations, while they said “Yes,” and “Indeed,” and “I think + so,” and appeared to belong to the world about them. + </p> + <p> + “Merthyr, I do you the honour to hand this young lady to your charge,” + said Lady Gosstre, putting on equal terms with Emilia a gentleman of + perhaps five-and-thirty years; who reminded her of Mr. Barrett, but was + unclouded by that look of firm sadness which characterized the poor + organist. Mr. Powys was a travelled Welsh squire, Lady Gosstre's best + talker, on whom, as Brookfield learnt to see, she could perfectly rely to + preserve the child from any little drawing-room sins or dinner-table + misadventures. This gentleman had made sacrifices for the cause of Italy, + in money, and, it was said, in blood. He knew the country and loved the + people. Brookfield remarked that there was just a foreign tinge in his + manner; and that his smile, though social to a degree unknown to the run + of English faces, did not give him all to you, and at a second glance + seemed plainly to say that he reserved much. + </p> + <p> + Adela fell to the lot of a hussar-captain: a celebrated beauty, not too + foolish. She thought it proper to punish him for his good looks till + propitiated by his good temper. + </p> + <p> + Nobody at Brookfield could remember afterwards who took Arabella down to + dinner; she declaring that she had forgotten. Her sisters, not unwilling + to see insignificance banished to annihilation, said that it must have + been nobody in person, and that he was a very useful guest when ladies + were engaged. Cornelia had a different lot. She leaned on the right arm of + the Member for Hillford, the statistical debate, Sir Twickenham Pryme, who + had twice before, as he ventured to remind her, enjoyed the honour of + conversing, if not of dining, with her. Nay, more, he revived their + topics. “And I have come round to your way of thinking as regards hustings + addresses,” he said. “In nine cases out of ten—at least, + nineteen-twentieths of the House will furnish instances—one can + only, as you justly observed, appeal to the comprehension of the mob by + pledging oneself either to their appetites or passions, and it is better + plainly to state the case and put it to them in figures.” Whether the + Baronet knew what he was saying is one matter: he knew what he meant. + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid was cavalier to Lady Charlotte Chillingworth, of Stornley, about + ten miles distant from Hillford; ninth daughter of a nobleman who passed + current as the Poor Marquis; he having been ruined when almost a boy in + Paris, by the late illustrious Lord Dartford. Her sisters had married + captains in the army and navy, lawyers, and parsons, impartially. Lady + Charlotte was nine-and-twenty years of age; with clear and telling + stone-blue eyes, firm but not unsweet lips, slightly hollowed cheeks, and + a jaw that certainly tended to be square. Her colour was healthy. Walking + or standing her figure was firmly poised. Her chief attraction was a + bell-toned laugh, fresh as a meadow spring. She had met Wilfrid once in + the hunting-field, so they soon had common ground to run on. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Powys made Emilia happy by talking to her of Italy, in the intervals + of table anecdotes. + </p> + <p> + “Why did you leave it?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I found I had more shadows than the one allotted me by nature; and as I + was accustomed to a black one, and not half a dozen white, I was fairly + frightened out of the country.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean, Austrians.” + </p> + <p> + “I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you hate them?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, how can you love the Italians?” + </p> + <p> + “They themselves have taught me to do both; to love them and not to hate + their enemies. Your Italians are the least vindictive of all races of + men.” + </p> + <p> + “Merthyr, Merthyr!” went Lady Gosstre; Lady Charlotte murmuring aloud: + “And in the third chapter of the Book of Paradox you will find these + words.” + </p> + <p> + “We afford a practical example and forgive them, do we not?” Mr. Powys + smiled at Emilia. + </p> + <p> + She looked round her, and reddened a little. + </p> + <p> + “So long as you do not write that Christian word with the point of a + stiletto!” said Lady Charlotte. + </p> + <p> + “You are not mad about the Italians?” Wilfrid addressed her. + </p> + <p> + “Not mad about anything, I hope. If I am to choose, I prefer the + Austrians. A very gentlemanly set of men! At least, so I find them always. + Capital horsemen!” + </p> + <p> + “I will explain to you how it must be,” said Mr. Powys to Emilia. “An + artistic people cannot hate long. Hotly for the time, but the oppression + gone, and even in the dream of its going, they are too human to be + revengeful.” + </p> + <p> + “Do we understand such very deep things?” said Lady Gosstre, who was near + enough to hear clearly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes: for if I ask her whether she can hate when her mind is given to + music, she knows that she cannot. She can love.” + </p> + <p> + “Yet I think I have heard some Italian operatic spitfires, and of some!” + said Lady Charlotte. + </p> + <p> + “What opinion do you pronounce in this controversy?” Cornelia made appeal + to Sir Twickenham. + </p> + <p> + “There are multitudes of cases,” he began: and took up another end of his + statement: “It has been computed that five-and-twenty murders per month to + a population...to a population of ninety thousand souls, is a fair + reckoning in a Southern latitude.” + </p> + <p> + “Then we must allow for the latitude?” + </p> + <p> + “I think so.” + </p> + <p> + “And also for the space into which the ninety thousand souls are packed,” + quoth Tracy Runningbrook. + </p> + <p> + “Well! well!” went Sir Twickenham. + </p> + <p> + “The knife is the law to an Italian of the South,” said Mr. Powys. “He + distrusts any other, because he never gets it. Where law is established, + or tolerably secure, the knife is not used. Duels are rare. There is too + much bonhomie for the point of honour.” + </p> + <p> + “I should like to believe that all men are as just to their mistresses,” + Lady Charlotte sighed, mock-earnestly. + </p> + <p> + Presently Emilia touched the arm of Mr. Powys. She looked agitated. “I + want to be told the name of that gentleman.” His eyes were led to rest on + the handsome hussar-captain. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know him?” + </p> + <p> + “But his name!” + </p> + <p> + “Do me the favour to look at me. Captain Gambier.” + </p> + <p> + “It is!” + </p> + <p> + Captain Gambier's face was resolutely kept in profile to her. + </p> + <p> + “I hear a rumour,” said Lady Gosstre to Arabella, “that you think of + bidding for the Besworth estate. Are you tired of Brookfield?” + </p> + <p> + “Not tired; but Brookfield is modern, and I confess that Besworth has won + my heart.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall congratulate myself on having you nearer neighbours. Have you + many, or any rivals?” + </p> + <p> + “There is some talk of the Tinleys wishing to purchase it. I cannot see + why.” + </p> + <p> + “What people are they?” asked Lady Charlotte. “Do they hunt?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear, no! They are to society what Dissenters are to religion. I + can't describe them otherwise.” + </p> + <p> + “They pass before me in that description,” said Lady Gosstre. + </p> + <p> + “Besworth's an excellent centre for hunting,” Lady Charlotte remarked to + Wilfrid. “I've always had an affection for that place. The house is on + gravel; the river has trout; there's a splendid sweep of grass for the + horses to exercise. I think there must be sixteen spare beds. At all + events, I know that number can be made up; so that if you're too poor to + live much in London, you can always have your set about you.” + </p> + <p> + The eyes of the fair economist sparkled as she dwelt on these particular + advantages of Besworth. + </p> + <p> + Richford boasted a show of flowers that might tempt its guests to parade + the grounds on balmy evenings. Wilfrid kept by the side of Lady Charlotte. + She did not win his taste a bit. Had she been younger, less decided in + tone, and without a title, it is very possible that she would have + offended his native, secret, and dominating fastidiousness as much as did + Emilia. Then, what made him subject at all to her influence, as he felt + himself beginning to be? She supplied a deficiency in the youth. He was + growing and uncertain: she was set and decisive. In his soul he adored the + extreme refinement of woman; even up to the thin edge of inanity (which + neighbours what the philosopher could tell him if he would, and would, if + it were permitted to him). Nothing was too white, too saintly, or too + misty, for his conception of abstract woman. But the practical wants of + our nature guide us best. Conversation with Lady Charlotte seemed to + strengthen and ripen him. He blushed with pleasure when she said: “I + remember reading your name in the account of that last cavalry charge on + the Dewan. You slew a chief, I think. That was creditable, for they are + swordmen. Cavalry in Europe can't win much honour—not individual + honour, I mean. I suppose being part of a victorious machine is + exhilarating. I confess I should not think much of wearing that sort of + feather. It's right to do one's duty, comforting to trample down + opposition, and agreeable to shed blood, but when you have matched + yourself man to man, and beaten—why, then, I dub you knight.” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid bowed, half-laughing, in a luxurious abandonment to his + sensations. Possibly because of their rule over him then, the change in + him was so instant from flattered delight to vexed perplexity. Rounding + one of the rhododendron banks, just as he lifted his head from that + acknowledgment of the lady's commendation, he had sight of Emilia with her + hand in the hand of Captain Gambier. What could it mean? what right had he + to hold her hand? Even if he knew her, what right? + </p> + <p> + The words between Emilia and Captain Gambier were few. + </p> + <p> + “Why did I not look at you during dinner?” said he. “Was it not better to + wait till we could meet?” + </p> + <p> + “Then you will walk with me and talk to me all the evening?” + </p> + <p> + “No: but I will try and come down here next week and meet you again.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to-night?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “To-night? To-night before it strikes a quarter to ten, I am going to + leave here alone. If you would come with me! I want a companion. I know + they will not hurt me, but I don't like being alone. I have given my + promise to sing to some poor people. My friends say I must not go. I must + go. I can't break a promise to poor people. And you have never heard me + really sing my best. Come with me, and I will.” + </p> + <p> + Captain Gambier required certain explanations. He saw that a companion and + protection would be needed by his curious little friend, and as she was + resolved not to break her word, he engaged to take her in the carriage + that was to drive him to the station. + </p> + <p> + “You make me give up an appointment in town,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but you will hear me sing,” returned Emilia. “We will drive to + Brookfield and get my harp, and then to Ipley Common. I am to be sure you + will be ready with the carriage at just a quarter to ten?” + </p> + <p> + The Captain gave her his assurance, and they separated; he to seek out + Adela, she to wander about, the calmest of conspirators against the + serenity of a household. + </p> + <p> + Meeting Wilfrid and Lady Charlotte, Emilia was asked by him, who it was + she had quitted so abruptly. + </p> + <p> + “That is the gentleman I told you of. Now I know his name. It is Captain + Gambier.” + </p> + <p> + She was allowed to pass on. + </p> + <p> + “What is this she says?” Lady Charlotte asked. + </p> + <p> + “It appears...something about a meeting somewhere accidentally, in the + park, in London, I think; I really don't know. She had forgotten his + name.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Charlotte spurred him with an interrogative “Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “She wanted to remember his name. That's all. He was kind to her.” + </p> + <p> + “But, after all,” remonstrated Lady Charlotte, “that's only a + characteristic of young men, is it not? no special distinction. You are + all kind to girls, to women, to anything!” + </p> + <p> + Captain Gambier and Adela crossed their path. He spoke a passing word, + Lady Charlotte returned no answer, and was silent to her companion for + some minutes. Then she said, “If you feel any responsibility about this + little person, take my advice, and don't let her have appointments and + meetings. They're bad in any case, and for a girl who has no brother—has + she? no:—well then, you should make the best provision you can + against the cowardice of men. Most men are cowards.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia sang in the drawing-room. Brookfield knew perfectly why she looked + indifferent to the plaudits, and was not dissatisfied at hearing Lady + Gosstre say that she was a little below the mark. The kindly lady brought + Emilia between herself and Mr. Powys, saying, “I don't intend to let you + be the star of the evening and outshine us all.” After which, conversation + commenced, and Brookfield had reason to admire her ladyship's practised + play upon the social instrument, surely the grandest of all, the chords + being men and women. Consider what an accomplishment this is! + </p> + <p> + Albeit Brookfield knew itself a student at Richford, Adela was of too + impatient a wit to refrain from little ventures toward independence, if + not rivalry. “What we do,” she uttered distinctively once or twice. Among + other things she spoke of “our discovery,” to attest her declaration that, + to wakeful eyes, neither Hillford nor any other place on earth was dull. + Cornelia flushed at hearing the name of Mr. Barrett pronounced publicly by + her sister. + </p> + <p> + “An organist an accomplished man!” Lady Gosstre repeated Adela's words. + “Well, I suppose it is possible, but it rather upsets one's notions, does + it not?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but agreeably,” said Adela, with boldness; and related how he had + been introduced, and hinted that he was going to be patronized. + </p> + <p> + “The man cannot maintain himself on the income that sort of office brings + him,” Lady Gosstre observed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no,” said Adela. “I fancy he does it simply for some sort of + occupation. One cannot help imagining a disguise.” + </p> + <p> + “Personally I confess to an objection to gentlemen in disguise,” said Lady + Gosstre. “Barrett!—do you know the man?” + </p> + <p> + She addressed Mr. Powys. + </p> + <p> + “There used to be good quartett evenings given by the Barretts of Bursey,” + he said. “Sir Justinian Barrett married a Miss Purcell, who subsequently + preferred the musical accomplishments of a foreign professor of the Art.” + </p> + <p> + “Purcell Barrett is his name,” said Adela. “Our Emilia brought him to us. + Where is she? But, where can she be?” + </p> + <p> + Adela rose. + </p> + <p> + “She pressed my hand just now,” said Lady Gosstre. + </p> + <p> + “She was here when Captain Gambler quitted the room,” Arabella remarked. + </p> + <p> + “Good heaven!” + </p> + <p> + The exclamation came from Adela. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Lady Gosstre! I fear to tell you what I think she has done.” + </p> + <p> + The scene of the rival Clubs was hurriedly related, together with the + preposterous pledge given by Emilia, that she would sing at the Ipley + Booth: “Among those dreadful men!” + </p> + <p> + “They will treat her respectfully,” said Mr. Powys. + </p> + <p> + “Worship her, I should imagine, Merthyr,” said Lady Gosstre. “For all + that, she had better be away. Beer is not a respectful spirit.” + </p> + <p> + “I trust you will pardon her,” Arabella pleaded. “Everything that + explanations of the impropriety of such a thing could do, we have done. We + thought that at last we had convinced her. She is quite untamed.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Powys now asked where this place was that she had hurried to. + </p> + <p> + The unhappy ladies of Brookfield, quick as they were to read every sign + surrounding them, were for the moment too completely thrown off their + balance by Emilia's extraordinary exhibition of will, to see that no + reflex of her shameful and hideous proceeding had really fallen upon them. + Their exclamations were increasing, until Adela, who had been the + noisiest, suddenly adopted Lady Gosstre's tone. “If she has gone, I + suppose she must be simply fetched away.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you see what has happened?” Lady Charlotte murmured to Wilfrid, + between a phrase. + </p> + <p> + He stumbled over a little piece of gallantry. + </p> + <p> + “Excellent! But, say those things in French.—Your dark-eyed maid has + eloped. She left the room five minutes after Captain Gambier.” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid sprang to his feet, looking eagerly to the corners of the room. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me,” he said, and moved up to Lady Gosstre. On the way he + questioned himself why his heart should be beating at such a pace. + Standing at her ladyship's feet, he could scarcely speak. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Wilfrid; go after her,” said Adela, divining his object. + </p> + <p> + “By all means go,” added Lady Gosstre. “Now she is there, you may as well + let her keep her promise; and then hurry her home. They will saddle you a + horse down below, if you care to have one.” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid thanked her ladyship, and declined the horse. He was soon walking + rapidly under a rough sky in the direction of Ipley, with no firm thought + that he would find Emilia there. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI + </h2> + <p> + At half-past nine of the clock on the evening of this memorable day, a + body of five-and-twenty stout young fellows, prize-winners, wrestlers, + boxers, and topers, of the Hillford Club, set forth on a march to Ipley + Common. + </p> + <p> + Now, a foreigner, hearing of their destination and the provocation they + had endured, would have supposed that they were bent upon deeds of + vengeance; and it requires knowledge of our countrymen to take it as a + fact that the idea and aim of the expedition were simply to furnish the + offending Ipley boys a little music. Such were the idea and the aim. + Hillford had nothing to do with consequences: no more than our England is + responsible when she sails out among the empires and hemispheres, saying, + 'buy' and 'sell,' and they clamour to be eaten up entire. Foreigners + pertinaciously misunderstand us. They have the barbarous habit of judging + by results. Let us know ourselves better. It is melancholy to contemplate + the intrigues, and vile designs, and vengeances of other nations; and + still more so, after we have written so many pages of intelligible + history, to see them attributed to us. Will it never be perceived that we + do not sow the thing that happens? The source of the flooding stream which + drinks up those rich acres of low flat land is not more innocent than we. + If, as does seem possible, we are in a sort of alliance with Destiny, we + have signed no compact, and accomplish our work as solidly and merrily as + a wood-hatchet in the hands of the woodman. This arrangement to give Ipley + a little music, was projected as a return for the favours of the morning: + nor have I in my time heard anything comparable to it in charity of + sentiment, when I consider the detestable outrage Hillford suffered under. + </p> + <p> + The parading of the drum, the trombone, a horn, two whistles, and a fife, + in front of Hillford booth, caught the fancy of the Clubmen, who roared + out parting adjurations that the music was not to be spared; and that Tom + Breeks was a musical fellow, with a fine empty pate, if any one of the + instruments should fail perchance. They were to give Ipley plenty of + music: for Ipley wanted to be taught harmony. Harmony was Ipley's weak + point. “Gie 'em,” said one jolly ruddy Hillford man, “gie 'em whack fol, + lol!” And he smacked himself, and set toward an invisible partner. Nor, as + recent renowned historians have proved, are observations of this nature + beneath the dignity of chronicle. They vindicate, as they localize, the + sincerity of Hillford. + </p> + <p> + Really, to be an islander full of ale, is to be the kindest creature on or + off two legs. For that very reason, it may be, his wrath at bad blood is + so easily aroused. In our hot moods we would desire things like unto + ourselves, and object violently to whatsoever is unlike. And also we + desire that the benefits we shed be appreciated. If Ipley understands + neither our music nor our intent, haply we must hold a performance on the + impenetrable sconce of Ipley. + </p> + <p> + At the hour named, the expedition, with many a promise that the music + should be sweet, departed hilariously: Will Burdock, the left-handed + cricketer and hard-hitter, being leader; with Peter Bartholomew, potboy, + John Girling, miller's man, and Ned Thewk, gardener's assistant, for + lieutenants. On the march, silence was proclaimed, and partially enforced, + after two fights against authority. Near the sign of King William's Head, + General Burdock called a halt, and betrayed irresolution with reference to + the route to be adopted; but as none of his troop could at all share such + a condition of mind in the neighbourhood of an inn, he was permitted to + debate peacefully with his lieutenants, while the rest burst through the + doors and hailed the landlord: a proceeding he was quickly induced to + imitate. Thus, when the tail shows strongest decision of purpose, the head + must follow. + </p> + <p> + An accurate oinometer, or method of determining what shall be the + condition of the spirit of man according to the degrees of wine or beer in + him, were surely of priceless service to us. For now must we, to be + certain of our sanity and dignity, abstain, which is to clip, impoverish, + imprison the soul: or else, taking wings of wine, we go aloft over capes, + and islands, and seas, but are even as balloons that cannot make for any + line, and are at the mercy of the winds—without a choice, save to + come down by virtue of a collapse. Could we say to ourselves, in the great + style, This is the point where desire to embrace humanity is merged in + vindictiveness toward individuals: where radiant sweet temper culminates + in tremendous wrath: where the treasures of anticipation, waxing riotous, + arouse the memory of wrongs: in plain words, could we know positively, and + from the hand of science, when we have had enough, we should stop. There + is not a doubt that we should stop. It is so true we should stop, that, I + am ready to say, ladies have no right to call us horrid names, and + complain of us, till they have helped us to some such trustworthy + scientific instrument as this which I have called for. In its absence, I + am persuaded that the true natural oinometer is the hat. Were the hat + always worn during potation; were ladies when they retire to place it on + our heads, or, better still, chaplets of flowers; then, like the wise + ancients, we should be able to tell to a nicety how far we had advanced in + our dithyramb to the theme of fuddle and muddle. Unhappily the hat does + not forewarn: it is simply indicative. I believe, nevertheless, that + science might set to work upon it forthwith, and found a system. When you + mark men drinking who wear their hats, and those hats are seen gradually + beginning to hang on the backs of their heads, as from pegs, in the + fashion of a fez, the bald projection of forehead looks jolly and frank: + distrust that sign: the may-fly of the soul is then about to be gobbled up + by the chub of the passions. A hat worn fez-fashion is a dangerous hat. A + hat on the brows shows a man who can take more, but thinks he will go home + instead, and does so, peaceably. That is his determination. He may look + like Macduff, but he is a lamb. The vinous reverses the non-vinous + passionate expression of the hat. If I am discredited, I appeal to + history, which tells us that the hats of the Hillford five-and-twenty were + all exceedingly hind-ward-set when the march was resumed. It followed that + Peter Bartholomew, potboy, made irritable objections to that old joke + which finished his name as though it were a cat calling, and the offence + being repeated, he dealt an impartial swing of his stick at divers heads, + and told them to take that, which they assured him they had done by + sending him flying into a hedge. Peter, being reprimanded by his + commanding officer, acknowledged a hot desire to try his mettle, and the + latter responsible person had to be restrained from granting the wish he + cherished by John Girling, whom he threw for his trouble and as Burdock + was the soundest hitter, numbers cried out against Girling, revolting him + with a sense of overwhelming injustice that could be appeased only by his + prostrating two stout lads and squaring against a third, who came up from + a cross-road. This one knocked him down with the gentleness of a fist that + knows how Beer should be treated, and then sang out, in the voice of + Wilfrid Pole: “Which is the nearest way to Ipley, you fellows?” + </p> + <p> + “Come along with us, sir, and we'll show you,” said Burdock. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going there?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, that's pretty clear.” + </p> + <p> + “Hillford men, are you?” + </p> + <p> + “We've left the women behind.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm in a hurry, so, good night.” + </p> + <p> + “And so are we in a hurry, sir. But, you're a gentleman, and we want to + give them chaps at Ipley a little surprise, d'ye see, in the way of a + dollop o' music: and if you won't go givin' 'em warning, you may trot; and + that road'll take you.” + </p> + <p> + “All right,” said Wilfrid, now fairly divided between his jealousy of + Gambier and anxiety for Emilia. + </p> + <p> + Could her artist nature, of which he had heard perplexing talk, excuse her + and make her heart absolutely guiltless (what he called 'innocent'), in + trusting herself to any man's honour? I regret to say that the dainty + adorers of the sex are even thus grossly suspicious of all women when + their sentiment is ever so triflingly offended. + </p> + <p> + Lights on Ipley Common were seen from a rise of the hilly road. The moon + was climbing through drifts of torn black cloud. Hastening his pace, for a + double reason now, Wilfrid had the booth within hearing, listened a + moment; and then stood fast. His unconscious gasp of the words: “Thank + God; there she is!” might have betrayed him to another. + </p> + <p> + She was sitting near one end of the booth, singing as Wilfrid had never + yet heard her sing: her dark eyes flashing. Behind her stood Captain + Gambier, keeping guard with all the composure of a gentleman-usher at a + royal presentation. Along the tables, men and women were ranged facing + her; open-mouthed, some of them but for the most part wearing a + predetermined expression of applausive judgement, as who should say, + “Queer, but good.” They gave Emilia their faces, which was all she wanted! + and silence, save for an intermingling soft snore, here and there, the + elfin trumpet of silence. To tell truth, certain heads had bowed low to + the majesty of beer, and were down on the table between sprawling doubled + arms. No essay on the power of beer could exhibit it more convincingly + than, the happy indifference with which they received admonishing blows + from quart-pots, salutes from hot pipe-bowls, pricks from pipe-ends, on + nose, and cheek, and pate; as if to vindicate for their beloved beverage a + right to rank with that old classic drink wherewith the fairest of women + vanquished human ills. The majority, however, had been snatched out of + this bliss by the intrusion of their wives, who sat beside them like + Consciences in petticoats; and it must be said that Emilia was in favour + with the married men, for one reason, because she gave these + broad-ribboned ladies a good excuse for allowing their lords to stop where + they were so comfortable, a continually-extending five minutes longer. + </p> + <p> + Yet, though the words were foreign and the style of the song and the + singer were strange, many of the older fellows' eyes twinkled, and their + mouths pursed with a kind of half-protesting pleasure. All were reverent + to the compliment paid them by Emilia's presence. The general expression + was much like that seen when the popular ear is given to the national + anthem. Wilfrid hung at the opening of the booth, a cynical spectator. For + what on earth made her throw such energy, and glory of music, into a song + before fellows like these? He laughed dolorously, “she hasn't a particle + of any sense of ridicule,” he said to himself. Forthwith her voice took + hold of him, and led him as heroes of old were led unwillingly into + enchanted woods. If she had been singing things holy, a hymn, a + hallelujah, in this company, it struck him that somehow it would have + seemed appropriate; not objectionable; at any rate, not ridiculous. Dr. + Watts would have put a girdle about her; but a song of romance sung in + this atmosphere of pipes and beer and boozy heads, chagrined Wilfrid in + proportion as the softer half of him began to succumb to the deliciousness + of her voice. + </p> + <p> + Emilia may have had some warning sense that admiration is only one + ingredient of homage, that to make it fast and true affection must be won. + Now, poor people, yokels, clods, cannot love what is incomprehensible to + them. An idol must have their attributes: a king must show his face now + and then: a song must appeal to their intelligence, to subdue them quite. + This, as we know, is not the case in the higher circles. Emilia may have + divined it: possibly from the very great respect with which her finale was + greeted. Vigorous as the “Brayvos” were, they sounded abashed: they lacked + abandonment. In fact, it was gratitude that applauded, and not enthusiasm. + “Hillford don't hear stuff like that, do 'em?” which was the main verbal + encomium passed, may be taken testificatorily as to this point. + </p> + <p> + “Dame! dame!” cried Emilia, finding her way quickly to one of the more + decently-bonneted women; “am I not glad to see you here! Did I please you? + And you, dear Farmer Wilson? I caught sight of you just as I was + finishing. I remember the song you like, and I want to sing it. I know the + tune, but the words! the words! what are the words? Humming won't do.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, now!” quoth Farmer Wilson, pointing out the end of his pipe, “that's + what they'll swallow down; that's the song to make 'em kick. Sing that, + miss. Furrin songs 's all right enough; but 'Ale it is my tipple, and + England is my nation!' Let's have something plain and flat on the surface, + miss.” + </p> + <p> + Dame Wilson jogged her husband's arm, to make him remember that talking + was his dangerous pastime, and sent abroad a petition for a song-book; and + after a space a very doggy-eared book, resembling a poodle of that genus, + was handed to her. Then uprose a shout for this song and that; but Emilia + fixed upon the one she had in view, and walked back to her harp, with her + head bent, perusing it attentively all the way. There, she gave the book + to Captain Gambier, and begged him to hold it open before her, with a + passing light of eyes likely to be rather disturbing to a jealous + spectator. The Captain seized the book without wincing, and displayed a + remarkable equanimity of countenance as he held it out, according to + direction. No sooner had Emilia struck a prelude of the well-known air, + than the interior of the booth was transfigured; legs began to move, + elbows jerked upward, fingers fillipped: the whole body of them were ready + to duck and bow, dance, and do her bidding she had fairly caught their + hearts. For, besides the pleasure they had in their own familiar tune, it + was wonderful to them that Emilia should know what they knew. This was the + marvel, this the inspiration. She smiled to see how true she had struck, + and seemed to swim on the pleasure she excited. Once, as her voice + dropped, she looked up at Captain Gambier, so very archly, with the + curving line of her bare throat, that Wilfrid was dragged down from his + cynical observatory, and made to feel as a common man among them all. + </p> + <p> + At the “thrum-thrum” on the harp-strings, which wound up the song, + frenzied shouts were raised for a repetition. Emilia was perfectly willing + to gratify them; Captain Gambier appeared to be remonstrating with her, + but she put up her joined hands, mock-petitioningly, and he with great + affability held out the book anew. Wilfrid was thinking of moving to her + to take her forcibly away when she recommenced. + </p> + <p> + At the same instant—but who, knowing that a house of glass is about + to be shattered, can refrain from admiring its glitter in the beams?—Ipley + crooned a ready accompaniment: the sleepers had been awakened: the women + and the men were alive, half-dancing, half-chorusing here a baby was + tossed, and there an old fellow's elbow worked mutely, expressive of the + rollicking gaiety within him: the whole length of the booth was in a + pleasing simmer, ready to overboil with shouts humane and cheerful, while + Emilia pitched her note and led; archly, and quite one with them all, and + yet in a way that critical Wilfrid could not object to, so plainly did she + sing to give happiness. + </p> + <p> + I cannot delay; but I request you, that are here privileged to soar aloft + with the Muse, to fix your minds upon one point in this flight. Let not + the heat and dust of the ensuing fray divert your attention from the + magnanimity of Beer. It will be vindicated in the end but be worthy of + your seat beside the Muse, who alone of us all can take one view of the + inevitable two that perplex mortal judgements. + </p> + <p> + For, if Ipley had jumped jovially up, and met the Hillford alarum with + laughter,—how then? Why, then I maintain that the magnanimity of + Beer would have blazed effulgent on the spot: there would have been louder + laughter and fraternal greetings. As it was, the fire on the altar of + Wisdom was again kindled by Folly, and the steps to the altar were broken + heads, after the antique fashion. + </p> + <p> + In dismay, Ipley started. The members of the Club stared. Emilia faltered + in horror. + </p> + <p> + A moment her voice swam stemming the execrable concert, but it was + overwhelmed. Wilfrid pressed forward to her. They could hear nothing but + the din. The booth raged like an insurgent menagerie. Outside it sounded + of brazen beasts, and beasts that whistled, beasts that boomed. A + whirlwind huddled them, and at last a cry, “We've got a visit from + Hillford,” told a tale. At once the stoutest hearts pressed to the + opening. “My harp!” Emilia made her voice reach Wilfrid's ear. Unprovided + with weapons, Ipley parleyed. Hillford howled in reply. The trombone + brayed an interminable note, that would have driven to madness quiescent + cats by steaming kettles, and quick, like the springing pulse of battle, + the drum thumped and thumped. Blood could not hear it and keep from + boiling. The booth shook violently. Wilfrid and Gambier threw over + half-a-dozen chairs, forms, and tables, to make a barrier for the + protection of the women. + </p> + <p> + “Come,” Wilfrid said to Emilia, “leave the harp, I will get you another. + Come.” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” she cried in her nervous fright. + </p> + <p> + “For God's sake, come!” he reiterated, she, stamping her foot, as to + emphasize “No! no! no!” + </p> + <p> + “But I will buy you another harp;” he made audible to her through the + hubbub. + </p> + <p> + “This one!” she gasped with her hand on it. “What will he think if he + finds that I forsook it?” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid knew her to allude to the unknown person who had given it to her. + </p> + <p> + “There—there,” said he. “I sent it, and I can get you another. So, + come. Be good, and come.” + </p> + <p> + “It was you!” + </p> + <p> + Emilia looked at him. She seemed to have no senses for the uproar about + her. + </p> + <p> + But now the outer barricade was broken through, and the rout pressed on + the second line. Tom Breeks, the orator, and Jim, transformed from a + lurching yokel to a lithe dog of battle, kept the retreat of Ipley, + challenging any two of Hillford to settle the dispute. Captain Gambier + attempted an authoritative parley, in the midst of which a Hillford man + made a long arm and struck Emilia's harp, till the strings jarred loose + and horrid. The noise would have been enough to irritate Wilfrid beyond + endurance. When he saw the fellow continuing to strike the harp-frame + while Emilia clutched it, in a feeble defence, against her bosom, he + caught a thick stick from a neighbouring hand and knocked that Hillford + man so clean to earth that Hillford murmured at the blow. Wilfrid then + joined the front array. + </p> + <p> + “Half-a-dozen hits like that a-piece, sir,” nodded Tom Breeks. + </p> + <p> + “There goes another!” Jim shouted. + </p> + <p> + “Not quite, my lad,” interposed Ned Thewk, though Peter Bartholomew was + reeling in confirmation. + </p> + <p> + His blow at Jim missed, but came sharply in the swing on Wilfrid's + cheek-bone. + </p> + <p> + Maddened at the immediate vision of that feature swollen, purple, even as + a plum with an assiduous fly on it, certifying to ripeness:—Says the + philosopher, “We are never up to the mark of any position, if we are in a + position beneath our own mark;” and it is true that no hero in conflict + should think of his face, but Wilfrid was all the while protesting + wrathfully against the folly of his having set foot in such a place:—Maddened, + I say, Wilfrid, a keen swordman, cleared a space. John Girling fell to + him: Ned Thewk fell to him, and the sconce of Will Burdock rang. + </p> + <p> + “A rascally absurd business!” said Gambier, letting his stick do the part + of a damnatory verb on one of the enemy, while he added, “The drunken + vagabonds!” + </p> + <p> + All the Hillford party were now in the booth. Ipley, meantime, was not + sleeping. Farmer Wilson and a set of the Ipley men whom age had + sagaciously instructed to prefer stratagem to force, had slipped outside, + and were labouring as busily as their comrades within: stooping to the + tent-pegs, sending emissaries to the tent-poles. + </p> + <p> + “Drunk!” roared Will Burdock. “Did you happen to say 'drunk?'” And looking + all the while at Gambier, he, with infernal cunning, swung at Wilfrid's + fated cheekbone. The latter rushed furiously into the press of them, and + there was a charge from Ipley, and a lock, from which Wilfrid extricated + himself to hurry off Emilia. He perceived that bad blood was boiling up. + </p> + <p> + “Forward!” cried Will Burdock, and Hillford in turn made a tide. + </p> + <p> + As they came on in numbers too great for Ipley to stand against, an + obscuration fell over all. The fight paused. Then a sensation as of some + fellows smoothing their polls and their cheeks, and leaning on their + shoulders with obtrusive affection, inspirited them to lash about + indiscriminately. Whoops and yells arose; then peals of laughter. Homage + to the cleverness of Ipley was paid in hurrahs, the moment Hillford + understood the stratagem by which its men of valour were lamed and + imprisoned. The truth was, that the booth was down on them, and they were + struggling entangled in an enormous bag of canvas. + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid drew Emilia from under the drooping folds of the tent. He was + allowed, on inspection of features, to pass. The men of Hillford were + captured one by one like wild geese, as with difficulty they emerged, + roaring, rolling with laughter, all. + </p> + <p> + Yea; to such an extent did they laugh that they can scarce be said to have + done less than make the joke of the foe their own. And this proves the + great and amazing magnanimity of Beer. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII + </h2> + <p> + A pillar of dim silver rain fronted the moon on the hills. Emilia walked + hurriedly, with her head bent, like a penitent: now and then peeping up + and breathing to the keen scent of the tender ferns. Wilfrid still grasped + her hand, and led her across the common, away from the rout. + </p> + <p> + When the uproar behind them had sunk, he said “You'll get your feet wet. + I'm sorry you should have to walk. How did you come here?” + </p> + <p> + She answered: “I forget.” + </p> + <p> + “You must have come here in some conveyance. Did you walk?” + </p> + <p> + Again she answered: “I forget;” a little querulously; perhaps wilfully. + </p> + <p> + “Well!” he persisted: “You must have got your harp to this place by some + means or other?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, my harp!” a sob checked her voice. + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid tried to soothe her. “Never mind the harp. It's easily replaced.” + </p> + <p> + “Not that one!” she moaned. + </p> + <p> + “We will get you another.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall never love any but that.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps we may hear good news of it to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “No; for I felt it die in my hands. The third blow was the one that killed + it. It's broken.” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid could not reproach her, and he had not any desire to preach. So, + as no idea of having done amiss in coming to the booth to sing illumined + her, and she yet knew that she was in some way guilty, she accused herself + of disregard for that dear harp while it was brilliant and serviceable. + “Now I remember what poor music I made of it! I touched it with cold + fingers. The sound was thin, as if it had no heart. Tick-tick!—I + fancy I touched it with a dead man's finger-nails.” + </p> + <p> + She crossed her wrists tight at the clasp of her waist, and letting her + chin fall on her throat, shook her body fretfully, much as a pettish + little girl might do. Wilfrid grimaced. “Tick-tick” was not a pathetic + elegy in his ears. + </p> + <p> + “The only thing is, not to think about it,” said he. “It's only an + instrument, after all.” + </p> + <p> + “It's the second one I've seen killed like a living creature,” replied + Emilia. + </p> + <p> + They walked on silently, till Wilfrid remarked, that he wondered where + Gambier was. She gave no heed to the name. The little quiet footing and + the bowed head by his side, moved him to entreat her not to be unhappy. + Her voice had another tone when she answered that she was not unhappy. + </p> + <p> + “No tears at all?” Wilfrid stooped to get a close view of her face. “I + thought I saw one. If it's about the harp, look!—you shall go into + that cottage where the light is, sit there, and wait for me, and I will + bring you what remains of it. I dare say we can have it mended.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia lifted her eyes. “I am not crying for the harp. If you go back I + must go with you.” + </p> + <p> + “That's out of the question. You must never be found in that sort of place + again.” + </p> + <p> + “Let us leave the harp,” she murmured. “You cannot go without me. Let me + sit here for a minute. Sit with me.” + </p> + <p> + She pointed to a place beside herself on the fork of a dry log under + flowering hawthorn. A pale shadowy blue centre of light among the clouds + told where the moon was. Rain had ceased, and the refreshed earth smelt + all of flowers, as if each breeze going by held a nosegay to their + nostrils. + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid was sensible of a sudden marked change in her. His blood was + quicker than his brain in feeling it. Her voice now, even in common + speaking, had that vibrating richness which in her singing swept his + nerves. + </p> + <p> + “If you cry, there must be a cause, you know,” he said, for the sake of + keeping the conversation in a safe channel. + </p> + <p> + “How brave you are!” was Emilia's sedate exclamation, in reply. + </p> + <p> + Her cheeks glowed, as if she had just uttered a great confession, but + while the colour mounted to her eyes, they kept their affectionate + intentness upon him without a quiver of the lids. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think me a coward?” she relieved him by asking sharply, like one + whom the thought had turned into a darker path. “I am not. I hung my head + while you were fighting, because, what could I do? I would not have left + you. Girls can only say, 'I will perish with him.'” + </p> + <p> + “But,” Wilfrid tried to laugh, “there was no necessity for that sort of + devotion. What are you thinking of? It was half in good-humour, all + through. Part of their fun!” + </p> + <p> + Clearly Emilia's conception of the recent fray was unchangeable. + </p> + <p> + “And the place for girls is at home; that's certain,” he added. + </p> + <p> + “I should always like to be where...” Her voice flowed on with singular + gravity to that stop. + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid's hand travelled mechanically to his pricking cheek-bone. + </p> + <p> + Was it possible that a love-scene was coming on as a pendant to that + monstrously ridiculous affair of half-an-hour back? To know that she had + sufficient sensibility was gratifying, and flattering that it aimed at + him. She was really a darling little woman: only too absurd! Had she been + on the point of saying that she would always like to be where he, Wilfrid, + was? An odd touch of curiosity, peculiar to the languid emotions, made him + ask her this: and to her soft “Yes,” he continued briskly, and in the + style of condescending fellowship: “Of course we're not going to part!” + </p> + <p> + “I wonder,” said Emilia. + </p> + <p> + There she sat, evidently sounding right through the future with her young + brain, to hear what Destiny might have to say. + </p> + <p> + The 'I wonder' rang sweetly in his head. It was as delicate a way of + confessing, “I love you with all my soul,” as could be imagined. Extremely + refined young ladies could hardly have improved upon it, saving with the + angelic shades of sentiment familiar to them. + </p> + <p> + Convinced that he had now heard enough for his vanity, Wilfrid returned + emphatically to the tone of the world's highroad. + </p> + <p> + “By the way,” he said, “you mustn't have any exaggerated idea of this + night's work. Remember, also, I have to share the honours with Captain + Gambier.” + </p> + <p> + “I did not see him,” said Emilia. + </p> + <p> + “Are you not cold?” he asked, for a diversion, though he had one of her + hands. + </p> + <p> + She gave him the other. + </p> + <p> + He could not quit them abruptly: nor could he hold both without being + drawn to her. + </p> + <p> + “What is it you say?” Wilfrid whispered: “men kiss us when we are happy. + Is that right? and are you happy?” + </p> + <p> + She lifted a clear full face, to which he bent his mouth. Over the + flowering hawthorn the moon stood like a windblown white rose of the + heavens. The kiss was given and taken. Strange to tell, it was he who drew + away from it almost bashfully, and with new feelings. + </p> + <p> + Quite unaware that he played the feminine part, Wilfrid alluded to her + flight from Richford, with the instinct to sting his heart by a revival of + his jealous sensations previously experienced, and so taste the luxury of + present satisfaction. + </p> + <p> + “Why did you run away from me?” he said, semi-reproachfully. + </p> + <p> + “I promised.” + </p> + <p> + “Would you not break a promise to stay with me?” + </p> + <p> + “Now I would!” + </p> + <p> + “You promised Captain Gambier?” + </p> + <p> + “No: those poor people.” + </p> + <p> + “You are sorry that you went?” + </p> + <p> + No: she was happy. + </p> + <p> + “You have lost your harp by it,” said Wilfrid. + </p> + <p> + “What do you think of me for not guessing—not knowing who sent it?” + she returned. “I feel guilty of something all those days that I touched + it, not thinking of you. Wicked, filthy little creature that I was! I + despise ungrateful girls.” + </p> + <p> + “I detest anything that has to do with gratitude,” Wilfrid appended, “pray + give me none. Why did you go away with Captain Gambier?” + </p> + <p> + “I was very fond of him,” she replied unhesitatingly, but speaking as it + were with numbed lips. “I wanted to tell him, to thank him and hold his + hand. I told him of my promise. He spoke to me a moment in the garden, you + know. He said he was leaving to go to London early, and would wait for me + in the carriage: then we might talk. He did not wish to talk to me in the + garden.” + </p> + <p> + “And you went with him in the carriage, and told him you were so + grateful?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but men do not like us to be grateful.” + </p> + <p> + “So, he said he would do all sorts of things on condition that you were + not grateful?” + </p> + <p> + “He said—yes: I forget: I do forget! How can I tell what he said?” + Emilia added piteously. “I feel as if I had been emptied out of a sack!” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid was pierced with laughter; and then the plainspoken simile gave + him a chilling sensation while he was rising to the jealous pitch. + </p> + <p> + “Did he talk about taking you to Italy? Put your head into the sack, and + think!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered blandly, an affirmative that caused him some + astonishment, for he had struck at once to the farthest end of his + suspicions. + </p> + <p> + “He feels as I do about the Italian Schools,” said Emilia. “He wishes me + to owe my learning to him. He says it will make him happy, and I thought + so too.” She threw in a “then.” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid looked moodily into the opposite hedge. + </p> + <p> + “Did he name the day for your going?” he asked presently, little + anticipating another “Yes”: but it came: and her rather faltering manner + showed her to be conscious too that the word was getting to be a black one + to him. + </p> + <p> + “Did you say you would go?” + </p> + <p> + “I did.” + </p> + <p> + Question and answer crossed like two rapiers. + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid jumped up. + </p> + <p> + “The smell of this tree's detestable,” he said, glancing at the shadowing + hawthorn. + </p> + <p> + Emilia rose quietly, plucked a flower off the tree, and put it in her + bosom. + </p> + <p> + Their way was down a green lane and across long meadow-paths dim in the + moonlight. A nightingale was heard on this side and on that. Overhead they + had a great space of sky with broken cloud full of the glory of the moon. + The meadows dipped to a brook, slenderly spanned by a plank. Then there + was an ascent through a cornfield to a copse. Rounding this they had sight + of Brookfield. But while they were yet at the brook, Wilfrid said, “When + is it you're going to Italy?” + </p> + <p> + In return he had an eager look, so that he was half-ashamed to add, “With + Captain Gambier, I mean.” He was suffering, and by being brutal he + expected to draw balm on himself; nor was he deceived. + </p> + <p> + Emilia just then gave him her hand to be led over, and answered, as she + neared him, “I am never to leave you.” + </p> + <p> + “You never shall!” Wilfrid caught her in his arms, quite conquered by her, + proud of her. He reflected with a loving rapture that her manner at that + moment was equal to any lady's; and the phantom of her with her hand out, + and her frank look, and trustful footing, while she spoke those words, + kept on advancing to him all the way to Brookfield, at the same time that + the sober reality murmured at his elbow. + </p> + <p> + Love, with his accustomed cunning, managed thus to lift her out of the + mire and array her in his golden dress to idealize her, as we say. + Reconciled for the hour were the contesting instincts in the nature of + this youth the adoration of feminine refinement and the susceptibility to + sensuous impressions. But Emilia walked with a hero: the dream of all her + days! one, generous and gentle, as well as brave: who had fought for her, + had thought of her tenderly, was with her now, having raised her to his + level with a touch! How much might they not accomplish together: he with + sword, she with harp? Through shadowy alleys in the clouds, Emilia saw the + bright Italian plains opening out to her: the cities of marble, such as + her imagination had fashioned them, porticos of stately palaces, and + towers, and statues white among cypresses; and farther, minutely-radiant + in the vista as a shining star, Venice of the sea. Fancy made the flying + minutes hours. Now they marched with the regiments of Italy, under the + folds of her free banner; now she sang to the victorious army, waving the + banner over them; and now she floated in a gondola, and turning to him, + the dear home of her heart, yet pale with the bleeding of his wound for + Italy, said softly, in the tone that had power with him, “Only let me + please you!” + </p> + <p> + “When? Where? What with?” came the blunt response from England, with + electric speed, and Emilia fell from the clouds. + </p> + <p> + “I meant my singing; I thought of how I sang to you. Oh, happy time!” she + exclaimed, to cut through the mist of vision in her mind. + </p> + <p> + “To me? down at the booth?” muttered Wilfrid, perplexed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! I mean, just now—” and languid with the burden of so full a + heart, she did not attempt to explain herself further, though he said, + invitingly, “I thought I heard you humming?” + </p> + <p> + Then he was seized with a desire to have the force of her spirit upon him, + for Brookfield was in view; and with the sight of Brookfield, the natural + fascination waxed a shade fainter, and he feared it might be going. This + (he was happily as ignorant as any other youth of the working of his + machinery) prompted him to bid her sing before they parted. Emilia checked + her steps at once to do as he desired. Her throat filled, but the voice + quavered down again, like a fainting creature sick unto death. She made + another effort and ended with a sorrowful look at his narrowly-watching + eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I can't,” she said; and, in fear of his anger, took his hand to beg + forgiveness, while her eyelids drooped. + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid locked her fingers in a strong pressure, and walked on, silent as + a man who has faced one of the veiled mysteries of life. It struck a full + human blow on his heart, dragging him out of his sentimental pastures + precipitately. He felt her fainting voice to be the intensest love-cry + that could be uttered. The sound of it coursed through his blood, striking + a rare illumination of sparks in his not commonly brilliant brain. In + truth, that little episode showed an image of nature weak with the burden + of new love. I do not charge the young cavalry officer with the power of + perceiving images. He saw no more than that she could not sing because of + what was in her heart toward him; but such a physical revelation was a + divine love-confession, coming involuntarily from one whose lips had not + formed the name of love; and Wilfrid felt it so deeply, that the exquisite + flattery was almost lost, in a certain awed sense of his being in the + presence of an absolute fact: a thing real, though it was much talked + about, and visible, though it did not wear a hat or a petticoat. + </p> + <p> + It searched him thoroughly enough to keep him from any further pledges in + that direction, propitious as the moment was, while the moon slipped over + banks of marble into fields of blue, and all the midnight promised + silence. They passed quickly through the laurel shrubs, and round the + lawn. Lights were in the sleepless ladies' bed-room windows. + </p> + <p> + “Do I love her?” thought Wilfrid, as he was about to pull at the bell, and + the thought that he should feel pain at being separated from her for + half-a-dozen hours, persuaded him that he did. The self-restraint which + withheld him from protesting that he did, confirmed it. + </p> + <p> + “To-morrow morning,” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + “I shall be down by daylight,” answered Emilia. + </p> + <p> + “You are in the shade—I cannot see you,” said he. + </p> + <p> + The door opened as Emilia was moving out of the line of shadow. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII + </h2> + <p> + On the morrow Wilfrid was gone. No one had seen him go. Emilia, while she + touched the keys of a muted piano softly in the morning quiet of the + house, had heard the front-door close. At that hour one attributes every + noise to the servants. She played on and waited patiently, till the + housemaid expelled her into the dewy air. + </p> + <p> + The report from his bedchamber, telling the ladies of his absence, added + that he had taken linen for a lengthened journey. + </p> + <p> + This curious retreat of my hero belongs to the order of things that are + done 'None know why;' a curtain which drops conveniently upon either the + bewilderment of the showman or the infirmities of the puppet. + </p> + <p> + I must own (though I need not be told what odium frowns on such a + pretension to excess of cleverness) that I do know why. I know why, and, + unfortunately for me, I have to tell what I know. If I do not tell, this + narrative is so constituted that there will be no moral to it. + </p> + <p> + One who studies man in puppets (in which purpose lies the chief value of + this amusing species), must think that we are degenerating rapidly. The + puppet hero, for instance, is a changed being. We know what he was; but + now he takes shelter in his wits. His organs affect his destiny. Careless + of the fact that the hero's achievement is to conquer nature, he seems + rather to boast of his subservience to her. + </p> + <p> + Still, up to this day, the fixture of a nose upon the puppet-hero's + frontispiece has not been attempted. Some one does it at last. When the + alternative came: “No nose to the hero, no moral to the tale;” could there + be hesitation? + </p> + <p> + And I would warn our sentimentalists to admit the nose among the features + proper to heroes, otherwise the race will become extinct. There is already + an amount of dropping of the curtain that is positively wearisome, even to + extremely refined persons, in order to save him from apparent misconduct. + He will have to go altogether, unless we boldly figure him as other men. + Manifestly the moment his career as a fairy prince was at end, he was on + the high road to a nose. The beneficent Power that discriminated for him + having vanished utterly, he was, like a bankrupt gentleman, obliged to do + all the work for himself. This is nothing more than the tendency of the + generations downward from the ideal. + </p> + <p> + The springs that moved Wilfrid upon the present occasion were simple. We + will strip him of his heroic trappings for one fleeting instant, and show + them. + </p> + <p> + Jumping briskly from a restless bed, his first act was to address his + features to the looking-glass: and he saw surely the most glorious sight + for a hero of the knightly age that could possibly have been offered. The + battle of the previous night was written there in one eloquent big lump, + which would have passed him current as hero from end to end of the land in + the great days of old. These are the tea-table days. His preference was + for the visage of Wilfrid Pole, which he saw not. At the aspect of the + fearful mask, this young man stared, and then cursed; and then, by an odd + transition, he was reminded, as by the force of a sudden gust, that + Emilia's hair was redolent of pipe-smoke. + </p> + <p> + His remark was, “I can't be seen in this state.” His thought (a dim + reminiscence of poetical readings): “Ambrosial locks indeed!” A sad irony, + which told that much gold-leaf had peeled away from her image in his + heart. + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid was a gallant fellow, with good stuff in him. But, he was young. + Ponder on that pregnant word, for you are about to see him grow. He was + less a coxcomb than shamefaced and sentimental; and one may have these + qualities, and be a coxcomb to boot, and yet be a gallant fellow. One may + also be a gallant fellow, and harsh, exacting, double-dealing, and I know + not what besides, in youth. The question asked by nature is, “Has he the + heart to take and keep an impression?” For, if he has, circumstances will + force him on and carve the figure of a brave man out of that mass of + contradictions. In return for such benefits, he pays forfeit commonly of + the dearest of the things prized by him in this terrestrial life. Whereat, + albeit created man by her, he reproaches nature, and the sculptor, + circumstance; forgetting that to make him man is their sole duty, and that + what betrayed him was the difficulty thrown in their way by his quondam + self—the pleasant boonfellow! + </p> + <p> + He forgets, in fact, that he was formerly led by his nose, and sacrificed + his deeper feeling to a low disgust. + </p> + <p> + When the youth is called upon to look up, he can adore devoutly and + ardently; but when it is his chance to look down on a fair head, he is, if + not worse, a sentimental despot. + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid was young, and under the dominion of his senses; which can be, if + the sentimentalists will believe me, as tyrannous and misleading when + super-refined as when ultra-bestial. He made a good stout effort to resist + the pipe-smoke. Emilia's voice, her growing beauty, her simplicity, her + peculiar charms of feature, were all conjured up to combat the dismal + images suggested by that fatal, dragging-down smell. It was vain. Horrible + pipe-smoke pervaded the memory of her. It seemed to his offended dainty + fancy that he could never dissociate her from smoking-booths and + abominably bad tobacco; and, let us add (for this was part of the secret), + that it never could dwell on her without the companionship of a hideous + disfigured countenance, claiming to be Wilfrid Pole. He shuddered to think + that he had virtually almost engaged himself to this girl. Or, had he? Was + his honour bound? Distance appeared to answer the question favourably. + There was safety in being distant from her. She possessed an + incomprehensible attractiveness. She was at once powerful and pitiable: so + that while he feared her, and was running from her spell, he said, from + time to time, “Poor little thing!” and deeply hoped she would not be + unhappy. + </p> + <p> + A showman once (a novice in his art, or ambitious beyond the mark), after + a successful exhibition of his dolls, handed them to the company, with the + observation, “satisfy yourselves, ladies and gentlemen.” The latter, + having satisfied themselves that the capacity of the lower limbs was + extraordinary, returned them, disenchanted. That showman did ill. But I am + not imitating him. I do not wait till after the performance, when it is + too late to revive illusion. To avoid having to drop the curtain, I choose + to explain an act on which the story hinges, while it is advancing: which + is, in truth, an impulse of character. Instead of his being more of a + puppet, this hero is less wooden than he was. Certainly I am much more in + awe of him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Pole was one of those men whose characters are read off at a glance. + He was neat, insignificant, and nervously cheerful; with the eyes of a + bird, that let you into no interior. His friends knew him thoroughly. His + daughters were never in doubt about him. At the period of the purchase of + Brookfield he had been excitable and feverish, but that was ascribed to + the projected change in his habits, and the stern necessity for an + occasional family intercommunication on the subject of money. He had a + remarkable shyness of this theme, and reversed its general treatment; for + he would pay, but would not talk of it. If it had to be discussed with the + ladies, he puffed, and blinked, and looked so much like a culprit that, + though they rather admired him for what seemed to them the germ of a sense + delicate above his condition, they would have said of any man they had not + known so perfectly, that he had painful reasons for wishing to avoid it. + Now that they spoke to him of Besworth, assuring him that they were + serious in their desire to change their residence, the fit of shyness was + manifested, first in outrageous praise of Brookfield, which was speedily + and inexplicably followed by a sort of implied assent to the proposition + to depart from it. For Besworth displayed numerous advantages over + Brookfield, and to contest one was to plunge headlong into the money + question. He ventured to ask his daughters what good they expected from + the change. They replied that it was simply this: that one might live + fifty years at Brookfield and not get such a circle as in two might be + established at Besworth. They were restricted. They had gathering friends, + and no means of bringing them together. And the beauty of the site of + Besworth made them enthusiastic. + </p> + <p> + “Well, but,” said Mr. Pole: “what does it lead to? Is there nothing to + come after?” + </p> + <p> + He explained: “You're girls, you know. You won't always stop with me. You + may do just as well at Brookfield for yourselves, as over there.” + </p> + <p> + The ladies blushed demurely. + </p> + <p> + “You forecast very kindly for us, papa,” said Cornelia. “Our object is + entirely different.” + </p> + <p> + “I wish I could see it,” he returned. + </p> + <p> + “But, you do see, papa, you do see,” interposed Adela, “that a select life + is preferable to that higgledy-piggledy city-square existence so many poor + creatures are condemned to!” + </p> + <p> + “Select!” said Mr. Pole, thinking that he had hit upon a weakness in their + argument; “how can it be select when you want to go to a place where you + may have a crowd about you?” + </p> + <p> + “Selection can only be made from a crowd,” remarked Arabella, with + terrible placidity. “It is where we see few that we are at the mercy of + kind fortune for our acquaintances.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you see, papa, that the difference between the aristocracy and the + bourgeoisie is, that the former choose their sets, and the latter are + obliged to take what comes to them?” said Adela. + </p> + <p> + This was the first domestic discussion upon Besworth. The visit to + Richford had produced the usual effect on the ladies, who were now looking + to other heights from that level. The ladies said: “We have only to press + it with papa, and we shall quit this place.” But at the second discussion + they found that they had not advanced. The only change was in the emphasis + that their father added to the interrogations already uttered. “What does + it lead to? What's to come after? I see your object. But, am I to go into + a new house for the sake of getting you out of it, and then be left there + alone? It's against your interests, too. Never mind how. Leave that to a + business man. If your brother had proposed it...but he's too reasonable.” + </p> + <p> + The ladies, upon this hint, wrote to Wilfrid to obtain his concurrence and + assistance. He laughed when he read the simple sentence: “We hope you will + not fancy that we have any peculiar personal interest in view;” and + replied to them that he was sure they had none: that he looked upon + Besworth with favour, “and I may inform you,” he pursued, “that your taste + is heartily applauded by Lady Charlotte Chillingworth, she bids me tell + you.” The letter was dated from Stornley, the estate of the marquis, Lady + Charlotte's father. Her ladyship's brother was a member of Wilfrid's Club. + “He calls Besworth the most habitable place in the county, and promises to + be there as many months out of the twelve as you like to have him. I agree + with him that Stornley can't hold a candle to it. There are three + residences in England that might be preferred to it, and, of those, two + are ducal.” + </p> + <p> + The letter was a piece of that easy diplomacy which comes from habit. The + “of those, two are ducal,” was masterly. It affected the imagination of + Brookfield. “Which two?” And could Besworth be brought to rival them? + Ultimately, it might be! The neighbourhood to London, too, gave it noble + advantages. Rapid relays of guests, and a metropolitan reputation for + country attractions, would distinguish Besworth above most English houses. + A house where all the chief celebrities might be encountered: a house + under suave feminine rule; a house, a home, to a chosen set, and a + refreshing fountain to a widening circle! + </p> + <p> + “We have a dispute,” they wrote playfully to Wilfrid “a dispute we wish + you or Lady Charlotte to settle. I, Arabella, know nothing of trout. I, + Cornelia, know nothing of river-beds. I, Adela, know nothing of + engineering. But, we are persuaded, the latter, that the river running for + a mile through Besworth grounds may be deepened: we are persuaded, the + intermediate, that the attempt will damage the channel: we are persuaded, + the first, that all the fish will go.” + </p> + <p> + In reply, Wilfrid appeared to have taken them in earnest. “I rode over + yesterday with Lady Charlotte,” he said. “We think something might be + done, without at all endangering the fish or spoiling the channel. At all + events, the idea of making the mile of broad water serviceable for boats + is too good to give up in a hurry. How about the dining-hall? I told Lady + Charlotte you were sure to insist upon a balcony for musicians. She + laughed. You will like her when you know her.” + </p> + <p> + Thus the ladies of Brookfield were led on to be more serious concerning + Besworth than they had thought of being, and began to feel that their + honour was pledged to purchase this surpassing family seat. In a household + where every want is supplied, and money as a topic utterly banished, it is + not surprising that they should have had imperial views. + </p> + <p> + Adela was Wilfrid's favoured correspondent. She described to him gaily the + struggle with their papa. “But, if you care for Besworth, you may + calculate on it.—Or is it only for our sakes, as I sometimes think?—Besworth + is won. Nothing but the cost of the place (to be considered you know!) + could withhold it from us; and of that papa has not uttered a syllable, + though he conjures up every possible objection to a change of abode, and + will not (perhaps, poor dear, cannot) see what we intend doing in the + world. Now, you know that rich men invariably make the question of the + cost their first and loudest outcry. I know that to be the case. They call + it their blood. Papa seems indifferent to this part of the affair. He does + not even allude to it. Still, we do not progress. It is just possible that + the Tinleys have an eye on beautiful Besworth. Their own place is bad + enough, but good enough for them. Give them Besworth, and they will sit + upon the neighbourhood. We shall be invaded by everything that is mean and + low, and a great chance will be gone for us. I think I may say, for the + county. The country? Our advice is, that you write to papa one of your + cleverest letters. We know, darling, what you can do with the pen as well + as the sword. Write word that you have written.” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid's reply stated that he considered it unadviseable that he should + add his voice to the request, for the present. + </p> + <p> + The ladies submitted to this quietly until they heard from their father + one evening at dinner that he had seen Wilfrid in the city. + </p> + <p> + “He doesn't waste his time like some young people I know,” said Mr. Pole, + with a wink. + </p> + <p> + “Papa; is it possible?” cried Adela. + </p> + <p> + “Everything's possible, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “Lady Charlotte?” + </p> + <p> + “There is a Lady Charlotte.” + </p> + <p> + “Who would be Lady Charlotte still, whatever occurred!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pole laughed. “No, no. You get nothing out of me. All I say is, be + practical. The sun isn't always shining.” + </p> + <p> + He appeared to be elated with some secret good news. + </p> + <p> + “Have you been over to Besworth, the last two or three days?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + The ladies smiled radiantly, acknowledging Wilfrid's wonderful persuasive + powers, in their hearts. + </p> + <p> + “No, papa; we have not been,” said Adela. “We are always anxious to go, as + I think you know.” + </p> + <p> + The merchant chirped over his glass. “Well, well! There's a way.” + </p> + <p> + “Straight?” + </p> + <p> + “Over a gate; ha, ha!” + </p> + <p> + His gaiety would have been perplexing, but for the allusion to Lady + Charlotte. + </p> + <p> + The sisters, in their unfailing midnight consultation, persuaded one + another that Wilfrid had become engaged to that lady. They wrote forthwith + Fine Shades to him on the subject. His answer was Boeotian, and all about + Besworth. “Press it now,” he said, “if you really want it. The iron is + hot. And above all things, let me beg you not to be inconsiderate to the + squire, when he and I are doing all we can for you. I mean, we are bound + to consider him, if there should happen to be anything he wishes us to + do.” + </p> + <p> + What could the word 'inconsiderate' imply? The ladies were unable to + summon an idea to solve it. They were sure that no daughters could be more + perfectly considerate and ready to sacrifice everything to their father. + In the end, they deputed the volunteering Adela to sit with him in the + library, and put the question of Besworth decisively, in the name of all. + They, meantime, who had a contempt for sleep, waited aloft to hold debate + over the result of the interview. + </p> + <p> + An hour after midnight, Adela came to them, looking pale and uncertain: + her curls seeming to drip, and her blue eyes wandering about the room, as + if she had seen a thing that kept her in a quiver between belief and + doubt. + </p> + <p> + The two ladies drew near to her, expressing no verbal impatience, from + which the habit of government and great views naturally saved them, but + singularly curious. + </p> + <p> + Adela's first exclamation: “I wish I had not gone,” alarmed them. + </p> + <p> + “Has any change come to papa?” breathed Arabella. + </p> + <p> + Cornelia smiled. “Do you not know him too well?” + </p> + <p> + An acute glance from Adela made her ask whether Besworth was to be + surrendered. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! my dear. We may have Besworth.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, surely!” + </p> + <p> + “But, there are conditions?” said Arabella. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Wilfrid's enigma is explained. Bella, that woman has seen papa.” + </p> + <p> + “What woman?” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Chump.” + </p> + <p> + “She has our permission to see him in town, if that is any consolation to + her.” + </p> + <p> + “She has told him,” continued Adela, “that no explanation, or whatever it + may be, was received by her.” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not, if it was not sent.” + </p> + <p> + “Papa,” and Adela's voice trembled, “papa will not think of Besworth,—not + a word of it!-until—until we consent to welcome that woman here as + our guest.” + </p> + <p> + Cornelia was the first to break the silence that followed this astounding + intelligence. “Then,” she said, “Besworth is not to be thought of. You + told him so?” + </p> + <p> + Adela's head drooped. “Oh!” she cried, “what shall we do? We shall be a + laughing-stock to the neighbourhood. The house will have to be locked up. + We shall live like hermits worried by a demon. Her brogue! Do you remember + it? It is not simply Irish. It's Irish steeped in brine. It's pickled + Irish!” + </p> + <p> + She feigned the bursting into tears of real vexation. + </p> + <p> + “You speak,” said Cornelia contemptuously, “as if we had very humbly bowed + our heads to the infection.” + </p> + <p> + “Papa making terms with us!” murmured Arabella. + </p> + <p> + “Pray, repeat his words.” + </p> + <p> + Adela tossed her curls. “I will, as well as I can. I began by speaking of + Besworth cheerfully; saying, that if he really had no strong affection for + Brookfield, that would make him regret quitting it, we saw innumerable + advantages in the change of residence proposed. Predilection,—not + affection—that was what I said. He replied that Besworth was a large + place, and I pointed out that therein lay one of its principal merits. I + expected what would come. He alluded to the possibility of our changing + our condition. You know that idea haunts him. I told him our opinion of + the folly of the thing. I noticed that he grew red in the face, and I said + that of course marriage was a thing ordained, but that we objected to + being submerged in matrimony until we knew who and what we were. I confess + he did not make a bad reply, of its kind. 'You're like a youngster playing + truant that he may gain knowledge.' What do you think of it?” + </p> + <p> + “A smart piece of City-speech,” was Arabella's remark: Cornelia placidly + observing, “Vulgarity never contains more than a minimum of the truth.” + </p> + <p> + “I said,” Adela went on, “Think as you will, papa, we know we are right. + He looked really angry. He said, that we have the absurdest ideas—you + tell me to repeat his words—of any girls that ever existed; and then + he put a question: listen: I give it without comment: 'I dare say, you all + object to widows marrying again.' I kept myself quiet. 'Marrying again, + papa! If they marry once they might as well marry a dozen times.' It was + the best way to irritate him. I did not intend it; that is all I can say. + He jumped from his chair, rubbed his hair, and almost ran up and down the + library floor, telling me that I prevaricated. 'You object to a widow + marrying at all—that's my question!' he cried out loud. Of course I + contained my voice all the more. 'Distinctly, papa.' When I had spoken, I + could scarcely help laughing. He went like a pony that is being broken in, + crying, I don't know how many times, 'Why? What's your reason?' You may + suppose, darlings, that I decline to enter upon explanation. If a person + is dense upon a matter of pure sentiment, there is no ground between us: + he has simply a sense wanting. 'What has all this to do with Besworth?' I + asked. 'A great deal more than you fancy,' was his answer. He seemed to + speak every word at me in capital letters. Then, as if a little ashamed, + he sat down, and reached out his hand to mine, and I saw his eyes were + moist. I drew my chair nearer to him. Now, whether I did right or wrong in + this, I do not know I leave it entirely to your judgement. If you consider + how I was placed, you will at all events excuse me. What I did was—you + know, the very farthest suspicion one has of an extreme possibility one + does not mind mentioning: I said 'Papa, if it should so happen that money + is the objection to Besworth, we will not trouble you.' At this, I can + only say that he behaved like an insane person. He denounced me as + wilfully insulting him that I might avoid one subject.” + </p> + <p> + “And what on earth can that be?” interposed Arabella. + </p> + <p> + “You may well ask. Could a genie have guessed that Mrs. Chump was at the + bottom of it all? The conclusion of the dreadful discussion is this, that + papa offers to take the purchase of Besworth into his consideration, if + we, as I said before, will receive Mrs. Chump as our honoured guest. I am + bound to say, poor dear old man, he spoke kindly, as he always does, and + kissed me, and offered to give me anything I might want. I came from him + stupefied. I have hardly got my senses about me yet.” + </p> + <p> + The ladies caressed her, with grave looks; but neither of them showed a + perturbation of spirit like that which distressed Adela. + </p> + <p> + “Wilfrid's meaning is now explained,” said Cornelia. “He is in league with + papa; or has given in his adhesion to papa's demands, at least. He is + another example of the constant tendency in men to be what they call + 'practical' at the expense of honour and sincerity.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope not,” said Arabella. “In any case, that need not depress you so + seriously, darling.” + </p> + <p> + She addressed Adela. + </p> + <p> + “Do you not see?” Adela cried, in response. “What! are you both blind to + the real significance of papa's words? I could not have believed it! Or am + I this time too acute? I pray to heaven it may be so!” + </p> + <p> + Both ladies desired her to be explicit; Arabella, eagerly; Cornelia with + distrust. + </p> + <p> + “The question of a widow marrying! What is this woman, whom papa wishes to + force on us as our guest? Why should he do that? Why should he evince + anxiety with regard to our opinion of the decency of widows contemplating + re-union? Remember previous words and hints when we lived in the city!” + </p> + <p> + “This at least you may spare us,” said Cornelia, ruffling offended. + </p> + <p> + Adela smiled in tenderness for her beauty. + </p> + <p> + “But, it is important, if we are following a track, dear. Think over it.” + </p> + <p> + “No!” cried Arabella. “It cannot be true. We might easily have guessed + this, if we ever dreamed of impossibilities.” + </p> + <p> + “In such cases, when appearances lean in one direction, set principles in + the opposite balance,” added Cornelia. “What Adela apprehends may seem to + impend, but we know that papa is incapable of doing it. To know that, + shuts the gates of suspicion. She has allowed herself to be troubled by a + ghastly nightmare.” + </p> + <p> + Adela believed in her own judgement too completely not to be sure that her + sisters were, perhaps unknowingly, disguising a slowness of perception + they were ashamed of, by thus partially accusing her of giddiness. She bit + her lip. + </p> + <p> + “Very well; if you have no fears whatever, you need not abandon the idea + of Besworth.” + </p> + <p> + “I abandon nothing,” said Arabella. “If I have to make a choice, I take + that which is least objectionable. I am chagrined, most, at the idea that + Wilfrid has been treacherous.” + </p> + <p> + “Practical,” Cornelia suggested. “You are not speaking of one of our sex.” + </p> + <p> + Questions were then put to Adela, whether Mr. Pole had spoken in the + manner of one who was prompted: whether he hesitated as he spoke: whether, + in short, Wilfrid was seen behind his tongue. Adela resolved that Wilfrid + should have one protectress. + </p> + <p> + “You are entirely mistaken in ascribing treachery to him,” she said. “It + is papa that is changed. You may suppose it to be without any reason, if + you please. I would tell you to study him for yourselves, only I am + convinced that these special private interviews are anything but good + policy, and are strictly to be avoided, unless of course, as in the + present instance, we have something directly to do.” + </p> + <p> + Toward dawn the ladies had decreed that it was policy to be quite passive, + and provoke no word of Mrs. Chump by making any allusion to Besworth, and + by fencing with the mention of the place. + </p> + <p> + As they rarely failed to carry out any plan deliberately conceived by + them, Mr. Pole was astonished to find that Besworth was altogether + dropped. After certain scattered attempts to bring them upon Besworth, he + shrugged, and resigned himself, but without looking happy. + </p> + <p> + Indeed he looked so dismal that the ladies began to think he had a great + longing for Besworth. And yet he did not go there, or even praise it to + the discredit of Brookfield! They were perplexed. + </p> + <p> + “Let me ask you how it is,” said Cornelia to Mr. Barrett, “that a person + whom we know—whose actions and motives are as plain to us as though + discerned through a glass, should at times produce a completer + mystification than any other creature? Or have you not observed it?” + </p> + <p> + “I have had better opportunities of observing it than most people,” Mr. + Barren replied, with one of his saddest amused smiles. “I have come to the + conclusion that the person we know best is the one whom we never + understand.” + </p> + <p> + “You answer me with a paradox.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it not the natural attendant on an assumption?” + </p> + <p> + “What assumption?” + </p> + <p> + “That you know a person thoroughly.” + </p> + <p> + “May we not?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you, when you acknowledge this 'complete mystification'?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” Cornelia smiled when she had said it. “And no.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Barrett, with his eyes on her, laughed softly. “Which is paradox at + the fountain-head! But, when we say we know any one, we mean commonly that + we are accustomed to his ways and habits of mind; or, that we can reckon + on the predominant influence of his appetites. Sometimes we can tell which + impulse is likely to be the most active, and which principle the least + restraining. The only knowledge to be trusted is a grounded or scientific + study of the springs that move him, side by side with his method of moving + the springs. If you fail to do this, you have two classes under your eyes: + you have sane and madman: and it will seem to you that the ranks of the + latter are constantly being swollen in an extraordinary manner. The + customary impression, as we get older, is that our friends are the maddest + people in the world. You see, we have grown accustomed to them; and now, + if they bewilder us, our judgement, in self-defence, is compelled to set + them down lunatic.” + </p> + <p> + Cornelia bowed her stately head with gentle approving laughter. + </p> + <p> + “They must go, or they despatch us thither,” she said, while her fair face + dimpled into serenity. The remark was of a lower nature than an + intellectual discussion ordinarily drew from her: but could Mr. Barrett + have read in her heart, he might have seen that his words were beginning + to rob that organ of its native sobriety. So that when he spoke a cogent + phrase, she was silenced, and became aware of a strange exultation in her + blood that obscured grave thought. Cornelia attributed this display of + mental weakness altogether to Mr. Barrett's mental force. The + interposition of a fresh agency was undreamt of by the lady. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, it was evident that Mr. Pole was a victim to one of his fevers + of shyness. He would thrum on the table, frowning; and then, as he met the + look of one of the ladies, try to disguise the thought in his head with a + forced laugh. Occasionally, he would turn toward them, as if he had just + caught a lost idea that was peculiarly precious. The ladies drawing up to + attend to the communication, had a most trivial matter imparted to them, + and away he went. Several times he said to them “You don't make friends, + as you ought;” and their repudiation of the charge made him repeat: “You + don't make friends—home friends.” + </p> + <p> + “The house can be as full as we care to have it, papa.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, acquaintances! All very well, but I mean friends—rich + friends.” + </p> + <p> + “We will think of it, papa,” said Adela, “when we want money.” + </p> + <p> + “It isn't that,” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + Adela had written to Wilfrid a full account of her interview with her + father. Wilfrid's reply was laconic. “If you cannot stand a week of the + brogue, give up Besworth, by all means.” He made no further allusion to + the place. They engaged an opera-box, for the purpose of holding a + consultation with him in town. He wrote evasively, but did not appear, and + the ladies, with Emilia between them, listened to every foot-fall by the + box-door, and were too much preoccupied to marvel that Emilia was just as + inattentive to the music as they were. When the curtain dropped they + noticed her dejection. + </p> + <p> + “What ails you?” they asked. + </p> + <p> + “Let us go out of London to-night,” she whispered, and it was difficult to + persuade her that she would see Brookfield again. + </p> + <p> + “Remember,” said Adela, “it is you that run away from us, not we from + you.” + </p> + <p> + Soft chidings of this description were the only reproaches for her naughty + conduct. She seemed contrite very still and timid, since that night of + adventure. The ladies were glad to observe it, seeing that it lent her an + air of refinement, and proved her sensible to correction. + </p> + <p> + At last Mr. Pole broke the silence. He had returned from business, humming + and rubbing his hands, like one newly primed with a suggestion that was + the key of a knotty problem. Observant Adela said: “Have you seen Wilfrid, + papa?” + </p> + <p> + “Saw him in the morning,” Mr. Pole replied carelessly. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Barrett was at the table. + </p> + <p> + “By the way, what do you think of our law of primogeniture?” Mr. Pole + addressed him. + </p> + <p> + He replied with the usual allusion to a basis of aristocracy. + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's the English system,” said Mr. Pole. “That's always in its + favour at starting. I'm Englishman enough to think that. There ought to be + an entail of every decent bit of property, eh?” + </p> + <p> + It was observed that Mr. Barrett reddened as he said, “I certainly think + that a young man should not be subject to his father's caprice.” + </p> + <p> + “Father's caprice! That isn't common. But, if you're founding a family, + you must entail.” + </p> + <p> + “We agree, sir, from my point of view, and from yours.” + </p> + <p> + “Knits the family bond, don't you think? I mean, makes the trunk of the + tree firm. It makes the girls poor, though!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Barrett saw that he had some confused legal ideas in his head, and + that possibly there were personal considerations in the background; so he + let the subject pass. + </p> + <p> + When the guest had departed, Mr. Pole grew demonstrative in his paternal + caresses. He folded Adela in one arm, and framed her chin in his fingers: + marks of affection dear to her before she had outgrown them. + </p> + <p> + “So!” he said, “you've given up Besworth, have you?” + </p> + <p> + At the name, Arabella and Cornelia drew nearer to his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Given up Besworth, papa? It is not we who have given it up,” said Adela. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you have; and quite right too. You say, 'What's the use of it, for + that's a sort of thing that always goes to the son.'” + </p> + <p> + “You suppose, papa, that we indulge in ulterior calculations?” came from + Cornelia. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you see, my love!—no, I don't suppose it at all. But to buy a + place and split it up after two or three years—I dare say they + wouldn't insure me for more, that's nonsense. And it seems unfair to you, + as you must think—” + </p> + <p> + “Darling papa! we are not selfish!” it rejoiced Adela to exclaim. + </p> + <p> + His face expressed a transparent simple-mindedness that won the confidence + of the ladies and awakened their ideal of generosity. + </p> + <p> + “I know what you mean, papa,” said Arabella. “But, we love Besworth; and + if we may enjoy the place for the time that we are all together, I shall + think it sufficient. I do not look beyond.” + </p> + <p> + Her sisters echoed the sentiment, and sincerely. They were as little + sordid as creatures could be. If deeply questioned, it would have been + found that their notion of the position Providence had placed them in (in + other words, their father's unmentioned wealth), permitted them to be as + lavish as they pleased. Mr. Pole had endowed them with a temperament + similar to his own; and he had educated it. In feminine earth it + flourished wonderfully. Shy as himself, their shyness took other forms, + and developed with warm youth. Not only did it shut them up from others + (which is the first effect of this disease), but it tyrannized over them + internally: so that there were subjects they had no power to bring their + minds to consider. Money was in the list. The Besworth question, as at + present considered, involved the money question. All of them felt that; + father and children. It is not surprising, therefore, that they hurried + over it as speedily as they could, and by a most comical exhibition of + implied comprehension of meanings and motives. + </p> + <p> + “Of course, we're only in the opening stage of the business,” said Mr. + Pole. “There's nothing decided, you know. Lots of things got to be + considered. You mean what you say, do you? Very well. And you want me to + think of it? So I will. And look, my dears, you know that—” (here + his voice grew husky, as was the case with it when touching a shy topic + even beneath the veil; but they were above suspicion) “you know that—a—that + we must all give way a little to the other, now and then. Nothing like + being kind.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray, have no fear, papa dear!” rang the clear voice of Arabella. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, you're all for Besworth, even though it isn't exactly for + your own interest? All right.” + </p> + <p> + The ladies kissed him. + </p> + <p> + “We'll each stretch a point,” he continued. “We shall get on better if we + do. Much! You're a little hard on people who're not up to the mark. + There's an end to that. Even your old father will like you better.” + </p> + <p> + These last remarks were unintelligible to the withdrawing ladies. + </p> + <p> + On the morning that followed, Mr. Pole expressed a hope that his daughters + intended to give him a good dinner that day; and he winked humorously and + kindly by which they understood him to be addressing a sort of + propitiation to them for the respect he paid to his appetite. + </p> + <p> + “Papa,” said Adela, “I myself will speak to Cook.” + </p> + <p> + She added, with a smile thrown to her sisters, without looking at them, “I + dare say, she will know who I am.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pole went down to his wine-cellar, and was there busy with bottles + till the carriage came for him. A bason was fetched that he might wash off + the dust and cobwebs in the passage. Having rubbed his hands briskly with + soap, he dipped his head likewise, in an oblivious fit, and then turning + round to the ladies, said, “What have I forgotten?” looking woebegone with + his dripping vacant face. “Oh, ah! I remember now;” and he chuckled + gladly. + </p> + <p> + He had just for one moment forgotten that he was acting, and a pang of + apprehension had caught him when the water covered his face, to the effect + that he must forfeit the natural artistic sequence of speech and conduct + which disguised him so perfectly. Away he drove, nodding and waving his + hand. + </p> + <p> + “Dear, simple, innocent old man!” was the pitiful thought in the bosoms of + the ladies; and if it was accompanied by the mute exclamation, “How + singular that we should descend from him!” it would not have been for the + first time. + </p> + <p> + They passed one of their delightful quiet days, in which they paved the + future with gold, and, if I may use so bold a figure, lifted parasols + against the great sun that was to shine on them. Now they listened to + Emilia, and now strolled in the garden; conversed on the social skill of + Lady Gosstre, who was nevertheless narrow in her range; and on the + capacities of mansions, on the secret of mixing people in society, and + what to do with the women! A terrible problem, this latter one. Not + terrible (to hostesses) at a mere rout or drum, or at a dance pure and + simple, but terrible when you want good talk to circulate for then they + are not, as a body, amused; and when they are not amused, you know, they + are not inclined to be harmless; and in this state they are vipers; and + where is society then? And yet you cannot do without them!—which is + the revolting mystery. I need not say that I am not responsible for these + critical remarks. Such tenderness to the sex comes only from its sisters. + </p> + <p> + So went a day rich in fair dreams to the ladies; and at the hour of their + father's return they walked across the parvenu park, in a state of + enthusiasm for Besworth, that threw some portion of its decorative light + on the donor of Besworth. When his carriage was heard on the road, they + stood fast, and greeted his appearance with a display of + pocket-handkerchiefs in the breeze, a proceeding that should have + astonished him, being novel; but seemed not to do so, for it was + immediately responded to by the vigorous waving of a pair of + pocket-handkerchiefs from the carriage-window! The ladies smiled at this + piece of simplicity which prompted him to use both his hands, as if one + would not have been enough. Complacently they continued waving. Then Adela + looked at her sisters; Cornelia's hand dropped and Arabella, the last to + wave, was the first to exclaim: “That must be a woman's arm!” + </p> + <p> + The carriage stopped at the gate, and it was one in the dress of a woman + at least, and of the compass of a big woman, who descended by the aid of + Mr. Pole. Safely alighted, she waved her pocket-handkerchief afresh. The + ladies of Brookfield did not speak to one another; nor did they move their + eyes from the object approaching. A simultaneous furtive extinction of + three pocket-handkerchiefs might have been noticed. There was no further + sign given. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV + </h2> + <p> + A letter from Brookfield apprised Wilfrid that Mr. Pole had brought Mrs. + Chump to the place as a visitor, and that she was now in the house. Formal + as a circular, the idea of it appeared to be that the bare fact would tell + him enough and inspire him with proper designs. No reply being sent, a + second letter arrived, formal too, but pointing out his duty to succour + his afflicted family, and furnishing a few tragic particulars. Thus he + learnt, that while Mr. Pole was advancing toward the three grouped ladies, + on the day of Mrs. Chump's arrival, he called Arabella by name, and + Arabella went forward alone, and was engaged in conversation by Mrs. + Chump. Mr. Pole left them to make his way to Adela and Cornelia. “Now, + mind, I expect you to keep to your agreement,” he said. Gradually they + were led on to perceive that this simple-minded man had understood their + recent talk of Besworth to signify a consent to the stipulation he had + previously mentioned to Adela. “Perfect simplicity is as deceiving as the + depth of cunning,” Adela despairingly wrote, much to Wilfrid's amusement. + </p> + <p> + A third letter followed. It was of another tenor, and ran thus, in Adela's + handwriting: + </p> + <p> + “My Darling Wilfrid, + </p> + <p> + “We have always known that some peculiar assistance would never be wanting + in our extremity—aid, or comfort, or whatever you please to call it. + At all events, something to show we are not neglected. That old notion of + ours must be true. I shall say nothing of our sufferings in the house. + They continue. Yesterday, papa came from town, looking important. He had + up some of his best wine for dinner. All through the service his eyes were + sparkling on Cornelia. I spare you a family picture, while there is this + huge blot on it. Naughty brother! But, listen! your place is here, for + many reasons, as you will be quick enough to see. After dinner, papa took + Cornelia into the library alone, and they were together for ten minutes. + She came out very pale. She had been proposed for by Sir Twickenham Pryme, + our Member for the borough. I have always been sure that Cornelia was born + for Parliament, and he will be lucky if he wins her. We know not yet, of + course, what her decision will be. The incident is chiefly remarkable to + us as a relief to what I need not recount to you. But I wish to say one + thing, dear Wilfrid. You are gazetted to a lieutenancy, and we + congratulate you: but what I have to say is apparently much more trifling, + and it is, that—will you take it to heart?—it would do + Arabella and myself infinite good if we saw a little more of our brother, + and just a little less of a very gentlemanly organ-player phenomenon, who + talks so exceedingly well. He is a very pleasant man, and appreciates our + ideas, and so forth; but it is our duty to love our brother best, and + think of him foremost, and we wish him to come and remind us of our duty. + </p> + <p> + “At our Cornelia's request, with our concurrence, papa is silent in the + house as to the purport of the communication made by Sir T.P. + </p> + <p> + “By the way, are you at all conscious of a sound-like absurdity in a + Christian name of three syllables preceding a surname of one? Sir + Twickenham Pryme! Cornelia's pronunciation of the name first gave me the + feeling. The 'Twickenham' seems to perform a sort of educated monkey kind + of ridiculously decorous pirouette and entrechat before the 'Pryme.' I + think that Cornelia feels it also. You seem to fancy elastic limbs bending + to the measure of a solemn church-organ. Sir Timothy? But Sir Timothy does + not jump with the same grave agility as Sir Twickenham! If she rejects + him, it will be half attributable to this. + </p> + <p> + “My own brother! I expect no confidences, but a whisper warns me that you + have not been to Stornley twice without experiencing the truth of our old + discovery, that the Poles are magnetic? Why should we conceal it from + ourselves, if it be so? I think it a folly, and fraught with danger, for + people not to know their characteristics. If they attract, they should + keep in a circle where they will have no reason to revolt at, or say, + repent of what they attract. My argumentative sister does not coincide. If + she did, she would lose her argument. + </p> + <p> + “Adieu! Such is my dulness, I doubt whether I have made my meaning clear. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Your thrice affectionate + + “Adela. +</pre> + <p> + “P.S.—Lady Gosstre has just taken Emilia to Richford for a week. + Papa starts for Bidport to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + This short and rather blunt exercise in Fine Shades was read impatiently + by Wilfrid. “Why doesn't she write plain to the sense?” he asked, with the + usual injustice of men, who demand a statement of facts, forgetting how + few there are to feed the post; and that indication and suggestion are the + only language for the multitude of facts unborn and possible. Twilight + best shows to the eye what may be. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose I must go down there,” he said to himself, keeping a meditative + watch on the postscript, as if it possessed the capability of slipping + away and deceiving him. “Does she mean that Cornelia sees too much of this + man Barrett? or, what does she mean?” And now he saw meanings in the + simple passages, and none at all in the intricate ones; and the + double-meanings were monsters that ate one another up till nothing + remained of them. In the end, however, he made a wrathful guess and came + to a resolution, which brought him to the door of the house next day at + noon. He took some pains in noting the exact spot where he had last seen + Emilia half in moonlight, and then dismissed her image peremptorily. The + house was apparently empty. Gainsford, the footman, gave information that + he thought the ladies were upstairs, but did not volunteer to send a maid + to them. He stood in deferential footman's attitude, with the aspect of a + dog who would laugh if he could, but being a footman out of his natural + element, cannot. + </p> + <p> + “Here's a specimen of the new plan of treating servants!” thought Wilfrid, + turning away. “To act a farce for their benefit! That fellow will explode + when he gets downstairs. I see how it is. This woman, Chump, is making + them behave like schoolgirls.” + </p> + <p> + He conceived the idea sharply, and forthwith, without any preparation, he + was ready to treat these high-aspiring ladies like schoolgirls. Nor was + there a lack of justification; for when they came down to his shouts in + the passage, they hushed, and held a finger aloft, and looked altogether + so unlike what they aimed at being, that Wilfrid's sense of mastery became + almost contempt. + </p> + <p> + “I know perfectly what you have to tell me,” he said. “Mrs. Chump is here, + you have quarrelled with her, and she has shut her door, and you have shut + yours. It's quite intelligible and full of dignity. I really can't smother + my voice in consequence.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed with unnecessary abandonment. The sensitive young women wanted + no other schooling to recover themselves. In a moment they were seen + leaning back and contemplating him amusedly, as if he had been the comic + spectacle, and were laughing for a wager. There are few things so sour as + the swallowing of one's own forced laugh. Wilfrid got it down, and + commenced a lecture to fill the awkward pause. His sisters maintained the + opera-stall posture of languid attention, contesting his phrases simply + with their eyebrows, and smiling. He was no match for them while they + chose to be silent: and indeed if the business of life were conducted in + dumb show, women would beat men hollow. They posture admirably. In dumb + show they are equally good for attack and defence. But this is not the + case in speech. So, when Arabella explained that their hope was to see + Mrs. Chump go that day, owing to the rigorous exclusion of all amusement + and the outer world from the house, Wilfrid regained his superior footing + and made his lecture tell. In the middle of it, there rang a cry from the + doorway that astonished even him, it was so powerfully Irish. + </p> + <p> + “The lady you have called down is here,” said Arabella's cold glance, in + answer to his. + </p> + <p> + They sat with folded hands while Wilfrid turned to Mrs. Chump, who + advanced, a shock of blue satin to the eye, crying, on a jump: “Is ut Mr. + Wilfrud?” + </p> + <p> + “It's I, ma'am.” Wilfrid bowed, and the censorious ladies could not deny + that, his style was good, if his object was to be familiar. And if that + was his object, he was paid for it. A great thick kiss was planted on his + cheek, with the motto: “Harm to them that thinks ut.” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid bore the salute like a man who presumes that he is flattered. + </p> + <p> + “And it's you!” said Mrs. Chump. “I was just off. I'm packed, and + bonnutted, and ready for a start; becas, my dear, where there's none but + women, I don't think it natural to stop. You're splendid! How a little + fella like Pole could go and be father to such a mighty big son, with your + bit of moustache and your blue eyes! Are they blue or a bit of grey in + 'em?” Mrs. Chump peered closely. “They're kill'n', let their colour be + anyhow. And I that knew ye when ye were no bigger than my garter! Oh, sir! + don't talk of ut; I'll be thinkin', of my coffin. Ye're glad to see me? + Say, yes. Do!” + </p> + <p> + “Very glad,” quoth Wilfrid. + </p> + <p> + “Upon your honour, now?” + </p> + <p> + “Upon my honour!” + </p> + <p> + “My dears” (Mrs. Chump turned to the ladies), “I'll stop; and just thank + your brother for't, though you can't help being garls.” + </p> + <p> + Reduced once more to demonstrate like schoolgirls by this woman, the + ladies rose together, and were retiring, when Mrs. Chump swung round and + caught Arabella's hand. “See heer,” she motioned to Wilfrid. Arabella made + a bitter effort to disengage herself. “See, now! It's jeal'sy of me, Mr. + Wilfrud, becas I'm a widde and just an abom'nation to garls, poor + darlin's! And twenty shindies per dime we've been havin', and me such a + placable body, if ye'll onnly let m' explode. I'm all powder, avery bit! + and might ha' been christened Saltpetre, if born a boy. She hasn't so much + as a shot to kill a goose, says Chump, poor fella! But he went, anyway. I + must kiss somebody when I talk of 'm. Mr. Wilfrud, I'll take the girls, + and entitle myself to you.” + </p> + <p> + Arabella was the first victim. Her remonstrance was inarticulate. + Cornelia's “Madam!” was smothered. Adela behaved better, being more + consciously under Wilfrid's eye; she prepared her pocket-handkerchief, + received the salute, and deliberately effaced it. + </p> + <p> + “There!” said Mrs. Chump; “duty to begin with. And now for you, Mr. + Wilfrud.” + </p> + <p> + The ladies escaped. Their misery could not be conveyed to the mind. The + woman was like a demon come among them. They felt chiefly degraded, not by + her vulgarity, but by their inability to cope with it, and by the + consequent sickening sense of animal inefficiency—the block that was + put to all imaginative delight in the golden hazy future they figured for + themselves, and which was their wine of life. An intellectual adversary + they could have combated; this huge brogue-burring engine quite + overwhelmed them. Wilfrid's worse than shameful behaviour was a common + rallying-point; and yet, so absolutely critical were they by nature, their + blame of him was held mentally in restraint by the superior ease of his + manner as contrasted with their own lamentably silly awkwardness. Highly + civilized natures do sometimes, and keen wits must always, feel + dissatisfied when they are not on the laughing side: their dread of + laughter is an instinctive respect for it. + </p> + <p> + Dinner brought them all together again. Wilfrid took his father's seat, + facing his Aunt Lupin, and increased the distress of his sisters by his + observance of every duty of a host to the dreadful intruder, whom he thus + established among them. He was incomprehensible. His visit to Stornley had + wrought in him a total change. He used to like being petted, and would + regard everything as right that his sisters did, before he went there; and + was a languid, long-legged, indifferent cavalier, representing men to + them: things made to be managed, snubbed, admired, but always virtually + subservient and in the background. Now, without perceptible gradation, his + superiority was suddenly manifest; so that, irritated and apprehensive as + they were, they could not, by the aid of any of their intricate mental + machinery, look down on him. They tried to; they tried hard to think him + despicable as well as treacherous. His style was too good. When he + informed Mrs. Chump that he had hired a yacht for the season, and added, + after enlarging on the merits of the vessel, “I am under your orders,” his + sisters were as creatures cut in twain—one half abominating his + conduct, the other approving his style. The bow, the smile, were perfect. + The ladies had to make an effort to recover their condemnatory judgement. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” cried Mrs. Chump; “and if you've got a yacht, Mr. Wilfrud, won't ye + have a great parcel o' the arr'stocracy on board?” + </p> + <p> + “You may spy a title by the aid of a telescope,” said Wilfrid. + </p> + <p> + “And I'm to come, I am?” + </p> + <p> + “Are you not elected captain?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if ye've got lords and real ladies on board, I'll come, be sure of + ut! I'll be as sick as a cat, I will. But, I'll come, if it's the rroon of + my stomach. I'd say to Chump, 'Oh, if ye'd only been born a lord, or would + just get yourself struck a knight on one o' your shoulders,—oh, + Chump!' I'd say, 'it wouldn't be necessary to be rememberin' always the + words of the cerr'mony about lovin' and honourin' and obeyin' of a little + whistle of a fella like you.' Poor lad! he couldn't stop for his luck! Did + ye ask me to take wine, Mr. Wilfrud? I'll be cryin', else, as a widde + should, ye know!” + </p> + <p> + Frequent administrations of wine arrested the tears of Mrs. Chump, until + it is possible that the fulness of many a checked flow caused her to + redden and talk slightly at random. At the first mention of their father's + name, the ladies went out from the room. It was foolish, for they might + have watched the effect of certain vinous innuendoes addressed to + Wilfrid's apprehensiveness; but they were weakened and humbled, and + everything they did was foolish. From the fact that they offended their + keen critical taste, moreover, they were targets to the shaft that wounds + more fatally than all. No ridicule knocks the strength out of us so + thoroughly as our own. + </p> + <p> + Whether or not he guessed their condition favourable for his plans, + Wilfrid did not give them time to call back their scattered powers. At the + hour of eleven he sent for Arabella to come to him in the library. The + council upstairs permitted Arabella to go, on the understanding that she + was prepared for hostilities, and ready to tear the mask from Wilfrid's + face. + </p> + <p> + He commenced, without a shadow of circumlocution, and in a matter-of-fact + way, as if all respect for the peculiar genius of the house of Pole had + vanished: “I sent for you to talk a word or two about this woman, who, I + see, troubles you a little. I'm sorry she's in the house.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” said Arabella. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry she's in the house, not for my sake, but for yours, since the + proximity does not seem to... I needn't explain. It comes of your eternal + consultations. You are the eldest. Why not act according to your + judgement, which is generally sound? You listen to Adela, young as she is; + or a look of Cornelia's leads you. The result is the sort of scene I saw + this afternoon. I confess it has changed my opinion of you; it has, I + grieve to say it. This woman is your father's guest; you can't hurt her so + much as you hurt him, if you misbehave to her. You can't openly object to + her and not cast a slur upon him. There is the whole case. He has + insisted, and you must submit. You should have fought the battle before + she came.” + </p> + <p> + “She is here, owing to a miserable misconception,” said Arabella. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! she is here, however. That is the essential, as your old governess + Madame Timpan would have said.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor can a protest against coarseness be sweepingly interpreted as a piece + of unfilial behaviour,” said Arabella. + </p> + <p> + “She is coarse,” Wilfrid nodded his head. “There are some forms of + coarseness which dowagers would call it coarseness to notice. + </p> + <p> + “Not if you find it locked up in the house with you—not if you + suffer under a constant repulsion. Pray, do not use these phrases to me, + Wilfrid. An accusation of coarseness cannot touch us.” + </p> + <p> + “No, certainly,” assented Wilfrid. “And you have a right to protest. I + disapprove the form of your protest nothing more. A schoolgirl's...but you + complain of the use of comparisons.” + </p> + <p> + “I complain, Wilfrid, of your want of sympathy.” + </p> + <p> + “That for two or three weeks you must hear a brogue at your elbow? The + poor creature is not so bad; she is good-hearted. It's hard that you + should have to bear with her for that time and receive nothing better than + Besworth as your reward.” + </p> + <p> + “Very; seeing that we endure the evil and decline the sop with it.” + </p> + <p> + “How?” + </p> + <p> + “We have renounced Besworth.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you! And did this renunciation make you all sit on the edge of your + chairs, this afternoon, as if Edward Buxley had arranged you? You give up + Besworth? I'm afraid it's too late.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Wilfrid! can you be ignorant that something more is involved in the + purchase of Besworth?” + </p> + <p> + Arabella gazed at him with distressful eagerness, as one who believes in + the lingering of a vestige of candour. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean that my father may wish to give this woman his name?” said + Wilfrid coolly. “You have sense enough to know that if you make his home + disagreeable, you are taking the right method to drive him into such a + course. Ha! I don't think it's to be feared, unless you pursue these + consultations. And let me say, for my part, we have gone too far about + Besworth, and can't recede.” + </p> + <p> + “I have given out everywhere that the place is ours. I did so almost at + your instigation. Besworth was nothing to me till you cried it up. And now + I won't detain you. I know I can rely on your sense, if you will rely on + it. Good night, Bella.” + </p> + <p> + As she was going a faint spark of courage revived Arabella's wits. Seeing + that she was now ready to speak, he opened the door wide, and she kissed + him and went forth, feeling driven. + </p> + <p> + But while Arabella was attempting to give a definite version of the + interview to her sisters, a message came requesting Adela to descend. The + ladies did not allow her to depart until two or three ingenuous + exclamations from her made them share her curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “Ah?” Wilfrid caught her hand as she came in. “No, I don't intend to let + it go. You may be a fine lady, but you're a rogue, you know, and a + charming one, as I hear a friend of mine has been saying. Shall I call him + out? Shall I fight him with pistols, or swords, and leave him bleeding on + the ground, because he thinks you a pretty rogue?” + </p> + <p> + Adela struggled against the blandishment of this old familiar style of + converse—part fun, part flattery—dismissed since the great + idea had governed Brookfield. + </p> + <p> + “Please tell me what you called me down for, dear?” + </p> + <p> + “To give you a lesson in sitting on chairs. 'Adela, or the Puritan + sister,' thus: you sit on the extremest edge, and your eyes peruse the + ceiling; and...” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! will you ever forget that perfectly ridiculous scene?” Adela cried in + anguish. + </p> + <p> + She was led by easy stages to talk of Besworth. + </p> + <p> + “Understand,” said Wilfrid, “that I am indifferent about it. The idea + sprang from you—I mean from my pretty sister Adela, who is President + of the Council of Three. I hold that young woman responsible for all that + they do. Am I wrong? Oh, very well. You suggested Besworth, at all events. + And—if we quarrel, I shall cut off one of your curls.” + </p> + <p> + “We never will quarrel, my darling,” quoth Adela softly. “Unless—” + she added. + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid kissed her forehead. + </p> + <p> + “Unless what?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, you must tell me who it is that talks of me in that + objectionable manner; I do not like it.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I convey that intimation?” + </p> + <p> + “I choose to ask, simply that I may defend myself.” + </p> + <p> + “I choose to keep him buried, then, simply to save his life.” + </p> + <p> + Adela made a mouth, and Wilfrid went on: “By the way, I want you to know + Lady Charlotte; you will take to one another. She likes you, already—says + you want dash; but on that point there may be two opinions.” + </p> + <p> + “If dash,” said Adela, quite beguiled, “—that is, dash!—what + does it mean? But, if Lady Charlotte means by dash—am I really + wanting in it? I should define it, the quality of being openly natural + without vulgarity; and surely...!” + </p> + <p> + “Then you two differ a little, and must meet and settle your dispute. You + don't differ about Besworth: or, didn't. I never saw a woman so much in + love with a place as she is.” + </p> + <p> + “A place?” emphasized Adela. + </p> + <p> + “Don't be too arch. I comprehend. She won't take me minus Besworth, you + may be sure.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you, Wilfrid!—but you did not—offer yourself as owner of + Besworth?” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid kept his eyes slanting on the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Now I see why you should still wish it,” continued Adela. “Perhaps you + don't know the reason which makes it impossible, or I would say—Bacchus! + it must be compassed. You remember your old schoolboy oath which you + taught me? We used to swear always, by Bacchus!” + </p> + <p> + Adela laughed and blushed, like one who petitions pardon for this her + utmost sin, that is not regretted as it should be. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Chump again, isn't it?” said Wilfrid. “Pole would be a preferable + name. If she has the ambition, it elevates her. And it would be rather + amusing to see the dear old boy in love.” + </p> + <p> + Adela gave her under-lip a distressful bite. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you, Wilfrid—why treat such matters with levity?” + </p> + <p> + “Levity? I am the last to treat ninety thousand pounds with levity.” + </p> + <p> + “Has she so much?” Adela glanced at him. + </p> + <p> + “She will be snapped up by some poor nobleman. If I take her down to the + yacht, one of Lady Charlotte's brothers or uncles will bite; to a + certainty.” + </p> + <p> + “It would be an excellent idea to take her!” cried Adela. + </p> + <p> + “Excellent! and I'll do it, if you like.” + </p> + <p> + “Could you bear the reflex of the woman?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you know that I am not in the habit of sitting on the extreme + edge...?” + </p> + <p> + Adela started, breathing piteously: “Wilfrid, dear! you want something of + me—what is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Simply that you should behave civilly to your father's guest.” + </p> + <p> + “I had a fear, dear; but I think too well of you to entertain it for a + moment. If civility is to win Besworth for you, there is my hand.” + </p> + <p> + “Be civil—that's all,” said Wilfrid, pressing the hand given. “These + consultations of yours and acting in concert—one tongue for three + women—are a sort of missish, unripe nonsense, that one sees only in + bourgeoise girls—eh? Give it up. Lady Charlotte hit on it at a + glance.” + </p> + <p> + “And I, my chameleon brother, will return her the compliment, some day,” + Adela said to herself, as she hurried back to her sisters, bearing a + message for Cornelia. This lady required strong persuasion. A word from + Adela: “He will think you have some good reason to deny him a private + interview,” sent her straight to the stairs. + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid was walking up and down, with his arms folded and his brows bent. + Cornelia stood in the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “You desire to speak to me, Wilfrid? And in private?” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't wish to congratulate you publicly, that's all. I know it's + rather against your taste. We'll shut the door, and sit down, if you don't + mind. Yes, I congratulate you with all my heart,” he said, placing a chair + for Cornelia. + </p> + <p> + “May I ask, wherefore?” + </p> + <p> + “You don't think marriage a matter for congratulation?” + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes: as the case may be.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's not marriage yet. I congratulate you on your offer.” + </p> + <p> + “I thank you.” + </p> + <p> + “You accept it, of course.” + </p> + <p> + “I reject it, certainly.” + </p> + <p> + After this preliminary passage, Wilfrid remained silent long enough for + Cornelia to feel uneasy. + </p> + <p> + “I want you to congratulate me also,” he recommenced. “We poor fellows + don't have offers, you know. To be frank, I think Lady Charlotte + Chillingworth will have me, if—She's awfully fond of Besworth, and I + need not tell you that as she has position in the world, I ought to show + something in return. When you wrote about Besworth, I knew it was as good + as decided. I told her so and—Well, I fancy there's that sort of + understanding between us. She will have me when... You know how the poorer + members of the aristocracy are situated. Her father's a peer, and has a + little influence. He might push me; but she is one of a large family; she + has nothing. I am certain you will not judge of her as common people + might. She does me a particular honour.” + </p> + <p> + “Is she not much older than you, Wilfrid?” said Cornelia. + </p> + <p> + “Or, in other words,” he added, “is she not a very mercenary person?” + </p> + <p> + “That, I did not even imply.” + </p> + <p> + “Honestly, was it not in your head?” + </p> + <p> + “Now you put it so plainly, I do say, it strikes me disagreeably; I have + heard of nothing like it.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think it unreasonable that I should marry into a noble family?” + </p> + <p> + “That is, assuredly, not my meaning.” + </p> + <p> + “Nevertheless, you are, on the whole, in favour of beggarly alliances.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Wilfrid.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you reject this offer that has been made to you?” + </p> + <p> + Cornelia flushed and trembled; the traitorous feint had thrown her off her + guard. She said, faltering: + </p> + <p> + “Would you have me marry one I do not love?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well!” He drew back. “You are going to do your best to stop the + purchase of Besworth?” + </p> + <p> + “No; I am quiescent.” + </p> + <p> + “Though I tell you how deeply it concerns me!” + </p> + <p> + “Wilfrid, my own brother!” (Cornelia flung herself before him, catching + his hand,) “I wish you to be loved, first of all. Think of the horror of a + loveless marriage, however gilded! Does a woman make stipulations ere she + gives her hand? Does not love seek to give, to bestow? I wish you to marry + well, but chiefly that you should be loved.” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid pressed her head in both his hands. + </p> + <p> + “I never saw you look so handsome,” he said. “You've got back your old + trick of blushing, too! Why do you tremble? By the way, you seem to have + been learning a great deal about that business, lately?” + </p> + <p> + “What business?” + </p> + <p> + “Love.” + </p> + <p> + A river of blood overflowed her fair cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “How long has this been?” his voice came to her. + </p> + <p> + There was no escape. She was at his knees, and must look up, or confess + guilt. + </p> + <p> + “This?” + </p> + <p> + “Come, my dearest girl!” Wilfrid soothed her. “I can help you, and will, + if you'll take advice. I've always known your heart was generous and + tender, under that ice you wear so well. How long has this been going on?” + </p> + <p> + “Wilfrid!” + </p> + <p> + “You want plain speech?” + </p> + <p> + She wanted that still less. + </p> + <p> + “We'll call it 'this,'” he said. “I have heard of it, guessed it, and now + see it. How far have you pledged yourself in 'this?'” + </p> + <p> + “How far?” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid held silent. Finding that her echo was not accepted as an answer, + she moaned his name lovingly. It touched his heart, where a great + susceptibility to passion lay. As if the ghost of Emilia were about him, + he kissed his sister's hand, and could not go on with his cruel + interrogations. + </p> + <p> + His next question was dew of relief to her. + </p> + <p> + “Has your Emilia been quite happy, of late?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, quite, dear! very. And sings with more fire.” + </p> + <p> + “She's cheerful?” + </p> + <p> + “She does not romp. Her eyes are full and bright.” + </p> + <p> + “She's satisfied with everything here?” + </p> + <p> + “How could she be otherwise?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes! You weren't severe on her for that escapade—I mean, when + she ran away from Lady Gosstre's?” + </p> + <p> + “We scarcely alluded to the subject, or permitted her to.” + </p> + <p> + “Or permitted her to!” Wilfrid echoed, with a grimace. “And she's cheerful + now?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite.” + </p> + <p> + “I mean, she doesn't mope?” + </p> + <p> + “Why should she?” + </p> + <p> + Cornelia had been too hard-pressed to have suspicion the questions were an + immense relief. + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid mused gloomily. Cornelia spoke further of Emilia, and her delight + in the visits of Mr. Powys, who spent hours with her, like a man + fascinated. She flowed on, little aware that she was fast restoring to + Wilfrid all his judicial severity. + </p> + <p> + He said, at last: “I suppose there's no engagement existing?” + </p> + <p> + “Engagement?” + </p> + <p> + “You have not, what they call, plighted your troth to the man?” + </p> + <p> + Cornelia struggled for evasion. She recognized the fruitlessness of the + effort, and abandoning it stood up. + </p> + <p> + “I am engaged to no one.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I should hope not,” said Wilfrid. “An engagement might be broken.” + </p> + <p> + “Not by me.” + </p> + <p> + “It might, is all that I say. A romantic sentiment is tougher. Now, I have + been straightforward with you: will you be with me? I shall not hurt the + man, or wound his feelings.” + </p> + <p> + He paused; but it was to find that no admission of the truth, save what + oozed out in absence of speech, was to be expected. She seemed, after the + fashion of women, to have got accustomed to the new atmosphere into which + he had dragged her, without any conception of a forward movement. + </p> + <p> + “I see I must explain to you how we are situated,” said Wilfrid. “We are + in a serious plight. You should be civil to this woman for several reasons—for + your father's sake and your own. She is very rich.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Wilfrid!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I find money well thought of everywhere.” + </p> + <p> + “Has your late school been good for you?” + </p> + <p> + “This woman, I repeat, is rich, and we want money. Oh! not the ordinary + notion of wanting money, but the more we have the more power we have. Our + position depends on it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if we can be tempted to think so,” flashed Cornelia. + </p> + <p> + “Our position depends on it. If you posture, and are poor, you provoke + ridicule: and to think of scorning money, is a piece of folly no girls of + condition are guilty of. Now, you know I am fond of you; so I'll tell you + this: you have a chance; don't miss it. Something unpleasant is + threatening; but you may escape it. It would be madness to throw such a + chance away, and it is your duty to take advantage of it. What is there + plainer? You are engaged to no one.” + </p> + <p> + Cornelia came timidly close to him. “Pray, be explicit!” + </p> + <p> + “Well!—this offer.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but what—there is something to escape from.” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid deliberately replied: “There is no doubt of the Pater's intentions + with regard to Mrs. Chump.” + </p> + <p> + “He means...?” + </p> + <p> + “He means to marry her.” + </p> + <p> + “And you, Wilfrid?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, of course, he cuts me out. There—there! forgive me: but what + can I do?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you conspire—Wilfrid, is it possible?—are you an + accomplice in the degradation of our house?” + </p> + <p> + Cornelia had regained her courage, perforce of wrath. Wilfrid's singular + grey eyes shot an odd look at her. He is to be excused for not perceiving + the grandeur of the structure menaced; for it was invisible to all the + world, though a real fabric. + </p> + <p> + “If Mrs. Chump were poor, I should think the Pater demented,” he said. “As + it is—! well, as it is, there's grist to the mill, wind to the + organ. You must be aware” (and he leaned over to her with his most + suspicious gentleness of tone) “you are aware that all organs must be fed; + but you will make a terrible mistake if you suppose for a moment that the + human organ requires the same sort of feeding as the one in Hillford + Church.” + </p> + <p> + “Good-night,” said Cornelia, closing her lips, as if for good. + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid pressed her hand. As she was going, the springs of kindness in his + heart caused him to say “Forgive me, if I seemed rough.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, dear Wilfrid; even brutality, rather than your exultation over the + wreck of what was noble in you.” + </p> + <p> + With which phrase Cornelia swept from the room. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI + </h2> + <p> + “Seen Wilfrid?” was Mr. Pole's first cheery call to his daughters, on his + return. An answer on that head did not seem to be required by him, for he + went on: “Ah the boy's improved. That place over there, Stornley, does him + as much good as the Army did, as to setting him up, you know; common + sense, and a ready way of speaking and thinking. He sees a thing now. + Well, Martha, what do you,—eh? what's your opinion?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Chump was addressed. “Pole,” she said, fanning her cheek with + vehement languor, “don't ask me! my heart's gone to the young fella.” + </p> + <p> + In pursuance of a determination to which the ladies of Brookfield had + come, Adela, following her sprightly fancy, now gave the lead in + affability toward Mrs. Chump. + </p> + <p> + “Has the conqueror run away with it to bury it?” she laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Och! won't he know what it is to be a widde!” cried Mrs. Chump. “A + widde's heart takes aim and flies straight as a bullet; and the hearts o' + you garls, they're like whiffs o' tobacca, curlin' and wrigglin' and not + knowin' where they're goin'. Marry 'em, Pole! marry 'em!” Mrs. Chump + gesticulated, with two dangling hands. “They're nice garls; but, lord! + they naver see a man, and they're stuputly contented, and want to remain + garls; and, don't ye see, it was naver meant to be? Says I to Mr. Wilfrud + (and he agreed with me), ye might say, nice sour grapes, as well as nice + garls, if the creatures think o' stoppin' where they are, and what they + are. It's horrud; and, upon my honour, my heart aches for 'm!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pole threw an uneasy side-glance of inquisition at his daughters, to + mark how they bore this unaccustomed language, and haply intercede between + the unworthy woman and their judgement of her. But the ladies merely + smiled. Placidly triumphant in its endurance, the smile said: “We decline + even to feel such a martyrdom as this.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you know, Martha; I,” he said, “I—no father could wish—eh? + if you could manage to persuade them not to be so fond of me. They must + think of their future, of course. They won't always have a home—a + father, a father, I mean. God grant they may never want!—eh? the + dinner; boh! let's in to dinner. Ma'am!” + </p> + <p> + He bowed an arm to Mrs. Chump, who took it, with a scared look at him: + “Why, if ye haven't got a tear in your eye, Pole?” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense, nonsense,” quoth he, bowing another arm to Adela. + </p> + <p> + “Papa, I'm not to be winked at,” said she, accepting convoy; and there was + some laughter, all about nothing, as they went in to dinner. + </p> + <p> + The ladies were studiously forbearing in their treatment of Mrs. Chump. + Women are wonderfully quick scholars under ridicule, though it half-kills + them. Wilfrid's theory had impressed the superior grace of civility upon + their minds, and, now that they practised it, they were pleased with the + contrast they presented. Not the less were they maturing a serious + resolve. The suspicion that their father had secret vile designs in + relation to Mrs. Chump, they kept in the background. It was enough for + them that she was to be a visitor, and would thus destroy the great circle + they had projected. To accept her in the circle, they felt, was out of the + question. Wilfrid's plain-speaking broke up the air-bubble, which they had + so carefully blown, and in which they had embarked all their young hopes. + They had as much as given one another a pledge that their home likewise + should be broken up. + </p> + <p> + “Are you not almost too severe a student?” Mr. Barrett happened to say to + Cornelia, the day after Wilfrid had worried her. + </p> + <p> + “Do I show the signs?” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “By no means. But last night, was it not your light that was not + extinguished till morning?” + </p> + <p> + “We soon have morning now,” said Cornelia; and her face was pale as the + first hour of the dawn. “Are you not a late foot-farer, I may ask in + return?” + </p> + <p> + “Mere restlessness. I have no appetite for study. I took the liberty to + cross the park from the wood, and saw you—at least I guessed it your + light, and then I met your brother.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes? you met him?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Barrett gestured an affirmative. + </p> + <p> + “And he—did he speak?” + </p> + <p> + “He nodded. He was in some haste.” + </p> + <p> + “But, then, you did not go to bed at all that night? It is almost my turn + to be lecturer, if I might expect to be listened to.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you not know—or am I constitutionally different from others?” + Mr. Barrett resumed: “I can't be alone in feeling that there are certain + times and periods when what I would like to call poisonous influences are + abroad, that touch my fate in the days to come. I know I am helpless. I + can only wander up and down.” + </p> + <p> + “That sounds like a creed of fatalism.” + </p> + <p> + “It is not a creed; it is a matter of nerves. A creed has its 'kismet.' + The nerves are wild horses.” + </p> + <p> + “It is something to be fought against,” said Cornelia admonishingly. + </p> + <p> + “Is it something to be distrusted?” + </p> + <p> + “I should say, yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I was wrong?” + </p> + <p> + He stooped eagerly, in his temperate way, to catch sight of her answering + face. Cornelia's quick cheeks took fire. She fenced with a question of + two, and stood in a tremble, marvelling at his intuition. For possibly, at + that moment when he stood watching her window-light (ah, poor heart!) she + was half-pledging her word to her sisters (in a whirl of wrath at Wilfrid, + herself, and the world), that she would take the lead in breaking up + Brookfield. + </p> + <p> + An event occurred that hurried them on. They received a visit from their + mother's brother, John Pierson, a Colonel of Uhlans, in the Imperial-Royal + service. He had rarely been in communication with them; his visit was + unexpected. His leave of absence from his quarters in Italy was not longer + than a month, and he was on his way to Ireland, to settle family business; + but he called, as he said, to make acquaintance with his nieces. The + ladies soon discovered, in spite of his foreign-cut chin and pronounced + military habit of speech and bearing, that he was at heart fervidly + British. His age was about fifty: a man of great force of shoulder and + potent length of arm, courteous and well-bred in manner, he was altogether + what is called a model of a cavalry officer. Colonel Pierson paid very + little attention to his brother-in-law, but the ladies were evidently much + to his taste; and when he kissed Cornelia's hand, his eyes grew soft, as + at a recollection. + </p> + <p> + “You are what your mother once promised to be,” he said. To her he gave + that mother's portrait, taking it solemnly from his breast-pocket, and + attentively contemplating it before it left his hands. The ladies pressed + him for a thousand details of their mama's youthful life; they found it a + strange consolation to talk of her and image her like Cornelia. The + foreign halo about the Colonel had an effect on them that was almost like + what nobility produces; and by degrees they heated their minds to conceive + that they were consenting to an outrage on that mother's memory, in + countenancing Mrs. Chump's transparent ambition to take her place, as they + did by staying in the house with the woman. The colonel's few expressive + glances at Mrs. Chump, and Mrs. Chump's behaviour before the colonel, + touched them with intense distaste for their present surly aspect of life. + Civilized little people are moved to fulfil their destinies and to write + their histories as much by distaste as by appetite. This fresh sentimental + emotion, which led them to glorify their mother's image in their hearts, + heightened and gave an acid edge to their distaste for the think they saw. + Nor was it wonderful that Cornelia, said to be so like that mother, should + think herself bound to accept the office of taking the initiative in a + practical protest against the desecration of the name her mother had + borne. At times, I see that sentiment approaches too near the Holy of + earthly Holies for us to laugh at it; it has too much truth in it to be + denounced—nay, if we are not alert and quick of wit, we shall be + deceived by it, and wonder in the end, as the fool does, why heaven struck + that final blow; concluding that it was but another whimsy of the Gods. + The ladies prayed to their mother. They were indeed suffering vile + torture. Ethereal eyes might pardon the unconscious jugglery which made + their hearts cry out to her that the step they were about to take was to + save her children from seeming to acquiesce in a dishonour to her memory. + Some such words Adela's tongue did not shrink from; and as it is a common + habit for us to give to the objects we mentally address just as much brain + as is wanted for the occasion, she is not to be held singular. + </p> + <p> + Colonel Pierson promised to stay a week on his return from Ireland. “Will + that person be here?” he designated Mrs. Chump; who, among other things, + had reproached him for fighting with foreign steel and wearing any uniform + but the red. + </p> + <p> + The ladies and Colonel Pierson were soon of one mind in relation to Mrs. + Chump. Certain salient quiet remarks dropped by him were cherished after + his departure; they were half-willing to think that he had been directed + to come to them, bearer of a message from a heavenly world to urge them to + action. They had need of a spiritual exaltation, to relieve them from the + palpable depression caused by the weight of Mrs. Chump. They encouraged + one another with exclamations on the oddness of a visit from their + mother's brother, at such a time of tribulation, indecision, and general + darkness. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Chump remained on the field. When Adela begged her papa to tell her + how long the lady was to stay, he replied: “Eh? By the way, I haven't + asked her;” and retreated from this almost too obvious piece of + simplicity, with, “I want you to know her: I want you to like her—want + you to get to understand her. Won't talk about her going just yet.” + </p> + <p> + If they could have seen a limit to that wholesale slaughter of the Nice + Feelings, they might have summoned patience to avoid the desperate step to + immediate relief: but they saw none. Their father's quaint kindness and + Wilfrid's treachery had fixed her there, perhaps for good. The choice was, + to let London come and see them dragged through the mire by the monstrous + woman, or to seek new homes. London, they contended, could not further be + put off, and would come, especially now that the season was dying. After + all, their parting from one another was the bitterest thing to bear, and + as each seemed content to endure it for the good of all, and as, properly + considered, they did not bury their ambition by separating, they said + farewell to the young delicious dawn of it. By means of Fine Shades it was + understood that Brookfield was to be abandoned. Not one direct word was + uttered. There were expressions of regret that the village children of + Ipley would miss the supervizing eyes that had watched over them—perchance! + at any rate, would lose them. All went on in the household as before, and + would have continued so, but that they had a chief among them. This was + Adela Pole, who found her powers with the occasion. + </p> + <p> + Adela thought decisively: “People never move unless they are pushed.” And + when you have got them to move ever so little, then propel; but by no + means expect that a movement on their part means progression. Without + propulsion nothing results. Adela saw what Cornelia meant to do. It was + not to fly to Sir Twickenham, but to dismiss Mr. Barrett. Arabella + consented to write to Edward Buxley, but would not speak of old days, and + barely alluded to a misunderstanding; though if she loved one man, this + was he. Adela was disengaged. She had moreover to do penance, for a wrong + committed; and just as children will pinch themselves, pleased up to the + verge of unendurable pain, so do sentimentalists find a keen relish in + performing secret penance for self-accused offences. Thus they become + righteous to their own hearts, and evade, as they hope, the public + scourge. The wrong committed was (translated out of Fine Shades), that she + had made love to her sister's lover. In the original tongue—she had + innocently played with the sacred fire of a strange affection; a child in + the temple!—Our penitent child took a keen pinching pleasure in + dictating words for Arabella to employ toward Edward. + </p> + <p> + And then, recurring to her interview with Wilfrid, it struck her: “Suppose + that, after all, Money!...” Yes, Mammon has acted Hymen before now. + Nothing else explained Mrs. Chump; so she thought, in one clear glimpse. + Inveterate sentimental habit smeared the picture with two exclamations—“Impossible!” + and “Papa!” I desire it to be credited that these simple interjections + absolutely obscured her judgement. Little people think either what they + are made to think, or what they choose to think; and the education of + girls is to make them believe that facts are their enemies-a naughty + spying race, upon whom the dogs of Pudeur are to be loosed, if they + surprise them without note of warning. Adela silenced her suspicion, + easily enough; but this did not prevent her taking a measure to satisfy + it. Petting her papa one evening, she suddenly asked him for ninety + pounds. + </p> + <p> + “Ninety!” said Mr. Pole, taking a sharp breath. He was as composed as + possible. + </p> + <p> + “Is that too much, papa, darling?” + </p> + <p> + “Not if you want it—not if you want it, of course not.” + </p> + <p> + “You seemed astonished.” + </p> + <p> + “The sum! it's an odd sum for a girl to want. Ten, twenty, fifty—a + hundred; but you never hear of ninety, never! unless it's to pay a debt; + and I have all the bills, or your aunt has them.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, papa, if it excites you, I will do without it. It is for a charity, + chiefly.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pole fumbled in his pocket, muttering, “No money here—cheque-book + in town. I'll give it you,” he said aloud, “to-morrow morning—morrow + morning, early.” + </p> + <p> + “That will do, papa;” and Adela relieved him immediately by shooting far + away from the topic. + </p> + <p> + The ladies retired early to their hall of council in the bedchamber of + Arabella, and some time after midnight Cornelia went to her room; but she + could not sleep. She affected, in her restlessness, to think that her + spirits required an intellectual sedative, so she went down to the library + for a book; where she skimmed many—a fashion that may be + recommended, for assisting us to a sense of sovereign superiority to + authors, and also of serene contempt for all mental difficulties. + Fortified in this way, Cornelia took a Plutarch and an Encyclopaedia under + her arm, to return to her room. But one volume fell, and as she stooped to + recover it, her candle shared its fate. She had to find her way back in + the dark. On the landing of the stairs, she fancied that she heard a step + and a breath. The lady was of unshaken nerves. She moved on steadily, her + hand stretched out a little before her. What it touched was long in + travelling to her brain; but when her paralyzed heart beat again, she knew + that her hand clasped another hand. Her nervous horror calmed as the + feeling came to her of the palpable weakness of the hand. + </p> + <p> + “Who are you?” she asked. Some hoarse answer struck her ear. She asked + again, making her voice distincter. The hand now returned her pressure + with force. She could feel that the person, whoever it was, stood + collecting strength to speak. Then the words came— + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by imitating that woman's brogue?” + </p> + <p> + “Papa!” said Cornelia. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you talk Irish in the dark? There, goodnight. I've just come up + from the library; my candle dropped. I shouldn't have been frightened, but + you talked with such a twang.” + </p> + <p> + “But I have just come from the library myself,” said Cornelia. + </p> + <p> + “I mean from the dining-room,” her father corrected himself hastily. “I + can't sit in the library; shall have it altered—full of draughts. + Don't you think so, my dear? Good-night. What's this in your arm? Books! + Ah, you study! I can get a light for myself.” + </p> + <p> + The dialogue was sustained in the hard-whispered tones prescribed by + darkness. Cornelia kissed her father's forehead, and they parted. + </p> + <p> + At breakfast in the morning it was the habit of all the ladies to + assemble, partly to countenance the decency of matin-prayers, and also to + give the head of the household their dutiful society till business called + him away. Adela, in earlier days, had maintained that early rising was not + fashionable; but she soon grasped the idea that a great rivalry with + Fashion, in minor matters (where the support of the satirist might be + counted on), was the proper policy of Brookfield. Mrs. Chump was given to + be extremely fashionable in her hours, and began her Brookfield career by + coming downstairs at ten and eleven o'clock, when she found a desolate + table, well stocked indeed, but without any of the exuberant smiles of + nourishment which a morning repast should wear. + </p> + <p> + “You are a Protestant, ma'am, are you not?” Adela mildly questioned, after + informing her that she missed family prayer by her late descent. Mrs. + Chump assured her that she was a firm Protestant, and liked to see faces + at the breakfast-table. The poor woman was reduced to submit to the rigour + of the hour, coming down flustered, and endeavouring to look devout, while + many uncertainties as to the condition of the hooks of her attire + distracted her mind and fingers. On one occasion, Gainsford, the footman, + had been seen with his eye on her; and while Mr. Pole read of sacred + things, at a pace composed of slow march and amble, this unhappy man was + heard struggling to keep under and extinguish a devil of laughter, by + which his human weakness was shaken: He retired from the room with the + speed of a voyager about to pay tribute on high seas. Mr. Pole cast a + pregnant look at the servants' row as he closed the book; but the + expression of his daughters' faces positively signified that no remark was + to be made, and he contained himself. Later, the ladies told him that + Gainsford had done no worse than any uneducated man would have been guilty + of doing. Mrs. Chump had, it appeared, a mother's feeling for one flat + curl on her rugged forehead, which was often fondly caressed by her, for + the sake of ascertaining its fixity. Doubts of the precision of outline + and general welfare of this curl, apparently, caused her to straighten her + back and furtively raise her head, with an easy upward motion, as of a + cork alighted in water, above the level of the looking-glass on her left + hand—an action she repeated, with a solemn aspect, four times; at + which point Gainsford gave way. The ladies accorded him every extenuation + for the offence. They themselves, but for the heroism of exalted natures, + must have succumbed to the gross temptation. “It is difficult, dear papa, + to bring one's mind to religious thoughts in her company, even when she is + quiescent,” they said. Thus, by the prettiest exercise of charity that can + be conceived, they pleaded for the man Gainsford, while they struck a blow + at Mrs. Chump; and in performing one of the virtues laid down by religion, + proved their enemy to be hostile to its influences. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Chump was this morning very late. The office of morning reader was + new to Mr. Pole, who had undertaken it, when first Squire of Brookfield, + at the dictate of the ladies his daughters; so that, waiting with the book + before him and his audience expectant, he lacked composure, spoke + irritably in an under-breath of 'that woman,' and asked twice whether she + was coming or not. At last the clump of her feet was heard approaching. + Mr. Pole commenced reading the instant she opened the door. She stood + there, with a face like a petrified Irish outcry. An imploring sound of + “Pole! Pole!” issued from her. Then she caught up one hand to her mouth, + and rolled her head, in evident anguish at the necessitated silence. A + convulsion passed along the row of maids, two of whom dipped to their + aprons; but the ladies gazed with a sad consciousness of wicked glee at + the disgust she was exciting in the bosom of their father. + </p> + <p> + “Will you shut the door?” Mr. Pole sternly addressed Mrs. Chump, at the + conclusion of the first prayer. + </p> + <p> + “Pole! ye know that money ye gave me in notes? I must speak, Pole!” + </p> + <p> + “Shut the door.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Chump let go the door-handle with a moan. The door was closed by + Gainsford, now one of the gravest of footmen. A chair was placed for her, + and she sat down, desperately watching the reader for the fall of his + voice. The period was singularly protracted. The ladies turned to one + another, to question with an eyelid why it was that extra allowance was + given that morning. Mr. Pole was in a third prayer, stumbling on and + picking himself up, apparently unaware that he had passed the limit. This + continued until the series of ejaculations which accompanied him waxed + hotter—little muffled shrieks of: “Oh!—Deer—Oh, Lard!—When + will he stop? Oh, mercy! Och! And me burrstin' to speak!—Oh! what'll + I do? I can't keep 't in!—Pole! ye're kill'n me—Oh, deer! I'll + be sayin' somethin' to vex the prophets presently. Pole!” + </p> + <p> + If it was a race that he ran with Mrs. Chump, Mr. Pole was beaten. He came + to a sudden stop. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Chump had become too deeply absorbed in her impatience to notice the + change in his tone; and when he said, “Now then, to breakfast, quick!” she + was pursuing her lamentable interjections. At sight of the servants + trooping forth, she jumped up and ran to the door. + </p> + <p> + “Ye don't go.—Pole, they're all here. And I've been robbed, I have. + Avery note I had from ye, Pole, all gone. And my purse left behind, like + the skin of a thing. Lord forbid I accuse annybody; but when I get up, my + first rush is to feel in my pocket. And, ask 'em!—If ye didn't keep + me so poor, Pole, they'd know I'm a generous woman, but I cann't bear to + be robbed. And pinmoney 's for spendin;' annybody'll tell you that. And I + ask ye t' examine 'em, Pole; for last night I counted my notes, wantin' + change, and I thought of a salmon I bought on the banks of the Suir to + make a present to Chump, which was our onnly visit to Waterford together: + for he naver went t' Ireland before or after—dyin' as he did! and + it's not his ingrat'tude, with his talk of a Severrn salmon-to the deuce + with 'm! that makes me soft-poor fella!—I didn't mean to the deuce;—but + since he's gone, his widde's just unfit to bargain for a salmon at all, + and averybody robs her, and she's kept poor, and hatud!—D'ye heer, + Pole? I've lost my money, my money! and I will speak, and ye shann't + interrupt me!” + </p> + <p> + During the delivery of this charge against the household, Mr. Pole had + several times waved to the servants to begone; but as they had always the + option to misunderstand authoritative gestures, they preferred remaining, + and possibly he perceived that they might claim to do so under accusation. + </p> + <p> + “How can you bring this charge against the inmates of my house—eh? I + guarantee the honesty of all who serve me. Martha! you must be mad, mad!—Money? + why, you never have money; you waste it if you do.” + </p> + <p> + “Not money, Pole? Oh! and why? Becas ye keep me low o' purpose, till I + cringe like a slut o' the scullery, and cry out for halfpence. But, oh! + that seventy-five pounds in notes!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pole shook his head, as one who deals with a gross delusion: “I + remember nothing about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Not about—?” Mrs. Chump dropped her chin. “Ye don't remember the + givin' of me just that sum of seventy-five, in eight notes, Pole?” + </p> + <p> + “Eh? I daresay I have given you the amount, one time or other. Now, let's + be quiet about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yesterday mornin', Pole! And the night I go to bed I count my money, and, + says I, I'll not lock ut up, for I'll onnly be unlockin' again to-morrow; + and doin' a thing and undoin' ut's a sign of a brain that's addled—like + yours, Pole, if ye say ye didn't go to give me the notes.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pole frowned at her sagaciously. “Must change your diet, Martha!” + </p> + <p> + “My dite? And what's my dite to do with my money?” + </p> + <p> + “Who went into Mrs. Chump's bedchamber this morning?” asked Mr. Pole + generally. + </p> + <p> + A pretty little housemaid replied, with an indignant flush, that she was + the person. Mrs. Chump acknowledged to being awake when the shutters were + opened, and agreed that it was not possible her pockets could have been + rifled then. + </p> + <p> + “So, you see, Martha, you're talking nonsense,” said Mr. Pole. “Do you + know the numbers of those notes?” + </p> + <p> + “The numbers at the sides, ye mean, Pole?” + </p> + <p> + “Ay, the numbers at the sides, if you like; the 21593, and so on?” + </p> + <p> + “The 21593! Oh! I can't remember such a lot as that, if ever I leave off + repeatin' it.” + </p> + <p> + “There! you see, you're not fit to have money in your possession, Martha. + Everybody who has bank-notes looks at the numbers. You have a trick of + fancying all sorts of sums in your pocket; and when you don't find them + there, of course they're lost! Now, let's have some breakfast.” + </p> + <p> + Arabella told the maids to go out. Mr. Pole turned to the breakfast-table, + rubbing his hands. Seeing herself and her case abandoned, Mrs. Chump gave + a deplorable shout. “Ye're crool! and young women that look on at a + fellow-woman's mis'ry. Oh! how can ye do ut! But soft hearts can be the + hardest. And all my seventy-five gone, gone! and no law out of annybody. + And no frightenin' of 'em off from doin' the like another time! Oh, I + will, I will have my money!” + </p> + <p> + “Tush! Come to breakfast, Martha,” said Mr. Pole. “You shall have money, + if you want it; you have only to ask. Now, will you promise to be quiet? + and I'll give you this money—the amount you've been dreaming about + last night. I'll fetch it. Now, let us have no scenes. Dry your eyes.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pole went to his private room, and returned just as Mrs. Chump had got + upon a succession of quieter sobs with each one of which she addressed a + pathetic roll of her eyes to the utterly unsympathetic ladies + respectively. + </p> + <p> + “There, Martha; there's exactly the sum for you—free gift. Say thank + you, and eat a good breakfast to show your gratitude. Mind, you take this + money on condition that you let the servants know you made a mistake.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Chump sighed heavily, crumpling the notes, that the crisp sweet sound + might solace her for the hard condition. + </p> + <p> + “And don't dream any more—not about money, I mean,” said Mr. Pole. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! if I dream like that I'll be living double.” Mrs. Chump put her hand + to the notes, and called him kind, and pitied him for being the loser. The + sight of a fresh sum in her possession intoxicated her. It was but feebly + that she regretted the loss to her Samuel Bolton Pole. “Your memory's + worth more than that!” she said as she filled her purse with the notes. + “Anyhow, now I can treat somebody,” and she threw a wink of promise at + Adela. Adela's eyes took refuge with her papa, who leaned over to her, and + said: “You won't mind waiting till you see me again? She's taken all I + had.” Adela nodded blankly, and the next moment, with an angry glance + toward Mrs. Chump, “Papa,” said she, “if you wish to see servants in the + house on your return, you must yourself speak to them, and tell them that + we, their master and mistresses, do not regard them as thieves.” Out of + this there came a quarrel as furious as the ladies would permit it to be. + For Mrs. Chump, though willing to condone the offence for the sum she had + received, stuck infamy upon the whole list of them. “The Celtic nature,” + murmured Cornelia. And the ladies maintained that their servants should be + respected, at any cost. “You, ma'am,” said Arabella, with a clear look + peculiar to her when vindictive—“you may have a stain on your + character, and you are not ruined by it. But these poor creatures...” + </p> + <p> + “Ye dare to compar' me—!” + </p> + <p> + “Contrast you, ma'am.” + </p> + <p> + “It's just as imp'dent.” + </p> + <p> + “I say, our servants, ma'am...” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! to the deuce with your 'ma'am;' I hate the word. It's like fittin' a + cap on me. Ye want to make one a turbaned dow'ger, ye malicious young + woman!” + </p> + <p> + “Those are personages that are, I believe, accepted in society!” + </p> + <p> + So the contest raged, Mrs. Chump being run clean through the soul twenty + times, without touching the consciousness of that sensitive essence. Mr. + Pole appeared to take the part of his daughters, and by-and-by Mrs. Chump, + having failed to arouse Mrs. Lupin's involuntary laugh (which always + consoled her in such cases), huffed out of the room. Then Mr. Pole, in an + abruptly serious way, bashfully entreated the ladies to be civil to + Martha, who had the best heart in the world. It sounded as if he were + going to say more. After a pause, he added emphatically, “Do!” and went. + He was many days absent: nor did he speak to Adela of the money she had + asked for when he returned. Adela had not the courage to allude to it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII + </h2> + <p> + Emilia sat in her old place under the dwarf pine. Mr. Powys had brought + her back to Brookfield, where she heard that Wilfrid had been seen; and + now her heart was in contest with an inexplicable puzzle: “He was here, + and did not come to me!” Since that night when they had walked home from + Ipley Green, she had not suffered a moment of longing. Her senses had lain + as under a charm, with heart at anchor and a mind free to work. No one + could have guessed that any human spell was on the girl. “Wherever he is, + he thinks of me. I find him everywhere. He is safe, for I pray for him and + have my arms about him. He will come.” So she waited, as some grey lake + lies, full and smooth, awaiting the star below the twilight. If she let + her thoughts run on to the hour of their meeting, she had to shut her eyes + and press at her heart; but as yet she was not out of tune for daily life, + and she could imagine how that hour was to be strewn with new songs and + hushed surprises. And 'thus' he would look: and 'thus.' “My hero!” + breathed Emilia, shuddering a little. But now she was perplexed. Now that + he had come and gone, she began to hunger bitterly for the sight of his + face, and that which had hitherto nourished her grew a sickly phantom of + delight. She wondered how she had forced herself to be patient, and what + it was that she had found pleasure in. + </p> + <p> + None of the ladies were at home when Emilia returned. She went out to the + woods, and sat, shadowed by the long bent branch; watching mechanically + the slow rounding and yellowing of the beam of sunlight over the thick + floor of moss, up against the fir-stems. The chaffinch and the linnet + flitted off the grey orchard twigs, singing from new stations; and the bee + seemed to come questioning the silence of the woods and droning + disappointed away. The first excess of any sad feeling is half voluntary. + Emilia could not help smiling, when she lifted her head out of a musing + fit, to find that she had composed part of a minuet for the languid + dancing motes in the shaft of golden light at her feet. “Can I remember + it?” she thought, and forgot the incident with the effort. + </p> + <p> + Down at her right hand, bordering a water, stood a sallow, a dead tree, + channelled inside with the brown trail of a goat-moth. Looking in this + direction, she saw Cornelia advancing to the tree. When the lady had + reached it, she drew a little book from her bosom, kissed it, and dropped + it in the hollow. This done, she passed among the firs. Emilia had + perceived that she was agitated: and with that strange instinct of hearts + beginning to stir, which makes them divine at once where they will come + upon the secret of their own sensations, she ran down to the tree and + peered on tiptoe at the embedded volume. On a blank page stood pencilled: + “This is the last fruit of the tree. Come not to gather more.” There was + no meaning for her in that sentimental chord but she must have got some + glimpse of a meaning; for now, as in an agony, her lips fashioned the + words: “If I forget his face I may as well die;” and she wandered on, + striving more and more vainly to call up his features. The—“Does he + think of me?” and—“What am I to him?”—such timorous little + feather-play of feminine emotion she knew nothing of: in her heart was the + strong flood of a passion. + </p> + <p> + She met Edward Buxley and Freshfield Sumner at a cross-path, on their way + to Brookfield; and then Adela joined the party, which soon embraced Mr. + Barrett, and subsequently Cornelia. All moved on in a humming leisure, + chattering by fits. Mr. Sumner was delicately prepared to encounter Mrs. + Chump, “whom,” said Adela, “Edward himself finds it impossible to + caricature;” and she affected to laugh at the woman. + </p> + <p> + “Happy the pencil that can reproduce!” Mr. Barrett exclaimed; and, meeting + his smile, Cornelia said: “Do you know, my feeling is, and I cannot at all + account for it, that if she were a Catholic she would not seem so gross?” + </p> + <p> + “Some of the poetry of that religion would descend upon her, possibly,” + returned Mr. Barrett. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean,” Freshfield said quickly, “that she would stand a fair + chance of being sainted?” + </p> + <p> + Out of this arose some polite fencing between the two. Freshfield might + have argued to advantage in a Court of law; but he was no match, on such + topics and before such an audience, for a refined sentimentalist. More + than once he betrayed a disposition to take refuge in his class (he being + son to one of the puisne Judges). Cornelia speedily punished him, and to + any correction from her he bowed his head. + </p> + <p> + Adela was this day gifted with an extraordinary insight. Emilia alone of + the party was as a blot to her; but the others she saw through, as if they + had been walking transparencies. She divined that Edward and Freshfield + had both come, in concert, upon amorous business—that it was + Freshfield's object to help Edward to a private interview with her, and, + in return, Edward was to perform the same service for him with Cornelia. + So that Mr. Barrett was shockingly in the way of both; and the perplexity + of these stupid fellows—who would insist upon wondering why the man + Barrett and the girl Emilia (musicians both: both as it were, vagrants) + did not walk together and talk of quavers and minims—was extremely + comic. Passing the withered tree, Mr. Barrett deserved thanks from + Freshfield, if he did not obtain them; for he lingered, surrendering his + place. And then Adela knew that the weight of Edward Buxley's + remonstrative wrath had fallen on silent Emilia, to whom she clung fondly. + </p> + <p> + “I have had a letter,” Edward murmured, in the voice that propitiates + secresy. + </p> + <p> + “A letter?” she cried loud; and off flew the man like a rabbit into his + hole, the mask of him remaining. + </p> + <p> + Emilia presently found Mr. Barrett at her elbow. His hand clasped the book + Cornelia had placed in the tree. + </p> + <p> + “It is hers,” said Emilia. + </p> + <p> + He opened it and pointed to his initials. She looked in his face. + </p> + <p> + “Are you very ill?” + </p> + <p> + Adela turned round from Edward's neighbouring head. “Who is ill?” + </p> + <p> + Cornelia brought Freshfield to a stop: “Ill?” + </p> + <p> + Before them all, book in hand, Mr. Barrett had to give assurance that he + was hearty, and to appear to think that his words were accepted, in spite + of blanched jowl and reddened under-lid. Cornelia threw him one glance: + his eyes closed under it. Adela found it necessary to address some such + comforting exclamation as 'Goodness gracious!' to her observant spirit. + </p> + <p> + In the park-path, leading to the wood, Arabella was seen as they came out + the young branches that fringed the firs. She hurried up. + </p> + <p> + “I have been looking for you. Papa has arrived with Sir Twickenham Pryme, + who dines with us.” + </p> + <p> + Adela unhesitatingly struck a blow. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Pryme, we make place for you.” + </p> + <p> + And she crossed to Cornelia. Cornelia kept her eyes fixed on Adela's + mouth, as one looks at a place whence a venomous reptile has darted out. + Her eyelids shut, and she stood a white sculpture of pain, pitiable to + see. Emilia took her hand, encouraging the tightening fingers with a + responsive pressure. The group shuffled awkwardly together, though Adela + did her best. She was very angry with Mr. Barrett for wearing that + absurdly pale aspect. She was even angry with his miserable bankrupt face + for mounting a muscular edition of the smile Cornelia had shown. “His + feelings!” she cried internally; and the fact presented itself to her, + that feelings were a luxury utterly unfit for poor men, who were to be + accused of presumption for indulging in them. + </p> + <p> + “Now, I suppose you are happy?” she spoke low between Arabella and Edward. + </p> + <p> + The effect of these words was to colour violently two pair of cheeks. + Arabella's behaviour did not quite satisfy the fair critic. Edward Buxley + was simply caught in a trap: He had the folly to imagine that by laughing + he released himself. + </p> + <p> + “Is not that the laugh of an engaged?” said Adela to Freshfield. + </p> + <p> + He replied: “That would have been my idea under other conditions,” and + looked meaningly. + </p> + <p> + She met the look with: “There are harsh conditions in life, are there + not?” and left him sufficiently occupied by his own sensations. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Barrett,” she inquired (partly to assist the wretch out of his + compromising depression, and also that the question represented a real + matter of debate in her mind), “I want your opinion; will you give it me? + Apropos of slang, why does it sit well on some people? It certainly does + not vulgarize them. After all, in many cases, it is what they call 'racy + idiom.' Perhaps our delicacy is strained?” + </p> + <p> + Now, it was Mr. Barrett's established manner to speak in a deliberately + ready fashion upon the introduction of a new topic. Habit made him, on + this occasion, respond instantly; but the opening of the gates displayed + the confusion of ideas within and the rageing tumult. + </p> + <p> + He said: “In many cases. There are two sorts. If you could call it the + language of nature! which anything... I beg your pardon, Slang! Polite + society rightly excludes it, because....” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” returned Adela; “but do we do rightly in submitting to the + absolute tyranny?—I mean, I think, originality flies from us in + consequence.” + </p> + <p> + The pitiable mortal became a trifle more luminous: “The objection is to + the repetition of risked phrases. A happy audacity of expression may pass. + It is bad taste to repeat it, that is all. Then there is the slang of + heavy boorishness, and the slang of impatient wit...” + </p> + <p> + “Is there any fine distinction between the extremes?” said Cornelia, in as + clear a tone as she could summon. + </p> + <p> + “I think,” observed Arabella, “that whatever shows staleness speedily is + self-condemned; and that is the case with slang.” + </p> + <p> + “And yet it's to avoid some feeling of the sort that people employ it,” + was Adela's remark; and the discussion of this theme dropped lifelessly, + and they walked on as before. + </p> + <p> + Coming to a halt near the garden gate, Adela tapped Emilia's cheek, + addressing her: “How demure she has become!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” went Arabella, “does she know papa has had a letter from Mr. + Pericles, who wrote from Milan to say that he has made arrangements for + her to enter the Academy there, and will come to fetch her in a few days?” + </p> + <p> + Emilia's wrists crossed below her neck, while she gave ear. + </p> + <p> + “To take me away?” she said. + </p> + <p> + The tragic attitude and outcry, with the mournful flash of her eyes, might + have told Emilia's tale. + </p> + <p> + Adela unwillingly shielded her by interpreting the scene. “See! she must + be a born actress. They always exaggerate in that style, so that you would + really think she had a mighty passion for Brookfield.” + </p> + <p> + “Or in it,” suggested Freshfield. + </p> + <p> + “Or in it!” she laughed assentingly. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pole was perceived entering the garden, rubbing his hands a little too + obsequiously to some remark of the baronet's, as the critical ladies + imagined. Sir Twickenham's arm spread out in a sweep; Mr. Pole's head + nodded. After the ceremony of the salute, the ladies were informed of Sir + Twickenham's observation: Sir Twickenham Pryme, a statistical member of + Parliament, a well-preserved half-century in age, a gentleman in bearing, + passably grey-headed, his whiskers brushed out neatly, as if he knew them + individually and had the exact amount of them collectively at his fingers' + ends: Sir Twickenham had said of Mr. Pole's infant park that if devoted to + mangold-wurzel it would be productive and would pay: whereas now it was + not ornamental and was waste. + </p> + <p> + “Sir Twickenham calculates,” said Mr. Pole, “that we should have a crop of—eh?” + </p> + <p> + “The average?” Sir Twickenham asked, on the evident upward mounting of a + sum in his brain. And then, with a relaxing look upon Cornelia: “Perhaps + you might have fifteen, sixteen, perhaps for the first year; or, say—you + see, the exact acreage is unknown to me. Say roughly, ten thousand sacks + the first year.” + </p> + <p> + “Of what?” inquired Cornelia. + </p> + <p> + “Mangold-wurzel,” said the baronet. + </p> + <p> + She gazed about her. Mr. Barrett was gone. + </p> + <p> + “But, no doubt, you take no interest in such reckonings?” Sir Twickenham + added. + </p> + <p> + “On the contrary, I take every interest in practical details.” + </p> + <p> + Practical men believe this when they hear it from the lips of gentlewomen, + and without philosophically analyzing the fact that it is because the + practical quality possesses simply the fascination of a form of strength. + Sir Twickenham pursued his details. Day closed on Brookfield blankly. + Nevertheless, the ladies felt that the situation was now dignified by + tragic feeling, and remembering keenly how they had been degraded of late, + they had a sad enjoyment of the situation. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVIII + </h2> + <p> + Meantime Wilfrid was leading a town-life and occasionally visiting + Stornley. He was certainly not in love with Lady Charlotte Chillingworth, + but he was in harness to that lady. In love we have some idea whither we + would go: in harness we are simply driven, and the destination may be + anywhere. To be reduced to this condition (which will happen now and then + in the case of very young men who are growing up to something, and is, if + a momentary shame to them, rather a sign of promise than not) the gentle + male need not be deeply fascinated. Lady Charlotte was not a fascinating + person. She did not lay herself out to attract. Had she done so, she would + have failed to catch Wilfrid, whose soul thirsted for poetical refinement + and filmy delicacies in a woman. What she had, and what he knew that he + wanted, and could only at intervals assume by acting as if he possessed + it, was a victorious aplomb, which gave her a sort of gallant glory in his + sight. He could act it well before his sisters, and here and there a + damsel; and coming fresh from Lady Charlotte's school, he had recently + done so with success, and had seen the ladies feel toward him, as he felt + under his instructress in the art. Some nature, however, is required for + every piece of art. Wilfrid knew that he had been brutal in his + representation of the part, and the retrospect of his conduct at + Brookfield did not satisfy his remorseless critical judgement. In + consequence, when he again saw Lady Charlotte, his admiration of that one + prized characteristic of hers paralyzed him. She looked, and moved, and + spoke, as if the earth were her own. She was a note of true music, and he + felt himself to be an indecisive chord; capable ultimately of a splendid + performance, it might be, but at present crying out to be played upon. + This is the condition of a man in harness, whom witlings may call what + they will. He is subjugated: not won. In this state of subjugation he will + joyfully sacrifice as much as a man in love. For, having no consolatory + sense of happiness, such as encircles and makes a nest for lovers, he + seeks to attain some stature, at least, by excesses of apparent devotion. + Lady Charlotte believed herself beloved at last. She was about to strike + thirty; and Rumour, stalking with a turban of cloud on her head,—enough + that this shocking old celestial dowager, from condemnation had passed to + pity of the dashing lady. Beloved at last! After a while there is no + question of our loving; but we thirst for love, if we have not had it. The + key of Lady Charlotte will come in the course of events. She was at the + doubtful hour of her life, a warm-hearted woman, known to be so by few, + generally consigned by devout-visaged Scandal (for who save the devout + will dare to sit in the chair of judgement?) as a hopeless rebel against + conventional laws; and worse than that, far worse,—though what, is + not said. + </p> + <p> + At Stornley the following letter from Emilia hit its mark:— + </p> + <p> + Dear Mr. Wilfrid, + </p> + <p> + “It is time for me to see you. Come when you have read this letter. I + cannot tell you how I am, because my heart feels beating in another body. + Pray come; come now. Come on a swift horse. The thought of you galloping + to me goes through me like a flame that hums. You will come, I know. It is + time. If I write foolishly, do forgive me. I can only make sure of the + spelling, and I cannot please you on paper, only when I see you.” + </p> + <p> + The signature of 'Emilia Alessandra Belloni' was given with her wonted + proud flourish. + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid stared at the writing. “What! all this time she has been thinking + the same thing!” Her constancy did not swim before him in alluring + colours. He regarded it as a species of folly. Disgust had left him. The + pool of Memory would have had to be stirred to remind him of the + pipe-smoke in her hair. “You are sure to please me when you see me?” he + murmured. “You are very confident, young lady!” So much had her charm + faded. And then he thought kindly of her, and that a meeting would not be + good for her, and that she ought to go to Italy and follow her profession. + “If she grows famous,” whispered coxcombry, “why then oneself will take a + little of the praises given to her.” And that seemed eminently + satisfactory. Men think in this way when you have loved them, ladies. All + men? No; only the coxcombs; but it is to these that you give your fresh + affection. They are, as it were, the band of the regiment of adorers, + marching ahead, while we sober working soldiers follow to their music. “If + she grows famous, why then I can bear in mind that her heart was once in + my possession: and it may return to its old owner, perchance.” Wilfrid + indulged in a pleasant little dream of her singing at the Opera-house, and + he, tied to a ferocious, detested wife, how softly and luxuriously would + he then be sighing for the old time! It was partly good seed in his + nature, and an apprehension of her force of soul, that kept him from a + thought of evil to her. Passion does not inspire dark appetite. Dainty + innocence does, I am told. Things are tested by the emotions they provoke. + Wilfrid knew that there was no trifling with Emilia, so he put the letter + by, commenting thus “she's right, she doesn't spell badly.” Behind, which, + to those who have caught the springs of his character, volumes may be + seen. + </p> + <p> + He put the letter by. Two days later, at noon, the card of Captain Gambier + was brought to him in the billiard-room,—on it was written: “Miss + Belloni waits on horseback to see you.” Wilfrid thought “Waits!” and the + impossibility of escape gave him a notion of her power. + </p> + <p> + “So, you are letting that go on,” said Lady Charlotte, when she heard that + Emilia and the captain were in company. + </p> + <p> + “There is no fear for her whatever.” + </p> + <p> + “There is always fear when a man gives every minute of his time to that + kind of business,” retorted her ladyship. + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid smiled the smile of the knowing. Rivalry with Gambier (and + successful too!) did not make Emilia's admiration so tasteless. Some one + cries out: “But, what a weak creature is this young man!” I reply, he was + at a critical stage of his career. All of us are weak in the period of + growth, and are of small worth before the hour of trial. This fellow had + been fattening all his life on prosperity; the very best dish in the + world; but it does not prove us. It fattens and strengthens us, just as + the sun does. Adversity is the inspector of our constitutions; she simply + tries our muscle and powers of endurance, and should be a periodical + visitor. But, until she comes, no man is known. Wilfrid was not absolutely + engaged to Lady Charlotte (she had taken care of that), and being free, + and feeling his heart beat in more lively fashion, he turned almost + delightedly to the girl he could not escape from. As when the wriggling + eel that has been prodded by the countryman's fork, finds that no amount + of wriggling will release it, to it twists in a knot around the + imprisoning prong. This simile says more than I mean it to say, but those + who understand similes will know the measure due to them. + </p> + <p> + There sat Emilia on her horse. “Has Gambier been giving her lessons?” + thought Wilfrid. She sat up, well-balanced; and, as he approached, began + to lean gently forward to him. A greeting 'equal to any lady's,' there was + no doubt. This was the point Emilia had to attain, in his severe + contemplation. A born lady, on her assured level, stood a chance of + becoming a Goddess; but ladyship was Emilia's highest mark. Such is the + state of things to the sentimental fancy when girls are at a disadvantage. + She smiled, and held out both hands. He gave her one, nodding kindly, but + was too confused to be the light-hearted cavalier. Lady Charlotte walked + up to her horse's side, after receiving Captain Gambier's salute, and + said: “Come, catch hold of my hands and jump.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” replied Emilia; “I only came to see him.” + </p> + <p> + “But you will see him, and me in the bargain, if you stay.” + </p> + <p> + “I fancy she has given her word to return early,” interposed Wilfrid. + </p> + <p> + “Then we'll ride back with her,” said Lady Charlotte. “Give me five + minutes. I'll order a horse out for you.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled, and considerately removed the captain, by despatching him to + the stables. + </p> + <p> + A quivering dimple of tenderness hung for a moment in Emilia's cheeks, as + she looked upon Wilfrid. Then she said falteringly, “I think they wish to + be as we do.” + </p> + <p> + “Alone?” cried Wilfrid. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; that is why I brought him over. He will come anywhere with me.” + </p> + <p> + “You must be mistaken.” + </p> + <p> + “No; I know it.” + </p> + <p> + “Did he tell you so?” + </p> + <p> + “No; Mr. Powys did.” + </p> + <p> + “Told you that Lady Charlotte—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. Not, is; but, was. And he used that word... there is no word like + it,... he said 'her lover'—Oh! mine!” Emilia lifted her arms. Her + voice from its deepest fall had risen to a cry. + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid caught her as she slipped from her saddle. His heart was in a + tumult; stirred both ways: stirred with wrath and with love. He clasped + her tightly. + </p> + <p> + “Am I?—am I?” he breathed. + </p> + <p> + “My lover!” Emilia murmured. + </p> + <p> + He was her slave again. + </p> + <p> + For, here was something absolutely his own. His own from the roots; from + the first growth of sensation. Something with the bloom on it: to which no + other finger could point and say: “There is my mark.” + </p> + <p> + (And, ladies, if you will consent to be likened to a fruit, you must bear + with these observations, and really deserve the stigma. If you will smile + on men, because they adore you as vegetable products, take what ensues.) + </p> + <p> + Lady Charlotte did no more than double the time she had asked for. The + party were soon at a quiet canter up the lanes; but entering a broad furzy + common with bramble-plots and oak-shaws, the Amazon flew ahead. Emilia's + eyes were so taken with her, that she failed to observe a tiny red-flowing + runlet in the clay, with yellow-ridged banks almost baked to brick. Over + it she was borne, but at the expense of a shaking that caused her to rely + on her hold of the reins, ignorant of the notions of a horse outstripped. + Wilfrid looked to see that the jump had been accomplished, and was + satisfied. Gambier was pressing his hack to keep a respectable second. + </p> + <p> + Lady Charlotte spun round suddenly, crying, “Catch the mare!” and galloped + back to Emilia, who was deposited on a bush of bramble. Dismounting + promptly, the lady said: “My child, you're not hurt?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit.” Emilia blinked. + </p> + <p> + “Not frightened?” + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit,” was half whispered. + </p> + <p> + “That's brave. Now jump on your feet. Tell me why you rode over to us this + morning. Quick. Don't hesitate.” + </p> + <p> + “Because I want Wilfrid to see his sister Cornelia,” came the answer, with + the required absence of indecision. + </p> + <p> + Emilia ran straightway to meet Wilfrid approaching; and as both her hands, + according to her fashion, were stretched out to him to assure him of her + safety and take his clasp, forgetful of the instincts derived from + riding-habits, her feet became entangled; she trod herself down, falling + plump forward and looking foolish—perhaps for the first time in her + life plainly feeling so. + </p> + <p> + “Up! little woman,” said Lady Charlotte, supporting her elbow. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Sir Wilfrid, we part here; and don't spoil her courage, now she has + had a spill, by any 'assiduous attentions' and precautions. She's sure to + take as many as are needed. If Captain Gambler thinks I require an escort, + he may offer.” + </p> + <p> + The captain, taken by surprise, bowed, and flowed in ardent commonplace. + Wilfrid did not look of a wholesome colour. + </p> + <p> + “Do you return?” he stammered; not without a certain aspect of righteous + reproach. + </p> + <p> + “Yes. You will ride over to us again, probably, in a day or two? Captain + Gambler will see me safe from the savage admirers that crowd this country, + if I interpreted him rightly.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia was lifted to her seat. Lady Charlotte sprang unassisted to hers. + “Ta-ta!” she waved her fingers from her lips. The pairs then separated; + one couple turning into green lanes, the other dipping to blue hills. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIX + </h2> + <p> + Gossip of course was excited on the subject of the choice of a partner + made by the member for the county. Cornelia placed her sisters in one of + their most pleasing of difficulties. She had not as yet pledged her word. + It was supposed that she considered it due to herself to withhold her word + for a term. The rumour in the family was, that Sir Twickenham appreciated + her hesitation, and desired that he might be intimately known before he + was finally accepted. When the Tinleys called, they heard that Cornelia's + acceptance of the baronet was doubtful. The Copleys, on the other hand, + distinctly understood that she had decided in his favour. Owing to the + amiable dissension between the Copleys and the Tinleys, each party called + again; giving the ladies of Brookfield further opportunity for studying + one of the levels from which they had risen. Arabella did almost all the + fencing with Laura Tinley, contemptuously as a youth of station returned + from college will turn and foil an ill-conditioned villager, whom formerly + he has encountered on the green. + </p> + <p> + “Had they often met, previous to the... the proposal?” inquired Laura; and + laughed: “I was going to say 'popping.'” + </p> + <p> + “Pray do not check yourself, if a phrase appears to suit you,” returned + Arabella. + </p> + <p> + “But it was in the neighbourhood, was it not?” + </p> + <p> + “They have met in the neighbourhood.” + </p> + <p> + “At Richford?” + </p> + <p> + “Also at Richford.” + </p> + <p> + “We thought it was sudden, dear; that's all.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should it not be?” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps the best things are, it is true.” + </p> + <p> + “You congratulate us upon a benefit?” + </p> + <p> + “He is to be congratulated seriously. Naturally. When she decides, let me + know early, I do entreat you, because... well, I am of a different opinion + from some people, who talk of another attachment, or engagement, and I do + not believe in it, and have said so.” + </p> + <p> + Rising to depart, Laura Tinley resumed: “Most singular! You are aware, of + course, that poor creature, our organist—I ought to say yours—who + looked (it was Mr. Sumner I heard say it—such a good thing!) as if + he had been a gentleman in another world, and was the ghost of one in + this: really one of the cleverest things! but he is clever!—Barrett's + his name: Barrett and some: musical name before it, like Handel. I mean + one that we are used to. Well, the man has totally and unexpectedly thrown + up his situation.” + </p> + <p> + “His appointment,” said Arabella. Permitting no surprise to be visible, + she paused: “Yes. I don't think we shall give our consent to her filling + the post.” + </p> + <p> + Laura let it be seen that her adversary was here a sentence too quick for + her. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you mean your little Miss Belloni?” + </p> + <p> + “Was it not of her you were thinking?” + </p> + <p> + “When?” asked Laura, shamefully bewildered. + </p> + <p> + “When you alluded to Mr. Barrett's vacant place.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at the moment.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought you must be pointing to her advancement.” + </p> + <p> + “I confess it was not in my mind.” + </p> + <p> + “In what consisted the singularity, then?” + </p> + <p> + “The singularity?” + </p> + <p> + “You prefaced your remarks with the exclamation, 'Singular!'” + </p> + <p> + Laura showed that Arabella had passed her guard. She hastened to + compliment her on her kindness to Emilia, and so sheathed her weapon for + the time, having just enjoyed a casual inspection of Mrs. Chump entering + the room, and heard the brogue an instant. + </p> + <p> + “Irish!” she whispered, smiling, with a sort of astonished discernment of + the nationality, and swept through the doorway: thus conveying forcibly to + Arabella her knowledge of what the ladies of Brookfield were enduring: a + fine Parthian shot. + </p> + <p> + That Cornelia should hold a notable county man, a baronet and owner of + great acres, in a state between acceptance and rejection, was considered + high policy by the ladies, whom the idea of it elevated; and they + encouraged her to pursue this course, without having a suspicion, shrewd + as they were, that it was followed for any other object than the honour of + the family. But Mr. Pole was in the utmost perplexity, and spoke of + baronets as things almost holy, to be kneeled to, prayed for. He was + profane. “I thought, papa,” said Cornelia, “that women conferred the + favour when they gave their hands!” + </p> + <p> + It was a new light to the plain merchant. “How should you say if a Prince + came and asked for you?” + </p> + <p> + “Still that he asked a favour at my hands.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” went Mr. Pole, in the voice of a man whose reason is outraged. The + placidity of Cornelia's reply was not without its effect on him, + nevertheless. He had always thought his girls extraordinary girls, and + born to be distinguished. “Perhaps she has a lord in view,” he concluded: + it being his constant delusion to suppose that high towering female sense + has always a practical aim at a material thing. He was no judge of the sex + in its youth. “Just speak to her,” he said to Wilfrid. + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid had heard from Emilia that there was a tragic background to this + outward placidity; tears on the pillow at night and long vigils. Emilia + had surprised her weeping, and though she obtained no confidences, the + soft mood was so strong in the stately lady, that she consented to weep on + while Emilia clasped her. Petitioning on her behalf to Wilfrid for aid, + Emilia had told him the scene; and he, with a man's stupidity, alluded to + it, not thinking what his knowledge of it revealed to a woman. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you vacillate, and keep us all in the dark as to what you mean?” + he began. + </p> + <p> + “I am not prepared,” said Cornelia; the voice of humility issuing from a + monument. + </p> + <p> + “One of your oracular phrases! Are you prepared to be straightforward in + your dealings?” + </p> + <p> + “I am prepared for any sacrifice, Wilfrid.” + </p> + <p> + “The marrying of a man in his position is a sacrifice!” + </p> + <p> + “I cannot leave papa.” + </p> + <p> + “And why not?” + </p> + <p> + “He is ill. He does not speak of it, but he is ill. His actions are + strange. They are unaccountable.” + </p> + <p> + “He has an old friend to reside in his house?” + </p> + <p> + “It is not that. I have noticed him. His mind...he requires watching.” + </p> + <p> + “And how long is it since you made this discovery?” + </p> + <p> + “One sees clearer perhaps when one is not quite happy.” + </p> + <p> + “Not happy! Then it's for him that you turn the night to tears?” + </p> + <p> + Cornelia closed her lips. She divined that her betrayer must be close in + his confidence. She went shortly after to Emilia, whose secret at once + stood out bare to a kindled suspicion. There was no fear that Cornelia + would put her finger on it accusingly, or speak of it directly. She had + the sentimentalist's profound respect for the name and notion of love. She + addressed Emilia vaguely, bidding her keep guard on her emotions, and + telling her there was one test of the truth of masculine protestations; + this, Will he marry you? The which, if you are poor, is a passably + infallible test. Emilia sucked this in thoughtfully. She heard that lovers + were false. Why, then of course they were not like her lover! Cornelia + finished what she deemed her duty, and departed, while Emilia thought: “I + wonder whether he could be false to me;” and she gave herself shrewd + half-delicious jarrings of pain, forcing herself to contemplate the + impossible thing. + </p> + <p> + She was in this state when Mrs. Chump came across her, and with a slight + pressure of a sovereign into her hand, said: “There, it's for you, little + Belloni! and I see ye've been thinkin' me one o' the scrape-hards and + close-fists. It's Pole who keeps me low, on purpose. And I'm a wretch if I + haven't my purse full, so you see I'm all in the dark in the house, and + don't know half so much as the sluts o' the kitchen. So, ye'll tell me, + little Belloni, is Arr'bella goin' to marry Mr. Annybody? And is Cornelia + goin' to marry Sir Tickleham? And whether Mr. Wilfrud's goin' to marry + Lady Charlotte Chill'nworth? Becas, my dear, there's Arr'bella, who's + sharp, she is, as a North-easter in January, (which Chump 'd cry out for, + for the sake of his ships, poor fella—he kneelin' by 's bedside in a + long nightgown and lookin' just twice what he was!) she has me like a nail + to my vary words, and shows me that nothin' can happen betas o' what I've + said. And Cornelia—if ye'll fancy a tall codfish on its tail: 'Mrs. + Chump, I beg ye'll not go to believe annything of me.' So I says to her, + 'Cornelia! my dear! do ye think, now, it's true that Chump went and marrud + his cook, that ye treat me so? becas my father,' I tell her, 'he dealt in + porrk in a large way, and I was a fine woman, full of the arr'stocracy, + and Chump a little puffed-out bladder of a man.' So then she says: 'Mrs. + Chump, I listen to no gossup: listen you to no gossup. 'And Mr. Wilfrud, + my dear, he sends me on the flat o' my back, laughin'. And Ad'la she takes + and turns me right about, so that I don't see the thing I'm askin' after; + and there's nobody but you, little Belloni, to help me, and if ye do, ye + shall know what the crumple of paper sounds like.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Chump gave a sugary suck with her tongue. Emilia returned the money + to her. + </p> + <p> + “Ye're foolush!” said Mrs. Chump. “A shut fist's good in fight and bad in + friendship. Do ye know that? Open your hand.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me,” persisted Emilia. + </p> + <p> + “Pooh! take the money, or I'll say ye're in a conspiracy to make me + blindman's-buff of the parrty. Take ut.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want it.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe, it's not enough?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want any, ma'am.” + </p> + <p> + “Ma'am, to the deuce with ye! I'll be callin' ye a forr'ner in a minute, I + will.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia walked away from a volley of terrific threats. + </p> + <p> + For some reason, unfathomed by her, she wanted to be alone with Wilfrid + and put a question to him. No other, in sooth, than the infallible test. + Not, mind you, that she wished to be married. But something she had heard + (she had forgotten what it was) disturbed her, and that recent trifling + with pain, in her excess of happiness, laid her open to it. Her heart was + weaker, and fluttered, as if with a broken wing. She thought, “if I can be + near him to lean against him for one full hour!” it would make her strong + again. For, she found that if her heart was rising on a broad breath, + suddenly, for no reason that she knew, it seemed to stop in its rise, + break, and sink, like a wind-beaten billow. Once or twice, in a quick + fear, she thought: “What is this? Is this a malady coming before death?” + She walked out gloomily, thinking of the darkness of the world to Wilfrid, + if she should die. She plucked flowers, and then reproached herself with + plucking them. She tried to sing. “No, not till I have been with him + alone;” she said, chiding her voice to silence. A shadow crossed her mind, + as a Spring-mist dulls the glory of May. “Suppose all singing has gone + from me—will he love wretched me?” + </p> + <p> + By-and-by she met him in the house. “Come out of doors to-night,” she + whispered. + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid's spirit of intrigue was never to be taken by surprise. “In the + wood, under the pine, at nine,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “Not there,” said Emilia, seeing this place mournfully dark from + Cornelia's grief. “It is too still; say, where there's water falling. One + can't be unhappy by noisy water.” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid considered, and named Wilming Weir. “And there we'll sit and + you'll sing to me. I won't dine at home, so they won't susp-a-fancy + anything.—Soh! and you want very much to be with me, my bird? What + am I?” He bent his head. + </p> + <p> + “My lover.” + </p> + <p> + He pressed her hand rapturously, half-doubting whether her pronunciation + of the word had not a rather too confident twang. + </p> + <p> + Was it not delightful, he asked her, that they should be thus one to the + other, and none know of it. She thought so too, and smiled happily, + promising secresy, at his request; for the sake of continuing so + felicitous a life. + </p> + <p> + “You, you know, have an appointment with Captain Gambier, and, I with Lady + Charlotte Chillingworth,” said he. “How dare you make appointments with a + captain of hussars?” and he bent her knuckles fondlingly. + </p> + <p> + Emilia smiled as before. He left her with a distinct impression that she + did not comprehend that part of her lesson. + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid had just bled his father of a considerable sum of money; having + assured him that he was the accepted suitor of Lady Charlotte + Chillingworth, besides making himself pleasant in allusion to Mrs. Chump, + so far as to cast some imputation on his sisters' judgement for not + perceiving the virtues of the widow. The sum was improvidently large. Mr. + Pole did not hear aright when he heard it named. Even at the repetition, + he went: “Eh?” two or three times, vacantly. The amount was distinctly + nailed to his ear: whereupon he said, “Ah!—yes! you young fellows + want money: must have it, I suppose. Up from the bowels of the earth Up + from the—: you're sure they're not playing the fool with you, over + there?” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid understood the indication to Stornley. “I think you need have no + fear of that, sir.” And so his father thought, after an examination of the + youth, who was of manly shape, and had a fresh, non-fatuous, air. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if that's all right...” sighed Mr. Pole. “Of course you'll always + know that money's money. I wish your sisters wouldn't lose their time, as + they do. Time's worth more than money. What sum?” + </p> + <p> + “I told you, sir, I wanted—there's the yacht, you know, and a lot of + tradesmen's bills, which you don't like to see standing:-about—perhaps + I had better name the round sum. Suppose you write down eight hundred. I + shan't want more for some months. If you fancy it too much...” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pole had lifted his head. But he spoke nothing. His lips and brows + were rigid in apparent calculation. Wilfrid kept his position for a minute + or so; and then, a little piqued, he moved about. He had inherited the + antipathy to the discussion of the money question, and fretted to find it + unnecessarily prolonged. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I come to you on this business another time, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “No, God bless my soul!” cried his father; “are you going to keep this + hanging over me for ever? Eight hundred, you said.” He mumbled: “salary of + a chief clerk of twenty years' standing. Eight: twice four:—there + you have it exactly.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you send it me in a letter?” said Wilfrid, out of patience. + </p> + <p> + “I'll send it you in a letter,” assented his father. Upon which Wilfrid + changed his mind. “I can take a chair, though. I can easily wait for it + now.” + </p> + <p> + “Save trouble, if I send it. Eh?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you wish to see whether you can afford it, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “I wish to see you show more sense—with your confounded 'afford.' + Have you any idea of bankers' books?—bankers' accounts?” Mr. Pole + fished his cheque-book from a drawer and wrote Wilfrid's name and the sum, + tore out the leaf and tossed it to him. “There, I've written to-day. Don't + present it for a week.” He rubbed his forehead hastily, touching here and + there a paper to put it scrupulously in a line with the others. Wilfrid + left him, and thought: “Kind old boy! Of course, he always means kindly, + but I think I see a glimpse of avarice as a sort of a sign of age coming + on. I hope he'll live long!” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid was walking in the garden, imagining perhaps that he was thinking, + as the swarming sensations of little people help them to imagine, when + Cornelia ran hurriedly up to him and said: “Come with me to papa. He's + ill: I fear he is going to have a fit.” + </p> + <p> + “I left him sound and well, just now,” said Wilfrid. “This is your mania.” + </p> + <p> + “I found him gasping in his chair not two minutes after you quitted him. + Dearest, he is in a dangerous state!” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid stept back to his father, and was saluted with a ready “Well?” as + he entered; but the mask had slipped from half of the old man's face, and + for the first time in his life Wilfrid perceived that he had become an old + man. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, you sent for me?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Girls always try to persuade you you're ill—that's all,” returned + Mr. Pole. His voice was subdued; but turning to Cornelia, he fired up: + “It's preposterous to tell a man who carries on a business like mine, + you've observed for a long while that he's queer!—There, my dear + child, I know that you mean well. I shall look all right the day you're + married.” + </p> + <p> + This allusion, and the sudden kindness, drew a storm of tears to + Cornelia's eyelids. + </p> + <p> + “Papa! if you will but tell me what it is!” she moaned. + </p> + <p> + A nervous frenzy seemed to take possession of him. He ordered her out of + the room. + </p> + <p> + She was gone, but his arm was still stretched out, and his expression of + irritated command did not subside. + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid took his arm and put it gently down on the chair, saying: “You're + not quite the thing to-day, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you a fool as well?” Mr. Pole retorted. “What do you know of, to make + me ill? I live a regular life. I eat and drink just as you all do; and if + I have a headache, I'm stunned with a whole family screaming as hard as + they can that I'm going to die. Damned hard! I say, sir, it's—” He + fell into a feebleness. + </p> + <p> + “A little glass of brandy, I think,” Wilfrid suggested; and when Mr. Pole + had gathered his mind he assented, begging his son particularly to take + precautions to prevent any one from entering the room until he had tasted + the reviving liquor. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XX + </h2> + <p> + A half-circle of high-banked greensward, studded with old park-trees, hung + round the roar of the water; distant enough from the white-twisting fall + to be mirrored on a smooth-heaved surface, while its out-pushing brushwood + below drooped under burdens of drowned reed-flags that caught the foam. + Keen scent of hay, crossing the dark air, met Emilia as she entered the + river-meadow. A little more, and she saw the white weir-piles shining, and + the grey roller just beginning to glisten to the moon. Eastward on her + left, behind a cedar, the moon had cast off a thick cloud, and shone + through the cedar-bars with a yellowish hazy softness, making rosy gold of + the first passion of the tide, which, writhing and straining on through + many lights, grew wide upon the wonderful velvet darkness underlying the + wooded banks. With the full force of a young soul that leaps from beauty + seen to unimagined beauty, Emilia stood and watched the picture. Then she + sat down, hushed, awaiting her lover. + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid, as it chanced, was ten minutes late. She did not hear his voice + till he had sunk on his knee by her side. + </p> + <p> + “What a reverie!” he said half jealously. “Isn't it lovely here?” + </p> + <p> + Emilia pressed his hand, but without turning her face to him, as her habit + was. He took it for shyness, and encouraged her with soft exclamations and + expansive tenderness. + </p> + <p> + “I wish I had not come here!” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me why?” He folded his arm about her waist. + </p> + <p> + “Why did you let me wait?” said she. + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid drew out his watch; blamed the accident that had detained him, and + remarked that there were not many minutes to witness against him. + </p> + <p> + She appeared to throw off her moodiness. “You are here at last. Let me + hold your hand, and think, and be quite silent.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall hold my hand, and think, and be quite silent, my own girl! if + you will tell me what's on your mind.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia thought it enough to look in his face, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “Has any one annoyed you?” he cried out. + </p> + <p> + “No one.” + </p> + <p> + “Then receive the command of your lord, that you kiss him.” + </p> + <p> + “I will kiss him,” said Emilia; and did so. + </p> + <p> + The salute might have appeased an imperious lord, but was not so + satisfactory to an exacting lover. He perceived, however, that, whether as + lover or as lord, he must wait for her now, owing to her having waited for + him: so, he sat by her, permitting his hand to be softly squeezed, and + trying to get at least in the track of her ideas, while her ear was turned + to the weir, and her eyes were on the glowing edges of the cedar-tree. + </p> + <p> + Finally, on one of many deep breaths, she said: “It's over. Why were you + late? But, never mind now. Never let it be long again when I am expecting + you. It's then I feel so much at his mercy. I mean, if I am where I hear + falling water; sometimes thunder.” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid masked his complete mystification with a caressing smile; not + without a growing respect for the only person who could make him + experience the pangs of conscious silliness. You see, he was not a + coxcomb. + </p> + <p> + “That German!” Emilia enlightened him. + </p> + <p> + “Your old music-master?” + </p> + <p> + “I wish it, I wish it! I should soon be free from him. Don't you know that + dreadful man I told you about, who's like a black angel to me, because + there is no music like his? and he's a German! I told you how I first + dreamed about him, and then regularly every night, after talking with my + father about Italy and his black-yellow Tedeschi, this man came over my + pillow and made me call him Master, Master. And he is. He seems as if he + were the master of my soul, mocking me, making me worship him in spite of + my hate. I came here, thinking only of you. I heard the water like a great + symphony. I fell into dreaming of my music. That's when I am at his mercy. + There's no one like him. I must detest music to get free from him. How can + I? He is like the God of music.” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid now remembered certain of her allusions to this rival, who had + hitherto touched him very little. Perhaps it was partly the lovely scene + that lifted him to a spiritual jealousy, partly his susceptibility to a + sentimental exaggeration, and partly the mysterious new charm in Emilia's + manner, that was as a bordering lustre, showing how the full orb was + rising behind her. + </p> + <p> + “His name?” Wilfrid asked for. + </p> + <p> + Emilia's lips broke to the second letter of the alphabet; but she cut + short the word. “Why should you hear it? And now that you are here, you + drive him away. And the best is,” she laughed, “I am sure you will not + remember any of his pieces. I wish I could not—not that it's the + memory; but he seems all round me, up in the air, and when the trees move + all together...you chase him away, my lover!” + </p> + <p> + It was like a break in music, the way that Emilia suddenly closed her + sentence; coming with a shock of flattering surprise upon Wilfrid. + </p> + <p> + Then she pursued: “My English lover! I am like Italy, in chains to that + German, and you...but no, no, no! It's not quite a likeness, for my German + is not a brute. I have seen his picture in shop-windows: the wind seemed + in his hair, and he seemed to hear with his eyes: his forehead frowning + so. Look at me, and see. So!” + </p> + <p> + Emilia pressed up the hair from her temples and bent her brows. + </p> + <p> + “It does not increase your beauty,” said Wilfrid. + </p> + <p> + “There's the difference!” Emilia sighed mildly. “He sees angels, cherubs, + and fairies, and imps, and devils; or he hears them: they come before him + from far off, in music. They do to me, now and then. Only now and then, + when my head's on fire.—My lover!” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid pressed his mouth to the sweet instrument. She took his kiss + fully, and gave her own frankly, in return. Then, sighing a very little, + she said: “Do not kiss me much.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” + </p> + <p> + “But, look at me.” + </p> + <p> + “I will look at you. Only take my hand. See the moon is getting whiter. + The water there is like a pool of snakes, and then they struggle out, and + roll over and over, and stream on lengthwise. I can see their long flat + heads, and their eyes: almost their skins. No, my lover! do not kiss me. I + lose my peace.” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid was not willing to relinquish his advantage, and the tender deep + tone of the remonstrance was most musical and catching. What if he pulled + her to earth from that rival of his in her soul? She would then be wholly + his own. His lover's sentiment had grown rageingly jealous of the lordly + German. But Emilia said, “I have you on my heart more when I touch your + hand only, and think. If you kiss me, I go into a cloud, and lose your + face in my mind.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes;” replied Wilfrid, pleased to sustain the argument for the sake + of its fruitful promises. “But you must submit to be kissed, my darling. + You will have to.” + </p> + <p> + She gazed inquiringly. + </p> + <p> + “When you are married, I mean.” + </p> + <p> + “When will you marry me?” she said. + </p> + <p> + The heir-apparent of the house of Pole blinked probably at that moment + more foolishly than most mortal men have done. Taming his astonishment to + represent a smile, he remarked: “When? are you thinking about it already?” + </p> + <p> + She answered, in a quiet voice that conveyed the fact forcibly, “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “But you're too young yet; and you're going to Italy, to learn in the + schools. You wouldn't take a husband there with you, would you? What would + the poor devil do?” + </p> + <p> + “But you are not too young,” said she. + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid supposed not. + </p> + <p> + “Could you not go to my Italy with me?” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible! What! as a dangling husband?” Wilfrid laughed scornfully. + </p> + <p> + “They would love you too,” she said. “They are such loving people. Oh, + come! Consent to come, my lover! I must learn. If I do not, you will + despise me. How can I bring anything to lay at your feet, my dear! my + dear! if I do not?” + </p> + <p> + “Impossible!” Wilfrid reiterated, as one who had found moorings in the + word. + </p> + <p> + “Then I will give up Italy!” + </p> + <p> + He had not previously acted hypocrite with this amazing girl. + Nevertheless, it became difficult not to do so. He could scarcely believe + that he had on a sudden, and by strange agency, slipped into an earnest + situation. Emilia's attitude and tone awakened him to see it. Her hands + were clenched straight down from the shoulders: all that she conceived + herself to be renouncing for his sake was expressed in her face. + </p> + <p> + “Would you, really?” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + “I will!” + </p> + <p> + “And be English altogether?” + </p> + <p> + “Be yours!” + </p> + <p> + “Mine?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; from this time.” + </p> + <p> + Now stirred his better nature: though not before had he sceptically + touched her lips and found them cold, as if the fire had been taken out of + them by what they had uttered. He felt that it was no animal love, but the + force of a soul drawn to him; and, forgetting the hypocritical foundation + he had laid, he said: “How proud I shall be of you!” + </p> + <p> + “I shall go with you to battle,” returned Emilia. + </p> + <p> + “My little darling! You won't care to see those black fellows killed, will + you?” + </p> + <p> + Emilia shuddered. “No; poor things! Why do you hurt them? Kill wicked + people, tyrant white-coats! And we will not talk of killing now. Proud of + me? If I can make you!” + </p> + <p> + “You sigh so heavily!” + </p> + <p> + “Something makes me feel like a little beggar.” + </p> + <p> + “When I tell you I love you?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but I only feel rich when I am giving; and I seem to have nothing to + give now:—now that I have lost Italy!” + </p> + <p> + “But you give me your love, don't you?” + </p> + <p> + “All of it. But I seem to give it to you in tatters it's like a beggar; + like a day without any sun.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think I shall have that idea when I hear you sing to me, and know + that this little leaping fountain of music here is mine?” + </p> + <p> + Dim rays of a thought led Emilia to remark, “Must not men keel to women? I + mean, if they are to love them for ever?” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid smiled gallantly: “I will kneel to you, if it pleases you.” + </p> + <p> + “Not now. You should have done so, once, I dreamed only once, just for a + moment, in Italy; when all were crying out to me that I had caught their + hearts. I fancied standing out like a bright thing in a dark crowd, and + then saying 'I am his!' pointing to you, and folding my arms, waiting for + you to take me.” + </p> + <p> + The lover's imagination fired at the picture, and immediately he told a + lover's lie; for the emotion excited by the thought of her glory coloured + deliciously that image of her abnegation of all to him. He said: “I would + rather have you as you are.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia leaned to him more, and the pair fixed their eyes on the moon, that + had now topped the cedar, and was pure silver: silver on the grass, on the + leafage, on the waters. And in the West, facing it, was an arch of + twilight and tremulous rose; as if a spirit hung there over the shrouded + sun. + </p> + <p> + “At least,” thought Wilfrid, “heaven, and the beauty of the world, approve + my choice.” And he looked up, fancying that he had a courage almost serene + to meet his kindred with Emilia on his arm. + </p> + <p> + She felt his arm dreamily stressing its clasp about her, and said: “Now I + know you love me. And you shall take me as I am. I need not be so poor + after all. My dear! my dear! I cannot see beyond you.” + </p> + <p> + “Is that your misery?” said he. + </p> + <p> + “My delight! my pleasure! One can live a life anywhere. And how can I + belong to Italy, if I am yours? Do you know, when we were silent just now, + I was thinking that water was the history of the world flowing out before + me, all mixed up of kings and queens, and warriors with armour, and + shouting armies; battles and numbers of mixed people; and great red + sunsets, with women kneeling under them. Do you know those long low + sunsets? I love them. They look like blood spilt for love. The noise of + the water, and the moist green smell, gave me hundreds of pictures that + seemed to hug me. I thought—what could stir music in me more than + this? and, am I not just as rich if I stay here with my lover, instead of + flying to strange countries, that I shall not care for now? So, you shall + take me as I am. I do not feel poor any longer.” + </p> + <p> + With that she gave him both her hands. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Wilfrid. + </p> + <p> + As if struck by the ridicule of so feeble a note, falling upon her + passionate speech, he followed it up with the “yes!” of a man; adding: + “Whatever you are, you are my dear girl; my own love; mine!” + </p> + <p> + Having said it, he was screwed up to feel it as nearly as possible, such + virtue is there in uttered words. + </p> + <p> + Then he set about resolutely studying to appreciate her in the new + character she had assumed to him. It is barely to be supposed that he + should understand what in her love for him she sacrificed in giving up + Italy, as she phrased it. He had some little notion of the sacrifice; but, + as he did not demand any sacrifice of the sort, and as this involved a + question perplexing, irritating, absurd, he did not regard it very + favourably. As mistress of his fancy, her prospective musical triumphs + were the crown of gold hanging over her. As wife of his bosom, they were + not to be thought of. But the wife of his bosom must take her place by + virtue of some wondrous charm. What was it that Emilia could show, if not + music? Beautiful eyebrows: thick rare eyebrows, no doubt couched upon her + full eyes, they were a marvel: and her eyes were a marvel. She had a sweet + mouth, too, though the upper lip did not boast the aristocratic + conventional curve of adorable pride, or the under lip a pretty droop to a + petty rounded chin. Her face was like the aftersunset across a + rose-garden, with the wings of an eagle poised outspread on the light. + Some such coloured, vague, magnified impression Wilfrid took of her. + Still, it was not quite enough to make him scorn contempt, should it + whisper: nor even quite enough to combat successfully the image of elegant + dames in their chosen attitudes—the queenly moments when perhaps + they enter an assembly, or pour out tea with an exquisite exhibition of + arm, or recline upon a couch, commanding homage of the world of little + men. What else had this girl to count upon to make her exclusive? A + devoted heart; she had a loyal heart, and perfect frankness: a mind + impressible, intelligent, and fresh. She gave promise of fair + companionship at all seasons. She could put a spell upon him, moreover. By + that power of hers, never wilfully exercised, she came, in spite of the + effect left on him by her early awkwardnesses and 'animalities,' nearer to + his idea of superhuman nature than anything he knew of. But how would she + be regarded when the announcement of Mrs. Wilfrid Pole brought + scrutinizing eyes and gossiping mouths to bear on her? + </p> + <p> + It mattered nothing. He kissed her, and the vision of the critical world + faded to a blank. Whatever she was, he was her prime luminary, so he + determined to think that he cast light upon a precious, an unrivalled + land. + </p> + <p> + “You are my own, are you not, Emilia?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I am,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “That water seems to say 'for ever,'” he murmured; and Emilia's fingers + pressed upon his. + </p> + <p> + Of marriage there was no further word. Her heart was evidently quite at + ease; and that it should be so without chaining him to a date, was + Wilfrid's peculiar desire. He could pledge himself to eternity, but shrank + from being bound to eleven o'clock on the morrow morning. + </p> + <p> + So, now, the soft Summer hours flew like white doves from off the mounting + moon, and the lovers turned to go, all being still: even the noise of the + waters still to their ears, as life that is muffled in sleep. They saw the + cedar grey-edged under the moon: and Night, that clung like a bat beneath + its ancient open palms. The bordering sward about the falls shone silvery. + In its shadow was a swan. These scenes are but beckoning hands to the + hearts of lovers, waving them on to that Eden which they claim: but when + the hour has fled, they know it; and by the palpitating light in it they + know that it holds the best of them. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXI + </h2> + <p> + At this season Mr. Pericles reappeared. He had been, he said, through + “Paris, Turin, Milano, Veniss, and by Trieste over the Summering to Vienna + on a tour for a voice.” And in no part of the Continent, his vehement + declaration assured the ladies, had he found a single one. It was one + universal croak—ahi! And Mr. Pericles could, affirm that Purgatory + would have no pains for him after the torments he had recently endured. + “Zey are frogs if zey are not geese,” said Mr. Pericles. “I give up. Opera + is dead. Hein? for a time;” and he smiled almost graciously, adding: + “Where is she?” For Emilia was not present. + </p> + <p> + The ladies now perceived a greatness of mind in the Greek's devotion to + music, and in his non-mercenary travels to assist managers of Opera by + discovering genius. His scheme for Emilia fired them with delight. They + were about to lay down all the material arrangements at once, but Mrs. + Chump, who had heard that there was a new man in the house, now entered + the room, prepared to conquer him. As thus, after a short form of + introduction: “D'ye do, sir! and ye're Mr. Paricles. Oh! but ye're a + Sultan, they say. Not in morr'ls, sir. And vary pleasant to wander on the + Cont'nent with a lot o' lacqueys at your heels. It's what a bachelor can + do. But I ask ye, sir, is ut fair, ye think, to the poor garls that has to + stop at home?” + </p> + <p> + Hereat the ladies of Brookfield, thus miserably indicated, drew upon their + self-command that sprang from the high sense of martyrdom. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pericles did not reply to Mrs. Chump at all. He turned to Adela, + saying aloud: “What is zis person?” + </p> + <p> + It might have pleased them to hear any slight put publicly on Mrs. Chump + in the first resistance to the woman, but in the present stage their pride + defended her. “Our friend,” was the reply with which Arabella rebuked his + rudeness; and her sister approved her. “We can avoid showing that we are + weak in our own opinion, whatsoever degrades us,” they had said during a + consultation. Simultaneously they felt that Mr. Pericles being simply a + millionaire and not In Society, being also a middle-class foreigner (a + Greek whose fathers ran with naked heels and long lank hair on the shores + of the Aegean), before such a man they might venture to identify this + their guest with themselves an undoubted duty, in any case, but not always + to be done; at least, not with grace and personal satisfaction. Therefore, + the “our friend” dispersed a common gratulatory glow. Very small points, + my masters; but how are coral-islands built? + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Chump fanned her cheek, in complete ignorance of the offence and + defence. Chump, deceased, in amorous mood, had praised her management of + the fan once, when breath was in him: “'Martha,' says he, winkin' a sort + of 'mavourneen' at me, ye know—'Martha! with a fan in your hand, if + ye're not a black-eyed beauty of a Spaniard, ye little devil of Seville!' + says he.” This she had occasionally confided to the ladies. The marital + eulogy had touched her, and she was not a woman of coldly-flowing blood, + she had an excuse for the constant employment of the fan. + </p> + <p> + “And well, Mr. Paricles! have ye got nothin' to tell us about foreign + countesses and their slips? Because, we can listen, sir, garls or not. + Sure, if they understand ye, ye teach 'em nothin'; and if they don't + understand ye, where's the harm done? D'ye see, sir? It's clear in favour + of talkin'.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pericles administered consolation to his moustache by twisting it into + long waxy points. “I do not know; I do not know,” he put her away with, + from time to time. In the end Mrs. Chump leaned over to Arabella. “Don't + have 'm, my dear,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “You mean—?” quoth Arabella. + </p> + <p> + “Here's the driest stick that aver stood without sap.” + </p> + <p> + Arabella flushed when she took the implication that she was looking on the + man as a husband. Adela heard the remarks, and flushed likewise. Mrs. + Chump eyed them both. “It's for the money o' the man,” she soliloquized + aloud, as her fashion was. Adela jumped up, and with an easy sprightly + posture of her fair, commonly studious person, and natural run of notes + “Oh!” she cried, “I begin to feel what it is to be like a live fish on the + fire, frying, frying, frying! and if he can keep his Christian sentiments + under this infliction, what a wonderful hero he must be! What a hot day!” + </p> + <p> + She moved swiftly to the door, and flung it open. A sight met her eyes at + which she lost her self-possession. She started back, uttering a soft cry. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! aha! oh!” went the bitter ironic drawl of Mr. Pericles, whose sharp + glance had caught the scene as well. + </p> + <p> + Emilia came forward with a face like sunset. Diplomacy, under the form of + Wilfrid Pole, kicked its heels behind, and said a word or two in a tone of + false cheerfulness. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! so!” Mr. Pericles frowned, while Emilia held her hand out to him. + “Yeas! You are quite well? H'm! You are burnt like a bean—hein? I + shall ask you what you have been doing, by and by.” + </p> + <p> + Happily for decency, Mrs. Chump had not participated in the fact presented + by ocular demonstration. She turned about comfortably to greet Wilfrid, + uttering the inspired remark: “Ye look red from a sly kiss!” + </p> + <p> + “For one?” said he, sharpening his blunted wits on this dull instrument. + </p> + <p> + The ladies talked down their talk. Then Wilfrid and Mr. Pericles + interchanged quasi bows. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if he doesn't show his upper teeth like an angry cat, or a leopard + I've seen!” cried Mrs. Chump in Adela's ear, designating Mr. Pericles. + “Does he know Mr. Wilfrud's in the British army, and a new lieuten't, + gazetted and all?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pericles certainly did not look pleasantly upon Wilfrid: Emilia + received his unconcealed wrath and spite. + </p> + <p> + “Go and sing a note!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “At the piano?” Emilia quietly asked. + </p> + <p> + “At piano, harp, what you will—it is ze voice I want.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia pitched her note high from a full chest and with glad bright eyes, + which her fair critics thought just one degree brazen, after the + revelation in the doorway. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pericles listened; wearing an aching expression, as if he were sending + one eye to look up into his brain for a judgement disputed in that + sovereign seat. + </p> + <p> + Still she held on, and then gave a tremulous, rich, contralto note. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! the human voice!” cried Adela, overcome by the transition of tones. + </p> + <p> + “Like going from the nightingale to the nightjar,” said Arabella. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Chump remarked: “Ye'll not find a more susceptible woman to musuc + than me.” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid looked away. Pride coursed through his veins in a torrent. + </p> + <p> + When the voice was still, Mr. Pericles remained in a pondering posture. + </p> + <p> + “You go to play fool with zat voice in Milano, you are flogged,” he cried + terribly, shaking his forefinger. + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid faced round in wrath, but Mr. Pericles would not meet his + challenge, continuing: “You hear? you hear?—so!” and Mr. Pericles + brought the palms of his hands in collision. + </p> + <p> + “Marcy, man!” Mrs. Chump leaped from her chair; “d'ye mean that those + horrud forr'ners'll smack a full-grown young woman?—Don't go to 'm, + my dear. Now, take my 'dvice, little Belloni, and don't go. It isn't the + sting o' the smack, ye know—” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I sing anything to you?” Emilia addressed Mr. Pericles. The latter + shrugged to express indifference. Nevertheless she sang. She had never + sung better. Mr. Pericles clutched his chin in one hand, elbow on knee. + The ladies sighed to think of the loss of homage occasioned by the fact of + so few being present to hear her. Wilfrid knew himself the fountain of it + all, and stood fountain-like, in a shower of secret adulation: a really + happy fellow. This: that his beloved should be the centre of eyes, and + pronounced exquisite by general approbation, besides subjecting him to a + personal spell: this was what he wanted. It was mournful to think that + Circumstance had not at the same time created the girl of noble birth, or + with an instinct for spiritual elegance. But the world is imperfect. + </p> + <p> + Presently he became aware that she was understood to be singing pointedly + to him: upon which he dismissed the council of his sensations, and began + to diplomatize cleverly. Leaning over to Adela, he whispered: + </p> + <p> + “Pericles wants her to go to Italy. My belief is, that she won't.” + </p> + <p> + “And why?” returned Adela, archly reproachful. + </p> + <p> + “Well, we've been spoiling her a little, perhaps. I mean, we men, of + course. But, I really don't think that I'm chiefly to blame. You won't + allow Captain Gambier to be in fault, I know.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” said Adela. + </p> + <p> + “Well, if you will, then he is the principal offender.” + </p> + <p> + Adela acted disbelief; but, unprepared for her brother's perfectly + feminine audacity of dissimulation, she thought: “He can't be in earnest + about the girl,” and was led to fancy that Gambier might, and to determine + to see whether it was so. + </p> + <p> + By this manoeuvre, Wilfrid prepared for himself a defender when the charge + was brought against him. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pericles was thunderstruck on hearing Emilia refuse to go to Italy. A + scene of tragic denunciation on the one hand, and stubborn decision on the + other, ensued. + </p> + <p> + “I shall not mind zis” (he spoke of Love and the awakening of the female + heart) “not when you are trained. It is good, zen, and you have fire from + it. But, now! little fool, I say, it is too airly—too airly! How + shall you learn—eh? with your brain upon a man? And your voice, + little fool, a thing of caprice, zat comes and goes as he will, not you + will. Hein? like a barrel-organ, which he turns ze handle.—Mon Dieu! + Why did I leave her?” Mr. Pericles struck his brow with his wrist, + clutching at the long thin slice of hair that did greasy duty for the + departed crop on his poll. “Did I not know it was a woman? And so you are, + what you say, in lofe.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia replied: “I have not said so,” with exasperating coolness. + </p> + <p> + “You have your eye on a man. And I know him, zat man! When he is tired of + you—whiff, away you go, a puff of smoke! And you zat I should make a + Queen of Opera! A Queen? You shall have more rule zan twenty Queens—forty! + See” (Mr. Pericles made his hand go like an aspen-leaf from his uplifted + wrist); “So you shall set ze hearts of sossands! To dream of you, to adore + you! and flowers, flowers everywhere, on your head, at your feet. You + choose your lofer from ze world. A husband, if it is your taste. Bose, if + you please. Zen, I say, you shall, you shall lofe a man. Let him tease and + sting—ah! it will be magnifique: Aha! ze voice will sharpen, go + deep; yeas! to be a tale of blood. Lofe till you could stab yourself:—Brava! + But now? Little fool, I say!” + </p> + <p> + Emilia believed that she was verily forfeiting an empire. Her face wore a + soft look of delight. This renunciation of a splendid destiny for + Wilfrid's sake, seemed to make her worthier of him, and as Mr. Pericles + unrolled the list of her rejected treasures, her bosom heaved without a + regret. + </p> + <p> + “Ha!” Mr. Pericles flung away from her: “go and be a little gutter-girl!” + </p> + <p> + The musical connoisseur drew on his own disappointment alone for + eloquence. Had he been thinking of her, he might have touched cunningly on + her love for Italy. Music was the passion of the man; and a millionaire's + passion is something that can make a stir. He knew that in Emilia he had + discovered a pearl of song rarely to be found, and his object was to + polish and perfect her at all cost: perhaps, as a secondary and far + removed consideration, to point to her as a thing belonging to him, for + which Emperors might envy him. The thought of losing her drove him into + fits of rage. He took the ladies one by one, and treated them each to a + horrible scene of gesticulation and outraged English. H accused their + brother of conduct which they were obliged to throw (by a process of their + own) into the region of Fine Shades, before they dared venture to + comprehend him. Gross facts in relationship with the voice, this grievous + “machine, not man,”—as they said—stated to them, harshly, + impetuously. The ladies felt that he had bored their ears with hot iron + pins. Adela tried laughter as a defence from his suggestion against + Wilfrid, but had shortly afterwards to fly from the fearful anatomist. She + served her brother thoroughly in the Council of Three; so that Mr. + Pericles was led by them to trust that there had; been mere fooling in his + absence, and that the emotions he looked to as the triumphant reserve in + Emilia's bosom, to be aroused at some crisis when she was before the + world, slumbered still. She, on her part, contrasting her own burning + sensations with this quaint, innocent devotion to Art and passion for + music, felt in a manner guilty; and whenever he stormed with additional + violence, she became suppliant, and seemed to bend and have regrets. Mr. + Pericles would then say, with mollified irritability: “You will come to + Italy to-morrow?—Ze day after?—not at all?” The last was given + with a roar, for lack of her immediate response. Emilia would find a tear + on her eyelids at times. Surround herself as she might with her illusions, + she had no resting-place in Wilfrid's heart, and knew it. She knew it as + the young know that they are to die on a future day, without feeling the + sadness of it, but with a dimly prevalent idea that this life is therefore + incomplete. And again her blood, as with a wave of rich emotion, washed + out the blank spot. She thought: “What can he want but my love?” And thus + she satisfied her own hungry questioning by seeming to supply an answer to + his. + </p> + <p> + The ladies of Brookfield by no means encouraged Emilia to refuse the + generous offer of Mr. Pericles. They thought, too, that she might—might + she? Oh! certainly she might go to Italy under his protection. “Would you + let one of your blood?” asked Wilfrid brutally. With some cunning he led + them to admit that Emilia's parents should rightly be consulted in such a + case. + </p> + <p> + One day Mr. Pericles said to the ladies: “I shall give a fete: a party + monstre. In ze air: on grass. I beg you to invite friends of yours.” + </p> + <p> + Before the excogitation of this splendid resolve, he had been observed to + wear for some period a conspiratorial aspect. When it was delivered, and + Arabella had undertaken the management of the “party monstre”—(which + was to be on Besworth Lawn, and, as it was not their own party, could be + conducted with a sort of quasi-contemptuous superiority to incongruous + gatherings)—this being settled, the forehead of Mr. Pericles cleared + and he ceased to persecute Emilia. + </p> + <p> + “I am not one that is wopped,” he said significantly; nodding to his + English hearers, as if this piece of shrewd acquaintance with the + expressive mysteries of their language placed them upon equal terms. + </p> + <p> + It was really 'a providential thing' (as devout people phrase it) that + Laura Tinley and Mabel Copley should call shortly after this, and invite + the ladies to a proposed picnic of theirs on Besworth Lawn. On Besworth + Lawn, of all places! and they used the word 'picnic.' + </p> + <p> + “A word suggestive of gnawed drumstick and ginger-beer bottles.” Adela + quoted some scapegoat of her acquaintance, as her way was when she wished + to be pungent without incurring the cold sisterly eye of reproof for a + vulgarism. + </p> + <p> + Both Laura and Mabel, when they heard of the mighty entertainment fixed + for Besworth Lawn by Mr. Pericles, looked down. They were invited, and + looked up. There was the usual amount of fencing with the combative Laura, + who gave ground at all points, and as she was separating, said (so + sweetly!) “Of course you have heard of the arrest of your—what does + one call him?—friend?—or a French word?” + </p> + <p> + “You mean?” quoth Arabella. + </p> + <p> + “That poor, neatly brushed, nice creature whom you patronized—who + played the organ!” she jerked to Arabella's dubious eyes. + </p> + <p> + “And he?” Arabella smiled, complacently. + </p> + <p> + “Then perhaps you may know that all is arranged for him?” said Laura, + interpreting by the look more than the word, after a habit of women. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, to tell you the truth, I know nothing,” said Arabella. + </p> + <p> + “Really?” Laura turned sharply to Cornelia, who met her eyes and did not + exhibit one weak dimple. + </p> + <p> + The story was, that Mr. Chips, the Bookseller of Hillford, objected to the + departure of Mr. Barrett, until Mr. Barrett had paid the bill of Mr. + Chips: and had signified his objection in the form of a writ. “When, if + you know anything of law,” said Laura, “you will see why he remains. For, + a writ once served, you are a prisoner. That is, I believe, if it's above + twenty pounds. And Mr. Chips' bill against Mr. Barrett was, I have heard, + twenty-three pounds and odd shillings. Could anything be more + preposterous? And Mr. Chips deserves to lose his money!” + </p> + <p> + Ah! to soar out of such a set as this, of which Laura Tinley is a sample, + are not some trifling acts of inhumanity and practices in the art of + 'cutting' permissible? So the ladies had often asked of the Unseen in + their onward course, if they did not pointedly put the question now. + Surely they had no desire to give pain, but the nature that endowed them + with a delicate taste, inspired them to defend it. They listened gravely + to Laura, who related that not only English books, but foreign (repeated + and emphasized), had been supplied by Mr. Chips to Mr. Barrett. + </p> + <p> + They were in the library, and Laura's eyes rested on certain yellow and + blue covers of books certainly not designed for the reading of Mr. Pole. + </p> + <p> + “I think you must be wrong as to Mr. Barrett's position,” said Adela. + </p> + <p> + “No, dear; not at all,” Laura was quick to reply. “Unless you know + anything. He has stated that he awaits money remittances. He has, in fact, + overrun the constable, and my brother Albert says, the constable is very + likely to overrun ham, in consequence. Only a joke! But an organist with, + at the highest computation—poor absurd thing!—fifty-five + pounds per annum: additional for singing lessons, it is true,—but an + organist with a bookseller's bill of twenty-three pounds! Consider!” + </p> + <p> + “Foreign books, too!” interjected Adela. + </p> + <p> + “Not so particularly improving to his morals, either!” added Laura. + </p> + <p> + “You are severe upon the greater part of the human race,” said Arabella. + </p> + <p> + “So are the preachers, dear,” returned Laura. + </p> + <p> + “The men of our religion justify you?” asked Arabella. + </p> + <p> + “Let me see;—where were we?” Laura retreated in an affected + mystification. + </p> + <p> + “You had reached the enlightened belief that books written by any but + English hands were necessarily destructive of men's innocence,” said + Arabella; and her sisters thrilled at the neatness of the stroke, for the + moment, while they forgot the ignoble object it transfixed. Laura was + sufficiently foiled by it to be unable to return to the Chips-Barrett + theme. Throughout the interview Cornelia had maintained a triumphant + posture, superior to Arabella's skill in fencing, seeing that it exposed + no weak point of the defence by making an attack, and concealed especially + the confession implied by a relish for the conflict. Her sisters + considerately left her to recover herself, after this mighty exercise of + silence. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXII + </h2> + <p> + Cornelia sat with a clenched hand. “You are rich and he is poor,” was the + keynote of her thoughts, repeated from minute to minute. “And it is gold + gives you the right in the world's eye to despise him!” she apostrophized + the vanished Laura, clothing gold with all the baseness of that person. + Now, when one really hates gold, one is at war with one's fellows. The + tide sets that way. There is no compromise: to hate it is to try to stem + the flood. It happens that this is one of the temptations of the + sentimentalist, who should reflect, but does not, that the fine feelers by + which the iniquities of gold are so keenly discerned, are a growth due to + it, nevertheless. Those 'fine feelers,' or antennae of the senses, come of + sweet ease; that is synonymous with gold in our island-latitude. The + sentimentalists are represented by them among the civilized species. It is + they that sensitively touch and reject, touch and select; whereby the laws + of the polite world are ultimately regulated, and civilization continually + advanced, sometimes ridiculously. The sentimentalists are ahead of us, not + by weight of brain, but through delicacy of nerve, and, like all creatures + in the front, they are open to be victims. I pray you to observe again the + shrinking life that afflicts the adventurous horns of the snail, for + example. Such are the sentimentalists to us—the fat body of mankind. + We owe them much, and though they scorn us, let us pity them. + </p> + <p> + Especially when they are young they deserve pity, for they suffer cruelly. + I for my part prefer to see boys and girls led into the ways of life by + nature; but I admit that in many cases, in most cases, our good mother has + not (occupied as her hands must be) made them perfectly presentable; by + which fact I am warned to have tolerance for the finer beings who labour + under these excessive sensual subtleties. I perceive their uses. And they + are right good comedy; for which I may say that I almost love them. Man is + the laughing animal: and at the end of an infinite search, the philosopher + finds himself clinging to laughter as the best of human fruit, purely + human, and sane, and comforting. So let us be cordially thankful to those + who furnish matter for sound embracing laughter. + </p> + <p> + Cornelia detested gold—entirely on general grounds and for abstract + reasons. Not a word of Mr. Barrett was shaped, even in fancy; but she + interjected to herself, with meditative eye and mouth: “The saints were + poor!” (the saints of whom he had read, translating from that old Latin + book) “St. Francis! how divine was his life!” and so forth, until the + figure of Mr. Penniless Barrett walked out in her imagination clad in + saintly garments, superior not only to his creditor, Mr. Chips, but to all + who bought or sold. + </p> + <p> + “I have been false,” she said; implying the “to him.” Seeing him on that + radiant height above her, she thought “How could I have fallen so!” It was + impossible for her mind to recover the delusion which had prompted her + signing herself to bondage—pledging her hand to a man she did not + love. Could it have been that she was guilty of the immense folly, simply + to escape from that piece of coarse earth, Mrs. Chump? Cornelia smiled + sadly, saying: “Oh, no! I should not have committed a wickedness for so + miserable an object.” Despairing for a solution of the puzzle, she cried + out, “I was mad!”, and with a gasp of horror saw herself madly signing her + name to perdition. + </p> + <p> + “I was mad!” is a comfortable cloak to our sins in the past. Mournful to + think that we have been bereft of reason; but the fit is over, and we are + not in Bedlam! + </p> + <p> + Cornelia next wrestled with the pride of Mr. Barrett. Why had he not come + to her once after reading the line pencilled in the book? Was it that he + would make her his debtor in everything? He could have reproached her + justly; why had he held aloof? She thirsted to be scourged by him, to hang + her head ashamed under his glance, and hug the bitter pain he dealt her. + Revolving how the worst man on earth would have behaved to a girl + partially in his power (hands had been permitted to be pressed, and the + gateways of the eyes had stood open: all but vows had been interchanged), + she came to regard Mr. Barrett as the best man on the earth. That she + alone saw it, did not depreciate the value of her knowledge. A goal + gloriously illumined blazed on her from the distance. “Too late!” she put + a curb on the hot courses in her brain, and they being checked, turned all + at once to tears and came in a flood. How indignant would the fair + sentimentalist have been at a whisper of her caring for the thing before + it was too late! + </p> + <p> + Cornelia now daily trod the red pathways under the firs, and really + imagined herself to be surprised, even vexed, when she met Mr. Barrett + there at last. Emilia was by his side, near a drooping birch. She beckoned + to Cornelia, whose North Pole armour was doing its best to keep down a + thumping heart. + </p> + <p> + “We are taking our last walk in the old wood,” said, Mr. Barrett, + admirably collected. “That is, I must speak for myself.” + </p> + <p> + “You leave early?” Cornelia felt her throat rattle hideously. + </p> + <p> + “In two days, I expect—I hope,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Why does he hope?” thought Cornelia, wounded, until a vision of the + detaining Chips struck her with pity and remorse. + </p> + <p> + She turned to Emilia. “Our dear child is also going to leave us.” + </p> + <p> + “I?” cried Emilia, fierily out of languor. + </p> + <p> + “Does not your Italy claim you?” + </p> + <p> + “I am nothing to Italy any more. Have I not said so? I love England now.” + </p> + <p> + Cornelia smiled complacently. “Let us hope your heart is capacious enough + to love both.” + </p> + <p> + “Then your theory is” (Mr. Barrett addressed Cornelia in the winning old + style), “that the love of one thing enlarges the heart for another?” + </p> + <p> + “Should it not?” She admired his cruel self-possession pitiably, as she + contrasted her own husky tones with it. + </p> + <p> + Emilia looked from one to the other, fancying that they must have her case + somewhere in prospect, since none could be unconscious of the vehement + struggle going on in her bosom; but they went farther and farther off from + her comprehension, and seemed to speak of bloodless matters. “And yet he + is her lover,” she thought. “When they meet they talk across a river, and + he knows she is going to another man, and does not gripe her wrist and + drag her away!” The sense that she had no kinship with such flesh shut her + mouth faster than Wilfrid's injunctions (which were ordinarily conveyed in + too subtle a manner for her to feel their meaning enough to find them + binding). Cornelia, for a mask to her emotions, gave Emilia a gentle, + albeit high-worded lecture on the artist's duty toward Art, quoting + favourite passages from Mr. Barrett's favourite Art-critic. And her + fashion of dropping her voice as she declaimed the more dictatorial + sentences (to imply, one might guess, by a show of personal humility that + she would have you to know her preaching was vicarious; that she stood + humbly in the pulpit, and was but a vessel for the delivery of the burden + of the oracle), all this was beautiful to him who could see it. I cannot + think it was wholesome for him; nor that Cornelia was unaware of a naughty + wish to glitter temporarily in the eyes of the man who made her feel + humble. The sorcery she sent through his blood communicated itself to + hers. When she had done, Emilia, convincedly vanquished by big words, + said, “I cannot talk,” and turned heavily from them without bestowing a + smile upon either. + </p> + <p> + Cornelia believed that the girl would turn back as abruptly as she had + retreated; and it was not until Emilia was out of sight that she + remembered the impropriety of being alone with Mr. Barrett. The Pitfall of + Sentiment yawned visible, but this lady's strength had been too little + tried for her to lack absolute faith in it. So, out of deep silences, the + two leapt to speech and immediately subsided to the depths again: as on a + sultry summer's day fishes flash their tails in the sunlight and leave a + solitary circle widening on the water. + </p> + <p> + Then Cornelia knew what was coming. In set phrase, and as one who performs + a duty frigidly pleasant, he congratulated her on her rumored union. One + hand was in his buttoned coat; the other hung elegantly loose: not a + feature betrayed emotion. He might have spoken it in a ballroom. To + Cornelia, who exulted in self-compression, after the Roman method, it was + more dangerous than a tremulous tone. + </p> + <p> + “You know me too well to say this, Mr. Barrett.” + </p> + <p> + The words would come. She preserved her steadfast air, when they had + escaped, to conceal her shame. Seeing thus much, he took it to mean that + it was a time for plain-speaking. To what end, he did not ask. + </p> + <p> + “You have not to be told that I desire your happiness above all earthly + things,” he said: and the lady shrank back, and made an effort to recover + her footing. Had he not been so careful to obliterate any badge of the + Squire of low degree, at his elbows, cuffs, collar, kneecap, and + head-piece, she might have achieved it with better success. For cynicism + (the younger brother of sentiment and inheritor of the family property) is + always on the watch to deal fatal blows through such vital parts as the + hat or the H's, or indeed any sign of inferior estate. But Mr. Barrett was + armed at all points by a consummate education and a most serviceable + clothesbrush. + </p> + <p> + “You know how I love this neighbourhood!” said she. + </p> + <p> + “And I! above all that I have known!” + </p> + <p> + They left the pathway and walked on mosses—soft yellow beds, run + over with grey lichen, and plots of emerald in the midst. + </p> + <p> + “You will not fall off with your reading?” he recommenced. + </p> + <p> + She answered “Yes,” meaning “No”; and corrected the error languidly, + thinking one of the weighty monosyllables as good as the other: for what + was reading to her now? + </p> + <p> + “It would be ten thousand pities if you were to do as so many women do, + when... when they make these great changes,” he continued. + </p> + <p> + “Of what avail is the improvement of the mind?” she said, and followed his + stumble over the “when,” and dropped on it. + </p> + <p> + “Of what avail! Is marriage to stop your intellectual growth?” + </p> + <p> + “Without sympathy,” she faltered, and was shocked at what she said; but it + seemed a necessity. + </p> + <p> + “You must learn to conquer the need for it.” + </p> + <p> + Alas! his admonition only made her feel the need more cravingly. + </p> + <p> + “Promise me one thing,” he said. “You will not fall into the rut? Let me + keep the ideal you have given me. For the sake of heaven, do not cloud for + me the one bright image I hold! Let me know always that you are growing, + and that the pure, noble intelligence which distinguishes you advances, + and will not be subdued.” + </p> + <p> + Cornelia smiled faintly. “You have judged me too generously, Mr. Barrett.” + </p> + <p> + “Too little so! might I tell you!” He stopped short, and she felt the + silence like a great wave sweeping over her. + </p> + <p> + They were nearing the lake, with the stump of the pollard-willow in sight, + and toward it they went. + </p> + <p> + “I shall take the consolation of knowing that I shall hear of you, some + day,” she said, having recourse to a look of cheerfulness. + </p> + <p> + He knew her to allude to certain hopes of fame. “I am getting wiser, I + fear—too wise for ambition!” + </p> + <p> + “That is a fallacy, a sophism.” + </p> + <p> + He pointed to the hollow tree. “Is there promise of fruit from that?” + </p> + <p> + “You...you are young, Mr. Barrett.” + </p> + <p> + “And on a young, forehead it may be written, 'Come not to gather more.'” + </p> + <p> + Cornelia put her hand out: “Oh, Mr. Barrett! unsay it!” The nakedness of + her spirit stood forth in a stinging tear. “The words were cruel.” + </p> + <p> + “But, if they live, and are?” + </p> + <p> + “I feel that you must misjudge me. When I wrote them...you cannot know! + The misery of our domestic life was so bitter! And yet, I have no excuse, + none! I can only ask for pity.” + </p> + <p> + “And if you are wretched, must not I be? You pluck from me my last + support. This, I petitioned Providence to hear from you—that you + would be happy! I can have no comfort but in that.” + </p> + <p> + “Happy!” Cornelia murmured the word musically, as if to suck an irony from + the sweetness of the sound. “Are we made for happiness?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Barrett quoted the favourite sage, concluding: “But a brilliant home + and high social duties bring consolation. I do acknowledge that an eminent + station will not only be graced by you, but that you give the impression + of being born to occupy it. It is your destiny.” + </p> + <p> + “A miserable destiny!” + </p> + <p> + It pleased Cornelia to become the wilful child who quarrels with its + tutor's teachings, upon this point. + </p> + <p> + Then Mr. Barrett said quickly: “Your heart is not in this union?” + </p> + <p> + “Can you ask? I have done my duty.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you, indeed!” + </p> + <p> + His tone was severe in the deliberation of its accents. + </p> + <p> + Was it her duty to live an incomplete life? He gave her a definition of + personal duty, and shadowed out all her own ideas on the subject; seeming + thus to speak terrible, unanswerable truth. + </p> + <p> + As one who changes the theme, he said: “I have forborne to revert to + myself in our interviews; they were too divine for that. You will always + remember that I have forborne much.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” She was willing at the instant to confess how much. + </p> + <p> + “And if I speak now, I shall not be misinterpreted?” + </p> + <p> + “You never would have been, by me.” + </p> + <p> + “Cornelia!” + </p> + <p> + Though she knew what was behind the door, this flinging of it open with + her name startled the lady; and if he had faltered, it would not have been + well for him. But, plainly, he claimed the right to call her by her + Christian name. She admitted it; and thenceforward they were equals. + </p> + <p> + It was an odd story that he told of himself. She could not have repeated + it to make it comprehensible. She drank at every sentence, getting no more + from it than the gratification of her thirst. His father, at least, was a + man of title, a baronet. What was meant by estates not entailed? What wild + freak of fate put this noble young man in the power of an eccentric + parent, who now caressed him, now made him an outcast? She heard of the + sum that was his, coming from his dead mother to support him just one + hundred pounds annual! Was ever fate so mournful? + </p> + <p> + Practically, she understood that if Mr. Barrett would write to his father, + pledging himself to conform to his mysterious despotic will in something, + he would be pardoned and reinstated. + </p> + <p> + He concluded: “Hitherto I have preferred poverty. You have taught me at + what a cost! Is it too late?” + </p> + <p> + The fall of his voice, with the repetition of her name, seemed as if + awakening her, but not in a land of reason. + </p> + <p> + “Why...why!” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Beloved?” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you not tell me this before?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you upbraid me?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! Oh, never!” she felt his hand taking hers gently. “My friend,” + she said, half in self-defence; and they, who had never kissed as lovers, + kissed under the plea of friendship. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIII + </h2> + <p> + All Wilfrid's diplomacy was now brought into play to baffle Mr. Pericles, + inspire Emilia with the spirit of secresy, and carry on his engagement to + two women to their common satisfaction. Adela, whose penetration he + dreaded most, he had removed by a flattering invitation to Stornley; and + that Emilia might be occupied during his absences, and Mr. Pericles thrown + on a false scent, he persuaded Tracy Runningbrook to come to Brookfield, + and write libretti for Emilia's operas. The two would sit down together + for an hour, drawing wonderful precocious noses upon juvenile visages, + when Emilia would sigh and say: “I can't work!”—Tracy adding, with + resignation: “I never can!” At first Mr. Pericles dogged them assiduously. + After a little while he shrugged, remarking: “It is a nonsense.” + </p> + <p> + They were, however, perfectly serious about the production of an opera, + Tracy furnishing verse to Emilia's music. He wrote with extraordinary + rapidity, but clung to graphic phrases, that were not always supple enough + for nuptials with modulated notes. Then Emilia had to hit his sense of + humour by giving the words as they came in the run of the song. “You make + me crow, or I croak,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “The woman follows the man, and music fits to verse,” cried Tracy. + “Music's the vine, verse the tree.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia meditated. “Not if they grow up together,” she suggested, and broke + into a smile at his rapture of amusement; which was succeeded by a dark + perplexity, worthy of the present aspect of Mr. Pericles. + </p> + <p> + “That's what has upset us,” he said. “We have been trying to 'grow up + together,' like first-cousins, and nature forbids the banns. To-morrow you + shall have half a libretto. And then, really, my child, you must adapt + yourself to the words.” + </p> + <p> + “I will,” Emilia promised; “only, not if they're like iron to the teeth.” + </p> + <p> + “My belief is,” said Tracy savagely, “that music's a fashion, and as + delusive a growth as Cobbett's potatoes, which will go back to the deadly + nightshade, just as music will go back to the tom-tom.” + </p> + <p> + “What have you called out when I sang to you!” Emilia reproached him for + this irreverent nonsense. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! it was you and not the music,” he returned half-cajolingly, while he + beat the tom-tom on air. + </p> + <p> + “Hark here!” cried Emilia. She recited a verse. “Doesn't that sound dead? + Now hark!” She sang the verse, and looked confidently for Tracy's verdict + at the close. + </p> + <p> + “What a girl that is!” He went about the house, raving of her to + everybody, with sundry Gallic interjections; until Mrs. Chump said: + “'Deed, sir, ye don't seem to have much idea of a woman's feelin's.” + </p> + <p> + Tracy produced in a night two sketches of libretti for Emilia to choose + from—the Roman Clelia being one, and Camillus the other. Tracy + praised either impartially, and was indifferent between them, he told her. + Clelia offered the better theme for passionate song, but there was a + winning political object and rebuff to be given to Radicalism in Camillus. + “Think of Rome!” he said. + </p> + <p> + Emilia gave the vote for Camillus, beginning forthwith to hum, with + visions of a long roll of swarthy cavalry, headed by a clear-eyed young + chief, sunlight perching on his helm. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but you don't think of the situations in Clelia, and what I can do + with her,” snapped Tracy. “I see a song there that would light up all + London. Unfortunately, the sentiment's dead Radical. It wouldn't so much + matter if we were certain to do Camillus as well; because one would act as + a counterpoise to the other, you know. Well, follow your own fancy. + Camillus is strictly classical. I treat opera there as Alfieri conceived + tragedy. Clelia is modern style. Cast the die for Camillus, and let's take + horse. Only, we lose the love-business—exactly where I show my + strength. Clelia in the camp of the king: dactyllic chorus-accompaniment, + while she, in heavy voluptuous anapaests, confesses her love for the enemy + of her country. Remember, this is our romantic opera, where we do what we + like with History, and make up our minds for asses telling us to go home + and read our 'student's Rome.' Then that scene where she and the king + dance the dactyls, and the anapaests go to the chorus. Sublime! Let's go + into the woods and begin. We might give the first song or two to-night. In + composition, mind, always strike out your great scene, and work from it—don't + work up to it, or you've lost fire when you reach the point. That's my + method.” + </p> + <p> + They ran into the woods, skipping like schoolboy and schoolgirl. On + hearing that Camillus would not be permitted to love other than his + ungrateful country, Emilia's conception of the Roman lord grew pale, and a + controversy ensued-she maintaining that a great hero must love a woman; he + declaring that a great hero might love a dozen, but that it was beneath + the dignity of this drama to allow of a rival to Rome in Camillus's love. + </p> + <p> + “He will not do for music,” said Emilia firmly, and was immoveable. In + despair, Tracy proposed attaching a lanky barbarian daughter to Brennus, + whose deeds of arms should provoke the admiration of the Roman. + </p> + <p> + “And so we relinquish Alfieri for Florian! There's a sentimental burlesque + at once!” the youth ejaculated, in gloom. “I chose this subject entirely + to give you Rome for a theme.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia took his hand. “I do thank you. If Brennus has a daughter, why not + let her be half Roman?” + </p> + <p> + Tracy fired out: “she's a bony woman, with a brawny development; mammoth + haunches, strong of the skeleton; cheek-bones, flat-forward, as a fish 's + rotting on a beach; long scissor lips-nippers to any wretched rose of a + kiss! a pugilist's nose to the nostrils of a phoca; and eyes!—don't + you see them?—luminaries of pestilence; blotted yellow, like a + tallow candle shining through a horny lantern.” + </p> + <p> + At this horrible forced-poetic portrait, Emilia cried in pain: “You hate + her suddenly!” + </p> + <p> + “I loathe the creature—pah!” went Tracy. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you make her so hideous?” Emilia complained. “I feel myself hating + her too. Look at me. Am I such a thing as that?” + </p> + <p> + “You!” Tracy was melted in a trice, and gave the motion of hugging, as a + commentary on his private opinion. + </p> + <p> + “Can you also be sure that Camillus can love nothing but his country? + Would one love stop the other?” she persisted, gazing with an air of + steady anxiety for the answer. + </p> + <p> + “There isn't a doubt about it,” said Tracy. + </p> + <p> + Emilia caught her face in her hands, and exclaimed in a stifling voice: + “It's true! it's true!” + </p> + <p> + Tracy saw that her figure was shaken with sobs—unmistakeable, hard, + sorrowful convulsions. + </p> + <p> + “Confound historical facts that make her cry!” he murmured to himself, in + a fury at the Roman fables. “It's no use comforting her with Niebuhr now. + She's got a live Camillus in her brain, and there he'll stick.” Tracy + began to mutter the emphatic D.; quite cognizant of her case, as he + supposed. This intensity of human emotion about a dry faggot of history by + no means surprised him; and he was as tender to the grief of his darling + little friend as if he had known the conflict that tore her in two. + Subsequently he related the incident, in a tone of tender delight, to + Wilfrid, whom it smote. “Am I a brute?” asked the latter of the + Intelligences in the seat of his consciousness, and they for the moment + gravely affirmed it. I have observed that when young men obtain this + mental confirmation of their suspicions, they wax less reluctant to act as + brutes than when the doubt restrained them. + </p> + <p> + He reasoned thus: “I can bring my mind to the idea of losing her, if it + must be so.” (Hear, hear! from the unanimous internal Parliament.) “But I + can't make her miserable (cheers)—I can't go and break her heart” + (loud cheers, drowning a faint dissentient hum).—The scene, of which + Tracy had told him, gave Wilfrid a kind of dread of the girl. If that was + her state of feeling upon a distant subject, how would it be when he + applied the knife. Simply, impossible to use the knife at all! Wield it + thou, O Circumstance, babe-munching Chronos, whosoever thou art, that + jarrest our poor human music effectually from hour to hour! + </p> + <p> + Colonel Pierson paid his promised visit, on his way back to his quarters + at Verona. His stay was shortened by rumours of anticipated troubles in + Italy. One day at table he chanced to observe, speaking of the Milanese, + that they required another lesson, and that it would save the shedding of + blood if, annually, the chief men of the city took a flogging for the + community (senseless arrogance that sensible, and even kindly, men will + sometimes be tempted to utter, and prompted to act on, in that + deteriorating state of a perpetual repressive force).—Emilia looked + at him till she caught his eye: “I hope I shall never meet you there,” she + said. + </p> + <p> + The colonel coloured, and drew his finger along each curve of his + moustache. The table was silent. Colonel Pierson was a gentleman, but a + false position and the irritating topic deprived him of proper + self-command. + </p> + <p> + “What would you do?” he said, not gallantly. + </p> + <p> + Emilia would have been glad to have been allowed to subside, but the tone + stung her. + </p> + <p> + “I could not do much; I am a woman,” said she. + </p> + <p> + Whereto the colonel: “It's only the women who do anything over there.” + </p> + <p> + “And that is why you flog them!” + </p> + <p> + The colonel, seeing himself surrounded by ladies, lost the right guidance + of his wits, at this point, reddened, and was saved by an Irish outcry of + horror from some unpleasant and possibly unmanly retort. “Mr. Paricles + said exactly the same. Oh, sir! do ye wear an officer's uniform to go + about behavin' in that shockin' way to poor helpless females?” + </p> + <p> + This was the first time Mrs. Chump had ever been found of service at the + Brookfield dining-table. Colonel Pierson joined the current smile, and the + matter passed. + </p> + <p> + He was affectionate with Wilfrid, and invited him to Verona, with the + assurance that his (the Austrian) school of cavalry was the best in the + world. “You beat us in pace and weight; but you can't skirmish, you can't + manage squadrons, and you know nothing of outpost duty,” said the colonel. + Wilfrid promised to visit him some day: a fact he denied to Emilia, when + she charged him with it. Her brain seemed to be set on fire by the + presence of an Austrian officer. The miserable belief that she had + abandoned her country pressing on her remorsefully, she lost appetite, + briskness of eye, and the soft reddish-brown ripe blood-hue that made her + cheeks sweet to contemplate. She looked worn, small, wretched: her very + walk indicated self-contempt. Wilfrid was keen to see the change for which + others might have accused a temporary headache. Now that she appeared + under this blight, it seemed easier to give her up; and his magnanimity + being thus encouraged (I am not hard on him—remember the + constitution of love, in which a heart un-aroused is pure selfishness, and + a heart aroused heroic generosity; they being one heart to outer life)—his + magnanimity, I say, being under this favourable sun, he said to himself + that there should be an end of double-dealing; and, possibly consoled by + feeling a martyr, he persuaded himself to act the gentle ruffian. To which + end, he was again absent from Brookfield, for a space, and bitterly + missed. + </p> + <p> + Emilia, for the last two Sundays, had taken Mr. Barrett's place at the + organ. She was playing the prelude to one of the evening hymns, when the + lover, whose features she dreaded to be once more forgetting, appeared in + the curtained enclosure. A stoppage in the tune, and a prolonged squeal of + the instrument, gave the congregation below matter to speculate upon. + Wilfrid put up his finger and sat reverently down, while Emilia plunged + tremblingly at the note that was howling its life away. And as she managed + to swim into the stream of the sacred melody again, her head was turned + toward her lover under a new sensation; and the first words she murmured + were, “We have never been in church together, before.” + </p> + <p> + “Not in the evening,” he whispered, likewise impressed. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Emilia softly; flattered by his greater accuracy. + </p> + <p> + If Wilfrid could have been sure that he would be perfect master of that + sentimental crew known to him under the denomination of his feelings, the + place he selected for their parting interview might be held creditable to + this young officer's acknowledged strategical ability. It was a place + where any fervid appeals were impossible; where he could contemplate her, + listen to her, be near her, alone with her, having nothing to dread from + tears, supplications, or passion, as a consequence of the short indulgence + of his tenderness. But he had failed to reckon on the chances that he + himself might prove weak and be betrayed by the crew for whose comfort he + was always providing; and now, as she sat there, her face being sideways + to him, the flush of delight faint on her cheek, and her eyelids half + raised to the gilded pipes, while full and sonorous harmony rolled out + from her touch, it seemed the very chorus of the heavens that she + commanded, and a subtle misty glory descended upon her forehead, which he + was long in perceiving to be cast from a moisture on his eyelids. + </p> + <p> + When the sermon commenced, Emilia quitted the organ and took his hand. In + very low whispers, they spoke: + </p> + <p> + “I have wanted to see you so!” + </p> + <p> + “You see me now, little woman.” + </p> + <p> + “On Friday week next I am to go away.” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense! You shall not.” + </p> + <p> + “Your sisters say, yes! Mr. Pericles has got my father's consent, they + say, to take me to Italy.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think of going?” + </p> + <p> + Emilia gazed at her nerveless hands lying in her lap. + </p> + <p> + “You shall not go!” he breathed imperiously in her ear. + </p> + <p> + “Then you will marry me quite soon?” And Emilia looked as if she would be + smiling April, at a word. + </p> + <p> + “My dear girl!” he had an air of caressing remonstrance. + </p> + <p> + “Because,” she continued, “if my father finds me out, I must go to Italy, + or go to that life of torment in London—seeing those Jew-people—horrible!—or + others and the thought of it is like being under the earth, tasting bitter + gravel! I could almost bear it before you kissed me, my lover! It would + kill me now. Say! say! Tell me we shall be together. I shudder all day and + night, and feel frozen hands catching at me. I faint—my heart falls + deep down, in the dark...I think I know what dying is now!” + </p> + <p> + She stopped on a tearless sob; and, at her fingers' ends, Wilfrid felt the + quivering of her frame. + </p> + <p> + “My darling!” he interjected. He wished to explain the situation to her, + as he then conceived it. But he had, in his calculation, failed also to + count on a peculiar nervous fretfulness, that the necessity to reiterate + an explanation in whispers must superinduce. So, when Emilia looked vacant + of the intelligence imparted to her, he began anew, and emphatically; and + ere he was half through it, Mr. Marter, from the pulpit underneath, sent + forth a significant reprimand to the conscience of a particular culprit of + his congregation, in the form of a solemn cough. Emilia had to remain + unenlightened, and she proceeded to build on her previous assumption; + doing the whispering easily and sweetly; in the prettiest way from her + tongue's tip, with her chin lifted up; and sending the vowels on a + prolonged hushed breath, that seemed to print them on the hearing far more + distinctly than a volume of sound. Wilfrid fell back on monosyllables. He + could not bring his mouth to utter flinty negatives, so it appeared that + he assented; and then his better nature abused him for deluding her. He + grew utterly ashamed of his aimless selfish double-dealing. “Can it be?” + he questioned his own mind, and listened greedily to any mental + confirmations of surpassing excellence in her, that the world might + possibly acknowledge. Having, with great zeal, created a set of + circumstances, he cursed them heartily, after the fashion of little + people. He grew resigned to abandon Lady Charlotte, and to give his name + to this subduing girl; but a comfortable quieting sensation came over him, + at the thought that his filial duty stood in the way. His father, he knew, + was anxious for him to marry into a noble family—incomprehensibly + anxious to have the affair settled; and, as two or three scenes rose in + his mind, Wilfrid perceived that the obstacle to his present fancy was his + father. + </p> + <p> + As clearly as he could, with the dread of the preacher's admonishing cough + before him, Wilfrid stated the case to Emilia; saying that he loved her + with his whole heart; but that the truth was, his father was not in a + condition of health to bear contradiction to his wishes, and would, he was + sure, be absolutely opposed to their union. He brought on himself another + reprimand from Mr. Marter, in seeking to propitiate Emilia's reason to + comprehend the position rightly; and could add little more to the fact he + had spoken, than that his father had other views, which it would require + time to combat. + </p> + <p> + Emilia listened attentively, replying with a flying glance to the squeeze + of his hand. He was astonished to see her so little disconcerted. But now + the gradual fall of Mr. Marter's voice gave them warning. + </p> + <p> + “My lover?” breathed Emilia, hurriedly and eagerly; questioning with eye + and tone. + </p> + <p> + “My darling!” returned Wilfrid. + </p> + <p> + She sat down to the organ with a smile. He was careful to retreat before + the conclusion of the service; somewhat chagrined by his success. That + smile of hers was inexplicable to him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIV + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Pole was closeted in his City counting-house with Mr. Pericles, before + a heap of papers and newly-opened foreign letters; to one of which, + bearing a Russian stamp, he referred fretfully at times, as if to verify a + monstrous fact. Any one could have seen that he was not in a condition to + transact business. His face was unnaturally patched with colour, and his + grey-tinged hair hung tumbled over his forehead like waves blown by a + changeing wind. Still, he maintained his habitual effort to look + collected, and defeat the scrutiny of the sallow-eyed fellow opposite; who + quietly glanced, now and then, from the nervous feet to the nervous + fingers, and nodded to himself a sardonic outlandish nod. + </p> + <p> + “Now, listen to me,” said Mr. Pericles. “We shall not burst out about zis + Riga man. He is a villain,—very well. Say it. He is a villain,—say + so. And stop. Because” (and up went the Greek's forefinger), “we must not + have a scandal, in ze fairst place. We do not want pity, in ze second. + Saird, we must seem to trust him, in spite. I say, yeas! What is pity to + us of commerce? It is contempt. We trust him on, and we lose what he + pocket—a sossand. We burst on him, and we lose twenty, serty, forty; + and we lose reputation.” + </p> + <p> + “I'd have every villain hanged,” cried Mr. Pole. “The scoundrel! I'd hang + him with his own hemp. He talks of a factory burnt, and dares to joke + about tallow! and in a business letter! and when he is telling one of a + loss of money to that amount!” + </p> + <p> + “Not bad, ze joke,” grinned Mr. Pericles. “It is a lesson of coolness. We + learn it. But mind! he say, 'possible loss.' It is not positif. Hein! ze + man is trying us. So! shall we burst out and make him desperate? We are in + his hand at Riga, you see?” + </p> + <p> + “I see this,” said Mr. Pole, “that he's a confounded rascal, and I'll know + whether the law can't reach him.” + </p> + <p> + “Ha! ze law!” Mr. Pericles sneered. “So you are, you. English. Always, ze + law! But, we are men—we are not machine. Law for a machine, not a + man! We punish him, perhaps. Well; he is punished. He is imprisoned—forty + monz. We pay for him a sossand pound a monz. He is flogged—forty + lashes. We pay for him a sossand pound a lash. You can afford zat? It is a + luxury like anozer. It is not for me.” + </p> + <p> + “How long are we to trust the villain?” said Mr. Pole. “If we trust him at + all, mind! I don't say I do, or will.” + </p> + <p> + “Ze money is locked up for a year, my friend. So soon we get it, so soon + he goes, from ze toe off.” Mr. Pericles' shining toe's-tip performed an + agile circuit, and he smoothed his square clean jaw and venomous moustache + reflectively. “Not now,” he resumed. “While he hold us in his hand, we + will not drive him to ze devil, or we go too, I believe, or part of ze + way. But now, we say, zat money is frozen in ze Nord. We will make it in + Australie, and in Greek waters. I have exposed to you my plan.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Mr. Pole, “and I've told you I've no pretensions to be a + capitalist. We have no less than three ventures out, already.” + </p> + <p> + “It is like you English! When you have ze world to milk, you go to one + point and stick. It fails, and you fail. What is zat word?”—Mr. + Pericles tapped his brow—“pluck,—you want pluck. It is your + decadence. Greek, and Russian, and Yankee, all zey beat you. For, it is + pluck. You make a pin's head, not a pin. It is in brain and heart you do + fail. You have only your position,—an island, and ships, and some + favour. You are no match in pluck. We beat you. And we live for pleasure, + while you groan and sweat—mon Dieu! it is slavery.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pericles twinkled his white eyes over the blinking merchant, and rose + from his chair, humming a bit of opera, and announcing, casually, that a + certain prima-donna had obtained a divorce from her husband. + </p> + <p> + “But,” he added suddenly, “I say to you, if you cannot afford to + speculate, run away from it as ze fire. Run away from it, and hold up your + coat-tail. Jump ditches, and do not stop till you are safe home—hein? + you say 'cosy?' I hear my landlady. Run till you are safe cosy. But if you + are a man wis a head and a pocket, zen you know that 'speculate' means a + dozen ventures. So, you come clear. Or, it is ruin. It is ruin, I say: you + have been playing.” + </p> + <p> + “An Englishman,” returned Mr. Pole, disgusted at the shrugs he had + witnessed—“an Englishman's as good as any of you. Look at us—look + at our history—look at our wealth. By Jingo! But we like + plain-dealing and common sense; and as to afford, what do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “No, no,” Mr. Pericles petitioned with uplifted hand; “my English is bad. + It is—ah! bad. You shall look it over—my plan. It will strike + your sense. Next week I go to Italy. I take ze little Belloni. You will + manage all. I have in you, my friend, perfec' confidence. An Englishman, + he is honest. An Englishman and a Greek conjoined, zey beat ze world! It + is true, ma foi. For zat, I seek you, and not a countryman. A Frenchman?—oh, + no! A German?—not a bit! A Russian?—never! A Yankee?—save + me! I am a Greek—I take an Englishman.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, well, you must leave me to think it over,” said Mr. Pole, + pleasantly smoothed down. “As to honesty, that's a matter of course with + us: that's the mere footing we go upon. We don't plume ourselves upon + what's general, here. There is, I regret to say, a difference between us + and other nations. I believe it's partly their religion. They swindle us, + and pay their priests for absolution with our money. If you're a + double-dyed sinner, you can easily get yourself whitewashed over there. + Confound them! When that fellow sent no remittance last month, I told you + I suspected him. Who was, the shrewdest then? As for pluck, I never failed + in that yet. But, I will see a thing clear. The man who speculates + blindfold, is a fowl who walks into market to be plucked. Between being + plucked, and having pluck, you'll see a distinction when you know the + language better; but you must make use of your head, or the chances are + you won't be much of a difference,—eh? I'll think over your scheme. + I'm not a man to hesitate, if the calculations are sound. I'll look at the + papers here.” + </p> + <p> + “My friend, you will decide before zat I go to Italy.” said Mr. Pericles, + and presently took his leave. + </p> + <p> + When he was gone, Mr. Pole turned his chair to the table, and made an + attempt to inspect one of the papers deliberately. Having untied it, he + retied it with care, put it aside, marked 'immediate,' and read the letter + from Riga anew. This he tore into shreds, with animadversions on the + quality of the rags that had produced it, and opened the important paper + once more. He got to the end of a sentence or two, when his fingers moved + about for the letter; and then his mind conceived a necessity for turning + to the directory, for which he rang the bell. The great red book was + brought into his room by a youthful clerk, who waited by, while his + master, unaware of his presence, tracked a name with his forefinger. It + stopped at Pole, Samuel Bolton; and a lurking smile was on the merchant's + face as he read the name: a smile of curious meaning, neither fresh nor + sad; the meditative smile of one who looks upon an afflicted creature from + whom he is aloof. After a lengthened contemplation of this name, he said, + with a sigh, “Poor Chump! I wonder whether he's here, too.” A search for + the defunct proved that he was out of date. Mr. Pole thrust his hand to + the bell that he might behold poor Chump in an old directory that would + call up the blotted years. + </p> + <p> + “I am here, sir,” said his clerk, who had been holding deferential watch + at a few steps from the table. + </p> + <p> + “What do you do here then, sir, all this time?” + </p> + <p> + “I waited, sir, because—” + </p> + <p> + “You waste and dawdle away twenty or thirty minutes, when you ought to be + doing your work. What do you mean?” Mr. Pole stood up and took an angry + stride. + </p> + <p> + The young man could scarcely believe his master was not stooping to jest + with him. He said: “For that matter, sir, it can't be a minute that I have + been wasting.” + </p> + <p> + “I called you in half an hour ago,” returned Mr. Pole, fumbling at his + watch-fob. + </p> + <p> + “It must have been somebody else, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you bring in this directory? Look at it! This?” + </p> + <p> + “This is the book that I brought in, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “How long since?” + </p> + <p> + “I think, not a minute and a half, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pole gazed at him, and coughed slowly. “I could have sworn...” he + murmured, and commenced blinking. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose I must be a little queer,” he pursued; and instantly his right + hand struck out, quivering. The young clerk grasped it, and drew him to a + chair. + </p> + <p> + “Tush,” said his master, working his feverish fingers across his forehead. + “Want of food. I don't eat like you young fellows. Fetch me a glass of + wine and a biscuit. Good wine, mind. Port. Or, no; you can't trust tavern + Port:—brandy. Get it yourself, don't rely on the porter. And bring + it yourself, you understand the importance? What is your name?” + </p> + <p> + “Braintop,” replied the youth, with the modesty of one whose name has been + too frequently subjected to puns. + </p> + <p> + “I think I never heard so singular a name in my life,” Mr. Pole ejaculated + seriously. “Braintop! It'll always make me think of brandy. What are you + waiting for now?” + </p> + <p> + “I took the liberty of waiting before, to say that a lady wished to see + you, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pole started from his chair. “A foreign lady?” + </p> + <p> + “She may be foreign. She speaks English, sir, and her name, I think, was + foreign. I've forgotten it, I fear.” + </p> + <p> + “It's the wife of that fellow from Riga!” cried the merchant. “Show her + in. Show her in, immediately. I suspected this. She's in London, I know. + I'm equal to her: show her in. When you fetch the Braintop and biscuit, + call me to the door. You understand.” + </p> + <p> + The youth affected meekly to enjoy this fiery significance given to his + name, and said that he understood, without any doubt. He retired, and in a + few moments ushered in Emilia Belloni. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pole was in the middle of the room, wearing a countenance of marked + severity, and watchful to maintain it in his opening bow; but when he + perceived his little Brookfield guest standing timidly in the doorway, his + eyebrows lifted, and his hands spread out; and “Well, to be sure!” he + cried; while Emilia hurried up to him. She had to assure him that + everything was right at home, and was next called upon to state what had + brought her to town; but his continued exclamation of “Bless my soul!” + reprieved her reply, and she sat in a chair panting quickly. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pole spoke tenderly of refreshments; wine and cake, or biscuits. + </p> + <p> + “I cannot eat or drink,” said Emilia. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what's come to you, my dear?” returned Mr. Pole in unaffected + wonder. + </p> + <p> + “I am not hungry.” + </p> + <p> + “You generally are, at home, about this time—eh?” + </p> + <p> + Emilia sighed, and feigned the sad note to be a breath of fatigue. + </p> + <p> + “Well, and why are you here, my dear?” Mr. Pole was beginning to step to + the right and the left of her uneasily. + </p> + <p> + “I have come—” she paused, with a curious quick speculating look + between her eyes; “I have come to see you.” + </p> + <p> + “See me, my dear? You saw me this morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I wanted to see you alone.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia was having the first conflict with her simplicity; out of which it + was not to issue clear, as in the foregone days. She was thinking of the + character of the man she spoke to, studying him, that she might win him to + succour the object she had in view. It was a quality going, and a quality + coming; nor will we, if you please, lament a law of growth. + </p> + <p> + “Why, you can see me alone, any day, my dear,” said Mr. Pole; “for many a + day, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + “You are more alone to me here. I cannot speak at Brookfield. Oh!”—and + Emilia had to still her heart's throbbing—“you do not want me to go + to Italy, do you?” + </p> + <p> + “Want you to go? Not a bit. There is some talk of it, isn't there? I don't + want you to go. Don't you want to go.” + </p> + <p> + “No! no!” said Emilia, with decisive fervour. + </p> + <p> + “Don't want to go?” + </p> + <p> + “No: to stay! I want to stay!” + </p> + <p> + “Eh? to stay?” + </p> + <p> + “To stay with you! Never to leave England, at least! I want to give up all + that I may stay.” + </p> + <p> + “All?” repeated Mr. Pole, evidently marvelling as to what that sounding + box might contain; and still more, perplexed to hear Emilia's vehement—“Yes! + all!” as if there were that in the mighty abnegation to make a reasonable + listener doubtful. + </p> + <p> + “No. I really don't want you to go,” he said. “In fact,” and the + merchant's hospitable nature was at war with something in his mind, “I + like you, my dear; I like to have you about me. You're cheerful; you're + agreeable; I like your smile; your voice, too. You're a very pleasant + companion. Only, you know, we may break up our house. If the girls get + married, I must live somewhere in lodgings, and I couldn't very well ask + you to cook for me.” + </p> + <p> + “I can cook a little,” Emilia smiled. “I went into the kitchen, till Adela + objected.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but it wouldn't do, you know,” pursued Mr. Pole, with the + seriousness of a man thrown out of his line of argument. “You can cook, + eh? Got an idea of it? I always said you were a useful little woman. Do + have a biscuit and some wine:—No? well, where was I?—That + confounded boy. Brainty-top, top! that's it Braintop. Was I talking of + him, my dear? Oh no! about your getting married. For if you can cook, why + not? Get a husband and then you won't got to Italy. You ought to get one. + Some young fellows don't look for money.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall make money come, in time,” said Emilia; in the leaping ardour of + whose eyes might be seen that what she had journeyed to speak was hot + within her. “I know I shall be worth having. I shall win a name, I think—I + do hope it!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, so Pericles says. He's got a great notion of you. Perhaps he means + it himself. He's rich. Rash, I admit. But, as the chances go, he's + tremendously rich. He may mean it.” + </p> + <p> + “What?” asked Emilia. + </p> + <p> + “Marry you, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, what a torture!” + </p> + <p> + In that heat of her feelings she realized the horror of the words to her, + with an intensity that made them seem to quiver like an arrow in her + breast. + </p> + <p> + “You don't like him?” said Mr. Pole. + </p> + <p> + “Not love him! not love him!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, but that comes after marriage. Often the case. Look here: don't + you go against your interests. You mustn't be flighty. If Pericles speaks + to you, have him. Clap your hands. Dozens of girls would, that I know.” + </p> + <p> + “But, oh!” interposed Emilia; “if he married me he would kiss me!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pole coughed and blinked. “Well!” he remarked, as one gravely + cogitating; and with the native delicacy of a Briton turned it off in a + playful, “So shall I now,” adding, “though I ain't your husband.” + </p> + <p> + He stooped his head. Emilia put her hands on his shoulders, and submitted + her face to him. + </p> + <p> + “There!” went Mr. Pole: “'pon my honour, it does me good:—better + than medicine! But you mustn't give that dose to everybody, my dear. You + don't, of course. All right, all right—I'm quite satisfied. I was + only thinking of you going to Italy, among those foreign rascals, who've + no more respect for a girl than they have for a monkey—their + brother. A set of swindlers! I took you for the wife of one when you came + in, at first. And now, business is business. Let's get it over. What have + you come about? Glad to see you—understand that.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia lifted her eyes to his. + </p> + <p> + “You know I love you, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm sure you're a grateful little woman.” + </p> + <p> + She rose: “Oh! how can I speak it!” + </p> + <p> + An idea that his daughters had possibly sent her to herald one of the + renowned physicians of London, concerning whom he was perpetually being + plagued by them, or to lead him to one, flashed through Mr. Pole. He was + not in a state to weigh the absolute value of such a suspicion, but it + seemed probable; it explained an extraordinary proceeding; and, having + conceived, his wrath took it up as a fact, and fought with it. + </p> + <p> + “Stop! If that's what you've come for, we'll bring matters to a crisis. + You fancy me ill, don't you, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “You do not look well, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia's unhesitating reply confirmed his suspicion. + </p> + <p> + “I am well. I am, I say! And now, understand that, if that's your + business, I won't go to the fellow, and I won't see him here. They'll make + me out mad, next. He shall never have a guinea from me while I live. No, + nor when I die. Not a farthing! Sit down, my dear, and wait for the + biscuits. I wish to heaven they'd come. There's brandy coming, too. + Where's Braintop?” + </p> + <p> + He took out his handkerchief to wipe his forehead, and jerked it like a + bell-rope. + </p> + <p> + Emilia, in a singular bewilderment, sat eyeing a beam of sombre city + sunlight on the dusty carpet. She could only suppose that the offending + “he” was Wilfrid; but, why he should be so, she could not guess: and how + to plead for him, divided her mind. + </p> + <p> + “Don't blame him; be angry with me, if you are angry,” she began softly. + “I know he thinks of you anxiously. I know he would do nothing to hurt + you. No one is so kind as he is. Would you deprive him of money, because + he offends you?” + </p> + <p> + “Deprive him of money,” repeated Mr. Pole, with ungrudging accentuation. + “Well, I've heard about women, but I never knew one so anxious for a + doctor to get his fee as you are.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia wonderingly fixed her sight on him an instant, and, quite + unillumined, resumed: “Blame me, sir. But, I know you will be too kind. + Oh! I love him. So, I must love you, and I would not give you pain. It is + true he loves me. You will not see him, because he loves me?” + </p> + <p> + “The doctor?” muttered Mr. Pole. “The doctor?” he almost bellowed; and got + sharp up from his chair, and looked at himself in the glass, blinking + rapidly; and then turned to inspect Emilia. + </p> + <p> + Emilia drew him to her side again. + </p> + <p> + “Go on,” he said; and there became visible in his face a frightful effort + to comprehend her, and get to the sense of her words. + </p> + <p> + And why it was so frightful as to be tragic, you will know presently. + </p> + <p> + He thought of the arrival of Braintop, freighted with brandy, as the only + light in the mist, and breathing heavily from his nose, almost snorting + the air he took in from a widened mouth, he sat and tried to listen to her + words as well as for Braintop's feet. + </p> + <p> + Emilia was growing too conscious of her halting eloquence, as the + imminence of her happiness or misery hung balancing in doubtful scales + before her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! he loves me, and I love him,” she gasped, and wondered why words + should be failing her. “See us together, sir, and hear us. We will make + you well.” + </p> + <p> + The exclamation “Good Lord!” groaned out in a tone as from the lower pits + of despair, cut her short. + </p> + <p> + Tearfully she murmured: “You will not see us, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Together?” bawled the merchant. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I mean together.” + </p> + <p> + “If you're not mad, I am.” And he jumped on his legs and walked to the + farther corner of the room. “Which of us is it?” His features twitched in + horribly comic fashion. “What do you mean? I can't understand a word. My + brain must have gone;” throwing his hand over his forehead. “I've feared + so for the last four months. Good God! a lunatic asylum! and the business + torn like a piece of old rag! I know that fellow at Riga's dancing like a + cannibal, and there—there 'll be articles in the papers.—Here, + girl! come up to the light. Come here, I say.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia walked up to him. + </p> + <p> + “You don't look mad. I dare say everybody else understands you. Do they?” + </p> + <p> + The sad-flushed pallor of his face provoked Emilia to say: “You ought to + have the doctor here immediately. Let me bring him, sir.” + </p> + <p> + A gleam as of a lantern through his oppressive mental fog calmed the awful + irritability of his nerves somewhat. + </p> + <p> + “You've got him outside?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir.” + </p> + <p> + The merchant's eagerness faded out. He put his hand to her shoulder, and + went along to a chair, sinking into it, and closing his eyelids. So they + remained, Emilia at his right hand. She watched him breathing with a weak + open mouth, and thought more of the doctor now than of Wilfrid. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXV + </h2> + <p> + Braintop's knock at the door had been unheeded for some minutes. At last + Emilia let him in. The brandy and biscuits were placed on a table, and + Emilia resumed her watch by Mr. Pole. She saw that his lips moved, after a + space, and putting her ear down, understood that he desired not to see any + one who might come for an interview with him: nor were the clerks to be + admitted. The latter direction was given in precise terms. Emilia repeated + the orders outside. On her return, the merchant's eyes were open. + </p> + <p> + “My forehead feels damp,” he said; “and I'm not hot at all. Just take hold + of my hands. They're like wet crumpets. I wonder what makes me so stiff. A + man mustn't sit at business too long at a time. Sure to make people think + he's ill. What was that about a doctor? I seem to remember. I won't see + one.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia had filled a glass with brandy. She brought it nearer to his hand, + while he was speaking. At the touch of the glass, his fingers went round + it slowly, and he raised it to his mouth. The liquor revived him. He + breathed “ah!” several times, and grimaced, blinking, as if seeking to + arouse a proper brightness in his eyes. Then, he held out his empty glass + to her, and she filled it, and he sipped deliberately, saying: “I'm warm + inside. I keep on perspiring so cold. Can't make it out. Look at my + finger-ends, my dear. They're whitish, aren't they?” + </p> + <p> + Emilia took the hand he presented, and chafed it, and put it against her + bosom, half under one arm. The action appeared to give some warmth to his + heart, for he petted her, in return. + </p> + <p> + A third time he held out the glass, and remarked that this stuff was + better than medicine. + </p> + <p> + “You women!” he sneered, as at a reminiscence of their faith in drugs. + </p> + <p> + “My legs are weak, though!” He had risen and tested the fact. “Very shaky. + I wonder what makes 'em—I don't take much exercise.” Pondering on + this problem, he pursued: “It's the stomach. I'm as empty as an egg-shell. + Odd, I've got no appetite. But, my spirits are up. I begin to feel myself + again. I'll eat by-and-by, my dear. And, I say; I'll tell you what:—I'll + take you to the theatre to-night. I want to laugh. A man's all right when + he's laughing. I wish it was Christmas. Don't you like to see the old + pantaloon tumbled over, my boy?—my girl, I mean. I did, when I was a + boy. My father took me. I went in the pit. I can smell oranges, when I + think of it. I remember, we supped on German sausage; or ham—one or + the other. Those were happy old days!” + </p> + <p> + He shook his head at them across the misty gulf. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps there's a good farce going on now. If so, we'll go. Girls ought + to learn to laugh as well as boys. I'll ring for Braintop.” + </p> + <p> + He rang the bell, and bade Emilia be careful to remind him that he wanted + Braintop's address; for Braintop was useful. + </p> + <p> + It appeared that there were farces at several of the theatres. Braintop + rattled them out, their plot and fun and the merits of the actors, with + delightful volubility, as one whose happy subject had been finally + discovered. He was forthwith commissioned to start immediately and take a + stage-box at one of the places of entertainment, where two great rivals of + the Doctor genus promised to laugh dull care out of the spirit of man + triumphantly, and at the description of whose drolleries any one with + faith might be half cured. The youth gave his address on paper to Emilia. + </p> + <p> + “Make haste, sir,” said Mr. Pole. “And, stop. You shall go, yourself; go + to the pit, and have a supper, and I'll pay for it. When you've ordered + the box—do you know the Bedford Hotel? Go there, and see Mrs. + Chickley, and tell her I am coming to dine and sleep, and shall bring one + of my daughters. Dinner, sittingroom, and two bed-rooms, mind. And tell + Mrs. Chickley we've got no carpet-bag, and must come upon her wardrobe. + All clear to you? Dinner at half-past five going to theatre.” + </p> + <p> + Braintop bowed comprehendingly. + </p> + <p> + “Now, that fellow goes off chirping,” said Mr. Pole to Emilia. “It's just + the thing I used to wish to happen to me, when I was his age—my + master to call me in and say 'There! go and be jolly.' I dare say the + rascal'll order a champagne supper. Poor young chap! let his heart be + merry. Ha! ha! heigho!—Too much business is bad for man and boy. I + feel better already, if it weren't for my legs. My feet are so cold. Don't + you think I'm pretty talkative, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad to hear you talk,” said Emilia, striving to look less perplexed + than she felt. + </p> + <p> + He asked her slyly why she had come to London; and she begged that she + might speak of it by-and-by; whereat Mr. Pole declared that he intended to + laugh them all out of that nonsense. “And what did you say about being in + love with him? A doctor in good practice—but you needn't commence by + killing me if you do go and marry the fellow. Eh? what is it?” + </p> + <p> + Emilia was too much entangled herself to attempt to extricate him; and + apparently his wish to be enlightened passed away, for he was the next + instant searching among his papers for the letter from Riga. Not finding + it, he put on his hat. + </p> + <p> + “Must give up business to-day. Can't do business with a petticoat in the + room. I wish the Lord Mayor'd stop them all at Temple Bar. Now we'll go + out, and I'll show you a bit of the City.” + </p> + <p> + He offered her his arm, and she noticed that in walking through the + office, he was erect, and the few words he spoke were delivered in the + peremptory elastic tone of a vigorous man. + </p> + <p> + “My girls,” he said to her in an undertone, “never come here. Well! we + don't expect ladies, you know. Different spheres in this world. They mean + to be tip-top in society; and quite right too. My dear, I think we'll + ride. Do you mind being seen in a cab?” + </p> + <p> + He asked her hesitatingly: and when Emilia said, “Oh, no! let us ride,” he + seemed relieved. “I can't see the harm in a cab. Different tastes, in this + world. My girls—but, thank the Lord! they've got carriages.” + </p> + <p> + For an hour the merchant and Emilia drove about the City. He showed her + all the great buildings, and dilated on the fabulous piles of wealth they + represented, taking evident pleasure in her exclamations of astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes; they may despise us City fellows. I say, 'Come and see,' that's + all! Now, look up that court. Do you see three dusty windows on the second + floor? That man there could buy up any ten princes in Europe—excepting + one or two Austrians or Russians. He wears a coat just like mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Does he?” said Emilia, involuntarily examining the one by her side. + </p> + <p> + “We don't show our gold-linings, in the City, my dear.” + </p> + <p> + “But, you are rich, too.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I—as far as that goes. Don't talk about me. I'm—I'm still + cold in the feet. Now, look at that corner house. Three months ago that + man was one of our most respected City merchants. Now he's a bankrupt, and + can't show his head. It was all rotten. A medlar! He tampered with + documents; betrayed trusts. What do you think of him?” + </p> + <p> + “What was it he did?” asked Emilia. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pole explained, and excused him; then he explained, and abused him. + </p> + <p> + “He hadn't a family, my dear. Where did the money go? He's called a rascal + now, poor devil! Business brings awful temptations. You think, this'll + save me! You catch hold of it and it snaps. That'll save me; but you're + too heavy, and the roots give way, and down you go lower and lower. Lower + and lower! The gates of hell must be very low down if one of our bankrupts + don't reach 'em.” He spoke this in a deep underbreath. “Let's get out of + the City. There's no air. Look at that cloud. It's about over Brookfield, + I should say.” + </p> + <p> + “Dear Brookfield!” echoed Emilia, feeling her heart fly forth to sing like + a skylark under the cloud. + </p> + <p> + “And they're not satisfied with it,” murmured Mr. Pole, with a voice of + unwonted bitterness. + </p> + <p> + At the hotel, he was received very cordially by Mrs. Chickley, and Simon, + the old waiter. + </p> + <p> + “You look as young as ever, ma'am,” Mr. Pole complimented her cheerfully, + while he stamped his feet on the floor, and put forward Emilia as one of + his girls; but immediately took the landlady aside, to tell her that she + was “merely a charge—a ward—something of that sort;” + admitting, gladly enough, that she was a very nice young lady. “She's a + genius, ma'am, in music:—going to do wonders. She's not one of + them.” And Mr. Pole informed Mrs. Chickley that when they came to town, + they usually slept in one or other of the great squares. He, for his part, + preferred old quarters: comfort versus grandeur. + </p> + <p> + Simon had soon dressed the dinner-table. By the time dinner was ready, Mr. + Pole had sunk into such a condition of drowsiness, that it was hard to + make him see why he should be aroused, and when he sat down, fronting + Emilia, his eyes were glazed, and he complained that she was scarcely + visible. + </p> + <p> + “Some of your old yellow seal, Simon. That's what I want. I haven't got + better at home.” + </p> + <p> + The contents of this old yellow seal formed the chief part of the + merchant's meal. Emilia was induced to drink two full glasses. + </p> + <p> + “Doesn't that make your feet warm, my dear?” said Mr. Pole. + </p> + <p> + “It makes me want to talk,” Emilia confessed. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! we shall have some fun to-night. 'To-the-rutte-ta-to!' If you could + only sing, 'Begone dull care!' I like glees: good, honest, English, manly + singing for me! Nothing like glees and madrigals, to my mind. With chops + and baked potatoes, and a glass of good stout, they beat all other music.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia sang softly to him. + </p> + <p> + When she had finished, Mr. Pole applauded her mildly. + </p> + <p> + “Your music, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + “My music: Mr. Runningbrook's words. But only look. He will not change a + word, and some of the words are so curious, they make me lift my chin and + pout. It's all in my throat. I feel as if I had to do it on tiptoe. Mr. + Runningbrook wrote the song in ten minutes.” + </p> + <p> + “He can afford to—comes of a family,” said Mr. Pole, and struck up a + bit of “Celia's Arbour,” which wandered into “The Soldier Tired,” as he + came bendingly, both sets of fingers filliping, toward Emilia, with one of + those ancient glee—suspensions, “Taia—haia—haia—haia,” + etc., which were meant for jolly fellows who could bear anything. + </p> + <p> + “Eh?” went Mr. Pole, to elicit approbation in return. + </p> + <p> + Emilia smoothed the wrinkles of her face, and smiled. + </p> + <p> + “There's nothing like Port,” said Mr. Pole. “Get little Runningbrook to + write a song: 'There's nothing like Port.' You put the music. I'll sing + it.” + </p> + <p> + “You will,” cried Emilia. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, upon my honour! now my feet are warmer, I by Jingo! what's that?” + and again he wore that strange calculating look, as if he were being + internally sounded, and guessed at his probable depth. “What a twitch! + Something wrong with my stomach. But a fellow must be all right when his + spirits are up. We'll be off as quick as we can. Taia—haihaia—hum. + If the farce is bad, it's my last night of theatre-going.” + </p> + <p> + The delight at being in a theatre kept Emilia dumb when she gazed on the + glittering lights. After an inspection of the house, Mr. Pole kindly + remarked: “You must marry and get out of this. This'd never do. All very + well in the boxes: but on the stage—oh, no! I shouldn't like you to + be there. If my girls don't approve of the doctor, they shall look out + somebody for you. I shouldn't like you to be painted, and rigged out; and + have to squall in this sort of place. Stage won't do for you. No, no!” + </p> + <p> + Emilia replied that she had given up the stage; and looked mournfully at + the drop-scene, as at a lost kingdom, scarcely repressing her tears. + </p> + <p> + The orchestra tuned and played a light overture. She followed up the + windings of the drop-scene valley, meeting her lover somewhere beneath the + castle-ruin, where the river narrowed and the trees intertwined. On from + dream to dream the music carried her, and dull fell the first words of the + farce. Mr. Pole said, “Now, then!” and began to chuckle. As the farce + proceeded, he grew more serious, repeating to Emilia, quite anxiously: “I + wonder whether that boy Braintop's enjoying it.” Emilia glanced among the + sea of heads, and finally eliminated the head of Braintop, who was + respectfully devoting his gaze to the box she occupied. When Mr. Pole had + been assisted to discover him likewise, his attention alternated between + Braintop and the stage, and he expressed annoyance from time to time at + the extreme composure of Braintop's countenance. “Why don't the fellow + laugh? Does he think he's listening to a sermon?” Poor Braintop, on his + part, sat in mortal fear lest his admiration of Emilia was perceived. + Divided? between this alarming suspicion, and a doubt that the hair on his + forehead was not properly regulated, he became uneasy and fitful in his + deportment. His imagination plagued him with a sense of guilt, which his + master's watchfulness of him increased. He took an opportunity to + furtively to eye himself in a pocket-mirror, and was subsequently haunted + by an additional dread that Emilia might have discovered the instrument; + and set him down as a vain foolish dog. When he saw her laugh he was sure + of it. Instead of responding to Mr. Pole's encouragement, he assumed a + taciturn aspect worthy of a youthful anchorite, and continued to be the + spectator of a scene to which his soul was dead. + </p> + <p> + “I believe that fellow's thinking of nothing but his supper,” said Mr. + Pole. + </p> + <p> + “I dare say he dined early in the day,” returned Emilia, remembering how + hungry she used to be in the evenings of the potatoe-days. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but he might laugh, all the same.” And Mr. Pole gave Emilia the + sound advice: “Mind you never marry a fellow who can't laugh.” + </p> + <p> + Braintop saw Emilia smile. Then, in an instant, her face changed its + expression to one of wonder and alarm, and her hands clasped together + tightly. What on earth was the matter with her? His agitated fancy, + centred in himself, now decided that some manifestation of most shocking + absurdity had settled on his forehead, or his hair, for he was certain of + his neck-tie. Braintop had recourse to his pocket-mirror once more. It + afforded him a rapid interchange of glances with a face which he at all + events could distinguish from the mass, though we need not. + </p> + <p> + The youth was in the act of conveying the instrument to its retreat, when + conscience sent his eyes toward Emilia, who, to his horror, beckoned to + him, and touched Mr. Pole, entreating him to do the same. Mr. Pole + gesticulated imperiously, whereat Braintop rose, and requested his + neighbour to keep his seat for ten minutes, as he was going into that + particular box; and “If I don't come back in ten minutes, I shall stop + there,” said Braintop, a little grandly, through the confusion of his + ideas, as he guessed at the possible reasons for the summons. + </p> + <p> + Emilia had seen her father in the orchestra. There he sat, under the + leader, sullenly fiddling the prelude to the second play, like a man + ashamed, and one of the beaten in this world. Flight had been her first + thought. She had cause to dread him. The more she lived and the dawning + knowledge of what it is to be a woman in the world grew with her, the more + she shrank from his guidance, and from reliance on him. Not that she + conceived him designedly base; but he outraged her now conscious delicacy, + and what she had to endure as a girl seemed unbearable to her now. + Besides, she felt a secret shuddering at nameless things, which made her + sick of the thought of returning to him and his Jew friends. But, alas! he + looked so miserable—a child of harmony among the sons of discord! He + kept his head down, fiddling like a machine. The old potatoe-days became + pathetically edged with dead light to Emilia. She could not be cruel. + “When I am safe,” she laid stress on the word in her mind, to awaken + blessed images, “I will see him often, and make him happy; but I will let + him know that all is well with me now, and that I love him always.” + </p> + <p> + So she said to Mr. Pole, “I know one of those in the orchestra. May I + write a word to him on a piece of paper before we go? I wish to.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pole reflected, and seeing her earnest in her desire to do this, + replied: “Well, yes; if you must—the girls are not here.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia borrowed his pencil-case, and wrote:— + </p> + <p> + “Sandra is well, and always loves her caro papa, and is improving, and + will see him soon. Her heart is full of love for him and for her mama; and + if they leave their lodgings they are to leave word where they go. Sandra + never forgets Italy, and reads the papers. She has a copy of the score of + an unknown opera by our Andronizetti, and studies it, and anatomy, + English, French, and pure Italian, and can ride a horse. She has made rich + friends, who love her. It will not be long, and you will see her.” + </p> + <p> + The hasty scrawl concluded with numerous little caressing exclamations in + Italian diminutives. This done, Emilia thought: “But he will look up and + see me!” She resolved not to send it till they were about to quit the + theatre. Consequently, Braintop, on his arrival, was told to sit down. + “You don't look cheerful in the pit,” said Mr. Pole. “You're above it?—eh? + You're all alike in that. None of you do what your dads did. Up-up-up? You + may get too high, eh?—Gallery?” and Mr. Pole winked knowingly and + laughed. + </p> + <p> + Braintop, thus elevated, tried his best to talk to Emilia, who sat half + fascinated with the fear of seeing her father lift his eyes and recognize + her suddenly. She sat boldly in the front, as before; not being a young + woman to hide her head where there was danger, and having perhaps a + certain amount of the fatalism which is often youth's philosophy in the + affairs of life. “If this is to be, can I avert it?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pole began to nod at the actors, heavily. He said to Emilia, “If there + is any fun going on, give me a nudge.” Emilia kept her eyes on her father + in the orchestra, full of pity for his deplorable wig, in which she read + his later domestic history, and sad tales of the family dinners. + </p> + <p> + “Do you see one of those”—she pointed him out to Braintop; “he is + next to the leader, with his back to us. Are you sure? I want you to give + him this note before he goes; when we go. Will you do it? I shall always + be thankful to you.” + </p> + <p> + Considering what Braintop was ready to do that he might be remembered for + a day and no more, the request was so very moderate as to be painful to + him. + </p> + <p> + “You will leave him when you have given it into his hand. You are not to + answer any questions,” said Emilia. + </p> + <p> + With a reassuring glance at the musician's wig, Braintop bent his head. + </p> + <p> + “Do see,” she pursued, “how differently he bows from the other men, though + it is only dance music. Oh, how his ears are torn by that violoncello! He + wants to shriek:—he bears it!” + </p> + <p> + She threw a piteous glance across the agitated instruments, and Braintop + was led to inquire: “Is he anything particular?” + </p> + <p> + “He can bring out notes that are more like honey—if you can fancy a + thread of honey drawn through your heart as if it would never end! He is + Italian.” + </p> + <p> + Braintop modestly surveyed her hair and brows and cheeks, and taking the + print of her eyes on his brain to dream over, smelt at a relationship with + the wry black wig, which cast a halo about it. + </p> + <p> + The musicians laid down their instruments, and trooped out, one by one. + Emilia perceived a man brush against her father's elbow. Her father + flicked at his offended elbow with the opposite hand, and sat crumpled up + till all had passed him: then went out alone. That little action of + disgust showed her that he had not lost spirit, albeit condemned to serve + amongst an inferior race, promoters of discord. + </p> + <p> + Just as the third play was opening, some commotion was seen in the pit, + rising from near Braintop's vacated seat; and presently a thing that shone + flashing to the lights, came on from hand to hand, each hand signalling + subsequently toward Mr. Pole's box. It approached. Braintop's eyes were in + waiting on Emilia, who looked sadly at the empty orchestra. A gentleman in + the stalls, a head beneath her, bowed, and holding up a singular article, + gravely said that he had been requested to pass it. She touched Mr. Pole's + shoulder. “Eh? anything funny?” said he, and glanced around. He was in + time to see Braintop lean hurriedly over the box, and snatch his + pocket-mirror from the gentleman's hand. “Ha! ha!” he laughed, as if a + comic gleam had illumined him. A portion of the pit and stalls laughed + too. Emilia smiled merrily. “What was it?” said she; and perceiving many + faces beneath her red among handkerchiefs, she was eager to see the thing + that the unhappy Braintop had speedily secreted. + </p> + <p> + “Come, sir, let's see it!” quoth Mr. Pole, itching for a fresh laugh; and + in spite of Braintop's protest, and in defiance of his burning blush, he + compelled the wretched youth to draw it forth, and be manifestly convicted + of vanity. + </p> + <p> + A shout of laughter burst from Mr. Pole. “No wonder these young sparks cut + us all out. Lord, what cunning dogs they are! They ain't satisfied with + seeing themselves in their boots, but they—ha! ha! By George! We've + got the best fun in our box. I say, Braintop! you ought to have two, my + boy. Then you'd see how you looked behind. Ha-ha-hah! Never enjoyed an + evening so much in my life! A looking-glass for their pockets! ha! ha!—hooh!” + </p> + <p> + Luckily the farce demanded laughter, or those parts of the pit which had + not known Braintop would have been indignant. Mr. Pole became more and + more possessed by the fun, as the contrast of Braintop's abject + humiliation with this glaring testimony to his conceit tickled him. He + laughed till he complained of hunger. Emilia, though she thought it + natural that Braintop should carry a pocket-mirror if he pleased, laughed + from sympathy; until Braintop, reduced to the verge of forbearance, stood + up and remarked that, to perform the mission entrusted to him, he must + depart immediately. Mr. Pole was loth to let him go, but finally + commending him to a good supper, he sighed, and declared himself a new + man. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! what a jolly laugh! The very thing I wanted! It's worth hundreds to + me. I was queer before: no doubt about that!” + </p> + <p> + Again the ebbing convulsion of laughter seized him. “I feel as clear as + day,” he said; and immediately asked Emilia whether she thought he would + have strength to get down to the cab. She took his hand, trying to assist + him from the seat. He rose, and staggered an instant. “A sort of reddish + cloud,” he murmured, feeling over his forehead. “Ha! I know what it is. I + want a chop. A chop and a song. But, I couldn't take you, and I like you + by me. Good little woman!” He patted Emilia's shoulder, preparatory to + leaning on it with considerable weight, and so descended to the cab, + chuckling ever and anon at the reminiscence of Braintop. + </p> + <p> + There was a disturbance in the street. A man with a foreign accent was + shouting by the door of a neighbouring public-house, that he would not + yield his hold of the collar of a struggling gentleman, till the villain + had surrendered his child, whom he scandalously concealed from her + parents. A scuffle ensued, and the foreign voice was heard again: + </p> + <p> + “Wat! wat you have de shame, you have de pluck, ah! to tell me you know + not where she is, and you bring me a letter? Ho!—you have de cheeks + to tell me!” + </p> + <p> + This highly effective pluralizing of their peculiar slang, brought a roar + of applause from the crowd of Britons. + </p> + <p> + “Only a street row,” said Mr. Pole, to calm Emilia. + </p> + <p> + “Will he be hurt?” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “I see a couple of policemen handy,” said Mr. Pole, and Emilia cowered + down and clung to his hand as they drove from the place. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVI + </h2> + <p> + It was midnight. Mr. Pole had appeased his imagination with a chop, and + was trying to revive the memory of his old after-theatre night carouses by + listening to a song which Emilia sang to him, while he sipped at a smoking + mixture, and beat time on the table, rejoiced that he was warm from head + to foot at last. + </p> + <p> + “That's a pretty song, my dear,” he said. “A very pretty song. It does for + an old fellow; and so did my supper: light and wholesome. I'm an old + fellow; I ought to know I've got a grown-up son and grown-up daughters. I + shall be a grandpa, soon, I dare say. It's not the thing for me to go + about hearing glees. I had an idea of it. I'm better here. All I want is + to see my children happy, married and settled, and comfortable!” + </p> + <p> + Emilia stole up to him, and dropped on one knee: “You love them?” + </p> + <p> + “I do. I love my girls and my boy. And my brandy-and-water, do you mean to + say, you rogue?” + </p> + <p> + “And me?” Emilia looked up at him beseechingly. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and you. I do. I haven't known you long, my dear, but I shall be + glad to do what I can for you. You shall make my house your home as long + as you live; and if I say, make haste and get married, it's only just + this: girls ought to marry young, and not be in an uncertain position.” + </p> + <p> + “Am I worth having?” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure you are! I should think so. You haven't got a penny; but, + then, you're not for spending one. And”—Mr. Pole nodded to right and + left like a man who silenced a host of invisible logicians, urging this + and that—“you're a pleasant companion, thrifty, pretty, musical: by + Jingo! what more do they want? They'll have their song and chop at home.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but suppose it depends upon their fathers?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, if their fathers will be fools, my dear, I can't help 'em. We + needn't take 'em in a lump: how about the doctor? I'll see him to-morrow + morning, and hear what he has to say. Shall I?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pole winked shrewdly. + </p> + <p> + “You will not make my heart break?” Emilia's voice sounded one low chord + as she neared the thing she had to say. + </p> + <p> + “Bless her soul!” the old merchant patted her; “I'm not the sort of man + for that.” + </p> + <p> + “Nor his?” + </p> + <p> + “His?” Mr. Pole's nerves became uneasy in a minute, at the scent of a + mystification. He dashed his handkerchief over his forehead, repeating: + “His? Break a man's heart! I? What's the meaning of that? For God's sake, + don't bother me!” + </p> + <p> + Emilia was still kneeling before him, eyeing him with a shadowed steadfast + air. + </p> + <p> + “I say his, because his heart is in mine. He has any pain that hurts me.” + </p> + <p> + “He may be tremendously in love,” observed Mr. Pole; “but he seems a + deuced soft sort of a doctor! What's his name?” + </p> + <p> + “I love Wilfrid.” + </p> + <p> + The merchant appeared to be giving ear to her, long after the words had + been uttered, while there was silence in the room. + </p> + <p> + “Wilfrid? my son?” he cried with a start. + </p> + <p> + “He is my lover.” + </p> + <p> + “Damned rascal!” Mr. Pole jumped from his chair. “Going and playing with + an unprotected girl. I can pardon a young man's folly, but this is + infamous. My dear child,” he turned to Emilia, “if you've got any notion + about my son Wilfrid, you must root it up as quick as you can. If he's + been behaving like a villain, leave him to me. I detest, I hate, I loathe, + I would kick, a young man who deceives a girl. Even if he's my son!—more's + the reason!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pole was walking up and down the room, fuming as he spoke. Emilia + tried to hold his hand, as he was passing, but he said: “There, my child! + I'm very sorry for you, and I'm damned angry with him. Let me go.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you, can you be angry with him for loving me?” + </p> + <p> + “Deceiving you,” returned Mr. Pole; “that's what it is. And I tell you, + I'd rather fifty times the fellow had deceived me. Anything rather than + that he should take advantage of a girl.” + </p> + <p> + “Wilfrid loves me and would die for me,” said Emilia. + </p> + <p> + “Now, let me tell you the fact,” Mr. Pole came to a halt, fronting her. + “My son Wilfrid Pole may be in love, as he says, here and there, but he is + engaged to be married to a lady of title. I have his word—his oath. + He got near a thousand pounds out of my pocket the other day on that + understanding. I don't speak about the money, but—now—it's a + lump—others would have made a nice row about it—but is he a + liar? Is he a seducing, idling, vagabond dog? Is he a contemptible + scoundrel?” + </p> + <p> + “He is my lover,” said Emilia. + </p> + <p> + She stood without changing a feature; as in a darkness, holding to the one + thing she was sure of. Then, with a sudden track of light in her brain: “I + know the mistake,” she said. “Pardon him. He feared to offend you, because + you are his father, and he thought I might not quite please you. For, he + loves me. He has loved me from the first moment he saw me. He cannot be + engaged to another. I could bring him from any woman's side. I have only + to say to myself—he must come to me. For he loves me! It is not a + thing to doubt.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pole turned and recommenced his pacing with hasty steps. All the + indications of a nervous tempest were on him. Interjecting half-formed + phrases, and now and then staring at Emilia, as at an incomprehensible + object, he worked at his hair till it lent him the look of one in horror + at an apparition. + </p> + <p> + “The fellow's going to marry Lady Charlotte Chillingworth, I tell you. He + has asked my permission. The infernal scamp! he knew it pleased me. He + bled me of a thousand pounds only the other day. I tell you, he's going to + marry Lady Charlotte Chillingworth.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia received this statement with a most perplexing smile. She shook her + head. “He cannot.” + </p> + <p> + “Cannot? I say he shall, and must, and in a couple of months, too!” + </p> + <p> + The gravely sceptical smile on Emilia's face changed to a blank pallor. + </p> + <p> + “Then, you make him, sir—you?” + </p> + <p> + “He'll be a beggar, if he don't.” + </p> + <p> + “You will keep him without money?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pole felt that he gazed on strange deeps in that girl's face. Her + voice had the wire-like hum of a rising wind. There was no menace in her + eyes: the lashes of them drooped almost tenderly, and the lips were but + softly closed. The heaving of the bosom, though weighty, was regular: the + hands hung straight down, and were open. She looked harmless; but his + physical apprehensiveness was sharpened by his nervous condition, and he + read power in her: the capacity to concentrate all animal and mental + vigour into one feeling—this being the power of the soul. + </p> + <p> + So she stood, breathing quietly, steadily eyeing him. + </p> + <p> + “No, no;” went on Mr. Pole. “Come, come. We'll sit down, and see, and talk—see + what can be done. You know I always meant kindly by you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes!” Emilia musically murmured, and it cost her nothing to smile + again. + </p> + <p> + “Now, tell me how this began.” Mr. Pole settled himself comfortably to + listen, all irritation having apparently left him, under the influence of + the dominant nature. “You need not be ashamed to talk it over to me.” + </p> + <p> + “I am not ashamed,” Emilia led off, and told her tale simply, with here + and there one of her peculiar illustrations. She had not thought of love + till it came to life suddenly, she said; and then all the world looked + different. The relation of Wilfrid's bravery in fighting for her, varied + for a single instant the low monotony of her voice. At the close of the + confession, Mr. Pole wore an aspect of distress. This creature's utter + unlikeness to the girls he was accustomed to, corroborated his personal + view of the case, that Wilfrid certainly could not have been serious, and + that she was deluded. But he pitied her, for he had sufficient imagination + to prevent him from despising what he did not altogether comprehend. So, + to fortify the damsel, he gave her a lecture: first, on young men—their + selfish inconsiderateness, their weakness, the wanton lives they led, + their trick of lying for any sugar-plum, and how they laughed at their + dupes. Secondly, as to the conduct consequently to be prescribed to girls, + who were weaker, frailer, by disposition more confiding, and who must + believe nothing but what they heard their elders say. + </p> + <p> + Emilia gave patient heed to the lecture. + </p> + <p> + “But I am safe,” she remarked, when he had finished; “for my lover is not + as those young men are.” + </p> + <p> + To speak at all, and arrange his ideas, was a vexation to the poor + merchant. He was here like an irritable traveller, who knocks at a gate, + which makes as if it opens, without letting him in. Emilia's naive + confidence he read as stupidity. It brought on a fresh access of the + nervous fever lurking in him, and he cried, jumping from his seat: “Well, + you can't have him, and there's an end. You must give up—confound! + why! do you expect to have everything you want at starting? There, my + child—but, upon my honour! a man loses his temper at having to talk + for an hour or so, and no result. You must go to bed; and—do you say + your prayers? Well! that's one way of getting out of it—pray that + you may forget all about what's not good for you. Why, you're almost like + a young man, when you set your mind on a thing. Bad! won't do! Say your + prayers regularly. And, please, pour me out a mouthful of brandy. My hand + trembles—I don't know what's the matter with it;—just like + those rushes on the Thames I used to see when out fishing. No wind, and + yet there they shake away. I wish it was daylight on the old river now! + It's night, and no mistake. I feel as if I had a fellow twirling a stick + over my head. The rascal's been at it for the last month. There, stop + where you are, my dear. Don't begin to dance!” + </p> + <p> + He pressed at his misty eyes, half under the impression that she was + taking a succession of dazzling leaps in air. Terror of an impending blow, + which he associated with Emilia's voice, made him entreat her to be + silent. After a space, he breathed a long breath of relief, saying: “No, + no; you're firm enough on your feet. I don't think I ever saw you dance. + My girls have given it up. What led me to think...but, let's to bed, and + say our prayers. I want a kiss.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia kissed him on the forehead. The symptoms of illness were strange to + her, and passed unheeded. She was too full of her own burning passion to + take evidence from her sight. The sun of her world was threatened with + extinction. She felt herself already a wanderer in a land of tombs, where + none could say whether morning had come or gone. Intensely she looked her + misery in the face; and it was as a voice that said, “No sun: never sun + any more,” to her. But a blue-hued moon slipped from among the clouds, and + hung in the black outstretched fingers of the tree of darkness, fronting + troubled waters. “This is thy light for ever! thou shalt live in thy + dream.” So, as in a prison-house, did her soul now recall the blissful + hours by Wilming Weir. She sickened but an instant. The blood in her veins + was too strong a tide for her to crouch in that imagined corpse-like + universe which alternates with an irradiated Eden in the brain of the + passionate young. + </p> + <p> + “Why should I lose him!” The dry sob choked her. + </p> + <p> + She struggled with the emotion in her throat, and Mr. Pole, who had + previously dreaded supplication and appeals for pity, caressed her. + Instantly the flood poured out. + </p> + <p> + “You are not cruel. I knew it. I should have died, if you had come between + us. Oh, Wilfrid's father, I love you!—I have never had a very angry + word on my mouth. Think! think! if you had made me curse you. For, I + could! You would have stopped my life, and Wilfrid's. What would our last + thoughts have been? We could not have forgiven you. Take up dead birds + killed by frost. You cry: Cruel winter! murdering cold! But I knew better. + You are Wilfrid's father, whom I can kneel to. My lover's father! my own + father! my friend next to heaven! Oh! bless my love, for him. You have + only to know what my love for him is! The thought of losing him goes like + perishing cold through my bones;—my heart jerks, as if it had to + pull up my body from the grave every time it beats....” + </p> + <p> + “God in heaven!” cried the horrified merchant, on whose susceptible nerves + these images wrought with such a force that he absolutely had dread of + her. He gasped, and felt at his heart, and then at his pulse; rubbed the + moisture from his forehead, and throwing a fixedly wild look on her eyes, + he jumped up and left her kneeling. + </p> + <p> + His caress had implied mercy to Emilia: for she could not reconcile it + with the rejection of the petition of her soul. She was now a little + bewildered to see him trotting the room, frowning and blinking, and + feeling at one wrist, at momentary pauses, all his words being: “Let's be + quiet. Let's be good. Let's go to bed, and say our prayers;” mingled with + short ejaculations. + </p> + <p> + “I may say,” she intercepted him, “I may tell my dear lover that you bless + us both, and that we are to live. Oh, speak! sir! let me hear you!” + </p> + <p> + “Let's go to bed,” iterated Mr. Pole. “Come, candles! do light them. In + God's name! light candles. And let's be off and say our prayers.” + </p> + <p> + “You consent, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “What's that your heart does?” Mr. Pole stopped to enquire; adding: + “There, don't tell me. You've played the devil with mine. Who'd ever have + made me believe that I should feel more at ease running up and down the + room, than seated in my arm-chair! Among the wonders of the world, that!” + </p> + <p> + Emilia put up her lips to kiss him, as he passed her. There was something + deliciously soothing and haven-like to him in the aspect of her calmness. + </p> + <p> + “Now, you'll be a good girl,” said he, when he had taken her salute. + </p> + <p> + “And you,” she rejoined, “will be happier!” + </p> + <p> + His voice dropped. “If you go on like this, you've done for me!” + </p> + <p> + But she could make no guess at any tragic meaning in his words. “My father—let + me call you so!” + </p> + <p> + “Will you see that you can't have him?” he stamped the syllables into her + ears: and, with a notion of there being a foreign element about her, + repeated:—“No!—not have him!—not yours!—somebody + else's!” + </p> + <p> + This was clear enough. + </p> + <p> + “Only you can separate us,” said Emilia, with a brow levelled intently. + </p> + <p> + “Well, and I—” Mr. Pole was pursuing in the gusty energy of his + previous explanation. His eyes met Emilia's, gravely widening. “I—I'm + very sorry,” he broke down: “upon my soul, I am!” + </p> + <p> + The old man went to the mantel-piece and leaned his elbow before the + glass. + </p> + <p> + Emilia's bosom began to rise again. + </p> + <p> + She was startled to hear him laugh. A slight melancholy little burst; and + then a louder one, followed by a full-toned laughter that fell short and + showed the heart was not in it. + </p> + <p> + “That boy Braintop! What fun it was!” he said, looking all the while into + the glass. “Why can't we live in peace, and without bother! Is your candle + alight, my dear?” + </p> + <p> + Emilia now thought that he was practising evasion. + </p> + <p> + “I will light it,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pole gave a wearied sigh. His head being still turned to the glass, he + listened with a shrouded face for her movements: saying, “Good night; good + night; I'll light my own. There's a dear!” + </p> + <p> + A shouting was in his ears, which seemed to syllable distinctly: “If she + goes at once, I'm safe.” + </p> + <p> + The sight of pain at all was intolerable to him; but he had a prophetic + physical warning now that to witness pain inflicted by himself would be + more than he could endure. + </p> + <p> + Emilia breathed a low, “Good night.” + </p> + <p> + “Good night, my love—all right to-morrow!” he replied briskly; and + remorse touching his kind heart as the music of her 'good night' + penetrated to it by thrilling avenues, he added injudiciously: “Don't + fret. We'll see what we can do. Soon make matters comfortable.” + </p> + <p> + “I love you, and I know you will not stab me,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + “No; certainly not,” said Mr. Pole, still keeping his back to her. + </p> + <p> + Struck with a sudden anticipating fear of having to go through this scene + on the morrow, he continued: “No misunderstands, mind! Wilfrid's done + with.” + </p> + <p> + There was a silence. He trusted she might be gone. Turning round, he faced + her; the light of the candle throwing her pale visage into ghostly relief. + </p> + <p> + “Where is sleep for you if you part us?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pole flung up his arms. “I insist upon your going to bed. Why + shouldn't I sleep? Child's folly!” + </p> + <p> + Though he spoke so, his brain was in strings to his timorous ticking + nerves; and he thought that it would be well to propitiate her and get her + to utter some words that would not haunt his pillow. + </p> + <p> + “My dear girl! it's not my doing. I like you. I wish you well and happy. + Very fond of you;—blame circumstances, not me.” Then he murmured: + “Are black spots on the eyelids a bad sign? I see big flakes of soot + falling in a dark room.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia's mated look fleeted. “You come between us, sir, because I have no + money?” + </p> + <p> + “I tell you it's the boy's only chance to make his hit now.” Mr. Pole + stamped his foot angrily. + </p> + <p> + “And you make my Cornelia marry, though she loves another, as Wilfrid + loves me, and if they do not obey you they are to be beggars! Is it you + who can pray? Can you ever have good dreams? I saved my father from the + sin, by leaving him. He wished to sell me. But my poor father had no money + at all, and I can pardon him. Money was a bright thing to him: like other + things to us. Mr. Pole! What will any one say for you!” + </p> + <p> + The unhappy merchant had made vehement efforts to perplex his hearing, + that her words might be empty and not future dragons round his couch. He + was looking forward to a night of sleep as a cure for the evil sensations + besetting him—his only chance. The chance was going; and with the + knowledge that it was unjustly torn from him—this one gleam of clear + reason in his brain undimmed by the irritable storm which plucked him down—he + cried out, to clear himself:— + </p> + <p> + “They are beggars, both, and all, if they don't marry before two months + are out. I'm a beggar then. I'm ruined. I shan't have a penny. I'm in a + workhouse. They are in good homes. They are safe, and thank their old + father. Now, then; now. Shall I sleep?” + </p> + <p> + Emilia caught his staggering arm. The glazed light of his eyes went out. + He sank into a chair; white as if life had issued with the secret of his + life. Wonderful varying expressions had marked his features and the tones + of his voice, while he was uttering that sharp, succinct confession; so + that, strange as it sounded, every sentence fixed itself on her with + incontrovertible force, and the meaning of the whole flashed through her + mind. It struck her too awfully for speech. She held fast to his nerveless + hand, and kneeling before him, listened for his long reluctant breathing. + </p> + <p> + The 'Shall I sleep?' seemed answered. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVII + </h2> + <p> + For days after the foregoing scene, Brookfield was unconscious of what had + befallen it. Wilfrid was trying his yacht, the ladies were preparing for + the great pleasure-gathering on Besworth lawn, and shaping astute designs + to exclude the presence of Mrs. Chump, for which they partly condemned + themselves; but, as they said, “Only hear her!” The excitable woman was + swelling from conjecture to certainty on a continuous public cry of, “'Pon + my hon'r!—d'ye think little Belloni's gone and marrud Pole?” + </p> + <p> + Emilia's supposed flight had deeply grieved the ladies, when alarm and + suspicion had subsided. Fear of some wretched male baseness on the part of + their brother was happily diverted by a letter, wherein he desired them to + come to him speedily. They attributed her conduct to dread of Mr. + Pericles. That fervid devotee of Euterpe received the tidings with an + obnoxious outburst, which made them seriously ask themselves (individually + and in secret) whether he was not a moneyed brute, and nothing more. Nor + could they satisfactorily answer the question. He raved: “You let her go. + Ha! what creatures you are—hein? But you find not anozer in fifty + years, I say; and here you stop, and forty hours pass by, and not a sing + in motion. What blood you have! It is water—not blood. Such a voice, + a verve, a style, an eye, a devil, zat girl! and all drawn up and out + before ze time by a man: she is spoilt!” + </p> + <p> + He exhibited an anguish that they were not able to commiserate. Certain + expressions falling from him led them to guess that he had set some plot + in motion, which Emilia's flight had arrested; but his tragic outcries + were all on the higher ground of the loss to Art. They were glad to see + him go from the house. Soon he returned to demand Wilfrid's address. + Arabella wrote it out for him with rebuking composure. Then he insisted + upon having Captain Gambier's, whom he described as “ce nonchalant dandy.” + </p> + <p> + “Him you will have a better opportunity of seeing by waiting here,” said + Adela; and the captain came before Mr. Pericles had retreated. “Ce + nonchalant” was not quite true to his title, when he heard that Emilia had + flown. He did not say much, but iterated “Gone!” with an elegant frown, + adding, “She must come back, you know!” and was evidently more than + commonly puzzled and vexed, pursuing the strain in a way that satisfied + Mr. Pericles more thoroughly than Adela. + </p> + <p> + “She shall come back as soon as she has a collar,” growled Mr. Pericles, + meaning captivity. + </p> + <p> + “If she'd only come back with her own maiden name,” interjected Mrs. + Chump, “I'll give her a character; but, upon my hon'r—d'ye think ut + possible, now...?” + </p> + <p> + Arabella talked over her, and rescued her father's name. + </p> + <p> + The noisy sympathy and wild speculations of the Tinleys and Copleys had to + be endured. On the whole, the feeling toward Emilia was kind, and the hope + that she would come to no harm was fervently expressed by all the ladies; + frequently enough, also, to show the opinion that it might easily happen. + On such points Mrs. Chump never failed to bring the conversation to a + block. Supported as they were by Captain Gambier, Edward Buxley, + Freshfield Sumner, and more than once by Sir Twickenham (whom Freshfield, + launching angry shafts, now called the semi-betrothed, the statistical + cripple, and other strong things that show a developing genius for + street-cries and hustings—epithets in every member of the lists of + the great Rejected, or of the jilted who can affect to be philosophical), + notwithstanding these aids, the ladies of Brookfield were crushed by Mrs. + Chump. Her main offence was, that she revived for them so much of + themselves that they had buried. “Oh! the unutterably sordid City life!” + It hung about her like a smell of London smoke. As a mere animal, they + passed her by, and had almost come to a state of mind to pass her off. It + was the phantom, or rather the embodiment of their First Circle, that they + hated in the woman. She took heroes from the journals read by + servant-maids; she thought highly of the Court of Aldermen; she went on + public knees to the aristocracy; she was proud, in fact, of all City + appetites. What, though none saw the peculiar sting? They felt it; and one + virtue in possessing an 'ideal' is that, lodging in you as it does, it + insists upon the interior being furnished by your personal satisfaction, + and not by the blindness or stupidity of the outer world. Thus, in one + direction, an ideal precludes humbug. The ladies might desire to cloak + facts, but they had no pleasure in deception. They had the feminine power + of extinguishing things disagreeable, so long as nature or the fates did + them no violence. When these forces sent an emissary to confound them, as + was clearly the case with Mrs. Chump, they fought. The dreadful creature + insisted upon shows of maudlin affection that could not be accorded to + her, so that she existed in a condition of preternatural sensitiveness. + Among ladies pretending to dignity of life, the horror of acrid complaints + alternating with public offers of love from a gross woman, may be pictured + in the mind's eye. The absence of Mr. Pole and Wilfrid, which caused Mrs. + Chump to chafe at the restraint imposed by the presence of males to whom + she might not speak endearingly, and deprived the ladies of proper + counsel, and what good may be at times in masculine authority, led to one + fierce battle, wherein the great shot was fired on both sides. Mrs. Chump + was requested to leave the house: she declined. Interrogated as to whether + she remained as an enemy, knowing herself to be so looked upon, she said + that she remained to save them from the dangers they invited. Those + dangers she named, observing that Mrs. Lupin, their aunt, might know them, + but was as liable to be sent to sleep by a fellow with a bag of jokes as a + watchdog to be quieted by a bone. The allusion here was to Mrs. Lupin's + painful, partially inexcusable, incurable sense of humour, especially when + a gleam of it led to the prohibited passages of life. The poor lady was + afflicted so keenly that, in instances where one of her sex and position + in the social scale is bound to perish rather than let even the shadow of + a laugh appear, or any sign of fleshly perception or sympathy peep out, + she was seen to be mutely, shockingly, penitentially convulsed: a + degrading sight. And albeit repeatedly remonstrated with, she, upon such + occasions, invariably turned imploring glances—a sort of frowning + entreaty—to the ladies, or to any of her sex present. “Did you not + see that? Oh! can you resist it?” she seemed to gasp, as she made those + fruitless efforts to drag them to her conscious level. “Sink thou, if thou + wilt,” was the phrase indicated to her. She had once thought her + propensity innocent enough, and enjoyable. Her nieces had almost cured + her, by sitting on her, until Mrs. Chump came to make her worst than ever. + It is to be feared that Mrs. Chump was beginning to abuse her power over + the little colourless lady. We cannot, when we find ourselves possessed of + the gift of sending a creature into convulsions, avoid exercising it. Mrs. + Lupin was one of the victims of the modern feminine 'ideal.' She was in + mind merely a woman; devout and charitable, as her nieces admitted; but + radically—what? They did not like to think, or to say, what;—repugnant, + seemed to be the word. A woman who consented to perceive the + double-meaning, who acknowledged its suggestions of a violation of decency + laughable, and who could not restrain laughter, was, in their judgement, + righteously a victim. After signal efforts to lift her up, the verdict was + that their Aunt Lupin did no credit to her sex. If we conceive a timorous + little body of finely-strung nerves, inclined to be gay, and shrewdly + apprehensive, but depending for her opinion of herself upon those about + her, we shall see that Mrs. Lupin's life was one of sorrow and scourges in + the atmosphere of the 'ideal.' Never did nun of the cloister fight such a + fight with the flesh, as this poor little woman, that she might not give + offence to the Tribunal of the Nice Feelings which leads us to ask, “Is + sentimentalism in our modern days taking the place of monasticism to + mortify our poor humanity?” The sufferings of the Three of Brookfield + under Mrs. Chump was not comparable to Mrs. Lupin's. The good little + woman's soul withered at the self-contempt to which her nieces helped her + daily. Laughter, far from expanding her heart and invigorating her frame, + was a thing that she felt herself to be nourishing as a traitor in her + bosom: and the worst was, that it came upon her like a reckless + intoxication at times, possessing her as a devil might; and justifying + itself, too, and daring to say, “Am I not Nature?” Mrs. Lupin shrank from + the remembrance of those moments. + </p> + <p> + In another age, the scenes between Mrs. Lupin and Mrs. Chump, greatly + significant for humanity as they are, will be given without offence on one + side or martyrdom on the other. At present, and before our sentimentalists + are a concrete, it would be profitless rashness to depict them. When the + great shots were fired off (Mrs. Chump being requested to depart, and + refusing) Mrs. Lupin fluttered between the belligerents, doing her best to + be a medium for the restoration of peace. In repeating Mrs. Chump's + remarks, which were rendered purposely strong with Irish spice by that + woman, she choked; and when she conveyed to Mrs. Chump the counter-remarks + of the ladies, she provoked utterances that almost killed her. A sadder + life is not to be imagined. The perpetual irritation of a desire to + indulge in her mortal weakness, and listening to the sleepless conscience + that kept watch over it; her certainty that it would be better for her to + laugh right out, and yet her incapacity to contest the justice of her + nieces' rebuke; her struggle to resist Mrs. Chump, which ended in a + sensation of secret shameful liking for her—all these warring + influences within were seen in her behaviour. + </p> + <p> + “I have always said,” observed Cornelia, “that she labours under a + disease.” What is more, she had always told Mrs. Lupin as much, and her + sisters had echoed her. Three to one in such a case is a severe trial to + the reason of solitary one. And Mrs. Lupin's case was peculiar, inasmuch + as the more she yielded to Chump-temptation and eased her heart of its + load of laughter, the more her heart cried out against her and subscribed + to the scorn of her nieces. Mrs. Chump acted a demon's part; she thirsted + for Mrs. Lupin that she might worry her. Hitherto she had not known that + anything peculiar lodged in her tongue, and with no other person did she + think of using it to produce a desired effect; but now the scenes in + Brookfield became hideous to the ladies, and not wanting in their trials + to the facial muscles of the gentlemen. A significant sign of what the + ladies were enduring was, that they ceased to speak of it in their + consultations. It is a blank period in the career of young creatures when + a fretting wretchedness forces them out of their dreams to action; and it + is then that they will do things that, seen from the outside (i.e. in the + conduct of others), they would hold to be monstrous, all but impossible. + Or how could Cornelia persuade herself, as she certainly persuaded Sir + Twickenham and the world about her, that she had a contemplative pleasure + in his society? Arabella drew nearer to Edward Buxley, whom she had not + treated well, and who, as she might have guessed, had turned his thoughts + toward Adela; though clearly without encouragement. Adela indeed said + openly to her sisters, with a Gallic ejaculation, “Edward follows me, do + you know; and he has adopted a sort of Sicilian-vespers look whenever he + meets me with Captain Gambier. I could forgive him if he would draw out a + dagger and be quite theatrical; but, behold, we meet, and my bourgeois + grunts and stammers, and seems to beg us to believe that he means nothing + whatever by his behaviour. Can you convey to his City-intelligence that he + is just a trifle ill-bred?” + </p> + <p> + Now, Arabella had always seen Edward as a thing that was her own, which + accounts for the treatment to which, he had been subjected. A quick spur + of jealousy—a new sensation—was the origin of her leaning + toward Edward; and the plea of saving Adela from annoyance excused and + covered it. He, for his part, scarcely concealed his irritation, until a + little scented twisted note was put in his hand, which said, “You are as + anxious as I can be about our sweet lost Emilia! We believe ourselves to + be on her traces.” This gave him wonderful comfort. It put Adela in a + beautiful fresh light as a devoted benefactress and delicious intriguante. + He threw off some of his most telling caricatures at this period. Adela + had divined that Captain Gambier suspected his cousin Merthyr Powys of + abstracting Emilia, that he might shield her from Mr. Pericles. The + Captain confessed it, calmly blushing, and that he was in communication + with Miss Georgiana Ford, Mr. Powys's half-sister; about whom Adela was + curious, until the Captain ejaculated, “A saint!”—whereat she was + satisfied, knowing by instinct that the preference is for sinners. Their + meetings usually referred to Emilia; and it was astonishing how willingly + the Captain would talk of her. Adela repeated to herself, “This is our + mask,” and thus she made it the Captain's; for it must be said that the + conquering Captain had never felt so full of pity to any girl or woman to + whom he fancied he had done damage, as to Emilia. He enjoyed a most + thorough belief that she was growing up to perplex him with her love, and + he had not consequently attempted to precipitate the measure; but her + flight had prematurely perplexed him. In grave debate with the ends of his + moustache for a term, he concluded by accusing Merthyr Powys; and with a + little feeling of spite not unknown to masculine dignity, he wrote to + Merthyr's half-sister—“merely to inquire, being aware that whatever + he does you have been consulted on, and the friends of this Miss Belloni + are distressed by her absence.” + </p> + <p> + The ladies of Brookfield were accustomed to their father's occasional + unpremeditated absences, and neither of them had felt an apprehension + which she could not dismiss, until one morning Mr. Powys sent up his card + to Arabella, requesting permission to speak with her alone. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXVIII + </h2> + <p> + Georgiana Ford would have had little claim among the fair saints to be + accepted by them as one of their order. Her reputation for coldness was + derived from the fact of her having stood a siege from Captain Gambier. + But she loved a creature of earth too well to put up a hand for saintly + honours. The passion of her life centred in devotion to her half-brother. + Those who had studied her said, perhaps with a touch of malignity, that + her religious instinct had its source in a desire to gain some place of + intercession for him. Merthyr had leaned upon it too often to doubt the + strength of it, whatever its purity might be. She, when barely more than a + child (a girl of sixteen), had followed him over the then luckless Italian + fields—sacrificing as much for a cause that she held to be trivial, + as he in the ardour of his half-fanatical worship. Her theory was: “These + Italians are in bondage, and since heaven permits it, there has been + guilt. By endurance they are strengthened, by suffering chastened; so let + them endure and suffer.” She would cleave to this view with many + variations of pity. Merthyr's experience was tolerant to the weaker + vessel's young delight in power, which makes her sometimes, though sweet + and merciful by nature, enunciate Hebraic severities oracularly. He + smiled, and was never weary of pointing out practical refutations. Whereat + she said, “Will a thousand instances change the principle?” When the + brain, and especially the fine brain of a woman, first begins to act for + itself, the work is of heavy labour; she finds herself plunging abroad on + infinite seas, and runs speedily into the anchorage of dogmas, obfuscatory + saws, and what she calls principles. Here she is safe; but if her thinking + was not originally the mere action of lively blood upon that battery of + intelligence, she will by-and-by reflect that it is not well for a live + thing to be tied to a dead, and that long clinging to safety confesses too + much. Merthyr waited for Georgians patiently. On all other points they + were heart-in-heart. It was her pride to say that she loved him with no + sense of jealousy, and prayed that he might find a woman, in plain words, + worthy of him. This woman had not been found; she confessed that she had + never seen her. + </p> + <p> + Georgians received Captain Gambier's communication in Monmouth. Merthyr + had now and then written of a Miss Belloni; but he had seemed to refer to + a sort of child, and Georgians had looked on her as another Italian + pensioner. She was decisive. The moment she awoke to feel herself brooding + over the thought of this girl, she started to join Merthyr. Solitude is + pasturage for a suspicion. On her way she grew persuaded that her object + was bad, and stopped; until the thought came, 'If he is in a dilemma, who + shall help him save his sister?' And, with spiritually streaming eyes at a + vision of companionship broken (but whether by his taking another adviser, + or by Miss Belloni, she did not ask), Georgiana continued her journey. + </p> + <p> + At the door of Lady Gosstre's town-house she hesitated, and said in her + mind, “What am I doing? and what earthliness has come into my love for + him?” + </p> + <p> + Or, turning to the cry, “Will he want me?” stung herself. Conscious that + there was some poison in her love, but clinging to it not less, she + entered the house, and was soon in Merthyr's arms. + </p> + <p> + “Why have you come up?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Were you thinking of coming to me quickly?” she murmured in reply. + </p> + <p> + He did not say yes, but that he had business in London. Nor did he say + what. + </p> + <p> + Georgiana let him go. + </p> + <p> + “How miserable is such a weakness! Is this my love?” she thought again. + </p> + <p> + Then she went to her bedroom, and knelt, and prayed her Saviour's pardon + for loving a human thing too well. But, if the rays of her mind were + dimmed, her heart beat too forcibly for this complacent self-deceit. “No; + not too well! I cannot love him too well. I am selfish. When I say that, + it is myself I am loving. To love him thrice as dearly as I do would bring + me nearer to God. Love I mean, not idolatry—another form of + selfishness.” + </p> + <p> + She prayed to be guided out of the path of snares. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “CAN YOU PRAY? CAN YOU PUT AWAY ALL PROPS OF SELF? THIS IS TRUE + WORSHIP, UNTO WHATSOEVER POWER YOU KNEEL.” + </pre> + <p> + This passage out of a favourite book of sentences had virtue to help her + now in putting away the 'props of self.' It helped her for the time. She + could not foresee the contest that was commencing for her. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “LOVE THAT SHRIEKS AT A MORTAL WOUND, AND BLEEDS HUMANLY, WHAT IS HE + BUT A PAGAN GOD, WITH THE PASSIONS OF A PAGAN GOD?” + </pre> + <p> + “Yes,” thought Georgiana, meditating, “as different from the Christian + love as a brute from a man!” + </p> + <p> + She felt that the revolution of the idea of love in her mind (all that + consoled her) was becoming a temptation. Quick in her impulses, she + dismissed it. “I am like a girl!” she said scornfully. “Like a woman” + would not have flattered her. Like what did she strive to be? The picture + of another self was before her—a creature calmly strong, unruffled, + and a refuge to her beloved. It was a steady light through every wind that + blew, save when the heart narrowed; and then it waxed feeble, and the life + in her was hungry for she knew not what. + </p> + <p> + Georgiana's struggle was to make her great passion eat up all the others. + Sure of the intensity and thoroughness of her love for Merthyr, she would + forecast for herself tasks in his service impossible save to one sensually + dead and therefore spiritually sexless. “My love is pure,” she would say; + as if that were the talisman which rendered it superhuman. She was under + the delusion that lovers' love was a reprehensible egoism. Her heart had + never had place for it; and thus her nature was unconsummated, and the + torment of a haunting insufficiency accompanied her sweetest hours, ready + to mislead her in all but very clearest actions. + </p> + <p> + She saw, or she divined, much of this struggle; but the vision of it was + fitful, not consecutive. It frightened and harassed without illuminating + her. Now, upon Merthyr's return, she was moved by it just enough to take + his hand and say:— + </p> + <p> + “We are the same?” + </p> + <p> + “What can change us?” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “Or who?” and as she smiled up to him, she was ashamed of her smile. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, who!” he interjected, by this time quite enlightened. All subtle + feelings are discerned by Welsh eyes when untroubled by any mental + agitation. Brother and sister were Welsh, and I may observe that there is + human nature and Welsh nature. + </p> + <p> + “Forgive me,” she said; “I have been disturbed about you.” + </p> + <p> + Perceiving that it would be well to save her from any spiritual twists and + turns that she might reach what she desired to know, he spoke out fully: + “I have not written to you about Miss Belloni lately. I think it must be + seven or eight days since I had a letter from her—you shall see it—looking + as if it had been written in the dark. She gave the address of a London + hotel. I went to her, and her story was that she had come to town to get + Mr. Pole's consent to her marriage with his son; and that when she + succeeded in making herself understood by him, the old man fell, smitten + with paralysis, crying out that he was ruined, and his children beggars.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Georgiana; “then this son is engaged to her?” + </p> + <p> + “She calls him her lover.” + </p> + <p> + “Openly?” + </p> + <p> + “Have I not told you? 'naked and unashamed.'” + </p> + <p> + “Of course that has attracted my Merthyr!” Georgians drew to him tenderly, + breathing as one who has a burden off her heart. + </p> + <p> + “But why did she write to you?” the question started up. + </p> + <p> + For this reason: it appears that Mr. Pole showed such nervous irritation + at the idea of his family knowing the state he was in, that the doctor + attending him exacted a promise from her not to communicate with one of + them. She was alone, in great perplexity, and did what I had requested her + to do. She did me the honour to apply to me for any help it was in my + power to give. + </p> + <p> + Georgiana stood eyeing the ground sideways. “What is she like?” + </p> + <p> + “You shall see to-morrow, if you will come with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Dark, or fair?” + </p> + <p> + Merthyr turned her face to the light, laughing softly. Georgiana coloured, + with dropped eyelids. + </p> + <p> + She raised her eyes under their load of shame. “I will come gladly,” she + said. + </p> + <p> + “Early to-morrow, then,” rejoined Merthyr. + </p> + <p> + On the morrow, as they were driving to the hotel, Georgians wanted to know + whether he called 'this Miss Belloni' by her Christian name—a + question so needless that her over-conscious heart drummed with gratitude + when she saw that he purposely spared her from one meaning look. In this + mutual knowledge, mutual help, in minute as in great things, as well as in + the recognition of a common nobility of mind, the love of the two was + fortified. + </p> + <p> + Emilia had not been left by Mr. Powys without the protection of a woman's + society in her singular position. Lady Charlotte's natural prompt kindness + required no spur from her friend that she should go and brace up the + spirits of a little woman, whom she pitied doubly for loving a man who was + deceiving her, and not loving one who was good for her. She went + frequently to Emilia, and sat with her in the sombre hotel drawing-room. + Still, frank as she was and blunt as she affected to be, she could not + bring her tongue to speak of Wilfrid. If she had fancied any sensitive + shuddering from the name and the subject to exist, she would have struck + boldly, being capable of cruelty and, where she was permitted to see a + weakness, rather fond of striking deep. A belief in the existence of + Emilia's courage touched her to compassion. One day, however, she said, + “What is it you take to in Merthyr Powys?” and this brought on plain + speaking. + </p> + <p> + Emilia could give no reason; and it is a peculiarity of people who ask + such questions that they think a want of directness in the answer + suspicious. + </p> + <p> + Lady Charlotte said gravely, “Come, come!” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” asked Emilia. “I like so many things in him.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't like one thing chiefly?” + </p> + <p> + “I like—what do I like?—his kindness.” + </p> + <p> + “His kindness!” This was the sort of reply to make the lady implacable. + She seldom read others shrewdly, and could not know, that near her, Emilia + thought of Wilfrid in a way that made the vault of her brain seem to echo + with jarred chords. “His kindness! What a picture is the 'grateful girl!' + I have seen rows of white-capped charity children giving a bob and a + sniffle as the parson went down the ranks promising buns. Well! his + kindness! You are right in appreciating as much as you can see. I'll tell + you why I like him;—because he is a gentleman. And you haven't got + an idea how rare that animal is. Dear me! Should I be plainer to you if I + called him a Christian gentleman? It's the cant of a detestable school, my + child. It means just this—but why should I disturb your future faith + in it? The professors mainly profess to be 'a comfort to young women,' and + I suppose you will meet your comfort, and worship them with the 'growing + mind;' and I must confess that they bait it rather cunningly; nothing else + would bite. They catch almost all the raw boys who have anything in them. + But for me, Merthyr himself would have been caught long ago. There's no + absolute harm in them, only that they're a sentimental compromise. I deny + their honesty; and if it's flatly proved, I deny their intelligence. Well! + this you can't understand.” + </p> + <p> + “I have not understood you at all,” said Emilia. + </p> + <p> + “No? It's the tongue that's the natural traitor to a woman, and takes + longer runs with every added year. I suppose you know that Mr. Powys + wishes to send you to Italy?” + </p> + <p> + “I do,” said Emilia. + </p> + <p> + “When are you going?” + </p> + <p> + “I am not going?” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + Emilia's bosom rose. She cried “Dear lady!” on the fall of it, and was + scarce audible—adding, “Do you love Wilfrid?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you have brought me to the point quickly,” Lady Charlotte remarked. + “I don't commonly beat the bush long myself. Love him! You might as well + ask me my age. The indiscretion would be equal, and the result the same. + Love! I have a proper fear of the word. When two play at love they spoil + the game. It's enough that he says he loves me.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia looked relieved. “Poor lady!” she sighed. + </p> + <p> + “Poor!” Lady Charlotte echoed, with curious eyes fixed on the puzzle + beside her. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me you will not believe him,” Emilia continued. “He is mine; I shall + never give him up. It is useless for you or any one else to love him. I + know what love is now. Stop while you can. I can be sorry for you, but I + will not let him go from me. He is my lover.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia closed her lips abruptly. She produced more effect than was + visible. Lady Charlotte drew out a letter, saying, “Perhaps this will + satisfy you.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing!” cried Emilia, jumping to her feet. + </p> + <p> + “Read it—read it; and, for heaven's sake, ma fille sauvage, don't + think I'm here to fight for the man! He is not Orpheus; and our modern + education teaches us that it's we who are to be run after. Will you read + it?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you read it to please me?” + </p> + <p> + Emilia changed from a look of quiet opposition to gentleness of feature. + “Why will it please you if I read that he has flattered you? I never lie + about what I feel; I think men do.” Her voice sank. + </p> + <p> + “You won't allow yourself to imagine, then, that he has spoken false to + you?” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” retorted Emilia, “are you sure in your heart—as sure as + it beats each time—that he loves you? You are not.” + </p> + <p> + “It seems that we are dignifying my gentleman remarkably,” said Lady + Charlotte. “When two women fight for a man, that is almost a meal for his + vanity. Now, listen. I am not, as they phrase it, in love. I am an + experienced person—what is called a woman of the world. I should not + make a marriage unless I had come to the conclusion that I could help my + husband, or he me. Do me the favour to read this letter.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia took it and opened it slowly. It was a letter in the tone of the + gallant paying homage with some fervour. Emilia searched every sentence + for the one word. That being absent, she handed back the letter, her eyes + lingering on the signature. + </p> + <p> + “Do you see what he says?” asked Lady Charlotte; “that I can be a right + hand to him, as I believe I can.” + </p> + <p> + “He writes like a friend.” Emilia uttered this as when we have a contrast + in the mind. + </p> + <p> + “You excuse him for writing to me in that style?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; he may write to any woman like that.” + </p> + <p> + “He has latitude! You really fancy that's the sort of letter a friend + would write?” + </p> + <p> + “That is how Mr. Powys would write to me,” said Emilia. Lady Charlotte + laughed. “My unhappy Merthyr!” + </p> + <p> + “Only if I could be a great deal older,” Emilia hastened to add; and Lady + Charlotte slightly frowned, but rubbed it out with a smile. + </p> + <p> + Rising, the lady said: “I have spoken to you upon equal terms; and + remember, very few women would have done what I have done. You are cared + for by Merthyr Powys, and that's enough. It would do you no harm to fix + your eyes upon him. You won't get him; but it would do you no harm. He has + a heart, as they call it; whatever it is, it's as strong as a cable. He is + a knight of the antique. He is specially guarded, however. Well, he + insists that you are his friend; so you are mine, and that is why I have + come to you and spoken to you. You will be silent about it, I need not + say. No one but yourself is aware that Lieutenant Pole does me the honour + to liken me to the good old gentleman who accompanied Telemachus in his + voyages, and chooses me from among the handmaidens of earth. On this head + you will promise to be silent.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Charlotte held forth her hand. Emilia would not take it before she + had replied, “I knew this before you came,” and then she pressed the + extended fingers. + </p> + <p> + Lady Charlotte drew her close. “Has Wilfrid taken you into his confidence + so far?” + </p> + <p> + Emilia explained that she had heard it from his father. + </p> + <p> + The lady's face lit up as from a sting of anger. “Very well—very + well,” she said; and, presently, “You are right when you speak of the + power of lying in men. Observe—Wilfrid told me that not one living + creature knew there was question of an engagement between us. What would + you do in my case?” + </p> + <p> + Emilia replied, “Forgive him; and I should think no more of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. It would be right; and, presuming him to have the vice, I could be + of immense service to him, if at least he does not lie habitually. But + this is a description of treachery, you know.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” cried Emilia, “what kind of treachery is that, if he only will keep + his heart open for me to give all mine to it!” + </p> + <p> + She stood clutching her hands in the half-sobbing ecstasy which signalises + a spiritual exaltation built on disquiet. She had shown small emotion + hitherto. The sight of it was like the sight of a mighty hostile power to + Lady Charlotte—a power that moved her—that challenged, and + irritated, and subdued her. For she saw there something that she had not; + and being of a nature leaning to great-mindedness, though not of the first + rank, she could not meanly mask her own deficiency by despising it. To do + this is the secret evil by which souls of men and women stop their growth. + </p> + <p> + Lady Charlotte decided now to say good-bye. Her parting was friendly—the + form of it consisting of a nod, an extension of the hand, and a kind word + or two. + </p> + <p> + When alone, Emilia wondered why she kept taking long breaths, and tried to + correct herself: but the heart laboured. Yet she seemed to have no thought + in her mind; she had no active sensation of pity or startled self-love. + She went to smooth Mr. Pole's pillow, as to a place of forgetfulness. The + querulous tyrannies of the invalid relieved her; but the heavy lifting of + her chest returned the moment she was alone. She mentioned it to the + doctor, who prescribed for liver, informing her that the said organ + conducted one of the most important functions of her bodily system. + </p> + <p> + Emilia listened to the lecturer, and promised to take his medicine, + trusting to be perfectly quieted by the nauseous draught; but when Mr. + Powys came, she rushed up to him, and fell with a cry upon his breast, + murmuring broken words that Georgiana might fairly interpret as her + suspicions directed. Nor had she ever seen Merthyr look as he did when + their eyes next met. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXIX + </h2> + <p> + The card of Mr. Powys found Arabella alone in the house. Mrs. Lupin was + among village school-children; Mrs. Chump had gone to London to see + whether anything was known of Mr. Pole at his office, where she fell upon + the youth Braintop, and made him her own for the day. Adela was out in the + woods, contemplating nature; and Cornelia was supposed to be walking + whither her stately fancy drew her. + </p> + <p> + “Will you take long solitary walks unprotected?” she was asked. + </p> + <p> + “I have a parasol,” she replied; and could hear, miles distant, the + domestic comments being made on her innocence; and the story it would be—“She + thinks of no possible danger but from the sun.” + </p> + <p> + A little forcing of her innocence now was necessary as an opiate for her + conscience. She was doing what her conscience could only pardon on the + plea of her extreme innocence. The sisters, and the fashion at Brookfield, + permitted the assumption, and exaggerated it willingly. It chanced, + however, that Adela had reason to feel discontented. It was a breach of + implied contract, she thought, that Cornelia should, as she did only + yesterday, tell her that she had seen Edward Buxley in the woods, and that + she was of opinion that the air of the woods was bad for her. Not to see + would have been the sisterly obligation, in Adela's idea—especially + when seeing embraced things that no loving sister should believe. + </p> + <p> + Bear in mind that we are sentimentalists. The eye is our servant, not our + master; and—so are the senses generally. We are not bound to accept + more than we choose from them. Thus we obtain delicacy; and thus, as you + will perceive, our civilization, by the aid of the sentimentalists, has + achieved an effective varnish. There, certainly, to the vulgar, mind a + tail is visible. The outrageous philosopher declares vehemently that no + beast of the field or the forest would own such a tail. (His meaning is, + that he discerns the sign of the animal slinking under the garb of the + stately polished creature. I have all the difficulty in the world to keep + him back and let me pursue my course.) These philosophers are a + bad-mannered body. Either in opposition, or in the support of them, I + maintain simply that the blinking sentimentalist helps to make + civilization what it is, and civilization has a great deal of merit. + </p> + <p> + “Did you not leave your parasol behind you at Ipley?” said Adela, as she + met Cornelia in the afternoon. + </p> + <p> + Cornelia coloured. Her pride supported her, and she violated fine shades + painfully in her response: “Mr. Barrett left me there. Is that your + meaning?” + </p> + <p> + Adela was too much shocked to note the courageousness of the reply. “Well! + if all we do is to come into broad daylight!” was her horrified mental + ejaculation. + </p> + <p> + The veil of life was about to be lifted for these ladies. They found + Arabella in her room, crying like an unchastened school-girl; and their + first idea was one of intense condemnation—fresh offences on the + part of Mrs. Chump being conjectured. Little by little Arabella sobbed out + what she had heard that day from Mr. Powys. + </p> + <p> + After the first stupor Adela proposed to go to her father instantly, and + then suggested that they should all go. She continued talking in random + suggestions, and with singular heat, as if she conceived that the + sensibility of her sisters required to be aroused. By moving and acting, + it seemed to her that the prospect of a vast misery might be expunged, and + that she might escape from showing any likeness to Arabella's + shamefully-discoloured face. It was impossible for her to realize grief in + her own bosom. She walked the room in a nervous tremour, shedding a note + of sympathy to one sister and to the other. At last Arabella got fuller + command of her voice. When she had related that her father's positive + wish, furthered by the doctor's special injunction to obey it + scrupulously, was that they were not to go to him in London, and not to + breathe a word of his illness, but to remain at Brookfield entertaining + friends, Adela stamped her foot, saying that it was more than human nature + could bear. + </p> + <p> + “If we go,” said Arabella, “the London doctor assured Mr. Powys that he + would not answer for papa's life.” + </p> + <p> + “But, good heavens! are we papa's enemies? And why may Mr. Powys see him + if we, his daughters, cannot? Tell me how Mr. Powys met him and knew of + it! Tell me—I am bewildered. I feel that we are cheated in some way. + Oh! tell me something clear.” + </p> + <p> + Arabella said calmingly: “Emilia is with papa. She wrote to Mr. Powys. + Whether she did rightly or not we have not now to inquire. I believe that + she thought it right.” + </p> + <p> + “Entertain friends!” interjected Adela. “But papa cannot possibly mean + that we are to go through—to—the fete on Besworth Lawn, Bella! + It's in two days from this dreadful day.” + </p> + <p> + “Papa has mentioned it to Mr. Powys; he desires us not to postpone it. + We...” Arabella's voice broke piteously. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! but this is torture!” cried Adela, with a deplorable vision of the + looking-glass rising before her, as she felt the tears sting her eyelids. + “This cannot be! No father would...not loving us as dear papa does! To be + quiet! to sit and be gay! to flaunt at a fete! Oh, mercy! mercy! Tell me—he + left us quite well—no one could have guessed. I remember he looked + at me from the carriage window. Tell me—it must be some moral shock—what + do you attribute it to? Wilfrid cannot be the guilty one. We have been + only too compliant to papa's wishes about that woman. Tell me what you + think it can be!” + </p> + <p> + A voice said, “Money!” + </p> + <p> + Which of the sisters had spoken Adela did not know. It was bitter enough + that one could be brought to utter the thing, even if her ideas were so + base as to suspect it. The tears now came dancing over her under-lids like + triumphing imps. “Money!” echoed through her again and again. Curiously, + too, she had no occasion to ask how it was that money might be supposed to + have operated on her father's health. Unable to realize to herself the + image of her father lying ill and suffering, but just sufficiently touched + by what she could conceive of his situation, the bare whisper of money + came like a foul insult to overwhelm her in floods of liquid self-love. + She wept with that last anguish of a woman who is compelled to weep, but + is incapable of finding any enjoyment in her tears. Cornelia and Arabella + caught her hands; she was the youngest, and had been their pet. It + gratified them that Adela should show a deep and keen feeling. Adela did + not check herself from a demonstration that enabled her to look broadly, + as it were, on her own tenderness of heart. Following many outbursts, she + asked, “And the illness—what is it? not its cause—itself!” + </p> + <p> + A voice said, “Paralysis!” + </p> + <p> + Adela's tears stopped. She gazed on both faces, trying with open mouth to + form the word. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXX + </h2> + <p> + Flying from port to port to effect an exchange of stewards (the endless + occupation of a yacht proprietor), Wilfrid had no tidings from Brookfield. + The night before the gathering on Besworth Lawn he went to London and + dined at his Club—a place where youths may drink largely of the milk + of this world's wisdom. Wilfrid's romantic sentiment was always corrected + by an hour at his Club. After dinner he strolled to a not perfectly + regulated theatre, in company with a brother officer; and when they had + done duty before the scenes for a space of time, they lounged behind to + disenchant themselves, in obedience to that precocious cynicism which is + the young man's extra-Luxury. The first figure that caught Wilfrid's + attention there was Mr. Pericles, in a white overcoat, stretched along a + sofa—his eyelids being down, though his eyes were evidently vigilant + beneath. A titter of ladies present told of some recent interesting + commotion. + </p> + <p> + “Only a row between that rich Greek fellow who gave the supper, and + Marion,” a vivacious dame explained to Wilfrid. “She's in one of her + jealous fits; she'd be jealous if her poodle-dog went on its hind-legs to + anybody else.” + </p> + <p> + “Poodle, by Jove!” said Wilfrid. “Pericles himself looks like an elongated + poodle shaved up to his moustache. Look at him. And he plays the tyrant, + does he?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! she stands that. Some of those absurd women like it, I think. She's + fussing about another girl.” + </p> + <p> + “You wouldn't?” + </p> + <p> + “What man's worth it?” + </p> + <p> + “But, would you?” + </p> + <p> + “It depends upon the 'him,' monsieur. + </p> + <p> + “Depends upon his being very handsome!” + </p> + <p> + “And good.” + </p> + <p> + “And rich?” + </p> + <p> + “No!” the lady fired up. “There you don't know us.” + </p> + <p> + The colloquy became almost tender, until she said, “Isn't this gassy, and + stifling? I confess I do like a carriage, and Richmond on a Sunday. And + then, with two daughters, you know! But what I complain of is her folly in + being in love, or something like it, with a rich fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “Love the poor devil—manage the rich, you mean.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course; that makes them both happy.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a method of being charitable to two.” + </p> + <p> + A rather fleshy fairy now entered, and walked straight up to the + looking-glass to examine her paint—pronouncedly turning her back to + the sofa, where Mr. Pericles still lay at provoking full length. Her + panting was ominous of a further explosion. + </p> + <p> + “Innocent child!” in the mockery of a foreign accent, commenced it; while + Wilfrid thought how unjustly and coldly critically he had accused his + little Emilia of vulgarity, now that he had this feminine display of it + swarming about him. + </p> + <p> + “Innocent child, indeed! Be as deaf as you like, you shall hear. And sofas + are not made for men's dirty boots, in this country. I believe they're all + pigs abroad—the men; and the women—cats! Oh! don't open your + eyes—don't speak, pray. You're certain I must go when the bell + rings. You're waiting for that, you unmanly dog!” + </p> + <p> + “A pig,” Mr. Pericles here ventured to remind her, murmuring as one in a + dream. + </p> + <p> + “A peeg!” she retorted mildly, somewhat mollified by her apparent success. + But Mr. Pericles had relapsed into his exasperating composure. The breath + of a deliberate and undeserved peacefulness continued to be drawn in by + his nostrils. + </p> + <p> + At the accustomed warning there was an ostentatious rustle of retiring + dresses; whereat Mr. Pericles chose to proclaim himself awake. The astute + fairy-fury immediately stepped before him. + </p> + <p> + “Now you can't go on pretending sleep. You shall hear, and everybody shall + hear. You know you're a villain! You're a wolf seeking...” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pericles waved his hand, and she was caught by the wrist and told that + the scene awaited her. + </p> + <p> + “Let them wait!” she shouted, and, sharpening her cry as she was dragged + off, “Dare to take that girl to Italy! I know what that means, with you. + An Englishman might mean right—but you! You think you've been + dealing with a fool! Why, I can stop this in a minute, and I will. It's + you're the fool! Why, I know her father: he plays in the orchestra. I know + her name—Belloni!” + </p> + <p> + Up sprang the Greek like a galvanized corpse; while two violent jerks from + the man hauling her out rattled the laugh of triumph which burst from her. + At the same time Wilfrid strove forward, with the frown of one still bent + listening, and he and Pericles were face to face. The eyebrows of the + latter shot up in a lively arch. He made a motion toward the ceremony of + 'shake-hands;' but, perceiving no correspondent overture, grinned, “It is + warm—ha?” + </p> + <p> + “You feel the heat? Step outside a minute,” said Wilfrid. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no!” Mr. Pericles looked pleasantly sagacious. “Ze draught—a + cold.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you come?” pursued Wilfrid. + </p> + <p> + “Many sanks!” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid's hand was rising. At this juncture his brother officer slipped + out some languid words in his ear, indicative of his astonishment that he + should be championing a termagant, and horror at the idea of such a thing + being publicly imagined, tamed Wilfrid quickly. He recovered himself with + his usual cleverness. Seeing the signs of hostility vanish, Mr. Pericles + said, “You are on a search for your father? You have found him? Hom! I + should say a maladie of nerfs will come to him. A pin fall—he start! + A storm at night—he is out dancing among his ships of venture! Not a + bid of corage!—which is bad. If you shall find Mr. Pole for + to-morrow on ze lawn, vary glad.” + </p> + <p> + With a smile compounded of sniffing dog and Parisian obsequiousness, Mr. + Pericles passed, thinking “He has not got her:” for such was his deduction + if he saw that a man could flush for a woman's name. + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid stood like a machine with a thousand wheels in revolt. Sensations + pricked at ideas, and immediately left them to account for their existence + as they best could. The ideas committed suicide without a second's + consideration. He felt the great gurgling sea in which they were drowned + heave and throb. Then came a fresh set, that poised better on the + slack-rope of his understanding. By degrees, a buried dread in his brain + threw off its shroud. The thought that there was something wrong with his + father stood clearly over him, to be swallowed at once in the less + tangible belief that a harm had come to Emilia—not was coming, but + had come. Passion thinks wilfully when it thinks at all. That night he lay + in a deep anguish, revolving the means by which he might help and protect + her. There seemed no way open, save by making her his own; and did he + belong to himself? What bound him to Lady Charlotte? She was not lovely or + loving. He had not even kissed her hand; yet she held him in a chain. + </p> + <p> + The two men composing most of us at the outset of actual life began their + deadly wrestle within him, both having become awakened. If they wait for + circumstance, that steady fire will fuse them into one, who is commonly a + person of some strength; but throttling is the custom between them, and we + are used to see men of murdered halves. These men have what they fought + for: they are unaware of any guilt that may be charged against them, + though they know that they do not embrace Life; and so it is that we have + vague discontent too universal. Change, O Lawgiver! the length of our + minority, and let it not end till this battle is thoroughly fought out in + approving daylight. The period of our duality should be one as + irresponsible in your eyes as that of our infancy. Is he we call a young + man an individual—who is a pair of alternately kicking scales? Is he + educated, when he dreams not that he is divided? He has drunk Latin like a + vital air, and can quote what he remembers of Homer; but how has he been + fortified for this tremendous conflict of opening manhood, which is to our + life here what is the landing of a soul to the life to come? + </p> + <p> + Meantime, it is a bad business when the double-man goes about kneeling at + the feet of more than one lady. Society (to give that institution its due) + permits him to seek partial invulnerability by dipping himself in a dirty + Styx, which corrects, as we hear said, the adolescent tendency to folly. + Wilfrid's sentiment had served him (well or ill as it may be), by keeping + him from a headlong plunge in the protecting river; and his folly was + unchastened. He did not even contemplate an escape from the net at + Emilia's expense. The idea came. The idea will come to a young man in such + a difficulty. “My mistress! My glorious stolen fruit! My dark angel of + love!” He deserves a little credit for seeing that Emilia never could be + his mistress, in the debased sense of the term. Union with her meant + life-long union, he knew. Ultimate mental subjection he may also have seen + in it, unconsciously. For, hazy thoughts of that nature may mix with the + belief that an alliance with her degrades us, in this curious hotch-potch + of emotions known to the world as youthful man. A wife superior to her + husband makes him ridiculous wilfully, if the wretch is to be laughed at; + but a mistress thus ill-matched cannot fail to cast the absurdest light on + her monstrous dwarf-custodian. Wilfrid had the sagacity to perceive, and + the keen apprehension of ridicule to shrink from, the picture. Besides, he + was beginning to love Emilia. His struggle now was to pluck his passion + from his heart; and such was already his plight that he saw no other way + of attempting it than by taking horse and riding furiously in the + direction of Besworth. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXI + </h2> + <p> + “I am curious to see what you will make of this gathering. I can cook a + small company myself. It requires the powers of a giantess to mix a body + of people in the open air; and all that is said of commanders of armies + shall be said of you, if you succeed.” + </p> + <p> + This was Lady Gosstre's encouragement to the fair presidents of the fete + on Besworth Lawn. There had been a time when they would have cried out + internally: “We will do it, fail who may.” That fallow hour was over. + Their sole thought was to get through the day. A little feverish impulse + of rivalry with her great pattern may have moved Arabella; but the + pressure of grief and dread, and the contrast between her actions and + feelings, forcibly restrained a vain display. As a consequence, she did + her duty better, and won applause from the great lady's moveable court on + eminences of the ground. + </p> + <p> + “These girls are clever,” she said to Lady Charlotte. “They don't bustle + too much. They don't make too distinct a difference of tone with the + different sets. I shall propose Miss Pole as secretary to our Pin and + Needle Relief Society.” + </p> + <p> + “Do,” was the reply. “There is also the Polish Dance Committee; and, if + she has any energy left, she might be treasurer to the Ladies' General + Revolution Ball.” + </p> + <p> + “That is an association with which I am not acquainted,” said Lady + Gosstre, directing her eye-glass on the field. “Here comes young Pole. + He's gallant, they tell me, and handsome: he studies us too obviously. + That's a mistake to be corrected, Charlotte. One doesn't like to see a + pair of eyes measuring us against a preconception quelconque. Now, there + is our Ionian Am...but you have corrected me, Merthyr:—host, if you + please. But, see! What is the man doing? Is he smitten with madness?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pericles had made a furious dash at the band in the centre of the + lawn, scattered their music, and knocked over the stands. When his + gesticulations had been observed for some moments, Freshfield Sumner said: + “He has the look of a plucked hen, who remembers that she once clapped + wings, and tries to recover the practice.” + </p> + <p> + “Very good,” said Lady Gosstre. She was not one who could be unkind to the + professional wit. “And the music-leaves go for feathers. What has the band + done to displease him? I thought the playing was good.” + </p> + <p> + “The instruments appear to have received a dismissal,” said Lady + Charlotte. “I suppose this is a clearing of the stage for coming alarums + and excursions. Behold! the 'female element' is agitated. There are—can + you reckon at this distance, Merthyr?—twelve, fourteen of my sex + entreating him in the best tragic fashion. Can he continue stern?” + </p> + <p> + “They seem to be as violent as the women who tore up Orpheus,” said Lady + Gosstre. + </p> + <p> + Tracy Runningbrook shrieked, in a paroxysm, “Splendid!” from his couch on + the sward, and immediately ran off with the idea, bodily. + </p> + <p> + “Have I stumbled anywhere?” Lady Gosstre leaned to Mr. Powys. + </p> + <p> + He replied with a satiric sententiousness that told Lady Gosstre what she + wanted to know. + </p> + <p> + “This is the isolated case where a little knowledge is truly dangerous,” + said Lady Gosstre. “I prohibit girls from any allusion to the classics + until they have taken their degree and are warranted not to open the wrong + doors. On the whole, don't you think, Merthyr, it's better for women to + avoid that pool?” + </p> + <p> + “And accept what the noble creature chooses to bring to us in buckets,” + added Lady Charlotte. “What is your opinion, Georgey? I forget: Merthyr + has thought you worthy of instruction.” + </p> + <p> + “Merthyr taught me in camp,” said Georgians, looking at her brother—her + face showing peace and that confirmed calm delight habitual to it. “We + found that there are times in war when you can do nothing, and you are + feverish to be employed. Then, if you can bring your mind to study, you + are sure to learn quickly. I liked nothing better than Latin Grammar.” + </p> + <p> + “Studying Latin Grammar to the tune of great guns must be a new + sensation,” Freshfield Sumner observed. + </p> + <p> + “The pleasure is in getting rid of all sensation,” said she. “I mean you + command it without at all crushing your excitement. You cannot feel a + fuller happiness than when you look back on those hours: at least, I speak + for myself.” + </p> + <p> + “So,” said Lady Gosstre, “Georgey did not waste her time after all, + Charlotte.” + </p> + <p> + What the latter thought was: “She could not handle a sword or fire a + pistol. Would I have consented to be mere camp-baggage?” Yet no woman + admired Georgiana Ford so much. Disappointment vitiated many of Lady + Charlotte's first impulses; and not until strong antagonism had thrown her + upon her generosity could she do justice to the finer natures about her. + There was full life in her veins; and she was hearing the thirty fatal + bells that should be music to a woman, if melancholy music; and she had + not lived. Time, that sounded in her ears, as it kindled no past, spoke of + no future. She was in unceasing rivalry with all of her sex who had a + passion, or a fixed affection, or even an employment. A sense that she was + wronged by her fate haunted this lady. Rivalry on behalf of a man she + would have held mean—she would have plucked it from her bosom at + once. She was simply envious of those who in the face of death could say, + “I have lived.” Pride, and the absence of any power of self-inspection, + kept her blind to her disease. No recollection gave her boy save of the + hours in the hunting-field. There she led gallantly; but it was not + because of leading that she exulted. There the quick blood struck on her + brain like wine, and she seemed for a time to have some one among the + crowns of life. An object—who cared how small?—was ahead: a + poor old fox trying to save his brush; and Charlotte would have it if the + master of cunning did not beat her. “It's my natural thirst for blood,” + she said. She did not laugh as she thought now and then that the old red + brush dragging over grey dews toward a yellow yolk in the curdled + winter-morning sky, was the single thing that could make her heart throb. + </p> + <p> + Brookfield was supported in its trial by the discomfiture of the Tinleys. + These girls, with their brother, had evidently plotted to 'draw out' Mrs. + Chump. They had asked concerning her, severally; and hearing that she had + not returned from town, had each shown a blank face, or had been doubtful + of the next syllable. Of Wilfrid, Emilia, and Mr. Pole, question and + answer were interchanged. “Wilfrid will come in a few minutes. Miss + Belloni, you know, is preparing for Italy. Papa? Papa, I really do fear + will not be able to join us.” Such was Brookfield's concerted form of + reply. The use of it, together with the gaiety of dancing blood, gave + Adela (who believed that she ought to be weeping, and could have wept + easily) strange twitches of what I would ask permission to call the + juvenile 'shrug-philosophy.' As thus: 'What creatures we are, but life is + so!' And again, 'Is not merriment dreadful when a duty!' She was as + miserable as she could be but not knowing that youth furnished a plea + available, the girl was ashamed of being cheerful at all. Edward Burley's + sketch of Mr. Pericles scattering his band, sent her into muffled screams + of laughter; for which she did internal penance so bitter that, for her to + be able to go on at all, the shrug-philosophy was positively necessary; + Mr. Pericles himself saw the sketch, and remarked critically, “It is zat I + have more hair:” following which, he tapped the signal for an overture to + commence, and at the first stroke took a run, with his elbows clapping + exactly as the shrewd hand of Edward had drawn him. + </p> + <p> + “See him—zat fellow,” Mr. Pericles said to Laura Tinley, pointing to + the leader. “See him pose a maestro! zat leads zis tintamarre. He is a + hum-a-bug!” + </p> + <p> + Laura did the vocal caricaturing, when she had gathered plenty of matter + of this kind. Altogether, as host, Mr. Pericles accomplished his duty in + furnishing amusement. + </p> + <p> + Late in the afternoon, Sir Twickenham Pryme and Wilfrid arrived in + company. The baronet went straight to Cornelia. Wilfrid beckoned to Adela, + from whom he heard of his father's illness at the hotel in town, and the + conditions imposed on them. He nodded, said lightly, “Where's Emilia?” and + nodded again to the answer, “With papa,” and then stopped as he was + walking off to one of the groups. “After all, it won't do for us to listen + to the whims of an invalid. I'm going back. You needn't say you've seen + me.” + </p> + <p> + “We have the doctor's most imperative injunction, dearest,” pleaded Adela, + deceived for a moment. “Papa's illness is mental chiefly. He is able to + rise and will be here very soon, if he is not in any way crossed. For + heaven's sake, command yourself as we have done—painfully indeed! + Besides, you have been seen.” + </p> + <p> + “Has she—?” Wilfrid began; and toned an additional carelessness. + “She writes, of course?” + </p> + <p> + “No, not once; and we are angry with her. It looks like ingratitude, or + stupidity. She can write.” + </p> + <p> + “People might say that we are not behaving well,” returned Wilfrid, + repeating that he must go to town. But now Edward Burley camp running with + a message from the aristocratic heights, and thither Wilfrid walked + captive—saying in Adela's ear, “Don't be angry with her.” + </p> + <p> + Adela thought, very justly, “I shall, if you've been making a fool of her, + naughty boy!” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid saluted the ladies, and made his bow of introduction to Georgiana + Ford, at whom he looked twice, to confirm an impression that she was the + perfect contrast to Emilia; and for this reason he chose not to look at + her again. Lady Charlotte dropped him a quick recognition. + </p> + <p> + If Brookfield could have thrown the burden from its mind, the day was one + to feel a pride in. Three Circles were present, and Brookfield denominated + two that it had passed through, and patronized all—from Lady Gosstre + (aristocracy) to the Tinley set (lucre), and from these to the + representative Sumner girls (cultivated poverty). There were also + intellectual, scientific, and Art circles to deal with; music, pleasant to + hear, albeit condemned by Mr. Pericles; agreeable chatter, courtly + flirtation and homage, and no dread of the defection of the letter H from + their family. + </p> + <p> + “I feel more and more convinced,” said Adela, meeting Arabella, “that we + can have really no cause for alarm; otherwise papa would not have been + cruel to his children.” Arabella kindly reserved her opinion. “So let us + try and be happy,” continued Adela, determining to be encouraged by + silence. With that she went on tiptoe gracefully and blew a kiss to her + sister's lips. Running to Captain Gambier, she said, “Do you really enjoy + this?” + </p> + <p> + “Charming,” replied the ever-affable gentleman. “If I might only venture + to say what makes it so infinitely!” + </p> + <p> + Much to her immediate chagrin at missing a direct compliment, which would + have had to be parried, and might have led to 'vistas,' the too sprightly + young lady found herself running on: “It's as nice as sin, without the + knowledge that you are sinning.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! do you think that part of it disagreeable?” said the captain. + </p> + <p> + “I think the heat terrific:” she retrieved her ground. + </p> + <p> + “Coquet et coquette,” muttered Lady Charlotte, observing them from a + distance; and wondered whether her sex might be strongly represented in + this encounter. + </p> + <p> + It was not in the best taste, nor was it perhaps good policy (if I may + quote the Tinley set), for the ladies of Brookfield to subscribe openly to + the right of certain people present to be exclusive. Arabella would have + answered: “Lady Gosstre and her party cannot associate with you to your + mutual pleasure and profit; and do you therefore blame her for not + attempting what would fail ludicrously?” With herself, as she was not + sorry to show, Lady Gosstre could associate. Cornelia had given up work to + become a part of the Court. Adela made flying excursions over the lawn. + Laura Tinley had the field below and Mr. Pericles to herself. That anxious + gentleman consulted his watch from time to time, as if he expected the + birth of an event. + </p> + <p> + Lady Gosstre grew presently aware that there was more acrimony in + Freshfield Sumner's replies to Sir Twickenham (whom he had seduced into a + political argument) than the professional wit need employ; and as Mr. + Powys's talk was getting so attractive that the Court had become crowded, + she gave a hint to Georgiana and Lady Charlotte, prompt lieutenants, whose + retirement broke the circle. + </p> + <p> + “I never shall understand how it was done,” Adela said subsequently. It is + hoped that everybody sees the importance of understanding such points. + </p> + <p> + She happened to be standing alone when a messenger came up to her and + placed a letter in her hand, addressed to her sister Cornelia. Adela + walked slowly up to the heights. She knew Mr. Barrett's handwriting. “Good + heavens!”—her thought may be translated out of Fine Shades—“does + C. really in her heart feel so blind to our situation that she can go on + playing still?” When she reached the group it was to hear Mr. Powys + speaking of Mr. Barrett. Cornelia was very pale, and stood wretchedly in + contrast among the faces. Adela beckoned her to step aside. “Here is a + letter,” she said: “there's no postmark. What has been the talk of that + man?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean of Mr. Barrett?” Cornelia replied:—“that his father was + a baronet, and a madman, who has just disinherited him.” + </p> + <p> + “Just?” cried Adela. She thought of the title. Cornelia had passed on. A + bizarre story of Mr. Barrett's father was related to Adela by Sir + Twickenham. She grappled it with her sense, and so got nothing out of it. + “Disinherited him because he wrote to his father, who was dying, to say + that he had gained a livelihood by playing the organ! He had a hatred of + music? It's incomprehensible! You know, Sir Twickenham, the interest we + take in Mr. Barrett.” The masked anguish of Cornelia's voice hung in her + ears. She felt that it was now possible Cornelia might throw over the rich + for the penniless baronet, and absolutely for an instant she thought + nakedly, “The former ought not to be lost to the family.” Thick clouds + obscured the vision. Lady Gosstre had once told her that the point of Sir + Twickenham's private character was his susceptibility to ridicule. Her + ladyship had at the same time complimented his discernment in conjunction + with Cornelia. “Yes,” Adela now thought; “but if my sister shows that she + is not so wise as she looks!” Cornelia's figure disappeared under the + foliage bordering Besworth Lawn. + </p> + <p> + As usual, Arabella had all the practical labour—a fact that was + noticed from the observant heights. “One sees mere de famille written on + that young woman,” was the eulogy she won from Lady Gosstre. How much + would the great dame have marvelled to behold the ambition beneath the + bustling surface! Arabella was feverish, and Freshfield Sumner reported + brilliant things uttered by her. He became after a time her attendant, + aide, and occasional wit-foil. They had some sharp exchanges: and he could + not but reflect on the pleasure her keen zest of appreciation gave him + compared with Cornelia's grave smile, which had often kindled in him + profane doubts of the positive brightness, or rapidity of her + intelligence. + </p> + <p> + “Besworth at sunset! What a glorious picture to have living before you + every day!” said Lady Charlotte to her companion. + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid flushed. She read his look; and said, when they were out of + hearing, “What a place for old people to sit here near the end of life! + The idea of it makes one almost forgive the necessity for getting old—doesn't + it? Tracy Runningbrook might make a poem about silver heads and sunset—something, + you know! Very easy cantering then—no hunting! I suppose one + wouldn't have even a desire to go fast—a sort of cock-horse, just as + we began with. The stables, let me tell you, are too near the scullery. + One is bound to devise measures for the protection of the morals of the + household.” + </p> + <p> + While she was speaking, Wilfrid's thoughts ran: “My time has come to + strike for liberty.” + </p> + <p> + This too she perceived, and was prepared for him. + </p> + <p> + He said: “Lady Charlotte, I feel that I must tell you...I fear that I have + been calculating rather more hopefully...” Here the pitfall of sentiment + yawned before him on a sudden. “I mean” (he struggled to avoid it, but was + at the brink in the next sentence) “—I mean, dear lady, that I had + hopes...Besworth pleased you... to offer you this...” + </p> + <p> + “With yourself?” she relieved him. A different manner in a protesting male + would have charmed her better. She excused him, knowing what stood in his + way. + </p> + <p> + “That I scarcely dared to hope,” said Wilfrid, bewildered to see the loose + chain he had striven to cast off gather tightly round him. + </p> + <p> + “You do hope it?” + </p> + <p> + “I have.” + </p> + <p> + “You have hoped that I...” (she was not insolent by nature, and corrected + the form) “—to marry me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Lady Charlotte, I—I had that hope...if I could have offered + this place—Besworth. I find that my father will never buy it; I have + misunderstood him.” + </p> + <p> + He fixed his eyes on her, expecting a cool, or an ironical, rejoinder to + end the colloquy;—after which, fair freedom! She answered, “We may + do very well without it.” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid was not equal to a start and the trick of rapturous astonishment. + He heard the words like the shooting of dungeon-bolts, thinking, “Oh, + heaven! if at the first I had only told the woman I do not love her!” But + that sentimental lead had ruined him. And, on second thoughts, how could + he have spoken thus to the point, when they had never previously dealt in + anything save sentimental implications? The folly was in his speaking at + all. The game was now in Lady Charlotte's hands. + </p> + <p> + Adela, in another part of the field, had released herself by a consummate + use of the same weapon Wilfrid had so clumsily handled. Her object was to + put an end to the absurd and compromising sighs of Edward Buxley; and she + did so with the amiable contempt of a pupil dismissing a first instructor + in an art “We saw from the beginning it could not be, Edward.” The + enamoured caricaturist vainly protested that he had not seen it from the + beginning, and did not now. He recalled to her that she had said he was + 'her first.' She admitted the truth, with eyes dwelling on him, until a + ringlet got displaced. Her first. To be that, sentimental man would perish + in the fires. To have been that will sometimes console him, even when he + has lived to see what a thing he was who caught the budding fancy. The + unhappy caricaturist groaned between triumph as a leader, and anguish at + the prospect of a possible host of successors. King in that pure bosom, + the thought would come—King of a mighty line, mayhap! And + sentimental man, awakened to this disastrous view of things, endures + shrewder pangs of rivalry in the contemplation of his usurping posterity + than if, as do they, he looked forward to a tricked, perfumed, pommaded + whipster, pirouetting like any Pierrot—the enviable image of the one + who realized her first dream, and to whom specially missioned angels first + opened the golden gates of her heart. + </p> + <p> + “I have learnt to see, Edward, that you do not honour me with a love you + have diverted from one worthier than I am;” and in answer to the question + whether, though having to abjure her love, she loved him: “No, no; it is + my Arabella I love. I love, I will love, no one but her”—with sundry + caressing ejaculations that spring a thirst for kisses, and a tender + 'putting of the case,' now and then. + </p> + <p> + So much for Adela's part in the conflict. Edward was unaware that the + secret of her mastering him was, that she was now talking common-sense in + the tone of sentiment. He, on the contrary, talked sentiment in the tone + of common-sense. Of course he was beaten: and O, you young lovers, when + you hear the dear lips setting what you call the world's harsh language to + this music, know that an hour has struck for you! It is a fatal sound to + hear. Edward believed that his pleading had produced an effect when he saw + Miss Adela's bosom rise as with a weight on it. The burden of her thoughts + was—“How big and heavy Edward's eyes look when he is not amusing!” + To get rid of him she said, as with an impassioned coldness, “Go.” Her + figure, repeating this under closed eyelids, was mysterious, potent. When + he exclaimed, “Then I will go,” her eyelids lifted wide: she shut them + instantly, showing at the same time a slight tightening-in of the upper + lip. You beheld a creature tied to the stake of Duty. + </p> + <p> + But she was exceedingly youthful, and had not reckoned upon man's being a + live machine, possessing impulses of his own. A violent seizure of her + waist, and enough of kisses to make up the sum popularly known as a + 'shower,' stopped her performance. She struggled, and muttered + passionately to be released. “We are seen,” she hazarded. At the + repetition, Edward, accustomed to dread the warning, let her go and fled. + Turning hurriedly about, Adela found that she had spoken truth unawares, + and never wished so much that she had lied. Sir Twickenham Pryme came + forward to her, with his usual stiff courtly step. + </p> + <p> + “If you could have been a little—a little earlier,” she murmured, + with an unflurried face, laying a trembling hand in his; and thus shielded + herself from a suspicion. + </p> + <p> + “Could I know that I was wanted?” He pressed her hand. + </p> + <p> + “I only know that I wish I had not left your side,” said she—adding, + “Though you must have thought me what, if I were a man, you Members of + Parliament would call 'a bore,' for asking perpetual questions.” + </p> + <p> + “Nay, an apposite interrogation is the guarantee of a proper interest in + the subject,” said the baronet. + </p> + <p> + Cornelia was very soon reverted to. + </p> + <p> + “Her intellect is contemplative,” said Adela, exhibiting marvellous mental + composure. “She would lose her unerring judgement in active life. She + cannot weigh things in her mind rapidly. She is safe if her course of + action is clear.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Twickenham reserved his opinion of the truth of this. “I wonder + whether she can forgive those who offend or insult her, easily?” + </p> + <p> + A singular pleasure warmed Adela's veins. Her cheeks kindling, she + replied, giving him her full face. “No; if they are worthy of punishment. + But—” and now he watched a downcast profile—“one must have + some forgiveness for fools.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, you speak like charity out of the windows of wisdom,” said the + baronet. + </p> + <p> + “Do you not require in Parliament to be tolerant at times?” Adela pursued. + </p> + <p> + He admitted it, and to her outcry of “Oh, that noble public life!” smiled + deprecatingly—“My dear young lady, if you only knew the burden it + brings!” + </p> + <p> + “It brings its burden,” said Adela, correcting, with a most proper + instinct, another enthusiastic burst. “At the same time the honour is + above the load. Am I talking too romantically? You are at least occupied.” + </p> + <p> + “Nine-tenths of us to no very good purpose,” the baronet appended. + </p> + <p> + She rejoined: “If it were but a fraction, the good done would survive.” + </p> + <p> + “And be more honourable to do, perhaps,” he ejaculated. “The consolation + should be great.” + </p> + <p> + “And is somehow small,” said she; and they laughed softly. + </p> + <p> + At this stage, Adela was 'an exceedingly interesting young person' in Sir + Twickenham's mental register. He tried her on politics and sociology. She + kept her ears open, and followed his lead carefully—venturing here + and there to indicate an opinion, and suggesting dissent in a pained + interrogation. Finally, “I confess,” she said, “I understand much less + than I am willing to think; and so I console myself with the thought that, + after all, the drawing-room, and the... the kitchen?—well, an + educated 'female' must serve her term there, if she would be anything + better than a mere ornament, even in the highest walks of life—I + mean the household is our sphere. From that we mount to companionship—if + we can.” + </p> + <p> + Amazement of Sir Twickenham, on finding his own thought printed, as it + were, on the air before him by these pretty lips! + </p> + <p> + The conversation progressed, until Adela, by chance, turned her eyes up a + cross pathway and perceived her sister Cornelia standing with Mr. Barrett + under a beech. The man certainly held one of her hands pressed to his + heart; and her attitude struck a doubt whether his other hand was + disengaged or her waist free. Adela walked nervously on without looking at + the baronet; she knew by his voice presently that his eyes had also + witnessed the sight. “Two in a day,” she thought; “what will he imagine us + to be!” The baronet was thinking: “For your sister exposed, you display + more agitation than for yourself insulted.” + </p> + <p> + Adela found Arabella in so fresh a mood that she was sure good news had + been heard. It proved that Mrs. Chump had sent a few lines in a letter + carried by Braintop, to this effect: “My dears all! I found your father on + his back in bed, and he discharged me out of the room; and the sight of me + put him on his legs, and you will soon see him. Be civil to Mr. Braintop, + who is a faithful young man, of great merit, and show your gratitude to—Martha + Chump.” + </p> + <p> + Braintop confirmed the words of the letter: and then Adela said—“You + will do us the favour to stay and amuse yourself here. To-night there will + be a bed at Brookfield.” + </p> + <p> + “What will he do?” Arabella whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Associate with the Tinleys,” returned Adela. + </p> + <p> + In accordance with the sentiment here half concealed, Brookfield soon + showed that it had risen from the hour of depression when it had simply + done its duty. Arabella formed an opposition-Court to the one in which she + had studied; but Mr. Pericles defeated her by constantly sending to her + for advice concerning the economies of the feast. Nevertheless, she + exhibited good pretensions to social queendom, both personal and + practical; and if Freshfield Sumner, instead of his crisp waspish comments + on people and things, had seconded her by keeping up a two-minutes' flow + of talk from time to time, she might have thought that Lady Gosstre was + only luckier than herself—not better endowed. + </p> + <p> + Below, the Tinleys and their set surrounded Mr. Pericles—prompting + him, as was seen, to send up continual messages. One, to wit, “Is there to + be dancing to-night?” being answered, “Now, if you please,” provoked + sarcastic cheering; and Laura ran up to say, “How kind of you! We + appreciate it. Continue to dispense blessings on poor mortals.” + </p> + <p> + “By the way, though” (Freshfield took his line from the calm closed lips + of his mistress), “poor mortals are not in the habit of climbing Olympus + to ask favours.” + </p> + <p> + “I perceived no barrier,” quoth Laura. + </p> + <p> + “Audacity never does.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray, how am I to be punished?” + </p> + <p> + Freshfield paused for a potent stroke. “Not like Semele. She saw the God:—you + never will!” + </p> + <p> + While Laura was hanging on the horrid edge between a false laugh and a + starting blush, Arabella said: “That visual excommunication has been + pronounced years ago, Freshfield.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! then he hasn't changed his name in heaven?” Laura touched her thus + for the familiar use of the gentle-man's Christian name. + </p> + <p> + “You must not imagine that very great changes are demanded of those who + can be admitted.” + </p> + <p> + “I really find it hotter than below,” said Laura, flying. + </p> + <p> + Arabella's sharp eyes discerned a movement in Lady Gosstre's circle; and + she at once went over to her, and entreated the great lady, who set her + off so well, not to go. The sunset fronted Besworth Lawn; the last light + of day was danced down to inspiriting music: and now Arabella sent word + for Besworth hall-doors and windows to be opened; and on the company + beginning to disperse, there beckoned promise of a brilliant supper-table. + </p> + <p> + “Admirable!” said Lady Gosstre, and the encomium was general among the + crowd surrounding Arabella; for up to this point the feasting had been + delicate, and something like plain hunger prevailed. Indeed, Arabella had + heard remarks of a bad nature, which she traced to the Tinley set, and + bore with, to meet her present reward. Making light of her triumph, she + encouraged Freshfield to start a wit-contest, and took part in it herself, + with the gaiety of an unoccupied mind. Her sisters had aforetime more than + once challenged her supremacy, but they bowed to it now; and Adela + especially did when, after a ringing hit to Freshfield (which the Tinleys + might also take to their own bosoms), she said in an undertone, “What is + there between C. and—?” Surprised by this astonishing vigilance and + power of thinking below the surface while she performed above it, Adela + incautiously turned her face toward the meditative baronet, and was + humiliated by Arabella's mute indication of contempt for her coming + answer. This march across the lawn to the lighted windows of Besworth was + the culmination of Brookfield's joy, and the crown for which it had + striven; though for how short a term it was to be worn was little known. + Was it not a very queenly sphere of Fine Shades and Nice Feelings that + Brookfield had realized? + </p> + <p> + In Arabella's conscience lay a certain reproach of herself for permitting + the “vice of a lower circle” to cling to her—viz., she had still + betrayed a stupid hostility to the Tinleys: she had rejoiced to see them + incapable of mixing with any but their own set, and thus be stamped + publicly for what they were. She had struggled to repress it, and yet, + continually, her wits were in revolt against her judgement. Perhaps one + reason was that Albert Tinley had haunted her steps at an early part of + the day; and Albert—a sickening City young man, “full of insolence, + and half eyeglass,” according to Freshfield—had once ventured to + propose for her. + </p> + <p> + The idea that the Tinleys strove to catch at her skirts made Arabella + spiteful. Up to the threshold of Besworth, Freshfield, Mr. Powys, Tracy, + and Arabella kept the wheel of a dazzling run of small-talk, throwing + intermittent sparks. Laura Tinley would press up, apparently to hear, but + in reality (as all who knew her could see) with the object of being a + rival representative of her sex in this illustrious rare encounter of + divine intelligences. “You are anxious to know?” said Arabella, + hesitatingly. + </p> + <p> + “To know, dear?” echoed Laura. + </p> + <p> + “There was, I presumed, something you did not hear.” Arabella was half + ashamed of the rudeness to which her antagonism to Laura's vulgarity + forced her. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I hear everything,” Laura assured her. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed!” said Arabella. “By the way, who conducts you?” (Laura was on + Edward Burley's arm.) “Oh! will you go to”—such and such an end of + the table. “And if, Lady Gosstre, I may beg of you to do me the service to + go there also,” was added aloud; and lower, but quite audibly, “Mr. + Pericles will have music, so there can be no talking.” This, with the + soupcon of a demi-shrug; “You will not suffer much” being implied. Laura + said to herself, “I am not a fool.” A moment after, Arabella was admitting + in her own mind, as well as Fine Shades could interpret it, that she was. + On entering the dining-hall, she beheld two figures seated at the point + whither Laura was led by her partner. These were Mrs. Chump and Mr. Pole, + with champagne glasses in their hands. Arabella was pushed on by the + inexorable crowd of hungry people behind. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXII + </h2> + <p> + Despite the pouring in of the flood of guests about the tables, Mrs. Chump + and Mr. Pole sat apparently unconcerned in their places, and, as if to + show their absolute indifference to observation and opinion, went through + the ceremony of drinking to one another, upon which they nodded and + chuckled: a suspicious eye had the option of divining that they used the + shelter of the table cloth for an interchange of squeezes. This would have + been further strengthened by Mrs. Chump's arresting exclamation, “Pole! + Company!” Mr. Pole looked up. He recognized Lady Gosstre, and made an + attempt, in his usual brisk style, to salute her. Mrs. Champ drew him + back. “Nothin' but his legs, my lady,” she whispered. “There's nothin' + sets 'm up like champagne, my dears!” she called out to the Three of + Brookfield. + </p> + <p> + Those ladies were now in the hall, gazing, as mildly as humanity would + allow, at their common destiny, thus startlingly displayed. There was no + doubt in the bosom of either one of them that exposure was to follow this + prelude. Mental resignation was not even demanded of them—merely + physical. They did not seek comfort in an interchange of glances, but + dropped their eyes, and masked their sight as they best could. Caesar + assassinated did a similar thing. + </p> + <p> + “My dears!” pursued Mrs. Chump, in Irish exaggerated by wine, “I've found + 'm for ye! And if ye'd seen 'm this afternoon—the little peaky, + shaky fellow that he was! and a doctor, too, feelin' his pulse. 'Is ut + slow,' says I, 'doctor?' and draws a bottle of champagne. He could hardly + stand before his first glass. 'Pon my hon'r, my lady, ye naver saw s'ch a + change in a mortal bein.—Pole, didn't ye go 'ha, ha!' now, and seem + to be nut-cracking with your fingers? He did; and if ye aver saw an + astonished doctor! 'Why,' says I, 'doctor, ye think ut's maguc! Why, + where's the secret? drink with 'm, to be sure! And you go and do that, my + lord doctor, my dear Mr. Doctor! Do ut all round, and your patients 'll + bless your feet.” Why, isn't cheerful society and champagne the vary best + of medicines, if onnly the blood 'll go of itself a little? The fault's in + his legs; he's all right at top!—if he'd smooth his hair a bit. + </p> + <p> + Checking her tongue, Mrs. Chump performed this service lightly for him, in + the midst of his muttered comments on her Irish. + </p> + <p> + The fact was manifest to the whole assembly, that they had indeed been + drinking champagne to some purpose. + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid stepped up to two of his sisters, warning them hurriedly not to go + to their father: Adela he arrested with a look, but she burst the + restraint to fulfil a child's duty. She ran up gracefully, and taking her + father's hand, murmured a caressing “Dear papa!” + </p> + <p> + “There—all right—quite right—quite well,” Mr. Pole + repeated. “Glad to see you all: go away.” + </p> + <p> + He tried to look kindly out of the nervous fit into which a word, in a + significant tone, from one of his daughters had instantly plunged him. + Mrs. Chump admonished her: “Will ye undo all that I've been doin' this + blessed day?” + </p> + <p> + “Glad you haven't missed the day altogether, sir,” Wilfrid greeted his + father in an offhand way. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, my boy!” went the old man, returning him what was meant for a bluff + nod. + </p> + <p> + Lady Charlotte gave Wilfrid an open look. It meant: “If you can act like + that, and know as much as I know, you are worth more than I reckoned.” He + talked evenly and simply, and appeared on the surface as composed as any + of the guests present. Nor was he visibly disturbed when Mrs. Chump, + catching his eye, addressed him aloud:— + </p> + <p> + “Ye'd have been more grateful to me to have brought little Belloni as well + now, I know, Mr. Wilfrid. But I was just obliged to leave her at the + hotel; for Pole can't endure her. He 'bomunates the sight of 'r. If ye + aver saw a dog burnt by the fire, Pole's second to 'm, if onnly ye speak + that garl's name.” + </p> + <p> + The head of a strange musician, belonging to the band stationed outside, + was thrust through one of the window apertures. Mr. Pericles beckoned him + imperiously to retire, and perform. He objected, and an altercation in bad + English diverted the company. It was changed to Italian. “Mia figlia,” + seized Wilfrid's ear. Mr. Pericles bellowed, “Allegro.” Two minutes after + Braintop felt a touch on his shoulder; and Wilfrid, speaking in a tone of + friend to friend, begged him to go to town by the last train and remove + Miss Belloni to an hotel, which he named. “Certainly,” said Braintop; “but + if I meet her father...?” Wilfrid summoned champagne for him; whereupon + Mrs. Chump cried out, “Ye're kind to wait upon the young man, Mr. Wilfrid; + and that Mr. Braintop's an invalu'ble young man. And what do ye want with + the hotel, when we've left it, Mr. Paricles?” + </p> + <p> + The Greek raised his head from Mr. Pole, shrugging at her openly. He and + Wilfrid then measured eyes a moment. “Some champagne togezer?” said Mr. + Pericles. “With all my heart,” was the reply; and their glasses were + filled, and they bowed, and drank. Wilfrid took his seat, drew forth his + pocket-book; and while talking affably to Lady Charlotte beside him, and + affecting once or twice to ponder over her remarks, or to meditate a + fitting answer, wrote on a slip of paper under the table:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Mine! my angel! You will see me to-morrow. + + “YOUR LOVER.” + </pre> + <p> + This, being inserted in an envelope, with zig-zag letters of address to + form Emilia's name, he contrived to pass to Braintop's hands, and resumed + his conversation with Lady Charlotte, who said, when there was nothing + left to discover, “But what is it you concoct down there?” “I!” cried + Wilfrid, lifting his hands, and so betraying himself after the fashion of + the very innocent. She despised any reading of acts not on the surface, + and nodded to the explanation he gave—to wit: “By the way, do you + mean—have you noticed my habit of touching my fingers' ends as I + talk? I count them backwards and forwards.” + </p> + <p> + “Shows nervousness,” said Lady Charlotte; “you are a boy!” + </p> + <p> + “Exceedingly a boy.” + </p> + <p> + “Now I put a finger on his vanity,” said she; and thought indeed that she + had played on him. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Pole,” (Lady Gosstre addressed that gentleman,) “I must hope that you + will leave this dining-hall as it is; there is nothing in the + neighbourhood to match it!” + </p> + <p> + “Delightful!” interposed Laura Tinley; “but is it settled?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pole leaned forward to her ladyship; and suddenly catching the sense + of her words, “Ah, why not?” he said, and reached his hand to some + champagne, which he raised to his mouth, but drank nothing of. Reflection + appeared to tell him that his safety lay in drinking, and he drained the + glass at a gulp. Mrs. Chump had it filled immediately, and explained to a + wondering neighbour, “It's that that keeps 'm on his legs.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall envy you immensely,” said Laura Tinley to Arabella; who replied, + “I assure you that no decision has been come to.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you want to surprise us with cards on a sudden from Besworth!” + </p> + <p> + “That is not the surprise I have in store,” returned Arabella sedately. + </p> + <p> + “Then you have a surprise? Do tell me.” + </p> + <p> + “How true to her sex is the lady who seeks to turn 'what it is' into 'what + it isn't!'” said Freshfield, trusty lieutenant. + </p> + <p> + “I think a little peeping makes surprises sweeter; I'm weak enough to + think that,” Lady Charlotte threw in. + </p> + <p> + “That is so true!” exclaimed Laura. + </p> + <p> + “Well; and a secret shared is a fact uncommonly well aired—that is + also true. But, remember, you do not desire the surprise; you are a + destroying force to it;” and Freshfield bowed. + </p> + <p> + “Curiosity!” sighed some one, relieving Freshfield from a sense of the + guilt of heaviness. + </p> + <p> + “I am a Pandora,” Laura smilingly said. + </p> + <p> + “To whom?” Tracy Runningbrook's shout was heard. + </p> + <p> + “With champagne in the heads of the men, and classics in the heads of the + women, we shall come; to something,” remarked Lady Gosstre half to herself + and Georgiana near her. + </p> + <p> + An observer of Mr. Pole might have seen that he was fretting at a + restriction on his tongue. Occasionally he would sit forward erect in his + chair, shake his coat-collar, frown, and sound a preparatory 'hem; but it + ended in his rubbing his hair away on the back of his head. Mrs. Chump, + who was herself perceiving new virtues in champagne with every glass, took + the movements as indicative of a companion exploration of the spiritual + resources of this vintage. She no longer called for it, but lifted a + majestic finger (a Siddons or tenth-Muse finger, as Freshfield named it) + behind the row of heads; upon which champagne speedily bubbled in the + glasses. Laughter at the performance had fairly set in. Arabella glanced + nervously round for Mr. Pericles, who looked at his watch and spread the + fingers of one hand open thrice—an act that telegraphed fifteen + minutes. In fifteen minutes an opera troupe, with three famous chiefs and + a renowned prima-donna were to arrive. The fact was known solely to + Arabella and Mr. Pericles. It was the Surprise of the evening. But within + fifteen minutes, what might not happen, with heads going at + champagne-pace? + </p> + <p> + Arabella proposed to Freshfield to rise. “Don't the ladies go first?” the + wit turned sensualist stammered; and incurred that worse than frown, a + cold look of half-comprehension, which reduces indefinitely the + proportions of the object gazed at. There were probably a dozen very young + men in the room waiting to rise with their partners at a signal for + dancing; and these could not be calculated upon to take an initiative, or + follow one—as ladies, poor slaves! will do when the electric hostess + rustles. The men present were non-conductors. Arabella knew that she could + carry off the women, but such a proceeding would leave her father at the + mercy of the wine; and, moreover, the probability was that Mrs. Chump + would remain by him, and, sole in a company of males, explode her sex with + ridicule, Brookfield in the bargain. So Arabella, under a prophetic sense + of evil, waited; and this came of it. Mr. Pole patted Mrs. Chump's hand + publicly. In spite of the steady hum of small-talk—in spite of + Freshfield Sumner's circulation of a crisp anecdote—in spite of Lady + Gosstre's kind effort to stop him by engaging him in conversation, Mr. + Pole forced on for a speech. He said that he had not been the thing + lately. It might be his legs, as his dear friend Martha, on his right, + insisted; but he had felt it in his head, though as strong as any man + present. + </p> + <p> + “Harrk at 'm!” cried Mrs. Chump, letting her eyes roll fondly away from + him into her glass. + </p> + <p> + “Business, my lady!” Mr. Pole resumed. “Ah, you don't know what that is. + We've got to work hard to keep our heads up equal with you. We don't swim + with corks. And my old friend, Ralph Tinley—he sells iron, and has + got a mine. That's simple. But, my God, ma'am, when a man has his eye on + the Indian Ocean, and the Atlantic, and the Baltic, and the Black Sea, and + half-a-dozen colonies at once, he—you—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, it's a precious big eye he's got, Pole,” Mrs. Chump came to his + relief. + </p> + <p> + “—he don't know whether he's a ruined dog, or a man to hold up his + head in any company.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Lord, Pole, if ye're going to talk of beggary!” Mrs. Chump threw up + her hands. “My lady, I naver could abide the name of 't. I'm a kind heart, + ye know, but I can't bear a ragged friend. I hate 'm! He seems to give me + a pinch.” + </p> + <p> + Having uttered this, it struck her that it was of a kind to convulse Mrs. + Lupin, for whose seizures she could never accurately account; and looking + round, she perceived, sure enough, that little forlorn body agitated, with + a handkerchief to her mouth. + </p> + <p> + “As to Besworth,” Mr. Pole had continued, “I might buy twenty Besworths. + If—if the cut shows the right card. If—” Sweat started on his + forehead, and he lifted his eyebrows, blinking. “But none!” (he smote the + table) “none can say I haven't been a good father! I've educated my girls + to marry the best the land can show. I bought a house to marry them out + of; it was their own idea.” He caught Arabella's eyes. “I thought so, at + all events; for why should I have paid the money if I hadn't thought so? + when then—yes, that sum...” (was he choking!) “saved me!—saved + me!” + </p> + <p> + A piteous desperate outburst marked the last words, that seemed to + struggle from a tightened cord. + </p> + <p> + “Not that there's anything the matter,” he resumed, with a very brisk + wink. “I'm quite sound: heart's sound, lungs sound, stomach regular. I can + see, and smell, and hear. Sense of touch is rather lumpy at times, I know; + but the doctor says it's nothing—nothing at all; and I should be all + right, if I didn't feel that I was always wearing a great leaden hat.” + </p> + <p> + “My gracious, Pole, if ye're not talkin' pos'tuv nonsense!” exclaimed Mrs. + Chump. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear Martha” (Mr. Pole turned to her argumentatively), “how do + you account for my legs? I feel it at top. I declare I've felt the edge of + the brim half a yard out. Now, my lady, a man in that state—sound + and strong as the youngest—but I mean a vexed man—worried man + bothered man, he doesn't want a woman to look after him;—I mean, he + does—he does! And why won't young girls—oh! they might, they + might—see that? And when she's no extra expense, but brings him—helps + him to face—and no one has said the world's a jolly world so often + as I have. It's jolly!” He groaned. + </p> + <p> + Lady Charlotte saw Wilfrid gazing at one spot on the table without a + change of countenance. She murmured to him, “What hits you hits me.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pole had recommenced, on the evident instigation of Laura Tinley, + though Lady Gosstre and Freshfield Sumner had both sought to check the + current. In Chump's lifetime, it appeared, he (Mr. Pole) had thought of + Mrs. Chump with a respectful ardour; and albeit she was no longer what she + was when Chump brought her over, a blooming Irish girl—“her hair + exactly as now, the black curl half over the cheek, and a bright laugh, + and a white neck, fat round arms, and—” + </p> + <p> + A shout of “Oh, Pole! ye seem to be undressin' of me before them all,” + diverted the neighbours of the Beauty. + </p> + <p> + “Who would not like such praise?” Laura Tinley, to keep alive the subject, + laid herself open to Freshfield by a remark. + </p> + <p> + “At the same personal peril?” he inquired smoothly. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pericles stood up, crying “Enfin!” as the doors were flung open, and a + great Signora of operatic fame entered the hall, supported on one side by + a charming gentleman (a tenore), who shared her fame and more with her. In + the rear were two working baritones; and behind them, outside, Italian + heads might be discerned. + </p> + <p> + The names of the Queen of Song and Prince of Singers flew round the room; + and Laura uttered words of real gratitude, for the delightful surprise, to + Arabella, as the latter turned from her welcome of them. “She is exactly + like Emilia—young,” was uttered. The thought went with a pang + through Wilfrid's breast. When the Signora was asked if she would sup or + take champagne, and she replied that she would sup by-and-by, and drink + porter now, the likeness to Emilia was established among the Poles. + </p> + <p> + Meantime the unhappy Braintop received an indication that he must depart. + As he left the hall he brushed past the chief-clerk of his office, who + soon appeared bowing and elbowing among the guests. “What a substitute for + me!” thought Braintop bitterly; and in the belief that this old clerk + would certainly go back that night, and might undertake his commission, he + lingered near the band on the verge of the lawn. A touch at his elbow + startled him. In the half-light he discerned Emilia. “Don't say you have + seen me,” were her first words. But when he gave her the letter, she drew + him aside, and read it by the aid of lighted matches held in Braintop's + hat drawing in her fervent breath to a “Yes! yes!” at the close, while she + pressed the letter to her throat. Presently the singing began in an upper + room, that had shortly before flashed with sudden light. Braintop + entreated Emilia to go in, and then rejoiced that she had refused. They + stood in a clear night-air, under a yellowing crescent, listening to the + voice of an imperial woman. Impressed as he was, Braintop had, + nevertheless, leisure to look out of his vinous mist and notice, with some + misgiving, a parading light at a certain distance—apparently the + light of cigarettes being freshly kindled. He was too much elated to feel + alarm: but “If her father were to catch me again,” he thought. And with + Emilia on his arm! + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pole's chief-clerk had brought discomposing news. He was received by + an outburst of “No business, Payne; I won't have business!” + </p> + <p> + Turning to Mr. Pericles, the old clerk said: “I came rather for you, sir, + not expecting to find Mr. Pole.” He was told by Mr. Pericles to speak what + he had to say: and then the guests, who had fallen slightly back, heard a + cavernous murmur; and some, whose eyes where on Mr. Pole, observed a sharp + conflict of white and red in his face. + </p> + <p> + “There, there, there, there!” went Mr. Pole. “'Hem, Pericles!” His + handkerchief was drawn out; and he became engaged, as it were, in wiping a + moisture from the palm of his hand. “Pericles, have you got pluck now? + Eh?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pericles had leaned down his ear for the whole of the news. + </p> + <p> + “Ten sossand,” he said, smoothing his waistbands, and then inserting his + thumbs into the pits of his waistcoat. “Also a chance of forty. Let us not + lose time for ze music.” + </p> + <p> + He walked away. + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe in that d—-d coolness, ma'am,” said Mr. Pole, + wheeling round on Freshfield Sumner. “It's put on. That wears a mask; he's + one of those confounded humbugs who wear a mask. Ten-forty! and all for a + shrug; it's not human. I tell you, he does that just out of a sort of + jealousy to rival me as an Englishman. Because I'm cool, he must be. Do + you think a mother doesn't feel the loss of her children?” + </p> + <p> + “I fear that I must grow petticoats before I can answer purely feminine + questions,” said Freshfield. + </p> + <p> + “Of course—of course,” assented Mr. Pole; “and a man feels like a + mother to his money. For the moment, he does—for the moment. What + are those fellows—Spartans—women who cut off their breasts—?” + </p> + <p> + Freshfield suggested, “Amazons.” + </p> + <p> + “No; they were women,” Mr. Pole corrected him; “and if anything hurt them, + they never cried out. That's what—ha!—our friend Pericles is + trying at. He's a fool. He won't sleep to-night. He'll lie till he gets + cold in the feet, and then tuck them up like a Dutch doll, and perspire + cold till his heart gives a bound, and he'll jump up and think his last + hour's come. Wind on the stomach, do ye call it? I say it's wearing a + mask!” + </p> + <p> + The bird's-eye of the little merchant shot decisive meaning. + </p> + <p> + Two young ladies had run from his neighbourhood, making as if to lift + hands to ears. The sight of them brought Mrs. Chump to his side. “Pole! + Pole!” she said, “is there annything wrong?” + </p> + <p> + “Wrong, Martha?” He bent to her, attempting Irish—“Arrah, now! and + mustn't all be right if you're here?” + </p> + <p> + She smote his cheek fondly. “Ye're not a bit of an Irish-man, ye deer + little fella.” + </p> + <p> + “Come along and dance,” cried he imperiously. + </p> + <p> + “A pretty spectacle—two fandangoes, when there's singing, ye silly!” + Mrs. Chump led him upstairs, chafing one of his hands, and remarking + loudly on the wonder it was to see his knees constantly 'give' as he + walked. + </p> + <p> + On the dark lawn, pressing Wilfrid's written words for fiery nourishment + to her heart, Emilia listened to the singing. + </p> + <p> + “Why do people make a noise, and not be satisfied to feel?” she said + angrily to Braintop, as a great clapping of hands followed a divine aria. + Her ideas on this point would have been different in the room. + </p> + <p> + By degrees a tender delirium took hold of her sense; and then a subtle + emotion—which was partly prompted by dim rivalry with the voice that + seemed to be speaking so richly to the man she loved—set her bosom + rising and falling. She translated it to herself thus: “What a joy it will + be to him to hear me now!” And in a pause she sang clear out— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Prima d'Italia amica;” + </pre> + <p> + and hung on the last note, to be sure that she would be heard by him. + </p> + <p> + Braintop saw the cigarette dash into sparks on the grass. At the same + moment a snarl of critical vituperation told Emilia that she had offended + taste and her father. He shouted her name, and, striding up to her, + stumbled over Braintop, whom he caught with one hand, while the other fell + firmly on Emilia. + </p> + <p> + “'Amica—amica-a-a,'” he burlesqued her stress of the luckless note—lowing + it at her, and telling her in triumphant Italian that she was found at + last. Braintop, after a short struggle, and an effort at speech, which was + loosely shaken in his mouth, heard that he stood a prisoner. “Eh! you have + not lost your cheeks,” insulted his better acquaintance with English + slang. + </p> + <p> + Alternately in this queer tongue and in Italian the pair of victims were + addressed. + </p> + <p> + Emilia knew her father's temper. He had a habit of dallying with an evil + passion till it boiled over and possessed him. Believing Braintop to be in + danger of harm, she beckoned to some of the faces crowding the windows; + but the movement was not seen, as none of the circumstances were at all + understood. Wilfrid, however, knew well who had sung those three bars, + concerning which the 'Prima donna' questioned Mr. Pericles, and would not + be put off by hearing that it was a startled jackdaw, or an owl, and an + ole nightingale. The Greek rubbed his hands. “Now to recommence,” he said; + “and we shall not notice a jackdaw again.” His eye went sideways + watchfully at Wilfrid. “You like zat piece of opera?” + </p> + <p> + “Immensely,” said Wilfrid, half bowing to the Signora—to whom, as to + Majesty, Mr. Pericles introduced him, and fixed him. + </p> + <p> + “Now! To seats!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pericles' mandates was being obeyed, when a cry of “Wilfrid!” from + Emilia below, raised a flutter. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pole had been dozing in his chair. He rose at the cry, looking hard, + with a mechanical jerk of the neck, at two or three successive faces, and + calling, “Somebody—somebody” to take his outstretched hand trembling + in a paroxysm of nervous terror. + </p> + <p> + Hearing his son's name again, but more faintly, he raised his voice for + Martha. “Don't let that girl come near me! I—I can't get on with + foreign girls!” + </p> + <p> + His eyes went among the curious faces surrounding him. “Wilfrid!” he + shouted. To the second summons, “Sir” was replied, in the silence. Neither + saw the other as they spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going out to her, Wilfrid?” + </p> + <p> + “Someone called me, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “He's got the cunning of hell,” said Mr. Pole, baffled by his own + agitation. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! don't talk o' that place,” moaned Mrs. Chump. + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” cried the old man. “Are you going? Stop! you shan't do mischief. I + mean—there—stop! Don't go. You're not to go. I say you're not + to go out.” + </p> + <p> + Emphasis and gesticulations gave their weight to the plain words. + </p> + <p> + But rage at the upset of all sentiments and dignity that day made Wilfrid + reckless, and he now felt his love to be all he had. He heard his Emilia + being dragged away to misery—perhaps to be sold to shame. Maddened, + he was incapable of understanding his father's state, or caring for what + the world thought. His sisters gathered near him, but were voiceless. + </p> + <p> + “Is he gone?” Mr. Pole burst forward. “You're gone, sir? Wilfrid, have you + gone to that girl? I ask you whether...(there's one shot at my heart,” he + added in a swift undertone to one of the heads near him, while he caught + at his breast with both hands). “Wilfrid, will you stay here?” + </p> + <p> + “For God's sake, go to him, Wilfrid,” murmured Adela. “I can't.” + </p> + <p> + “Because if you do—if you don't—I mean, if you go...” The old + man gasped at the undertone. “Now I have got it in my throat.” + </p> + <p> + A quick physical fear caught hold of him. In a moment his voice changed to + entreaty. “I beg you won't go, my dear boy. Wilfrid, I tell you, don't go. + Because, you wouldn't act like a d—d—I'm not angry; but it is + like acting like a—Here's company, Wilfrid; come to me, my boy; do + come here. You mayn't ha—have your poor old father long, now he's + got you u—up in the world. I mean accidents, for I'm sound enough; + only a little nervous from brain—Is he gone?” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid was then leaving the room. + </p> + <p> + Lady Gosstre had been speaking to Mr. Powys. She was about to say a word + to Lady Charlotte, when the latter walked to the doorway, and. In a manner + that smote his heart with a spasm of gratitude, said; “Don't heed these + people. He will bring on a fit if you don't stop. His nerves are out, and + the wine they have given him... Go to him: I will go to Emilia, and do as + much for her as you could.” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid reached his father in time to see him stagger back into the arms + of Mrs. Chump, whose supplication was for the female stimulant known as + 'something.' + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIII + </h2> + <p> + On reaching home that night, Arabella surprised herself thinking, in the + midst of her anguish: “Whatever is said of us, it cannot be said that + there is a house where the servants have been better cared for.” And this + reflection continued to burn with an astounding brilliancy through all the + revolutions of a mind contemplating the dread of a fallen fortune, the + fact of a public exposure, and what was to her an ambition destroyed. + Adela had no such thoughts. “I have been walking on a plank,” she gasped + from time to time, as she gave startled glances into the abyss of poverty, + and hurried to her bedchamber—a faint whisper of self-condemnation + in her ears at the 'I' being foremost. The sisters were too proud to touch + upon one another's misery in complaints, or to be common by holding debate + on it. They had not once let their eyes meet at Besworth, as the Tinleys + wonderingly noticed. They said good night to their papa, who was well + enough to reply, adding peremptorily, “Downstairs at half-past eight,”—an + intimation that he would be at the break-fast table and read prayers as + usual. Inexperienced in nervous disease, they were now filled with the + idea that he was possibly acting—a notion that had never been + kindled in them before; or, otherwise, how came these rapid, almost + instantaneous, recoveries? + </p> + <p> + Cornelia alone sounded near the keynote. Since the night that she had met + him in the passage, and the next morning when Mrs. Chump had raised the + hubbub about her loss, Cornelia's thoughts had been troubled by some + haunting spectral relationship with money. It had helped to make her + reckless in granting interviews to Purcell Barrett. “If we are poor, I am + free;” and that she might then give herself to whomever she pleased, was + her logical deduction. The exposure at Besworth, and the partial + confirmation of her suspicions, were not without their secret comfort to + her. In the carriage, coming home, Wilfrid had touched her hand by chance, + and pressed it with good heart. She went to the library, imagining that if + he wished to see her he would appear, and by exposing his own weakness + learn to excuse hers. She was right in her guess; Wilfrid came. He came + sauntering into the room with “Ah! you here?” Cornelia consented to play + into his hypocrisy. “Yes, I generally think better here,” she replied. + </p> + <p> + “And what has this pretty head got to do with thinking?” + </p> + <p> + “Not much, I suppose, my lord,” she replied, affecting nobly to + acknowledge the weakness of the female creature. + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid kissed her with an unaccustomed fervour. This delicate mumming was + to his taste. It was yet more so when she spoke playfully to him of his + going soon to be a married man. He could answer to that in a smiling + negative, playing round the question, until she perceived that he really + desired to have his feeling for the odd dark girl who had recently shot + across their horizon touched, if only it were led to by the muffled ways + of innuendo. + </p> + <p> + As a dog, that cannot ask you verbally to scratch his head, but wishes it, + will again and again thrust his head into your hand, petitioning mutely + that affection may divine him, so:—but we deal with a + sentimentalist, and the simile is too gross to be exact. For no sooner was + Wilfrid's head scratched, than the operation stuck him as humiliating; in + other words, the moment he felt his sisters fingers in the ticklish part, + he flew to another theme, then returned, and so backward and forward—mystifying + her not slightly, and making her think, “Then he has no heart.” She by no + means intended to encourage love for Emilia, but she hoped for his sake, + that the sentiment he had indulged was sincere. By-and-by he said, that + though he had no particular affection for Lady Charlotte, he should + probably marry her. + </p> + <p> + “Without loving her, Wilfrid? It is unfair to her; it is unfair to + yourself.” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid understood perfectly who it was for whom she pleaded thus + vehemently. He let her continue: and when she had dwelt on the horrors of + marriages without love, and the supreme duty of espousing one who has our + 'heart's loyalty,' he said, “You may be right. A man must not play with a + girl. He must consider that he owes a duty to one who is more dependent;”—implying + that a woman s duty was distinct and different in such a case. + </p> + <p> + Cornelia could not rise and plead for her sex. Had she pushed forth the + 'woman,' she must have stood for her. + </p> + <p> + This is the game of Fine Shades and Nice Feelings, under whose empire you + see this family, and from which they are to emerge considerably shorn, but + purified—examples of One present passage of our civilization. + </p> + <p> + “At least, dear, if” (Cornelia desperately breathed the name) “—if + Emilia were forced to give her hand...loving...you...we should be right in + pitying her?” + </p> + <p> + The snare was almost too palpable. Wilfrid fell into it, from the simple + passion that the name inspired; and now his hand tightened. “Poor child!” + he moaned. + </p> + <p> + She praised his kind heart: “You cannot be unjust and harsh, I know that. + You could not see her—me—any of us miserable. Women feel, + dear. Ah! I need not tell you that. Their tears are not the witnesses. + When they do not weep, but the hot drops stream inwardly:—and, oh! + Wilfrid, let this never happen to me. I shall not disgrace you, because I + intend to see you happy with...with her, whoever she is; and I would leave + you happy. But I should not survive it. I can look on Death. A marriage + without love is dishonour.” + </p> + <p> + Sentiment enjoys its splendid moods. Wilfrid having had the figure of his + beloved given to him under nuptial benediction, cloaked, even as he wished + it to be, could afford now to commiserate his sister, and he admired her + at the same time. “I'll take care you are not made a sacrifice of when the + event is fixed,” he said—as if it had never been in contemplation. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I have not known happiness for years, till this hour,” Cornelia + whispered to him bashfully; and set him wondering why she should be happy + when she had nothing but his sanction to reject a man. + </p> + <p> + On the other hand, her problem was to gain lost ground by letting him know + that, of the pair, it was not she who would marry beneath her station. She + tried it mentally in various ways. In the end she thought it best to give + him this positive assurance. “No,” he rejoined, “a woman never should.” + There was no admission of equality to be got out of him, so she kissed + him. Of their father's health a few words were said—of Emilia + nothing further. She saw that Wilfrid's mind was resolved upon some part + to play, but shrank from asking his confidence, lest facts should be laid + bare. + </p> + <p> + At the breakfast-table Mr. Pole was a little late. He wore some of his + false air of briskness on a hazy face, and read prayers—drawing + breath between each sentence and rubbing his forehead; but the work was + done by a man in ordinary health, if you chose to think so, as Mrs. Chump + did. She made favourable remarks on his appearance, begging the ladies to + corroborate her. They were silent. + </p> + <p> + “Now take a chop, Pole, and show your appetite,” she said. “'A Chump-chop, + my love?' my little man used to invite me of a mornin'; and that was the + onnly joke he had, so it's worth rememberin'.” + </p> + <p> + A chop was placed before Mr. Pole. He turned it in his plate, and + wonderingly called to mind that he had once enjoyed chops. At a loss to + account for the distressing change, he exclaimed to himself, “Chump! I + wish the woman wouldn't thrust her husband between one's teeth. An egg!” + </p> + <p> + The chop was displaced for an egg, which he tapped until Mrs. Chump cried + out, “Oh! if ye're not like a postman, Pole; and d'ye think ye've got a + letter for a chick inside there?” + </p> + <p> + This allusion scared Mr. Pole from the egg. He quitted the table, + muttering, “Business! business!” and went to the library. + </p> + <p> + When he was gone Mrs. Chump gave a cry to know where Braintop was, but, + forgetting him immediately, turned to the ladies and ejaculated, “Broth'm. + It's just brothin' he wants. Broth, I say, for anny man that won't eat his + chop or his egg. And, my dears, now, what do ye say to me for bringing him + home to ye? I expect to be thanked, I do; and then we'll broth Pole + together, till he's lusty as a prize-ox, and capers like a monkey.” + </p> + <p> + Wretched woman! that could not see the ruin she had inflicted—that + could not imagine how her bitter breath cut against those sensitive skins! + During a short pause little Mrs. Lupin trotted to the door, and shot + through it, in a paroxysm. + </p> + <p> + Then Wilfrid's voice was heard. He leaned against a corner of the window, + and spoke without directly looking at Mrs. Chump; so that she was some + time in getting to understand the preliminary, “Madam, you must leave this + house.” But presently her chin dropped; and after feeble efforts to + interpose an exclamation, she sat quiet—overcome by the deliberate + gravity of his manner, and motioning despairingly with her head, to + relieve the swarm of unborn figure-less ideas suggested by his passing + speech. The ladies were ranged like tribunal shapes. It could not be said + of souls so afflicted that they felt pleasure in the scene; but to assist + in the administration of a rigorous justice is sweet to them that are + smarting. They scarcely approved his naked statement of things when he + came to Mrs. Chump's particular aspiration in the household—viz., to + take a station and the dignity of their name. The effect he produced + satisfied them that the measure was correct. Her back gave a sharp bend, + as if an eternal support had snapped. “Oh! ye hit hard,” she moaned. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you kindly that we (who, you will acknowledge, must count for + something here) do not sanction any change that revolutionizes our + domestic relations,” said Wilfrid; while Mrs. Chump heaved and rolled on + the swell of the big words like an overladen boat. “You have only to + understand so much, and this—that if we resist it, as we do, you, by + continuing to contemplate it, are provoking a contest which will probably + injure neither you nor me, but will be death to ham in his present + condition.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Chump was heard to mumble that she alone knew the secret of restoring + him to health, and that he was rendered peaky and poky only by people + supposing him so. + </p> + <p> + “An astonishin' thing!” she burst out. “If I kiss 'm and say 'Poor Pole!' + he's poor Pole on the spot. And, if onnly I—” + </p> + <p> + But Wilfrid's stern voice flowed over her. “Listen, madam, and let this be + finished between us. You know well that when a man has children, he may + wish to call another woman wife—a woman not their mother; but the + main question is, will his children consent to let her take that place? We + are of one mind, and will allow no one—no one—to assume that + position. And now, there's an end. We'll talk like friends. I have only + spoken in that tone that you might clearly comprehend me on an important + point. I know you entertain a true regard for my father, and it is that + belief which makes me—” + </p> + <p> + “Friends!” cried Mrs. Chump, getting courage from the savour of cajolery + in these words. “Friends! Oh, ye fox! ye fox!” + </p> + <p> + And now commenced a curious duett. Wilfrid merely wished to terminate his + sentence; Mrs. Chump wantonly sought to prevent him. Each was burdened + with serious matter; but they might have struck hands here, had not this + petty accidental opposition interposed. —“Makes me feel + confident...” Wilfrid resumed. + </p> + <p> + “And Pole's promos, Mr. Wilfrud; ye're forgettin' that.” + </p> + <p> + “Confident, ma'am.” + </p> + <p> + “He was the first to be soft.” + </p> + <p> + “I say, ma'am, for his sake—” + </p> + <p> + “An' it's for his sake. And weak as he is on 's legs, poor fells; which + marr'ge 'll cure, bein' a certain rem'dy.” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Chump! I beg you to listen.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Wilfrud! and I can see too, and it's three weeks and ye kissed little + Belloni in the passage, outside this vary door, and out in the garden.” + </p> + <p> + The blow was entirely unexpected, and took Wilfrid's breath, so that he + was not ready for his turn in this singular piece of harmony. + </p> + <p> + “Ye did!” Mrs. Chump rejoiced to behold how her chance spark kindled flame + in his cheeks. “It's pos'tuv ye did. And ye're the best blusher of the + two, my dear; and no shame to ye, though it is a garl's business. That + little Belloni takes to 't like milk; but you—” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid strode up to her, saying imperiously, “I tell you to listen!” + </p> + <p> + She succumbed at once to a show of physical ascendency, murmuring, “It's + sure he was seen kissin' of her twice, and mayhap more; and hearty smacks + of the lips, too—likin' it.” + </p> + <p> + The ladies rewarded Wilfrid for his service to their cause by absolutely + hearing nothing—a feat women can be capable of. + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid, however, was angered by the absurdity of the charge and the + scene, and also by the profane touch on Emilia's name. + </p> + <p> + “I must tell you, ma'am, that for my father's sake I must desire you to + quit this—you will see the advisability of quitting this house for a + time.” + </p> + <p> + “Pole's promus! Pole's promus!” Mrs. Chump wailed again. + </p> + <p> + “Will you give me your assurance now that you will go, to be our guest + again subsequently?” + </p> + <p> + “In writin' and in words, Mr. Wilfrud!” + </p> + <p> + “Answer me, ma'am.” + </p> + <p> + “I will, Mr. Wilfrud; and Mr. Braintop's a witness, knowin' the nature of + an oath. There naver was a more sacrud promus. Says Pole, 'Martha—'” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid changed his tactics. Sitting down by her side, he said: “I am sure + you have an affection for my father.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm the most lovin' woman, my dear! If it wasn't for my vartue I don't + know what'd become o' me. Ye could ask Chump, if he wasn't in his grave, + poor fella! I'll be cryin' like a squeezed orr'nge presently. What with + Chump and Pole, two's too many for a melanch'ly woman.” + </p> + <p> + “You have an affection for my father I know, ma'am. Now, see! he's ill. If + you press him to do what we certainly resist, you endanger his life.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Chump started back from the man who bewildered her brain without + stifling her sense of justice. She knew that there was another way of + putting the case, whereby she was not stuck in the criminal box; but the + knowledge groped about blindly, and finding herself there, Mrs. Chump lost + all idea of a counter-accusation, and resorted to wriggling and cajolery. + “Ah! ye look sweeter when ye're kissin' us, Mr. Wilfrud; and I wonder + where the little Belloni has got to!” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me, that there maybe no misunderstanding.” Wilfrid again tried to + fix her. + </p> + <p> + “A rosy rosy fresh bit of a mouth she's got! and pouts ut!” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid took her hand. “Answer me.” + </p> + <p> + “'Deed, and I'm modust, Mr. Wilfrud.” + </p> + <p> + “You do him the honour to be very fond of him. I am to believe that? Then + you must consent to leave us at the end of a week. You abandon any idea of + an impossible ceremony, and of us you make friends and not enemies.” + </p> + <p> + At the concluding word, Mrs. Chump was no longer sustained by her + excursive fancy. She broke down, and wrung her hands, crying, “En'mies! + Pole's children my en'mies! Oh, Lord! that I should live to hear ut! and + Pole, that knew me a bride first blushin'!” + </p> + <p> + She wailed and wept so that the ladies exchanged compassionate looks, and + Arabella rose to press her hand and diminish her distress. Wilfrid saw + that his work would be undone in a moment, and waved her to her seat. The + action was perceived by Mrs. Chump. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Mr. Wilfrud! my dear! and a soldier! and you that was my favourut! If + half my 'ffection for Pole wasn't the seein' of you so big and handsome! + And all my ideas to get ye marrud, avery one so snug in a corner, with a + neat little lawful ring on your fingers! And you that go to keep me a lone + woman, frightened of the darrk! I'm an awful coward, that's the truth. And + ye know that marr'ge is a holy thing! and it's such a beaut'ful cer'mony! + Oh, Mr. Wilfrud!—Lieuten't y' are! and I'd have bought ye a captain, + and made the hearts o' your sisters jump with bonnuts and gowns and jools. + Oh, Pole! Pole! why did you keep me so short o' cash? It's been the roon + of me! What did I care for your brooches and your gifts? I wanted the good + will of your daughters, sir—your son, Pole!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Chump stopped her flow of tears. “Dear hearts!” she addressed her + silent judges, in mysterious guttural tones, “is it becas ye think there's + a bit of a fear of...?” + </p> + <p> + The ladies repressed a violent inclination to huddle together, like cattle + from the blowing East. + </p> + <p> + “I assure ye, 'taint poss'ble,” pursued Mrs. Chump. “Why do I 'gree to + marry Pole? Just this, now. We sit chirpin' and chatterin' of times that's + gone, and live twice over, Pole and myself; and I'm used to 'm; and I was + soft to 'm when he was a merry buck, and you cradle lumber in ideas, mind! + for my vartue was always un'mpeach'ble. That's just the reason. So, come, + and let's all be friends, with money in our pockuts; yell find me as much + of a garl as army of ye. And, there! my weak time's after my Porrt, my + dears. So, now ye know when I can't be refusin' a thing to ye. Are we + friends?—say! are we?” + </p> + <p> + Even if the ladies had been disposed to pardon her vulgarity, they could + not by any effort summon a charitable sentiment toward one of their sex + who degraded it by a public petition for a husband. This was not to be + excused; and, moreover, they entertained the sentimentalist's abhorrence + of the second marriage of a woman; regarding the act as simply execrable; + being treason to the ideal of the sex—treason to Woman's purity—treason + to the mysterious sentiment which places Woman so high, that when a woman + slips there is no help for it but she must be smashed. + </p> + <p> + Seeing that each looked as implacable as the other, Mrs. Chump called + plaintively, “Arr'bella!” + </p> + <p> + The lady spoke:— + </p> + <p> + “We are willing to be your friends, Mrs. Chump, and we request that you + will consider us in that light. We simply do not consent to give you a + name....” + </p> + <p> + “But, we'll do without the name, my dear,” interposed Mrs. Chump. “Ye'll + call me plain Martha, which is almost mother, and not a bit of 't. There—Cornelia, + my love! what do ye say?” + </p> + <p> + “I can only reiterate my sister's words, which demand no elucidation,” + replied Cornelia. + </p> + <p> + The forlorn woman turned her lap towards the youngest. + </p> + <p> + “Ad'la! ye sweet little cajoler! And don't use great cartwheels o' words + that leave a body crushed.” + </p> + <p> + Adela was suffering from a tendency to levity, which she knew to be + unbefitting the occasion, and likely to defeat its significance. She said: + “I am sure, Mrs. Chump, we are very much attached to you as Mrs. Chump; + but after a certain period of life, marriage does make people ridiculous, + and, as much for your sake as our own, we would advise you to discard a + notion that cannot benefit anybody. Believe in our attachment; and we + shall see you here now and then, and correspond with you when you are + away. And....” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, ye puss! such an eel as y' are!” Mrs. Chump cried out. “What are ye + doin' but sugarin' the same dose, miss! Be qu't! It's a traitor that makes + what's nasty taste agree'ble. D'ye think my stomach's a fool? Ye may + wheedle the mouth, but not the stomach.” + </p> + <p> + At this offence there fell a dead silence. Wilfrid gazed on them all + indifferently, waiting for the moment to strike a final blow. + </p> + <p> + When she had grasped the fact that Pity did not sit in the assembly, Mrs. + Chump rose. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! if I haven't been sitting among three owls and a raven,” she + exclaimed. Then she fussed at her gown. “I wish ye good day, young ladus, + and mayhap ye'd like to be interduced to No. 2 yourselves, some fine + mornin'? Prov'dence can wait. There's a patient hen on the eggs of all of + ye! I wouldn't marry Pole now—not if he was to fall flat and howl + for me. Mr. Wilfrud, I wish ye good-bye. Ye've done your work. I'll be out + of this house in half-an-hour.” + </p> + <p> + This was not quite what Wilfrid had meant to effect. He proposed to her + that she should come to the yacht, and indeed leave Brookfield to go on + board. But Mrs. Chump was in that frame of mind when, shamefully wounded + by others, we find our comfort in wilfully wounding ourselves. “No,” she + said (betraying a meagre mollification at every offer), “I'll not stop. I + won't go to the yacht—unless I think better of ut. But I won't stop. + Ye've hurrt me, and I'll say good-bye. I hope ye'll none of ye be widows. + It's a crool thing. And when ye've got no children of your own, and feel, + all your inside risin' to another person's, and they hate ye—hate + ye! Oh! Oh!—There, Mr. Wilfrud, ye needn't touch me elbow. Oh, dear! + look at me in the glass! and my hair! Annybody'd swear I'd been drinkin'. + I won't let Pole look at me. That'd cure 'm. And he must let me have + money, because I don't care for 'cumulations. Not now, when there's no + young—no garls and a precious boy, who'd say, when I'm gone, 'Bless + her' Oh! 'Poor thing! Bless—' Oh! Augh!” A note of Sorrow's own was + fetched; and the next instant, with a figure of dignity, the afflicted + woman observed: “There's seven bottles of my Porrt, and there's eleven of + champagne, and some comut clar't I shall write where ut's to be sent. And, + if you please, look to the packing; for bits o' glass and a red stain's + not like your precious hope when you're undoin a hamper. And that's just + myself now, and I'm a broken woman; but naver mind, nobody!” + </p> + <p> + A very formal and stiff “Good-bye,” succeeding a wheezy lamentation, + concluded the speech. Casting a look at the glass, Mrs. Chump retired, + with her fingers on the ornamental piece of hair. + </p> + <p> + The door having closed on her, Wilfrid said to his sisters: “I want one of + you to come with me to town immediately. Decide which will go.” + </p> + <p> + His eyes questioned Cornelia. Hers were dropped. + </p> + <p> + “I have work to do,” pleaded Adela. + </p> + <p> + “An appointment? You will break it.” + </p> + <p> + “No, dear, not—” + </p> + <p> + “Not exactly an appointment. Then there's nothing to break. Put on your + bonnet.” + </p> + <p> + Adela slipped from the room in a spirit of miserable obedience. + </p> + <p> + “I could not possibly leave papa,” said Arabella, and Wilfrid nodded his + head. His sisters knew quite well what was his business in town, but they + felt that they were at his mercy, and dared not remonstrate. Cornelia + ventured to say, “I think she should not come back to us till papa is in a + better state.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps not,” replied Wilfrid, careless how much he betrayed by his + apprehension of the person indicated. + </p> + <p> + The two returned late that night, and were met by Arabella at the gate. + </p> + <p> + “Papa has been—don't be alarmed,” she began. “He is better now. But + when he heard that she was not in the house, the blood left his hands and + feet. I have had to use a falsehood. I said, 'She left word that she was + coming back to-night or to-morrow.' Then he became simply angry. Who could + have believed that the sight of him so would ever have rejoiced me!” + </p> + <p> + Adela, worn with fatigue, sobbed, “Oh! Oh!” + </p> + <p> + “By the way, Sir Twickenham called, and wished to see you,” said Arabella + curiously. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! so weary!” the fair girl ejaculated, half-dreaming that she saw + herself as she threw back her head and gazed at stars and clouds. “We met + Captain Gambier in town.” Here she pinched Arabella's arm. + </p> + <p> + The latter said, “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “In a miserable street, where he looked like a peacock in a quagmire.” + </p> + <p> + Arabella entreated Wilfrid to be careful in his management of their + father. “Pray, do not thwart him. He has been anxious to know where you + have gone. He—he thinks you have conducted Mrs. Chump, and will + bring her back. I did not say it—I merely let him think so.” + </p> + <p> + She added presently, “He has spoken of money.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” went Adela, in a low breath. + </p> + <p> + “Cornelia imagines that—that we—he is perhaps in—in want + of it. Merchants are, sometimes.” + </p> + <p> + “Did Sir Twickenham say he would call to-morrow?” asked Adela. + </p> + <p> + “He said that most probably he would.” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid had been silent. As he entered the house, Mr. Pole's bedroom-bell + rang, and word came that he was to go to his father. As soon as the + sisters were alone, Adela groaned: “We have been hunting that girl all day + in vile neighbourhoods. Wilfrid has not spoken more than a dozen + sentences. I have had to dine on buns and hideous soup. I am half-dead + with the smell of cabs. Oh! if ever I am poor it will kill me. That damp + hay and close musty life are too intolerable! Yes! You see I care for what + I eat. I seem to be growing an animal. And Wilfrid is going to drag me + over the same course to-morrow, if you don't prevent him. I would not + mind, only it is absolutely necessary that I should see Sir Twickenham.” + </p> + <p> + She gave a reason why, which appeared to Arabella so cogent that she said + at once: “If Cornelia does not take your place I will.” + </p> + <p> + The kiss of thanks given by Adela was accompanied by a request for tea. + Arabella regretted that she had sent the servants to bed. + </p> + <p> + “To bed!” cried her sister. “But they are the masters, not we! Really, if + life were a round of sensual pleasure, I think our servants might + congratulate themselves.” + </p> + <p> + Arabella affected to show that they had their troubles; but her statement + made it clear that the servants of Brookfield were peculiarly favoured + servants, as it was their mistress's pride to make them. Eventually Adela + consented to drink some sparkling light wine; and being thirsty she drank + eagerly, and her tongue was loosed, insomuch that she talked of things as + one who had never been a blessed inhabitant of the kingdom of Fine Shades. + She spoke of 'Cornelia's chances;' of 'Wilfrid's headstrong infatuation—or + worse;' and of 'Papa's position,' remarking that she could both laugh and + cry. + </p> + <p> + Arabella, glad to see her refreshed, was pained by her rampant tone; and + when Adela, who had fallen into one of her reflective 'long-shot' moods, + chanced to say, “What a number of different beings there are in the + world!” her reply was, “I was just then thinking we are all less unlike + than we suppose.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my goodness!” cried Adela. “What! am I at all—at all—in + the remotest degree—like that creature we have got rid of?” + </p> + <p> + The negative was not decisively enunciated or immediate; that is, it did + not come with the vehemence and volume that could alone have satisfied + Adela's expectation. + </p> + <p> + The “We are all of one family” was an offensive truism, of which Adela + might justly complain. + </p> + <p> + That night the ladies received their orders from Wilfrid—they were + to express no alarm before their father as to the state of his health, or + to treat him ostensibly as an invalid; they were to marvel publicly at + Mrs. Chump's continued absence, and a letter requesting her to return was + to be written. At the sign of an expostulation, Wilfrid smote them down by + saying that the old man's life hung on a thread, and it was for them to + cut it or not. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIV + </h2> + <p> + Lady Charlotte was too late for Emilia, when she went forth to her to + speak for Wilfrid. She found the youth Braintop resting heavily against a + tree, muttering to himself that he had no notion where he was, as an + excuse for his stationary posture, while the person he presumed he should + have detained was being borne away. Near him a scrap of paper lay on the + ground, struck out of darkness by long slips of light from the upper + windows. Thinking this might be something purposely dropped, she took + possession of it; but a glance subsequently showed her that the writing + was too fervid for a female hand. “Or does the girl write in that way?” + she thought. She soon decided that it was Wilfrid who had undone her work + in the line of thirsty love-speech. “How can a little fool read them and + not believe any lie that he may tell!” she cried to herself. She chose to + say contemptuously: “It's like a child proclaiming he is hungry.” That it + was couched in bad taste she positively conceived—taking the paper + up again and again to correct her memory. The termination, “Your lover,” + appeared to her, if not laughable, revolting. She was uncertain in her + sentiments at this point. + </p> + <p> + Was it amusing? or simply execrable? Some charity for the unhappy document + Lady Charlotte found when she could say: “I suppose this is the general + run of the kind of again.” “Was it?” she reflected; and drank at the words + again. “No,” she came to think; “men don't commonly write as he does, + whoever wrote this.” She had no doubt that it was Wilfrid. By fits her + wrath was directed against him. “It's villany,” she said. But more and + more frequently a crouching abject longing to call the words her own—to + have them poured into her heart and brain—desire for the + intoxication of the naked speech of love usurped her spirit of pride, + until she read with envious tears, half loathing herself, but fascinated + and subdued: “Mine! my angel! You will see me to-morrow.—Your + Lover.” + </p> + <p> + Of jealousy she felt very little—her chief thought coming like a + wave over her: “Here is a man that can love!” + </p> + <p> + She was a woman of chaste blood, which spoke to her as shyly as a girl's, + now that it was in tumult: so indeed that, pressing her heart, she thought + youth to have come back, and feasted on the exultation we have when, at an + odd hour, we fancy we have cheated time. The sensation of youth and + strength seemed to set a seal of lawfulness and naturalness, hitherto + wanting, on her feeling for Wilfrid. “I can help him,” she thought. “I + know where he fails, and what he can do. I can give him position, and be + worth as much as any woman can be to a man.” Thus she justified the + direction taken by the new force in her. + </p> + <p> + Two days later Wilfrid received a letter from Lady Charlotte, saying that + she, with a chaperon, had started to join her brother at the + yacht-station, according to appointment. Amazed and utterly discomfited, + he looked about for an escape; but his father, whose plea of sickness had + kept him from pursuing Emilia, petulantly insisted that he should go down + to Lady Charlotte. Adela was ready to go. There were numbers either going + or now on the spot, and the net was around him. Cornelia held back, + declaring that her place was by her father's side. Fine Shades were still + too dominant at Brookfield for anyone to tell her why she stayed. + </p> + <p> + With anguish so deep that he could not act indifference, Wilfrid went on + his miserable expedition—first setting a watch over Mr. Pericles, + the which, in connection with the electric telegraph, was to enable him to + join that gentleman speedily, whithersoever he might journey. He was not + one to be deceived by the Greek's mask in running down daily to + Brookfield. A manoeuvre like that was poor; and besides, he had seen the + sallow eyes give a twinkle more than once. + </p> + <p> + Now, on the Besworth night, Georgiana Ford had studied her brother + Merthyr's face when Emilia's voice called for Wilfrid. Her heart was + touched; and, in the midst of some little invidious wonder at the power of + a girl to throw her attraction upon such a man, she thought, as she hoped, + that probably it was due to the girl's Italian blood. Merthyr was not + unwilling to speak of her, and say what he feared and desired for Emilia's + sake; and Georgiana read, by this mark of confidence, how sincerely she + was loved and trusted by him. “One never can have more than half of a + man's heart,” she thought—adding, “It's our duty to deserve that, + nevertheless.” + </p> + <p> + She was mystified. Say that Merthyr loved a girl, whom he certainly + distinguished with some visible affection, what sort of man must he be + that was preferred to Merthyr? And this set Georgiana at work thinking of + Wilfrid. “He has at times the air of a student. He is one who trusts his + own light too exclusively. Is he godless?” She concluded: “He is a + soldier, and an officer with brains—a good class:” Rare also. + Altogether, though Emilia did not elevate herself in this lady's mind by + choosing Wilfrid when she might have had Merthyr, the rivalry of the two + men helped to dignify the one of whom she thought least. Might she have + had Merthyr? Georgiana would not believe it—that is to say, she shut + the doors and shot the bolts, the knocking outside went on. + </p> + <p> + Her brother had told her the whole circumstances of Emilia's life and + position. When he said, “Do what you can for her,” she knew that it was + not the common empty phrase. Young as she was, simple in habits, clear in + mind, open in all practices of daily life, she was no sooner brought into + an active course than astuteness and impetuosity combined wonderfully in + her. She did not tell Merthyr that she had done anything to discover + Emilia, and only betrayed that she was moving at all in a little + conversation they had about a meeting at the house of his friend Marini, + an Italian exile. + </p> + <p> + “Possibly Belloni goes there,” said Merthyr. “I wonder whether Marini + knows anything of him. They have a meeting every other night.” + </p> + <p> + Georgiana replied: “He went there and took his daughter the night after we + were at Besworth. He took her to be sworn in.” + </p> + <p> + “Still that old folly of Marini's!” cried Merthyr, almost wrathfully. He + had some of the English objection to the mixing-up of women in political + matters. + </p> + <p> + Georgiana instantly addressed herself to it: “He thinks that the country + must be saved by its women as well as its men; and if they have not brains + and steadfast devotion, he concludes that the country will not be saved. + But he gives them their share of the work; and, dearest, has he had reason + to repent it?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” Merthyr was forced to admit—taking shelter in his antipathy to + the administration of an oath to women. “And consider that this is a + girl!” + </p> + <p> + “The oaths of girls are sometimes more binding on them than the oaths of + women.” + </p> + <p> + “True, it affects their imaginations vividly; but it seems childish. Does + she have to kiss a sword and a book?” + </p> + <p> + Merthyr made a gesture like a shrug, with a desponding grimace. + </p> + <p> + “You know,” answered Georgiana, smiling, “that I was excused any formula, + by special exemption. I have no idea of what is done. Water, salt, white + thorns, and other Carbonaro mysteries may be in use or not: I think no + worse of the cause, whatever is done.” + </p> + <p> + “I love the cause,” said Merthyr. “I dislike this sort of conspiratorial + masque Marini and his Chief indulge in. I believe it sustains them, and + there's its only use.” + </p> + <p> + “I,” said Georgiana, “love the cause only from association with it; but in + my opinion Marini is right. He deals with young and fervent minds, that + require a ceremony to keep them fast—yes, dear, and women more than + others do. After that, they cease to have to rely upon themselves—a + reliance their good instinct teaches them is frail. There, now; have I put + my sex low enough?” + </p> + <p> + She slid her head against her brother's shoulder. If he had ever met a man + worthy of her, Merthyr would have sighed to feel that all her precious + love was his own. + </p> + <p> + “Is there any likelihood that Belloni will be there tonight?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + She shook her head. “He has not been there since. He went for that + purpose.” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps Marini is right, after all,” said Merthyr, smiling. + </p> + <p> + Georgiana knew what he meant, and looked at him fondly. + </p> + <p> + “But I have never bound you to an oath,” he resumed, in the same tone. + </p> + <p> + “I dare say you consider me a little different from most,” said Georgiana. + She had as small reserve with her brother as vanity, and could even tell + him what she thought of her own worth without depreciating it after the + fashion of chartered hypocrites. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Powys wrote to Marini to procure him an interview with Belloni as + early as possible, and then he and Georgiana went down to Lady Charlotte. + </p> + <p> + Letters from Adela kept the Brookfield public informed of the doings on + board the yacht. Before leaving home, Wilfrid with Arabella's concurrence + certainly—at her instigation, as he thought—had led his father + to imagine, on tolerably good grounds, that Mrs. Chump had quitted + Brookfield to make purchases for her excursion on lively waters, and was + then awaiting him at the appointed station. One of the old man's + intermittent nervous fits had frightened them into the quasi-fabrication + of this little innocent tale. The doctor's words were that Mr. Pole was to + be crossed in nothing—“Not even if it should appear to be of + imminent necessity that I should see him, and he refuses.” The man of + science stated that the malady originated in some long continued pressure + of secret apprehension. Both Wilfrid and Arabella conceived that + persuasion alone was wanted to send Mrs. Chump flying to the yacht; so + they had less compunction in saying, “She is there.” + </p> + <p> + And here began a terrible trial for the children of Nine Shades. To save a + father they had to lie grievously—to continue the lie from day to + day—to turn it from a lie extensive and inappreciable to the lie + minute and absolute. Then, to get a particle of truth out of this + monstrous lie, they had to petition in utter humiliation the woman they + had scorned, that she would return among them and consider their house her + own. No answer came from Mrs. Chump; and as each day passed, the querulous + invalid, still painfully acting the man in health, had to be fed with + fresh lies; until at last, writing of one of the scenes in Brookfield, + Arabella put down the word in all its unblessed aboriginal bluntness, and + did not ask herself whether she shrank from it. “Lies!” she wrote. “What + has happened to Bella?” thought Adela, in pure wonder. Salt-air and + dazzling society kept all idea of penance from this vivacious young + person. It was queer that Sit Twickenham should be at the seaside, instead + of at Brookfield, wooing; but a man's physical condition should be an + excuse for any intermission of attentions. “Now that I know him better,” + wrote Adela, “I think him the pink of chivalry; and of this I am sure I + can convince you, Bella, C. will be blessed indeed; for a delicate nature + in a man of the world is a treasure. He has a beautiful little vessel of + his own sailing beside us.” + </p> + <p> + Arabella was critic enough to smile at this last. On the whole she was + passably content for the moment, in a severe fashion, save to feel herself + the dreadful lying engine and fruitlessly abject person that she had + become. + </p> + <p> + We imagine that when souls have had a fall, they immediately look up and + contrast their present with their preceding position. This does not occur. + The lower their fall, the less, generally, their despair, for despair is a + business of the Will, and when they come heavily upon their humanity, they + get something of the practical seriousness of nature. If they fall very + low, the shock and the sense that they are still on their feet make them + singularly earnest to set about the plain plan of existence—getting + air for their lungs and elbow-room. Contrast, that mother of melancholy, + comes when they are some way advanced upon the upward scale. The Poles did + not look up to their lost height, but merely exerted their faculties to go + forward; and great as their ambition had been in them, now that it was + suddenly blown to pieces, they did not sit and weep, but strove in a + stunned way to work ahead. The truth is, that we rarely indulge in + melancholy until we can take it as a luxury: little people never do, and + they, when we have not put them on their guard, are humankind naked. + </p> + <p> + The yachting excursions were depicted vividly by Adela, and were addressed + as a sort of reproach to the lugubrious letters of her sister. She said + pointedly once: “Really, if we are to be miserable, I turn Catholic and go + into a convent.” The strange thing was that Arabella imagined her letters + to be rather of a cheerful character. She related the daily events at + Brookfield:—the change in her father's soups, and his remarks on + them, and which he preferred; his fight with his medicine, and declaration + that he was as sound as any man on shore; the health of the servants; Mr. + Marter the curate's call with a Gregorian chant; doubts of his orthodoxy; + Cornelia's lonely walks and singular appetite; the bills, and so forth—ending, + “What is to be said further of her?” + </p> + <p> + In return, Adela's delight was to date each day from a different port, to + which, catching the wind, the party had sailed, and there slept. The + ladies were under the protecting wing of the Hon. Mrs. Bayruffle, a smooth + woman of the world. “You think she must have sinned in her time, but are + certain it will never be known,” wrote Adela. “I do confess, kind as she + is, she does me much harm; for when she is near me I begin to think that + Society is everything. Her tact is prodigious; it is never seen—only + felt. I cannot describe her influence; yet it leads to nothing. I cannot + absolutely respect her; but I know I shall miss her acutely when we part. + What charm does she possess? I call her the Hon. Mrs. Heathen—Captain + G., the Hon. Mrs. Balm. I know you hate nicknames. Be merciful to people + yachting. What are we to do? I would look through a telescope all day and + calculate the number of gulls and gannets we see; but I am not so old as + Sir T., and that occupation could not absorb me. I begin to understand + Lady Charlotte and her liking for Mr. Powys better. He is ready to play or + be serious, as you please; but in either case 'Merthyr is never a buffoon + nor a parson'—Lady C. remarked this morning; and that describes him, + if it were not for the detestable fling at the clergy, which she never + misses. It seems in her blood to think that all priests are hypocrites. + What a little boat to be in on a stormy sea, Bella! She appears to have no + concern about it. Whether she adores Wilfrid or not I do not pretend to + guess. She snubs him—a thing he would bear from nobody but her. I do + believe he feels flattered by it. He is chiefly attentive to Miss Ford, + whom I like and do not like, and like and do not like—but do like. + She is utterly cold, and has not an affection on earth. Sir T.—I + have not a dictionary—calls her a fair clictic, I think. (Let even + Cornelia read hard, or woe to her in their hours of privacy!—his + vocabulary grows distressingly rich the more you know him. I am not + uneducated, but he introduces me to words that seem monsters; I must + pretend to know them intimately.) Well, whether a clictic or not—and + pray, burn this letter, lest I should not have the word correct—she + has the air of a pale young princess above any creature I have seen in the + world. I know it has struck Wilfred also; my darling and I are ever twins + in sentiment. He converses with Miss Ford a great deal. Lady C. is + peculiarly civil to Captain G. We scud along, and are becalmed. 'Having no + will of our own, we have no knowledge of contrary winds,' as Mr. Powys + says.—The word is 'eclictic,' I find. I ventured on it, and it was + repeated; and I heard that I had missed a syllable. Ask C. to look it out—I + mean, to tell me they mining on a little slip of paper in your next. I + would buy a pocket-dictionary at one of the ports, but you are never + alone. “Aesthetic,” we know. Mr. Barrett used to be of service for this + sort of thing. I admit I am inferior to Mrs. Bayruffle, who, if men talk + difficult words in her presence, holds her chin above the conversation, + and seems to shame them. I love to learn—I love the humility of + learning. And there is something divine in the idea of a teacher. I listen + to Sir T. on Parliament and parties, and chide myself if my interest + flags. His algebra-puzzles, or Euclid-puzzles in figures—sometimes + about sheep-boys and sheep, and hurdles or geese, oxen or anything—are + delicious: he quite masters the conversation with them. I disagree with + Mrs. Bayruffle when she complains that they are posts in the way of + speech. There is a use in all men; and though she is an acknowledged + tactician materially, she cannot see she has in Sir T. a quality necessary + to intellectual conversation, if she knew how to employ it.” + </p> + <p> + Remarks of this nature read very oddly to Arabella, insomuch that she + would question herself at times, in forced seriousness, whether she had + dreamed that an evil had befallen Brookfield, or whether Adela were + forgetting that it had, in a dream. One day she enclosed a letter from her + father to Mrs. Chump. Adela did not forge a reply; but she had the + audacity to give the words of a message from the woman (in which Mrs. + Chump was supposed to say that she could not write while she was being + tossed about.) “We must carry it on,” Adela told her sister, with horrible + bluntness. The message savoured strongly of Mrs. Chump. It was wickedly + clever. Arabella resolved to put it by; but morning after morning she saw + her father's anxiety for the reply mounting to a pitch of fever. She + consulted with Cornelia, who said, “No; never do such a thing!” and + subsequently, with a fainter firmness, repeated the negative monosyllable. + Arabella, in her wretchedness, became endued with remorseless discernment. + “It means that Cornelia would never do it herself,” she thought; and, + comforted haply by reflecting that for their common good she could do it, + she did it. She repeated an Irish message. Her father calmed immediately, + making her speak it over twice. He smiled, and blinked his bird's-eyes + pleasurably: “Ah! that's Martha,” he said, and fell into a state of + comparative repose. For some hours a sensation of bubbling hot-water + remained about the sera of Arabella. Happily Mrs. Chump in person did not + write. + </p> + <p> + A correspondence now commenced between the fictitious Mrs. Chump on sea + and Mr. Pole, dyspeptic, in his armchair. Arabella took the doctor aside + to ask him, if in a hypothetical instance, it would really be dangerous to + thwart or irritate her father. She asked the curate if he deemed it wicked + to speak falsely to an invalid for the invalid's benefit. The spiritual + and bodily doctors agreed that occasion altered and necessity justified + certain acts. So far there was comfort. But the task of assisting in this + correspondence, and yet more, the contemplation of Adela's growing delight + in it (she would now use Irish words, vulgar words, words expressive of + physical facts; airing her natural wit in Irish as if she had found a new + weapon), became a bitter strain on Arabella's mind, and she was compelled + to make Cornelia take her share of the burden. “But I cannot conceal—I + cannot feign,” said Cornelia. Arabella looked at her, whom she knew to be + feigning, thinking, “Must I lose my high esteem of both my sisters? Action + alone saved her from denuding herself of this garment.” + </p> + <p> + “That night!” was now the allusion to the scene at Besworth. It stood for + all the misery they suffered; nor could they see that they had since made + any of their own. + </p> + <p> + A letter with the Dover postmark brought exciting news. + </p> + <p> + A debate had been held on board the yacht. Wilfrid and Lady Charlotte gave + their votes for the Devon coast. All were ready to be off, when Miss Ford + received a telegram from shore, and said, “No; it must be Dover.” Now, + Mrs. Chump's villa was on the Devon coast. Lady Charlotte had talked to + Wilfrid about her, and in the simplest language had said that she must be + got on board. This was the reason of their deciding for Devon. But + Georgiana stood for Dover; thither Merthyr said that he must go, whether + be sailed or went on land. By a simultaneous reading of Georgiana's eyes, + both Wilfrid and Lady Charlotte saw what was meant by her decision. + Wilfrid at once affected to give way, half-protestingly. “And this,” wrote + Adela, “taught me that he was well pleased to abandon the West for the + East. Lady C. favoured him with a look such as I could not have believed I + should ever behold off the stage. There was a perfect dagger in her eyes. + She fought against Dover: do men feel such compliments as these? They are + the only true ones! She called the captain to witness that the wind was + not for Dover she called the mate: she was really eloquent—yes, and + handsome. I think Wilfrid thought so; or the reason far the opposition to + Dover impressed my brother. I like him to be made to look foolish, for + then he retrieves his character so dashingly—always. His face was + red, and he seemed undecided—was—until one taunt (it must have + been a taunt), roused him up. They exchanged about six sentences—these + two. I cannot remember them, unhappily; but for neatness and irony, never + was anything so delicious heard. They came sharp as fencing-thrusts; and + you could really believe, if you liked, that they were merely stating + grounds for diverse opinions. Of course we sailed East, reaching Dover at + ten; and the story is this—I knew Emilia was in it:—Tracy + Runningbrook had been stationed at Dover ten days by Miss Ford, to + intercept Emilia's father, if he should be found taking her to the + Continent by that route. He waited, and met them at last on the Esplanade. + He telegraphed to Miss Ford and a Signor Marini (we were wrong in not + adding illustrious exiles to our list), while he invited them to dine, and + detained them till the steamboat was starting; and Signor Marini came down + by rail in a great hurry, and would not let Emilia be taken away. There + was a quarrel; but, by some mysterious power that he possesses, this + Signor Marini actually prevented the father from taking his child. + Mysterious? But is anything more mysterious than Emilia's influence? I + cannot forget what she was ere we trained her; and when I think that we + seem to be all—all who come near her—connected with her + fortunes! Explain it if you can. I know it is not her singing; I know it + is not her looks. Captivations she does not deal in. Is it the magic of + indifference? No; for then some one whom you know and who longs to kiss + her bella Bella now would be dangerous! She is very little so, believe me! + </p> + <p> + “Emilia is (am I chronicling a princess?)—she is in London with + Signor Marini; and Wilfrid has not seen her. Lady Charlotte managed to get + the first boat full, and pushed off as he was about to descend. I pitied + his poor trembling hand I went on shore in the second boat with him. We + did not find the others for an hour, when we heard that Emilia had gone + with Signor M. The next day, whom should we sea but Mr. Pericles. He (I + have never seen him so civil)—he shook Wilfrid by the hand almost + like an Englishman; and Wilfrid too, though he detests him, was civil to + him, and even laughed when he said: 'Here it is dull; ze Continent for a + week. I follow Philomela—ze nightingales.' I was just going to say, + 'Well then, you are running away from one.' Wilfrid pressed my fingers, + and taught me to be still; and I did not know why till I reflected. Poor + Mr. Pericles, seeing him friendly for the first time, rubbed his hands and + it was most painful to me to see him shake hands with Wilfrid again and + again, till he was on board the vessel chuckling. Wilfrid suddenly laughed + with all his might—a cruel laugh; and Mr. Pericles tried to be as + loud, but commenced coughing and tapping his chest, to explain that his + intention was good. Bella! the passion of love must be judged by the + person who inspires it; and I cannot even go so far as to feel pity for + Wilfrid if he has stooped to the humiliation of—there is another way + of regarding it, know. Let him be sincere and noble; but not his own + victim. He scarcely holds up his head. We are now for Devon. Tracy is with + us; and we never did a wiser thing than when we decided to patronize + poets. If kept in order—under—they are the aristocracy of + light conversationalists. Adieu! We speed for beautiful Devon. 'Me love to + Pole, and I'm just,' etc. That will do this time; next, she will speak + herself. That I should wish it! But the world is full of change, as I + begin to learn. What will ensue?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXV + </h2> + <p> + When Mrs. Chump had turned her back on Brookfield, the feelings of the + outcast woman were too deep for much distinctly acrimonious sensation + toward the ladies; but their letters soon lifted and revived her, until, + being in a proper condition of prickly wrath, she sat down to compose a + reply that should bury them under a mountain of shame. The point, however, + was to transfer this mountain from her bosom, which laboured heavily + beneath it, to their heads. Nothing could appear simpler. Here is the + mountain; the heads are yonder. Accordingly, she prepared to commence. In + a moment the difficulty yawned monstrous. For the mountain she felt was + not a mountain of shame; yet that was the character of mountain she wished + to cast. If she crushed them, her reputation as a forgiving soul might + suffer: she could not pardon without seeing them abased. Thus shaken at + starting, she found herself writing: “I know that your father has been + hearing tales told of me, or he would have written, and he has not; so you + shall never see me, not if you cried to me from the next world—the + hot part.” + </p> + <p> + Perusing this, it was too tremendous. “Oh, that's awful!” she said, + getting her body a little away from the manuscript. “Ye couldn't curse + much louder.” + </p> + <p> + A fresh trial found her again rounding the fact that Mr. Pole had not + written to her, and again flying into consequent angers. She had some dim + conception of the sculpture of an offended Goddess. “I look so,” she said + before the glass “I'm above ye, and ye can't hurt me, and don't come anigh + me: but here's a cheque—and may ye be haunted in your dreams!—but + here's a cheque.” + </p> + <p> + There was pain in her heart, for she had felt faith in Mr. Pole's + affection for her. “And he said,” she cried out in her lonely room—“he + said, 'Martha, ye've onnly to come and be known to 'm, and then they'll + take to the ideea.' And wasn't I a patient creature! And it's Pole that's + turned—Pole!” + </p> + <p> + Varied with the frequent 'Oh!' and 'Augh!' these dramatic monologues + occupied her time while the yacht was sailing for her Devon bay. + </p> + <p> + At last the thought struck her that she would send for Braintop—telegraphing + that expenses would be paid, and that he must come with a good quill. “It + goes faster,” she whispered, suggesting the pent-up torrent, as it were, + of blackest ink in her breast that there was to pour forth. A very cunning + postscript to the telegram brought Braintop almost as quick to her as a + return message. It was merely 'Little Belloni.' + </p> + <p> + She had forgotten this piece of artifice: but when she saw him start at + the opening of the door, keeping a sheepish watch in that direction, + “By'n-by,” she said, with a nod; and shortly afterward unfolded her object + in summoning him from his London labours: “A widde-woman ought to get + marrud, Mr. Braintop, if onnly to have a husband to write letters for 'rr. + Now, that's a task! But sup to-night, and mind ye say yer prayers before + gettin' into bed; and no tryin' to flatter your Maker with your knees + cuddled up to your chin under the counterpane. I do 't myself sometimes, + and I know one prayer out of bed's worrth ten of 'm in. Then I'll pray + too; and mayhap we'll get permission and help to write our letter + to-morrow, though Sunday, as ye say.” + </p> + <p> + On the morrow Braintop's spirits were low, he having perceived that the + 'Little Belloni' postscript had been but an Irish chuckle and nudge in his + ribs, by way of sly insinuation or reminder. He looked out on the sea, and + sighed to be under certain white sails visible in the offing. Mrs. Chump + had received by the morning's post another letter from Arabella, enclosing + one for Wilfrid. A dim sense of approaching mastery, and that she might + soon be melted, combined with the continued silence of Mr. Pole to make + her feel yet more spiteful. She displayed no commendable cunning when, to + sharpen and fortify Braintop's wits, she plumped him at breakfast with all + things tempting to the appetite of man. “I'll help ye to 'rr,” she said + from time to time, finding that no encouragement made him potent in + speech. + </p> + <p> + Fronting the sea a desk was laid open. On it were the quills faithfully + brought down by Braintop. + </p> + <p> + “Pole's own quills,” she said, having fixed Braintop in this official + seat, while she took hers at a station half-commanding the young clerk's + face. The mighty breakfast had given Braintop intolerable desire to + stretch his limbs by the sounding shore, and enjoy life in semi-oblivion. + He cheered himself with the reflection that there was only one letter to + write, so he remarked politely that he was at his hostess's disposal. + Thereat Mrs. Chump questioned him closely whether Mr. Pole had spoken her + name aloud; and whether he did it somehow, now and then by accident, and + whether he had looked worse of late. Braintop answered the latter question + first, assuring her that Mr. Pole was improving. + </p> + <p> + “Then there's no marcy from me,” said Mrs. Chump; and immediately + discharged an exclamatory narrative of her recent troubles, and the breach + between herself and Brookfield, at Braintop's ears. This done, she told + him that he was there to write the reply to the letters of the ladies, in + her name. “Begin,” she said. “Ye've got head enough to guess my feelin's. + I'm invited, and I won't go—till I'm fetched. But don't say that. + That's their guess ye know. 'And I don't care for ye enough to be angry at + all, but it's pity I feel at a parcel of fine garls'—so on, Mr. + Braintop.” + </p> + <p> + The perplexities of epistolary correspondence were assuming the like + proportions to the recruited secretary that they had worn to Mrs. Chump. + Steadily watching his countenance; she jogged him thus: “As if ye couldn't + help ut, ye know, ye begin. Jest like wakin' in the mornin' after dancin' + all night. Ye make the garls seem to hear me seemin' to say—Oooo! I + was so comfortable before your disturbin' me with your horrud voices. Ye + understand, Mr. Braintop? 'I'm in bed, and you're a cold bath.' Begin like + that, ye know. 'Here's clover, and you're nettles.' D'ye see? Here from my + glass o' good Porrt to your tumbler of horrud acud vin'gar.' Bless the + boy! he don't begin.” + </p> + <p> + She stamped her foot. Braintop, in desperation, made a plunge at the + paper. Looking over his shoulder in a delighted eagerness, she suddenly + gave it a scornful push. “'Dear!'” she exclaimed. “You're dearin' them, + absurd young man I'm not the woman to I dear 'em—not at the starrt! + I'm indignant—I'm hurrt. I come round to the 'dear' by-and-by, after + I have whipped each of the proud sluts, and their brother Mr. Wilfrid, + just as if by accident. Ye'll promus to forget avery secret I tell ye; but + our way is always to pretend to believe the men can't help themselves. So + the men look like fools, ye sly laughin' fella! and the women horrud + scheming spiders. Now, away, with ye, and no dearin'.” + </p> + <p> + The Sunday-bells sounded mockingly in Braintop's ears, appearing to ask + him how he liked his holiday; and the white sails on the horizon line have + seldom taunted prisoner more. He spread out another sheet of notepaper and + wrote “My,” and there he stopped. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Chump was again at his elbow. “But, they aren't 'my,'” she + remonstrated, “when I've nothin' to do with 'm. And a 'my' has a 'dear' to + 't always. Ye're not awake, Mr. Braintop; try again.” + </p> + <p> + “Shall I begin formally, 'Mrs. Chump presents her compliments,' ma'am?” + said Braintop stiffly. + </p> + <p> + “And I stick myself up on a post, and talk like a parrot, sir! Don't you + see, I'm familiar, and I'm woundud? Go along; try again.” + </p> + <p> + Braintop's next effort was, “Ladies.” + </p> + <p> + “But they don't behave to me like ladus; and it's against my conscience to + call 'em!” said Mrs. Chump, with resolution. + </p> + <p> + Braintop wrote down “Women,” in the very irony of disgust. + </p> + <p> + “And avery one of 'em unmarred garls!” exclaimed Mrs. Chump, throwing up + her hands. “Mr. Braintop! Mr. Braintop! ye're next to an ejut!” + </p> + <p> + Braintop threw dawn the pen. “I really do not know what to say,” he + remarked, rising in distress. + </p> + <p> + “I naver had such a desire to shake anny man in all my life,” said Mrs. + Chump, dropping to her chair. + </p> + <p> + The posture of affairs was chimed to by the monotonous bell. After + listening to it for some minutes, Mrs. Chump was struck with a notion that + Braintop's sinfulness in working on a Sunday, or else the shortness of the + prayer he had put up to gain absolution, was the cause of his lack of + ready wit. Hearing that he had gloves, she told him to go to church, + listen devoutly, and return to luncheon. Braintop departed, with a + sensation of relief in the anticipation of a sermon, quite new to him. + When he next made his bow to his hostess, he was greeted by a pleasant + sparkle of refreshments. Mrs. Chump herself primed him with Sherry, + thinking in the cunning of her heart that it might haply help the + inspiration derived from his devotional exercise. After this, pen and + paper were again produced. + </p> + <p> + “Well, now, Mr. Braintop, and what have ye thought of?” said Mrs. Chump, + encouragingly. + </p> + <p> + Braintop thought rapidly over what he might possibly have been thinking + of; and having put a file of ideas into the past, said, with the air of a + man who delicately suggests a subtlety: “It has struck me, ma'am, that + perhaps 'Girls' might begin very well. To be sure 'Dear girls' is the + best, if you would consent to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Take another glass of wine, Mr. Braintop,” Mrs. Chump nodded. “Ye're + nearer to ut now. 'Garls' is what they are, at all events. But don't you + see, my dear your man, it isn't the real thing we want so much as a sort + of a proud beginnin', shorrt of slappin' their faces. Think of dinner. + Furrst soup; that prepares ye for what's comin'. Then fish, which is on + the road to meat, dye see?—we pepper 'em. Then joint, Mr. Braintop—out + we burrst: (Oh, and what ins'lent hussies ye've been to me, and yell naver + see annything of me but my back!) Then the sweets,—But I'm a + forgivin' woman, and a Christian in the bargain, ye ungrateful minxes; and + if ye really are sorrowful! And there, Mr. Braintop, ye've got it all laid + out as flat as a pancake.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Chump gave the motion of a lightning scrawl of the pen. Braintop + looked at the paper, which now appeared to recede from his eyes, and + flourish like a descending kite. The nature of the task he had undertaken + became mountainous in his imagination, till at last he fixed his forehead + in his thumbs and fingers, and resolutely counted a number of meaningless + words one hundred times. As this was the attitude of a severe student, + Mrs. Chump remained in expectation. Aware of the fearful confidence he had + excited in her, Braintop fell upon a fresh hundred, with variations. + </p> + <p> + “The truth is, I think better in church,” he said, disclosing at last as + ingenuous a face as he could assume. He scarcely ventured to hope for a + second dismissal. + </p> + <p> + To his joy, Mrs. Chump responded with a sigh: “There, go again; and the + Lord forgive ye for directin' your mind to temporal matters when ye're + there! It's none of my doin', remember that; and don't be tryin' to make + me a partic'pator in your wickudness.” + </p> + <p> + “This is so difficult, ma'am, because you won't begin with Dear,” he + observed snappishly, as he was retiring. + </p> + <p> + “Of coorse it's difficult if it bothers me,” retorted Mrs. Chump, divided + between that view of the case and contempt of Braintop for being on her + own level. + </p> + <p> + “Do you see, we are not to say 'Dear' anything, or 'Ladies,' or—in + short, really, if you come to think, ma'am!” + </p> + <p> + “Is that a woman's business, Mr. Braintop?” said Mrs. Chump, as from a + height; and the youth retired in humiliation. + </p> + <p> + Braintop was not destitute of the ambition of his time of life, and + yearned to be what he believed himself—something better than a + clerk. If he had put forth no effort to compose Mrs. Chump's letter, he + would not have felt that he was the partner of her stupidity; but he had + thoughtlessly attempted the impossible thing, and now, contemplating his + utter failure, he was in so low a state of mind that he would have taken + pen and written himself down, with ordinary honesty, good-for-nothing. He + returned to his task, and found the dinner spread. Mrs. Chump gave him + champagne, and drank to him, requesting him to challenge her. “We won't be + beaten,” she said; and at least they dined. + </p> + <p> + The 'we' smote Braintop's swelling vanity. It signified an alliance, and + that they were yoked to a common difficulty. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! let's finish it and have it over,” he remarked, with a complacent + roll in his chair. + </p> + <p> + “Naver stop a good impulse,” said Mrs. Chump, herself removing the lamp to + light him. + </p> + <p> + Braintop sat in the chair of torture, and wrote flowingly, while his + taskmistress looked over him, “Ladies of Brookfield.” He read it out: + “Ladies of Brookfield.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll be vary happy to represent ye at the forthcomin' 'lection,” Mrs. + Chump gave a continuation in his tone. + </p> + <p> + “Why, won't that do, ma'am?” Braintop asked in wonderment. + </p> + <p> + “Cap'tal for a circular, Mr. Braintop. And ye'll allow me to say that I + don't think ye've been to church at all.” + </p> + <p> + This accusation containing a partial truth (that is, true if it referred + to the afternoon, but not as to the morning), it was necessary for + Braintop's self-vindication that he should feel angry. The two were very + soon recriminating, much in the manner of boy and girl shut up on a sunny + afternoon; after which they, in like manner, made it up—the fact of + both having a habit of consulting the glass, and the accident of their + doing it at the same time, causing an encounter of glances there that + could hardly fail to be succeeded by some affability. For a last effort, + Mrs. Chump laid before Braintop a prospect of advancement in his office, + if he so contrived as to write a letter that should land her in Brookfield + among a scourged, repentant, and forgiven people. That he might understand + the position, she went far modestly to reveal her weakness for Mr. Pole. + She even consented to let 'Ladies' be the opening apostrophe, provided the + word 'Young' went before it: “They'll feel that sting,” she said. Braintop + stipulated that she should not look till the letter was done; and, + observing his pen travelling the lines in quick succession, Mrs. Chump + became inspired by a great but uneasy hope. She was only to be restrained + from peeping, by Braintop's petulant “Pray, ma'am!” which sent her + bouncing back to her chair, with a face upon one occasion too solemn for + Braintop's gravity. He had written himself into excellent spirits; and + happening to look up as Mrs. Chump retreated from his shoulder, the + woman's comic reverence for his occupation—the prim movement of her + lips while she repeated mutely the words she supposed he might be penning—touched + him to laughter. At once Mrs. Chump seized on the paper. “Young ladus,” + she read aloud, “yours of the 2nd, the 14th, and 21st ulto. The 'ffection + I bear to your onnly remaining parent.” + </p> + <p> + Her enunciation waxed slower and significantly staccato toward a pause. + The composition might undoubtedly have issued from a merchant's office, + and would have done no discredit to the establishment. When the pause + came, Braintop, half for an opinion, and to encourage progress, said, + “Yes, ma'am;” and with “There, sir!” Mrs. Chump crumpled up the paper and + flung it at him. “And there, sir!” she tossed a pen. Hearing Braintop + mutter, “Lady-like behaviour,” Mrs. Chump came out in a fiery bloom. “Ye + detestable young fella! Oh, ye young deceiver! Ye cann't do the work of a + man! Oh! and here's another woman dis'pointed, and when she thought she'd + got a man to write her letters!” + </p> + <p> + Braintop rose and retorted. + </p> + <p> + “Ye're false, Mr. Braintop—ye're offensuv, sir!” said Mrs. Chump; + and Braintop instantly retired upon an expressive bow. When he was out of + the room, Mrs. Chump appealed spitefully to an audience of chairs; but + when she heard the front-door shut with a report, she jumped up in terror, + crying incredulously, “Is the young man pos'tively one? Oh! and me alone + in a rage!—” the contemplated horrors of which position set her + shouting vociferously. “Mr. Braintop!” sounded over the stairs, and “Mr. + Braintop!” into the street. The maid brought Mrs. Chump her bonnet. Night + had fallen; and nothing but the greatest anxiety to recover Braintop would + have tempted her from her house. She made half-a-dozen steps, and then + stopped to mutter, “Oh! if ye'd onnly come, I'd forgive ye—indeed I + would!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, here I am,” was instantaneously answered; her waist was clasped, + and her forehead was kissed. + </p> + <p> + The madness of Braintop's libertinism petrified her. + </p> + <p> + “Ye've taken such a liberty, sir 'deed ye've forgotten yourself!” + </p> + <p> + While she was speaking; she grew confused with the thought that Braintop + had mightily altered both his voice and shape. When on the doorstep he + said; “Come out of the darkness or, upon my honour, I shall behave worse,” + she recognized Wilfrid, and understood by his yachting costume in what + manner he had come. He gave her no time to think of her dignity or her + wrath. “Lady Charlotte is with me. I sleep at the hotel; but you have no + objection to receive her, have you?” This set her mind upon her best + bedroom, her linen, and the fitness of her roof to receive a title. Then, + in a partial fit of gratitude for the honour, and immense thankfulness at + being spared the task of the letter, she fell on Wilfrid's shoulder, + beginning to sob—till he, in alarm at his absurd position, suggested + that Lady Charlotte awaited a welcome. Mrs. Chump immediately flew to her + drawing-room and rang bells, appearing presently with a lamp, which she + set on a garden-pillar. Together they stood by the lamp, a spectacle to + ocean: but no Lady Charlotte drew near. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER, XXXVI + </h2> + <p> + Though Mrs. Chump and Wilfrid, as they stood by the light of the lamp, saw + no one, they themselves were seen. Lady Charlotte had arranged to give him + a moment in advance to make his peace. She had settled it with that air of + practical sense which her title made graceful to him. “I will follow; and + I dare say I can complete what you leave unfinished,” she said. Her + humorous sense of the aristocratic prestige was conveyed to him in a very + taking smile. He scarcely understood why she should have planned so + decisively to bring about a reconciliation between Mrs. Chump and his + family; still, as it now chimed perfectly with his own views and wishes, + he acquiesced in her scheme, giving her at the same time credit for more + than common wisdom. + </p> + <p> + While Lady Charlotte lingered on the beach, she became aware of a figure + that hung about her; as she was moving away, a voice of one she knew well + enough asked to be directed to the house inhabited by Mrs. Chump. The lady + was more startled than it pleased her to admit to herself. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you know me?” she said, bluntly. + </p> + <p> + “You!” went Emilia's voice. + </p> + <p> + “Why on earth are you here? What brings you here? Are you alone?” returned + the lady. + </p> + <p> + Emilia did not answer. + </p> + <p> + “What extraordinary expedition are you making? But, tell me one thing: are + you here of your own accord, or at somebody else's bidding?” + </p> + <p> + Impatient at the prospect of a continuation of silences, Lady Charlotte + added, “Come with me.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia seemed to be refusing. + </p> + <p> + “The appointment was made at that house, I know,” said the lady; “but if + you come with me, you will see him just as readily.” + </p> + <p> + At this instant, the lamp was placed on the pillar, showing Wilfrid, in + his sailor's hat and overcoat, beside the fluttering Irishwoman. + </p> + <p> + “Come, I must speak to you first,” said Lady Charlotte hurriedly, thinking + that she saw Emilia's hands stretch out. “Pray, don't go into attitudes. + There he is, as you perceive; and I don't use witchcraft. Come with me; I + will send for him. Haven't you learnt by this time that there's nothing he + detests so much as a public display of the kind you're trying to provoke?” + </p> + <p> + Emilia half comprehended her. + </p> + <p> + “He changes when he's away from me,” she said, low toneless voice. + </p> + <p> + “Less than I fancied,” the lady thought. + </p> + <p> + Then she told Emilia that there was really no necessity for her to whine + and be miserable; she was among friends, and so forth. The simplicity of + her manner of speech found its way to Emilia's reason quicker than her + arguments; and, in the belief that Wilfrid was speaking to Mrs. Chump on + urgent private matters (she had great awe of the word 'business'), Emilia + suffered herself to be led away. She uttered twice a little exclamation, + as she looked back, that sounded exceedingly comical to Lady Charlotte's + ears. They were the repressions of a poignant outcry. “Doggies make that + noise,” thought the lady, and succeeded in feeling contemptuous. + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid, when he found that Lady Charlotte was not coming, bestowed a + remark upon her sex, and went indoors for his letter. He considered it + politic not to read it there, Mrs. Chump having grown so friendly, and + even motherly, that she might desire, out of pure affection, to share the + contents. He put it by and talked gaily, till Mrs. Chump, partly to + account for the defection of the lady, observed that she knew they had a + quarrel. She was confirmed in this idea on a note being brought in to him, + over which, before opening it, he frowned and flushed. Aware of the + treachery of his countenance, he continued doing so after his eyes had + taken in the words, though there was no special ground furnished by them + for any such exhibition. Mrs. Chump immediately, with a gaze of mightiest + tribulation, burst out: “I'll help ye; 'pon my honour, I'll help ye. Oh! + the arr'stocracy! Oh, their pride! But if I say, my dear, when I die + (which it's so horrud to think of), you'll have a share, and the biggest—this + vary cottage, and a good parrt o' the Bank property—she'll come down + at that. And if ye marry a lady of title, I'll be 's good as my word, I + will.” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid pressed her fingers. “Can you ever believe that, I have called you + a 'simmering pot of Emerald broth'?” + </p> + <p> + “My dear! annything that's lots o' words, Ye may call me,” returned Mrs. + Chump, “as long as it's no name. Ye won't call me a name, will ye? Lots o' + words—it's onnly as if ye peppered me, and I sneeze, and that's all; + but a name sticks to yer back like a bit o' pinned paper. Don't call me a + name,” and she wriggled pathetically. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Wilfrid, “I shall call you Pole.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! ye sweetest of young fellas!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Chump threw out her arms. She was on the point of kissing him, but he + fenced with the open letter; and learning that she might read it, she gave + a cry of joy. + </p> + <p> + “Dear W.!” she begins; and it's twice dear from a lady of title. She's + just a multiplication-table for annything she says and touches. “Dear W.!” + and the shorter time a single you the better. I'll have my joke, Mr. + Wilfrud. “Dear W.!” Bless her heart now! I seem to like her next best to + the Queen already.—“I have another plan. Ye'd better keep to the + old; but it's two paths, I suppose, to one point.—Another plan. Come + to me at the Dolphin, where I am alone. Oh, Lord! 'Alone,' with a line + under it, Mr. Wilfrud! But there—the arr'stocracy needn't matter a + bit.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a very singular proceeding not the less,” said Wilfrid. “Why didn't + she go to the hotel where the others are, if she wouldn't come here?” + </p> + <p> + “But the arr'stocracy, Mr. Wilfrud! And alone—alone! d'ye see? which + couldn't be among the others; becas of sweet whisperin'. 'Alone,'” Mrs. + Chump read on; “'and to-morrow I'll pay my respects to what you call your + simmering pot of Emerald broth.' Oh ye hussy! I'd say, if ye weren't a + borrn lady. And signs ut all, 'Your faithful Charlotte.' Mr. Wilfrud, I'd + give five pounds for this letter if I didn't know ye wouldn't part with it + under fifty. And 'deed I am a simmerin' pot; for she'll be a relation, my + dear! Go to 'r. I'll have your bed ready for ye here at the end of an + hour; and to-morrrow perhaps, if Lady Charlotte can spare me, I'll + condescend to see Ad'la.” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid fanned her cheek with the note, and then dropped it on her neck + and left the room. He was soon hurrying on his way to the Dolphin: midway + he stopped. “There may be a bad shot in Bella's letter,” he thought. + Shop-lights were ahead: a very luminous chemist sent a green ray into the + darkness. Wilfrid fixed himself under it. “Confoundedly appropriate for a + man reading that his wife has run away from him!” he muttered, and hard + quickly plunged into matter quite as absorbing. When he had finished it he + shivered. Thus it ran: + </p> + <p> + “My beloved brother, + </p> + <p> + “I bring myself to plain words. Happy those who can trifle with human + language! Papa has at last taken us into his confidence. He has not spoken + distinctly; he did us the credit to see that it was not necessary. If in + our abyss of grief we loss delicacy, what is left?—what! + </p> + <p> + “The step he desired to take, Which We Opposed, he has anticipated, And + Must Consummate. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Wilfrid! you see it, do you not? You comprehend me I am surf! I + should have said 'had anticipated.' How to convey to you! (but it would be + unjust to him—to ourselves—were I to say emphatically what I + have not yet a right to think). What I have hinted above is, after all; + nothing but Cornelia's conjecture, I wish I could not say confirmed by + mine. We sat with Papa two hours before any idea of his meaning dawned + upon us. He first scolded us. We both saw from this that more was to come. + </p> + <p> + “I hope there are not many in this world to whom the thought of honour + being tied to money ever appears possible. If it is so there is wide + suffering—deep, for it, must be silent. Cornelia suggests one + comfort for them that they will think less of poverty. + </p> + <p> + “Why was Brookfield ever bought? Our old peaceful City-life—the + vacant Sundays!—my ears are haunted by their bells for Evening + Service. I said 'There they go, the dowdy population of heaven!' I + remember it now. It should be almost punishment enough to be certain that + of all those people going to church, there cannot be one more miserable + than we who stood at the old window ridiculing them. They at least do not + feel that everything they hope for in human life is dependent upon one + human will—the will of a mortal weather-vane! It is the case, and it + must be conciliated. There is no half-measure—no choice. Feel that + nothing you have ever dreamed of can be a disgrace if it is undergone to + forestall what positively impends, and act immediately. I shall expect to + see you in three days. She is to have the South-west bedroom (mine), for + which she expressed a preference. Prepare every mind for the ceremony:—an + old man's infatuation—money—we submit. It will take place in + town. To have the Tinleys in the church! But this is certainly my + experience, that misfortune makes me feel more and more superior to those + whom I despise. I have even asked myself—was I so once? And, Apropos + of Laura! We hear that their evenings are occupied in performing the scene + at Besworth. They are still as distant as ever from Richford. Let me add + that Albert Tinley requested my hand in marriage yesterday. I agree with + Cornelia that this is the first palpable sign that we have sunk. + Consequent upon the natural consequences came the interview with Papa. + </p> + <p> + “Dearest, dearest Wilfrid! can you, can I, can any one of us settle—that + is, involve another life in doubt while doubt exists? Papa insists; his + argument is, 'Now, now, and no delay.' I accuse nothing but his love. + Excessive love is perilous for principle! + </p> + <p> + “You have understood me, I know, and forgiven me for writing so nakedly. I + dare not reperuse it. You must satisfy him that Lady C. has fixed a date. + Adela is incomprehensible. One day she sees a friend in Lady C., and again + it is an enemy. Papa's immediate state of health is not alarming. Above + all things, do not let the girl come near him. Papa will send the cheque + you required.” + </p> + <p> + “When?” Wilfrid burst out upon Arabella's affectionate signature. “When + will he send it? He doesn't do me the honour to mention the time. And this + is his reply to a third application!” + </p> + <p> + The truth was that Wilfrid was in dire want of tangible cash simply to + provision his yacht. The light kindled in him by this unsatisfied need + made him keen to comprehend all that Arabella's attempt at plain writing + designed to unfold. + </p> + <p> + “Good God, my father's the woman's trustee!” shaped itself in Wilfrid's + brain. + </p> + <p> + And next: “If he marries her we may all be as poor as before.” That is to + say, “Honour may be saved without ruin being averted.” + </p> + <p> + His immediate pressing necessity struck like a pulse through all the + chords of dismal conjecture. His heart flying about for comfort, dropped + at Emilia's feet. + </p> + <p> + “Bella's right,” he said, reverting to the green page in his hand; “we + can't involve others in our scrape, whatever it may be.” + </p> + <p> + He ceased on the spot to be at war with himself, as he had been for many a + day; by which he was taught to imagine that he had achieved a mental + indifference to misfortune. This lightened his spirit considerably. “So + there's an end of that,” he emphasized, as the resolve took form to tell + Lady Charlotte flatly that his father was ruined, and that the son, + therefore, renounced his particular hope and aspiration. + </p> + <p> + “She will say, in the most matter-of-fact way in the world, 'Oh, very + well, that quite alters the case,'” said Wilfrid aloud, with the smallest + infusion of bitterness. Then he murmured, “Poor old governor!” and + wondered whether Emilia would come to this place according to his desire. + Love, that had lain crushed in him for the few recent days, sprang up and + gave him the thought, “She may be here now;” but, his eyes not being + satiated instantly with a sight of her, the possibility of such happiness + faded out. + </p> + <p> + “Blessed little woman!” he cried openly, ashamed to translate in tenderer + terms the soft fresh blossom of love that his fancy conjured forth at the + recollection of her. He pictured to himself hopefully, moreover, that she + would be shy when they met. A contradictory vision of her eyes lifted + hungry for his first words, or the pressure of his arm displeased him + slightly. It occurred to him that they would be characterized as a + singular couple. To combat this he drew around him all the mysteries of + sentiment that had issued from her voice and her eyes. She had made Earth + lovely to him and heaven human. She—what a grief for ever that her + origin should be what it was! For this reason:—lovers must live like + ordinary people outwardly; and say, ye Fates, how had she been educated to + direct a gentlemen's household? + </p> + <p> + “I can't exist on potatoes,” he pronounced humorously. + </p> + <p> + But when his thoughts began to dwell with fitting seriousness on the + woman-of-the-world tone to be expected from Lady Charlotte, he folded the + mental image of Emilia closely to his breast, and framed a misty idea of a + little lighted cottage wherein she sat singing to herself while he was + campaigning. “Two or three fellows—Lumley and Fredericks—shall + see her,” he thought. The rest of his brother officers were not even to + know that he was married. + </p> + <p> + His yacht was lying in a strip of moonlight near Sir Twickenham's + companion yawl. He gave one glance at it as at a history finished, and + sent up his name to Lady Charlotte. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you haven't brought the good old dame with you?” she said, rising to + meet him. “I thought it better not to see her to-night.” + </p> + <p> + He acquiesced, mentioning the lateness of the hour, and adding, “You are + alone?” + </p> + <p> + She stared, and let fall “Certainly,” and then laughed. “I had forgotten + your regard for the proprieties. I have just sent my maid for Georgiana; + she will sleep here. I preferred to come here, because those people at the + hotel tire me; and, besides, I said I should sleep at the villa, and I + never go back to people who don't expect me.” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid looked about the room perplexed, and almost suspicious because of + his unexplained perplexity. Her (as he deemed it—not much above the + level of Mrs. Chump in that respect) aristocratic indifference to opinion + and conventional social observances would have pleased him by daylight, + but it fretted him now. + </p> + <p> + Lady Charlotte's maid came in to say that Miss Ford would join her. The + maid was dismissed to her bed. “There's nothing to do there,” said her + mistress, as she was moving to the folding-doors. The window facing + seaward was open. He went straight to it and closed it. Next, in an + apparent distraction, he went to the folding-doors. He was about to press + the handle, when Lady Charlotte's quiet remark, “My bedroom,” brought him + back to his seat, crying pardon. + </p> + <p> + “Have you had news?” she inquired. “You thought that a letter might be + there. Bad, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “It is not good,” he replied, briefly. + </p> + <p> + “I am sorry.” + </p> + <p> + “That is—it tells me—” (Wilfrid disciplined his tongue) “that + I—we are—a lieutenant on half-pay may say that he is ruined, I + suppose, when his other supplies are cut off!...” + </p> + <p> + “I can excuse him for thinking it,” said Lady Charlotte. She exhibited no + sign of eagerness for his statement of facts. + </p> + <p> + Her outward composure and a hard animation of countenance (which, having + ceased the talking within himself, he had now leisure to notice) + humiliated him. The sting helped him to progress. + </p> + <p> + “I may try to doubt it as much as I please, to avoid seeing what must + follow.... I may shut my eyes in the dark, but when the light stares me in + the face...I give you my word that I have not been justified even in + imagining such a catastrophe.” + </p> + <p> + “The preamble is awful,” said Lady Charlotte, rising from her recumbent + posture. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me; I have no right to intrude my feelings. I learn to-day, for + the first time, that we are—are ruined.” + </p> + <p> + She did not lift her eyebrows, or look fixedly; but without any change at + all, said, “Is there no doubt about it?” + </p> + <p> + “None whatever.” This was given emphatically. Resentment at the perfect + realization of her anticipated worldly indifference lent him force. + </p> + <p> + “Ruined?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “You I'll be more so than you were a month ago. I mean, you tell me + nothing new, I have known it.” + </p> + <p> + Amid the crush and hurry in his brain, caused by this strange + communication, pressed the necessity to vindicate his honour. + </p> + <p> + “I give you the word of a gentleman, Lady Charlotte, that I came to you + the first moment it has been made known to me. I never suspected it before + this day.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing would prompt me to disbelieve that.” She reached him her hand. + </p> + <p> + “You have known it!” he broke from a short silence. + </p> + <p> + “Yes—never mind how. I could not allude to it. Of course I had to + wait till you took the initiative.” + </p> + <p> + The impulse to think the best of what we are on the point of renouncing is + spontaneous. If at the same time this object shall exhibit itself in + altogether new, undreamt-of, glorious colours, others besides a + sentimentalist might waver, and be in some danger of clutching it a little + tenderly ere it is cast off. + </p> + <p> + “My duty was to tell you the very instant it came to my knowledge,” he + said, fascinated in his heart by the display of greatness of mind which he + now half divined to be approaching, and wished to avoid. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I suppose that is a duty between friends?” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Between friends! Shall we still—always be friends?” + </p> + <p> + “I think I have said more than once that it won't be my fault if we are + not.” + </p> + <p> + “Because, the greater and happier ambition to which I aspired...” This was + what he designed to say, sentimentally propelled, by way of graceful exit, + and what was almost printed on a scroll in his head for the tongue to read + off fluently. He stopped at 'the greater,' beginning to stumble—to + flounder; and fearing that he said less than was due as a compliment to + the occasion, he said more. + </p> + <p> + By no means a quick reader of character, Lady Charlotte nevertheless + perceived that the man who spoke in this fashion, after what she had + confessed, must be sentimentally, if not actually, playing double. + </p> + <p> + Thus she came to his assistance: “Are you begging permission to break our + engagement?” + </p> + <p> + “At least, whatever I do get I must beg for now!” He took refuge adroitly + in a foolish reply, and it served him. That he had in all probability lost + his chance by the method he had adopted, and by sentimentalizing at the + wrong moment, was becoming evident, notwithstanding. In a sort of despair + he attempted comfort by critically examining her features, and trying to + suit them to one or other of the numerous models of Love that a young man + carries about with him. Her eyes met his, and even as he was deciding + against her on almost every point, the force of their frankness held his + judgement in suspense. + </p> + <p> + “The world is rather harsh upon women in these cases,” she said, turning + her head a lithe, with a conscious droop of the eyelids. “I will act as if + we had an equal burden between us. On my side, what you have to tell me + does not alter me. I have known it.... You see that I am just the same to + you. For your part, you are free, if you please. That is fair dealing, is + it not?” + </p> + <p> + The gentleman's mechanical assent provoked the lady's smile. + </p> + <p> + But Wilfrid was torn between a profound admiration of her and the galling + reflection that until she had named the engagement, none had virtually + existed which diplomacy, aided by time and accident, might not have + stopped. + </p> + <p> + “You must be aware that I am portionless,” she continued. “I have—let + me name the sum—a thousand pounds. It is some credit to me that I + have had it five years and not spent it. Some men would think that a + quality worth double the amount. Well, you will make up your mind to my + bringing you no money;—I have a few jewels. En revanche, my habits + are not expensive. I like a horse, but I can do without one. I like a + large house, and can live in a small one. I like a French cook, and can + dine comfortably off a single dish. Society is very much to my taste; I + shall indulge it when I am whipped at home.” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid took her hand and pressed his lips to the fingers, keeping his + face ponderingly down. He was again so divided that the effort to find + himself absorbed all his thinking faculties. + </p> + <p> + At last he muttered: “A lieutenant's pay!”—expecting her to reply, + “We can wait,” as girls do that find it pleasant to be adored by curates, + Then might follow a meditative pause—a short gaze at her, from which + she could have the option of reflecting that to wait is not the privilege + of those who have lived to acquire patience. The track he marked out was + clever in a poor way; perhaps it was not positively unkind to instigate + her to look at her age: but though he read character shrewdly, and knew + hers pretty accurately, he was himself too much of a straw at the moment + to be capable of leading-moves. + </p> + <p> + “We can make up our minds, without great difficulty, to regard the + lieutenant's pay as nothing at all,” was Lady Charlotte's answer. “You + will enter the Diplomatic Service. My interest alone could do that. If we + are married, there would be plenty to see the necessity for pushing us. I + don't know whether you could keep the lieutenancy; you might. I should not + like you to quit the Army: an opening might come in it. There's the Indian + Staff—the Persian Mission: they like soldiers for those Eastern + posts. But we must take what we can get. We should, anyhow, live abroad, + where in the matter of money society is more sensible. We should be able + to choose our own, and advertize tea, brioche, and conversation in return + for the delicacies of the season.” + </p> + <p> + “But you, Charlotte—you could never live that life!” Wilfrid broke + in, the contemplation of her plain sincerity diminishing him to himself. + “It would drag you down too horribly!” + </p> + <p> + “Remorse at giving tea in return for dinners and balls?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! there are other things to consider.” + </p> + <p> + She blushed unwontedly. + </p> + <p> + Something, lighted by the blush, struck him as very feminine and noble. + </p> + <p> + “Then I may flatter myself that you love me?” he whispered. + </p> + <p> + “Do you not see?” she rejoined. “My project is nothing but a whim—a + whim.” + </p> + <p> + The divided man saw himself whole, if not happy in the ranks of Diplomacy, + with a resolute, frank, faithful woman (a lady of title) loving him, to + back him. Fortune shone ahead, and on the road he saw where his + deficiencies would be filled up by her. She was firm and open—he + irresolute and self-involved. Animal courage both possessed. Their + differences were so extreme that they met where they differed. It struck + him specially now that she would be like Day to his spirit in continued + intercourse. Young as he was he had wisdom to know the right meaning of + the word “helpmate.” It was as if the head had dealt the heart a blow, + saying, “See here the lady thou art to serve.” But the heart was a surly + rebel. Lady Charlotte was fully justified in retorting upon his last + question: “I think I also should ask, do you love me? It is not absolutely + imperative for the occasion or for the catastrophe, I merely ask for what + is called information.” + </p> + <p> + And yet, despite her flippancy, which was partly designed to relieve his + embarrassment, her hand was moist and her eyes were singularly watchful. + </p> + <p> + “You who sneer at love!” He gave a musical murmur. + </p> + <p> + “Not at all. I think it a very useful part of the capital to begin the + married business upon.” + </p> + <p> + “You unsay your own words.” + </p> + <p> + “Not 'absolutely imperative,' I think I said, if I remember rightly.” + </p> + <p> + “But I take the other view, Charlotte.” + </p> + <p> + “You imagine that there must be a little bit of love.” + </p> + <p> + “There should be no marriage without it.” + </p> + <p> + “On both sides?” + </p> + <p> + “At least, if not on both sides, one should bring such a love.” + </p> + <p> + “Enough for two! So, then, we are not to examine your basket?” + </p> + <p> + Touched by the pretty thing herein implied, he squeezed her hand. + </p> + <p> + “This is the answer?” said she. + </p> + <p> + “Can you doubt me?” + </p> + <p> + She rose from her seat. “Oh! if you talk in that style, I really am + tempted to say that I do. Are there men—women and women—men? + My dear Wilfrid, have we changed parts to-night?” + </p> + <p> + His quickness in retrieving a false position, outwardly, came to his aid. + He rose likewise, and, while perfecting the minor details of an easy + attitude against the mantelpiece, said: “I am so constituted, Charlotte, + that I can't talk of my feelings in a business tone; and I avoid that + subject unless... You spoke of a basket just now. Well, I confess I can't + bring mine into the market and bawl out that I have so many pounds' weight + of the required material. Would a man go to the market at all if he had + nothing to dispose of? In plain words—since my fault appears to be, + according to your reading, in the opposite direction—should I be + here if my sentiments could not reply eloquently to your question?” + </p> + <p> + This very common masterpiece of cunning from a man in a corner, which + suggests with so persuasive an air that he has ruled his actions up to the + very moment when he faces you, and had almost preconceived the present + occasion, rather won Lady Charlotte; or it seemed to, or the scene had + been too long for her vigilance. + </p> + <p> + “In the affirmative?” she whispered, coming nearer to him. + </p> + <p> + She knew that she had only to let her right shoulder slip under his left + arm, and he would very soon proclaim himself her lover as ardently as + might be wished. Why did she hesitate to touch the blood of the man? It + was her fate never to have her great heart read aright. Wilfrid could not + know that generosity rather than iciness restrained her from yielding that + one unknown kiss which would have given the final spring to passion in his + breast. He wanted the justification of his senses, and to run headlong + blindly. Had she nothing of a woman's instinct? + </p> + <p> + “In the affirmative!” was his serene reply. + </p> + <p> + “That means 'Yes.'” Her tone had become pleasantly soft. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that means 'Yes,'” said he. + </p> + <p> + She shut her eyes, murmuring, “How happy are those who hear that they are + loved!” and opening them, all her face being red, “Say it!” she pleaded. + Her fingers fell upon his wrist. “I have this weakness, Wilfrid; I wish to + hear you say it.” + </p> + <p> + The flush of her face, and tremour of her fingers, told of an unimagined + agitation hardly to be believed, though seen and felt. Yet, still some + sign, some shade of a repulsion in her figure, kept him as far from her as + any rigid rival might have stipulated for. + </p> + <p> + The interrogation to the attentive heavens was partially framed in his + mind, “How can I tell this woman I love her, without...” without putting + his arm about her waist, and demonstrating it satisfactorily to himself as + well as to her? In other words, not so framed, “How, without that frenzy + which shall make me forget whether it be so or not?” + </p> + <p> + He remained in his attitude, incapable of moving or speaking, but + fancying, that possibly he was again to catch a glimpse of the vanished + mountain nymph, sweet Liberty. Her woman's instinct warmed more and more, + until, if she did not quite apprehend his condition, she at least + understood that the pause was one preliminary to a man's feeling himself a + fool. + </p> + <p> + “Dear Wilfrid,” she whispered, “you think you are doubted. I want to be + certain that you think you have met the right woman to help you, in me.” + </p> + <p> + He passed through the loophole here indicated, and breathed. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Charlotte, I am sure of that. If I could be only half as worthy! You + are full of courage and unselfishness, and, I could swear, faithful as + steel.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you—not dogs,” she laughed. “I like steel. I hope to be a + good sword in your hand, my knight—or shield, or whatever purpose + you put me to.” + </p> + <p> + She went on smiling, and seeming to draw closer to him and throw down + defences. + </p> + <p> + “After all, Wilfrid, the task of loving your good piece of steel won't be + less thoroughly accomplished because you find it difficult. Sir, I do not + admit any protestation. Handsome faces, musical voices, sly manners, and + methods that I choose not to employ, make the business easy to men.” + </p> + <p> + “Who discover that the lady is not steel,” said Wilfrid. “Need she, in any + case, wear so much there?” + </p> + <p> + He pointed, flittingly as it were, with his little finger to the slope of + her neck. + </p> + <p> + She turned her wrist, touching the spot: “Here? You have seen, then, that + it is something worn?” + </p> + <p> + There followed a delicious interplay of eyes. Who would have thought that + hers could be sweet and mean so much? + </p> + <p> + “It is something worn, then? And thrown aside for me only, Charlotte?” + </p> + <p> + “For him who loves me,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “For me!” + </p> + <p> + “For him who loves me,” she repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Then it is for me!” + </p> + <p> + She had moved back, showing a harder figure, or the “I love you, love + you!” would have sounded with force. It came, though not so vehemently as + might have been, to the appeal of a soft fixed look. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I love you, Charlotte; you know that I do.” + </p> + <p> + “You love me?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Say it.” + </p> + <p> + “I love you! Dead, inanimate Charlotte, I love you!” + </p> + <p> + She threw out her hand as one would throw a bone to a dog. + </p> + <p> + “My living, breathing, noble Charlotte,” he cried, a little bewitched, “I + love you with all my heart!” + </p> + <p> + It surprised him that her features should be gradually expressing less + delight. + </p> + <p> + “With all your heart?” + </p> + <p> + “Could I give you a part?” + </p> + <p> + “It is done, sometimes,” she said, mock-sadly. Then, in her original + voice: “Good. I never credited that story of you and the girl Emilia. I + suppose what people say is a lie?” + </p> + <p> + Her eyes, in perfect accordance with the tone she had adopted, set a quiet + watch on him. + </p> + <p> + “Who says it?” he thundered, just as she anticipated. + </p> + <p> + “It's not true?” + </p> + <p> + “Not true!—how can it be true?” + </p> + <p> + “You never loved Emilia Belloni?—don't love her now?—do not + love her now? If you have ever said that you love Emilia Belloni, recant, + and you are forgiven; and then go, for I think I hear Georgiana below. + Quick! I am not acting. It's earnest. The word, if you please, as you are + a gentleman. Tell me, because I have heard tales. I have been perplexed + about you. I am sure you're a manly fellow, who would never have played + tricks with a girl you were bound to protect; but you might have—pardon + the slang—spooned,—who knows? You might have been in love with + her downright. No harm, even if a trifle foolish; but in the present case, + set my mind at rest. Quick! There are both my hands. Take them, press + them, and speak.” + </p> + <p> + The two hands were taken, but his voice was not so much at command. No + image of Emilia rose in his mind to reproach him with the casting over of + his heart's dear mistress, but a blind struggle went on. It seemed that he + could do what he dared not utter. The folly of lips more loyal than the + spirit touched his lively perception; and as the hot inward struggle, + masked behind his softly-playing eyes, had reduced his personal + consciousness so that if he spoke from his feeling there was a chance of + his figuring feebly, he put on his ever-ready other self:— + </p> + <p> + “Categorically I reply: Have I loved Miss Emilia Belloni?—No. Do I?—No. + Do I love Charlotte Chillingworth?—Yes, ten thousand times! And now + let Britomart disarm.” + </p> + <p> + He sought to get his reward by gentle muscular persuasion. Her arms alone + yielded: and he judged from the angle of the neck, ultra-sharp though it + was, that her averted face might be her form of exhibiting maidenly + reluctance, feminine modesty. Suddenly the fingers in his grasp twisted, + and not being at once released, she turned round to him. + </p> + <p> + “For God's sake, spare the girl!” + </p> + <p> + Emilia stood in the doorway. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0037" id="link2HCH0037"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVII + </h2> + <p> + A knock at Merthyr's chamber called him out while he sat writing to Marini + on the national business. He heard Georgiana's voice begging him to come + to her quickly. When he saw her face the stain of tears was there. + </p> + <p> + “Anything the matter with Charlotte?” was his first question. + </p> + <p> + “No. But, come: I will tell you on the way. Do not look at me.” + </p> + <p> + “No personal matter of any kind?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no! I can have none;” and she took his hand for a moment. + </p> + <p> + They passed into the dark windy street smelling of the sea. + </p> + <p> + “Emilia is here,” said Georgiana. “I want you to persuade her—you + will have influence with her. Oh, Merthyr! my darling brother! I thank God + I love my brother with all my love! What a dreadful thing it is for a + woman to love a man:” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose it is, while she has nothing else to do,” said Merthyr. “How + did she come?—why?” + </p> + <p> + “If you had seen Emilia to-night, you would have felt that the difference + is absolute.” Georgiana dealt first with the general case, “she came, I + think, by some appointment.” + </p> + <p> + “Also just as absolute between her and her sex,” he rejoined, controlling + himself, not to be less cool. “What has happened?” + </p> + <p> + Georgiana pointed to the hotel whither their steps were bent. “That is + where Charlotte sleeps. Her going there was not a freak; she had an + object. She wished to cure Emilia of her love for Mr. Wilfrid Pole. Emilia + had come down to see him. Charlotte put her in an adjoining room to hear + him say—what I presume they do say when the fit is on them! Was it + not singular folly?” + </p> + <p> + It was a folly that Merthyr could not understand in his friend Charlotte. + He said so, and then he gave a kindly sad exclamation of Emilia's name. + </p> + <p> + “You do pity her still!” cried Georgiana, her heart leaping to hear it + expressed so simply. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what other feeling can I have?” said he unsuspiciously. + </p> + <p> + “No, dear Merthyr,” she replied; and only by her tone he read the guilty + little rejoicing in her heart, marvelling at jealousy that could twist so + straight a stem as his sister's spirit. This had taught her, who knew + nothing of love, that a man loving does not pity in such a case. + </p> + <p> + “I hope you will find her here:” Georgiana hurried her steps. “Say + anything to comfort her. I will have her with me, and try and teach her + what self-control means, and how it is to be won. If ever she can act on + the stage as she spoke to-night, she will be a great dramatic genius. She + was transformed. She uses strange forcible expressions that one does not + hear in every-day life. She crushed Charlotte as if she had taken her up + in one hand, and without any display at all: no gesture, or spasm. I + noticed, as they stood together, that there is such a contrast between + animal courage and imaginative fire.” + </p> + <p> + “Charlotte could meet a great occasion, I should think,” said Merthyr; + and, taking his sister by the elbow: “You speak as if you had observed + very coolly. Did Emilia leave you so cold? Did she seem to speak from + head, not from heart?” + </p> + <p> + “No; she moved me—poor child! Only, how humiliating to hear her beg + for love!—before us.” + </p> + <p> + Merthyr smiled: “I thought it must be the woman's feeling that would + interfere to stop a natural emotion. Is it true—or did I not see + that certain eyes were red just now?” + </p> + <p> + “That was for him,” said Georgiana, hastily. “I am sure that no man has + stood in such a position as he did. To see a man made publicly ashamed, + and bearing it. I have never had to endure so painful a sight.” + </p> + <p> + “To stand between two women, claimed by both, like Solomon's babe! A man + might as well at once have Solomon's judgement put into execution upon + him. You wept for him! Do you know, Georgey, that charity of your sex, + which makes you cry at any 'affecting situation,' must have been designed + to compensate to us for the severities of Providence.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Merthyr;” she arrested his raillery. “Do I ever cry? But I thought—if + it had been my brother! and almost at the thought I felt the tears rush at + my eyelids, as if the shame had been mine.” + </p> + <p> + “The probability of its not being your brother seemed distant at the + moment,” said Merthyr, with his half-melancholy smile. “Tell me—I + can conjure up the scene: but tell me whether you saw more passions than + one in her face?” + </p> + <p> + “Emilia's? No. Her face reminded me of the sombre—that dull glow of + a fire that you leave burning in the grate late on winter nights. Was that + natural? It struck me that her dramatic instinct was as much alive as her + passion.” + </p> + <p> + “Had she been clumsy, would you not have been less suspicious of her? And + if she had only shown the accustomed northern retenue, and merely looked + all that she had to say 'preserved her dignity'—our womanly critic + would have been completely satisfied.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Merthyr, to parade her feelings, and then to go on appealing!” + </p> + <p> + “On the principle that she ought to be ashamed of them, she was wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “If you had heard her utter abandonment!” + </p> + <p> + “I can believe that she did not blush.” + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me to belong to those excesses that prompt—that are in + themselves a species of suicide.” + </p> + <p> + “Love is said to be the death of self.” + </p> + <p> + “No; but I must use cant words, Merthyr; I do wish to see modesty. Yes, I + know I must be right.” + </p> + <p> + “There is very little of it to be had in a tropical storm.” + </p> + <p> + “You admit, then, that this sort of love is a storm that passes?” + </p> + <p> + “It passes, I hope.” + </p> + <p> + “But where is your defence of her now?” + </p> + <p> + “Have I defended her? I need not try. A man has deceived her, and she + doesn't think it possible; and has said so, I presume. When she sees it, + she will be quieter than most. She will not reproach him subsequently. + Here is the hotel, and that must be Charlotte's room, if I may judge by + the lights. What pranks will she always be playing! We seem to have + brought new elements into the little town. Do you remember Bergamo the + rainy night the Austrian trooped out of Milan?—one light that was a + thousand in the twinkling of an eye!” + </p> + <p> + Having arrived, he ran hastily up to the room, expecting to find the + three; but Lady Charlotte was alone, sitting in her chair with knotted + arms. “Ah, Merthyr!” she said, “I'm sorry you should have been disturbed. + I perceive what Georgey's leaving the room meant. I suppose the hotel + people are used to yachting-parties.” And then, not seeing any friendly + demonstration on his part, she folded her arms in another knot. Georgiana + asked where Emilia was. Lady Charlotte replied that Emilia had gone, and + then Wilfrid had followed her, one minute later, to get her into shelter + somewhere. Or put penknives out of her way. “I am rather fatigued with a + scene, Merthyr. I never had an idea before of what your Southern women + were. One plays decidedly second to them while the fit lasts. Of course, + you have a notion that I planned the whole of the absurd business. This is + the case:—I found the girl on the beach: she follows him everywhere, + which is bad for her reputation, because in this climate people suspect, + positive reasons for that kind of female devotedness. So, to put an end to + it—really for her own sake, quite as much as anything else—am + I a monster of insensibility, Merthyr?—I made her swear an oath: one + must be a point above wild animals to feel that to be binding, however! I + made her swear to listen and remain there silent till I opened the door to + set her at liberty. She consented—gave her word solemnly. I + calculated that she might faint, and fixed her in an arm-chair. Was that + cruel? Merthyr, you have called me Austrian more than once; but, upon my + honour, I wanted her to get over her delusion comfortably. I thought she + would have kept the oath, I confess; she looked up like a child when she + was making it. You have heard the rest from Georgey. I must say the + situation was rather hard on Wilfrid. If he blames me it will be + excuseable, though what I did plan was to save him from a situation + somewhat worse. So now you know the whole, Merthyr. Commence your lecture. + Make me a martyr to the sorrows of Italy once more.” + </p> + <p> + Merthyr took her wrist, feeling the quick pulse, and dropped it. She was + effectually humbled by this direct method of dealing with her secret + heart. After some commonplace remarks had passed, she herself urged him to + send out men in search for Emilia. Before he went, she murmured a soft + “Forgive me.” The pressure of her fingers was replied to, but the words + were not spoken. + </p> + <p> + “There,” she cried to Georgiana, “I have offended the only man for whose + esteem I care one particle! Devote yourself to your friends!” + </p> + <p> + “How? 'devote yourself!'” murmured Georgiana, astonished. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think I should have got into this hobble if I hadn't wished to + serve some one else? You must have seen that Merthyr has a sentimental + sort of fondness—call it passion—for this girl. She's his + Italy in the flesh. Is there a more civilized man in the world than + Merthyr? So he becomes fascinated by a savage. We all play the game of + opposites—or like to, and no woman in his class will ever catch him. + I couldn't have believed that he was touched by a girl, but for two or + three recent indications. You must have noticed that he has given up + reading others, and he objected the other day to a responsible office + which would have thrown him into her neighbourhood alone. These are + unmistakeable signs in Merthyr, though he has never been in love, and + doesn't understand his case a bit. Tell me, do you think it impossible?” + </p> + <p> + Georgiana answered dryly, “You have fallen into a fresh mistake.” + </p> + <p> + Exactly. Then let me rescue you from a similar fatality, Georgey. If your + eyes are bandaged now...” + </p> + <p> + “Are you going to be devoted to me also, Charlotte?” + </p> + <p> + “I believe I'm a miracle of devotion,” said the lady, retiring into + indifferent topics upon that phrase. She had at any rate partially covered + the figure of ridicule presented to her feminine imagination by the aspect + of her fair self exposed in public contention with one of her sex—and + for a man. It was enough to make her pulse and her brain lively. On second + thoughts, too, it had struck her that she might be serving Merthyr in + disengaging Emilia; and undoubtedly she served Georgiana by giving her a + warning. Through this silliness went the current of a clear mind, + nevertheless. The lady's heart was justified in crying out: “What would I + not abandon for my friend in his need?” Meantime her battle in her own + behalf looked less pleasing by the light of new advantages. The question + recurred: “Shall I care to win at all?” She had to force the idea of a + violent love to excuse her proceedings. To get up any flame whatsoever, an + occasional blast of jealousy had to be called for. Jealousy was a quality + she could not admit as possible to her. So she acted on herself by an + agent she repudiated, and there was no help for it. Had Wilfrid loved her + the woman's heart was ready. It was ready with a trembling tenderness, + softer and deeper than a girl's. For Charlotte would have felt: “With this + love that I have craved for, you give me life.” And she would have thanked + him for both, exultingly, to feel: “I can repay you as no girl could do;” + though she had none of the rage of love to give; as it was, she thought + conscientiously that she could help him. She liked him: his peculiar + suppleness of a growing mind, his shrouded sensibility, in conjunction + with his reputation for an evidently quite reliable prompt courage, and + the mask he wore, which was to her transparent, pleased her and touched + her fancy. + </p> + <p> + Nor was he so vain of his person as to make him seem like a boy to her. He + affected maturity. He could pass a mirror on his right or his left without + an abstracted look over either shoulder;—a poor example, but worth + something to a judge of young men. Indeed, had she chosen from a crowd, + the choice would have been one of his age. She was too set for an older + man; but a youth aspiring to be older than he was; whose faults she saw + and forgave; whose merits supplied two or three of her own deficiencies; + whom her station might help to elevate; to whom she might come as a + benefactress; feeling so while she accomplished her own desire;—such + a youth was everything to her, as she awoke to discover after having + played with him a season. If she lost him, what became of her? Even if she + had rejoiced in a mother to plot and play,—to bait and snare for + her, her time was slipping, and the choosers among her class were wary. + Her spirit, besides, was high and elective. It was gradually stooping to + nature, but would never have bowed to a fool, or, save under protest, to + one who gave all. On Wilfrid she had fixed her mind: so, therefore, she + bore the remembrance of the recent scene without much fretting at her + burdens;—the more, that Wilfrid had in no way shamed her; and the + more, that the heat of Emilia's love played round him and illumined him. + This borrowing of the passion of another is not uncommon. + </p> + <p> + At daybreak Mrs. Chump was abroad. She had sat up for Wilfrid almost + through the night. “Oh! the arr'stocracy!” she breathed exclamations, as + she swept along the esplanade. “I'll be killed and murdered if I tell a + word.” Meeting Captain Gambier, she fell into a great agitation, and + explained it as an anxiety she entertained for Wilfrid; when, becoming + entangled in the mesh of questions, she told all she knew, and nearly as + much as she suspected: which fatal step to retrieve, she entreated his + secresy. Adela was now seen fluttering hastily up the walk, fresh as a + creature of the sea-wave. Before Mrs. Chump could summon her old wrath of + yesterday, she was kissed, and to the arch interrogation as to what she + had done with this young lady's brother, replied by telling the tale of + the night again. Mrs. Chump was ostentatiously caressed into a more + comfortable opinion of the world's morality, for the nonce. Invited by + them to breakfast at the hotel, she hurried back to her villa for a + flounced dress and a lace cap of some pretensions, while they paced the + shore. + </p> + <p> + “See what may be said!” Adela's countenance changed as she muttered it. + “Thought, would be enough,” she added, shuddering. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; if one is off guard—careless,” the captain assented, + flowingly. + </p> + <p> + “Can one in earnest be other than careless? I shall walk on that line up + to the end. Who makes me deviate is my enemy!” + </p> + <p> + The playful little person balanced herself to make one foot follow the + other along a piece of washed grey rope on the shingle. Soon she had to + stretch out her hand for help, and the captain at full arm's length + conducted her to the final knot. + </p> + <p> + “Arrived safe!” she said, smiling. + </p> + <p> + “But not disengaged,” he rejoined, in similar style. + </p> + <p> + “Please!” She doubled her elbow to give a little tug for her fingers. + </p> + <p> + “No.” He pressed them tighter. + </p> + <p> + “Pray?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Must I speak to somebody else to get me released?” + </p> + <p> + “Would you?” + </p> + <p> + “Must I?” + </p> + <p> + “Thank heaven, he is not yet in existence!” + </p> + <p> + 'Husband' being implied. Games of this sweet sort are warranted to carry + little people as far as they may go swifter than any other invention of + lively Satan. + </p> + <p> + The yachting party, including Mrs. Chump, were at the breakfast-table, and + that dumb guest had done all the blushing for Lady Charlotte, when Wilfrid + entered, neat, carefully brushed, and with ready answers, though his face + could put on no fresh colours. To Mrs. Chump he bent, passing, and was + pushed away and drawn back. “Your eyes!” she whispered. + </p> + <p> + “My—yeyes!” went Wilfrid, in schoolboy style; and she, who rarely + laughed, was struck by his humorous skill, saying to Sir Twickenham, + beside her: “He's as cunnin' as a lord!” + </p> + <p> + Sir Twickenham expressed his ignorance of lords having usurped priority in + that department. Frightened by his portentous parliamentary phraseology, + she remained tolerably demure till the sitting was over: now sidling in + her heart to the sins of the great, whom anon she angrily reproached. Her + principal idea was, that as the world was discovered to be so wicked, they + were all in a boat going to perdition, and it would be as well to jump out + immediately: but while so resolving, she hung upon Lady Charlotte's looks + and little speeches, altogether seduced by so fresh and frank a sinner. If + safe from temptation, here was the soul of a woman in great danger of + corruption. + </p> + <p> + “Among the aristocracy,” thought Mrs. Chump, “it's just the male that + hangs his head, and the female struts and is sprightly.” The contrast + between Lady Charlotte and Wilfrid (who when he ceased to set + outrageously, sat like a man stricken by a bolt), produced this + reflection: and in spite of her disastrous vision of the fate of the boat + they were in, Mrs. Chump owned to the intoxication of gliding smoothly—gliding + on the rapids. + </p> + <p> + The breakfast was coming to an end, when Braintop's name was sent in to + Mrs. Chump. She gave a cry of motherly compassion for Braintop, and began + to relate the little deficiencies of his temper, while, as it were, + simmering on her seat to go to him. Wilfrid sent out word for him to + appear, which he did, unluckily for himself, even as Mrs. Chump wound up + the public description of his character by remarking: “He's just the + opposite of a lord, now, in everything.” Braintop stood bowing like the + most faithful confirmation of an opinion ever seen. He looked the victim + of fatigue, in the bargain. A light broke on Mrs. Chump. + </p> + <p> + “I'll never forgive myself, ye poor gentle heart, to throw pens and + pen-wipers at ye, that did your best, poor boy! What have ye been doin'? + and why didn't ye return, and not go hoppin' about about all night like a + young kangaroo, as they say they do? Have ye read the 'Arcana of Nature + and Science,' ma'am?” + </p> + <p> + The Hon. Mrs. Bayruffle, thus abruptly addressed, observed that she had + not, and was it an amusing book? + </p> + <p> + “Becas it'll open your mind,” pursued Mrs. Chump; “and there, he's eatin'! + and when a man takes to eatin', ye'll never have any fear about his + abouts. And if ye read the 'Arcana of Nature and Science,' ma'am, ye'll + first feel that ye've gone half mad. For it contains averything in the + world; and ye'll read ut ten times all through, and not remember five + lines runnin'! Oh, it's a dreadful book: and that's the book to read to + your husband when he's got a fit o' the gout. He's got nothin' to do but + swallow knolludge then. Now, Mr. Braintop, don't stop, but tell me as ye + go on what ye did with yourself all night.” + </p> + <p> + A slight hesitation in Braintop caused her to cross-examine him rigidly, + suggesting that he might not dare to tell, and he, exercising some + self-command, adopted narrative as the less ignominious form of + confession. No one save Mrs. Chump listened to him until he mentioned the + name Miss Belloni; and then it was curious to see the steadiness with + which certain eyes, feigning abstraction, fixed in his direction. He had + met Emilia on the outskirts of the town, and unable to persuade her to + take shelter anywhere, had walked on with her in dead silence through the + night, to the third station of the railway for London. + </p> + <p> + “Is this a mad person?” asked the Hon. Mrs. Bayruffle. + </p> + <p> + Adela shrugged. “A genius.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't eat with the tips of your teeth, like a bird, Mr. Braintop, for no + company minds your eatin',” cried Mrs. Chump, angrily and encouragingly; + “and this little Belloni—my belief is that she came after you; and + what have ye done with her?” + </p> + <p> + It was queerly worried out of Braintop, who was trying his best all the + time to be obedient to Wilfrid's direct eye, that the two wanderers by + night had lost themselves in lanes, refreshed themselves with purloined + apples from the tree at dawn, obtained a draught of morning milk, with a + handful of damsons apiece, and that nothing would persuade Emilia to turn + back from the route to London. Braintop bit daintily at his toast, + unwilling to proceed under the discouraging expression of Wilfrid's face, + and the meditative silence of two or three others. The discovery was + forcibly extracted that Emilia had no money;—that all she had in her + possession was sevenpence and a thimble; and that he, Braintop, had but a + few shillings, which she would not accept. + </p> + <p> + “And what has become of her?” was asked. + </p> + <p> + Braintop stated that she had returned to London, and, blushing, confessed + that he had given her his return ticket. + </p> + <p> + Georgiana here interposed to save him from the awful encomiums of Mrs. + Chump, by desiring to know whether Emilia seemed unhappy or distressed. + Braintop's spirited reply, “Not at all,” was corrected to: “She did not + cry;” and further modified: “That is, she called out sharply when I + whistled an opera tune.” + </p> + <p> + Lady Charlotte put a stop to the subject by rising pointedly. Watch in + hand, she questioned the ladies as to their occupations, and told them + what time they had to dispose of. Then Baynes, captain of the yacht, heard + to be outside, was summoned in. He pronounced doubtfully about the + weather, but admitted that there was plenty of wind, and if the ladies did + not mind it a little fresh, he was sure he did not. Wind was favourable + for the island head-quarters of the yacht. “We'll see who gets there + first,” she said to Wilfrid, and the company learnt that Wilfrid was going + to other head-quarters on special business, whereupon there followed + chatter and exclamations. Wilfrid quickly explained that his father's + condition called him away imperiously. To Adela and Mrs. Chump, demanding + peculiar personal explanations, he gave reassuring reasons separately, + aside. Mrs. Chump understood that this was merely his excuse to get away, + that he might see her safe to Brookfield. Adela only required a look and a + gesture. Merthyr and Georgiana likewise spoke expected adieux, as did Sir + Twickenham, who parted company in his own little yawl. Lady Charlotte, + with her head over a map, and one hand arranging an eye-glass, hastily + nodded them off, scarcely looking at them. She allowed herself to be + diverted from this study for an instant by the unbefitting noise made by + Adela for the loss of her brother; not that she objected to the noise + particularly (it was modulated and delicate in tone), but that she could + not understand it. Seeing Sir Twickenham, however, in a leave-taking + attitude, she uttered an easy “Oh!” to herself, and diligently recommenced + spying at ports and harbours, and following the walnut thumb of Baynes on + the map. All seemed to be perfectly correct in the arrangements. To go to + London was Wilfrid's thought; and the rest were almost as much occupied + with their own ideas. Captain Gambier received their semi-ironical + congratulations and condolences incident to the man who is left alone in + the charge of sweet ladies; and the Hon. Mrs. Bayruffle remarked, that she + supposed ten hours not a long period of time, though her responsibility + was onerous. + </p> + <p> + “Lady Gosstre is at the island,” said Lady Charlotte, to show where it + might end, if she pleased. Within an hour the yacht was flying for the + island with a full Western breeze: and Mrs. Chump and Wilfrid were + speeding to Brookfield, as the latter permitted her to imagine. Braintop + realized the fruits of the sacrifice of his return ticket by facing Mrs. + Chump in the train. Merthyr had telegraphed to Marini to meet Emilia at + the station in London, and instructed Braintop to deliver a letter for her + at Marini's house. To Marini he wrote: “Let Giulia guard her as no one but + a woman can in such a case. By this time Giulia will know her value. There + is dangerous stuff in her now, and my anxiety is very great. Have you seen + what a nature it is? You have not alluded to her beyond answers to + instructions, but her character cannot have escaped you. I am never + mistaken in my estimates of Italian and Cymric blood. Singularly, too, she + is part Welsh on the mother's side, to judge by the name. Leave her mind + entirely free till it craves openly for some counteraction. Her Italy and + her music will not do. Let them be. My fear is that you have seen too + clearly what a daughter of Italy I have found for you. But whatever you + put up now to distract her, you sacrifice. My good Marini! bear that in + mind. It will be a disgust in her memory, and I wish her to love her + country and her Art when she recovers. So we treat the disease, dear + friend. Let your Italy have no sorrows for her ears till the storm within + is tranquil. I am with you speedily.” + </p> + <p> + Marini's reply said: “Among all the things we have to thank our Merthyr + for, this treasure, if it is not the greatest he has given to us, makes us + grateful the most. We met her at the station. Ah! there was an elbow when + she gave her hand. She thought to be alone, and started, and hated, till + Giulia smothered her face. And there was dead fire in the eyes, which is + powder when you spring it. We go with her to her new lodging, and the + track is lost. This is your wish? It is pitching new camps to avoid the + enemy. But so! a man takes this disease and his common work at once of a + woman—she is all the disease, till it is extinct, or she! What is + this disease but a silly, a senseless waste? Giulia—woman that she + is!—will not call it so. See her eyes doze and her voice go a soft + buzz when she speaks it! As a dove of the woods! That it almost makes it + sweet to me! Yes, a daughter of Italy! So Giulia has been:—will be? + I know not! So will this your Emilia be in the time that comes to the + young people, she has this, as you say, malady very strong—ma, ogni + male ha la sua ricetta; I can say it of persons. Of nations to think my + heart is as an infidel—very heavy. Ah! till I turn to you—who + revive to the thought, as you were an army of deliverance. For you are + Hope. You know not Despair. You are Hope. And you love as myself a mother + whose son you are not! 'Oh!' is Giulia's cry, 'will our Italy reward him + with a daughter?'—the noblest that we have. Yes, for she would be + Italian always through you. We pray that you may not get old too soon, + before she grows for you and is found, only that you may know in her our + love. See! I am brought to talk this language. The woman is in me.” + </p> + <p> + Merthyr said, as he read this, “I could wish no better.” His feeling for + Emilia waxed toward a self-avowal as she advanced to womanhood; and the + last stage of it had struck among trembling strings in the inmost chambers + of his heart. That last stage of it—her passionate claiming of + Wilfrid before two women, one her rival—slept like a covered furnace + within him. “Can you remember none of her words?” he said more than once + to Georgiana, who replied: “I would try to give you an idea of what she + said, but I might as well try to paint lightning.” + </p> + <p> + “'My lover'?” suggested Merthyr. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes; that she said.” + </p> + <p> + “It sounded oddly to your ears?” + </p> + <p> + “Very, indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “What more?” + </p> + <p> + “—did she say, do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Is my poor sister ashamed to repeat it?” + </p> + <p> + “I would repeat anything that would give you pleasure to hear.” + </p> + <p> + “Sometimes pain, you know, is sweet.” + </p> + <p> + Little by little, and with a contest at each step, Georgiana coasted the + conviction that her undivided reign was over. Then she judged Emilia by + human nature's hardest standard: the measure of the qualities brought as + usurper and successor. Unconsciously she placed herself in the seat of one + who had fulfilled all the great things demanded of a woman for Merthyr, + and it seemed to her that Emilia exercised some fatal fascination, girl + though she was, to hurl her from that happy sovereignty. + </p> + <p> + But Emilia's worst crime before the arraigning lady was that Wilfrid had + cast her off. Female justice, therefore, said: “You must be unworthy of my + brother;” and female delicacy thought: “You have been soiled by a previous + history.” She had pitied Wilfrid: now she held him partially blameless: + and while love was throbbing in many pulses all round her. The man she had + seen besieged by passionate love, touched her cold imagination with a hue + of fire, as Winter dawn lies on a frosty field. She almost conceived what + this other, not sisterly, love might be; though not as its victim, by any + means. She became, as she had never before been, spiritually tormented and + restless. The thought framed itself that Charlotte and Wilfrid were not, + by any law of selection, to match. What mattered it? Simply that it in + some way seemed to increase the merits of one of the two. The task, + moreover, of avoiding to tease her brother was made easier to her by + flying to this new refuge of mysterious reflection. At times she poured + back the whole flood of her heart upon Merthyr, and then in alarm at the + host of little passions that grew cravingly alive in her, she turned her + thoughts to Wilfrid again; and so, till they turned wittingly to him. That + this host of little passions will invariably surround a false great one, + she learnt by degrees, by having to quell them and rise out of them. She + knew that now she occasionally forced her passion for Merthyr; but what + nothing could teach her was, that she did so to eject another's image. On + the contrary, her confession would have been: “Voluntarily I dwell upon + that other, that my love for Merthyr may avoid excess.” To such a state of + clearness much self-questioning brought her: but her blood was as yet + unwarmed; and that is a condition fostering self-deception as much as when + it rages. + </p> + <p> + Madame Marini wrote to ask whether Emilia might receive the visits of a + Sir Purcell Barrett, whom they had met, and whom Emilia called her friend; + adding: “The other gentleman has called at our old lodgings three times. + The last time our landlady says, he wept. Is it an Englishman, really?” + </p> + <p> + Merthyr laughed at this, remarking: “Charlotte is not so vigilant, after + all.” + </p> + <p> + “He wept.” Georgiana thought and remembered the cold self-command that his + face had shown when Emilia claimed him, and his sole reply was, “I am + engaged to this lady,” designating Lady Charlotte. Now, too, some of + Emilia's phrases took life in her memory. She studied them, thinking over + them, as if a voice of nature had spoken. Less and less it seemed to her + that a woman need feel shame to utter them. She interpreted this as her + growth of charity for a girl so violently stricken with love. “In such a + case, the more she says the more is she to be excused; for nothing but a + frenzy of passion could move her to speak so,” thought Georgiana. + Accepting the words, and sanctioning the passion, the person of him who + had inspired it stood magnified in its light. She believed that if he had + played with the girl, he repented, and the idea of a man shedding tears + burnt to her heart. + </p> + <p> + Merthyr and Georgiana remained in Devonshire till a letter from Madame + Marini one morning told them that Emilia had disappeared. + </p> + <p> + “You delayed too long to go to her, Merthyr,” said his sister, astonishing + him. “I understand why; but you may trust to time and scorn chance too + much. Let us go now and find her, if it is not too late.” + </p> + <p> + Marini met them at the station in London, and they heard that Wilfrid had + discovered Marini's new abode, and had called there that morning. “I had + my eye on him. It was not a piece of love-play,” said Marini: “and today + she should have seen my Chief, which would have cured her of sis + pestilence of a love, to give her sublime thoughts. Do you love her, Miss + Ford? Aha! it will be Christian names in Italy again.” + </p> + <p> + “I like her very much,” said Georgiana; “but I confess it mystifies me to + see you all so excited about her. It must be some attraction possessed by + her—what, I cannot say. I like her, certainly.” + </p> + <p> + “Figlia mia! she is an element—she is fire!” said Marini. “My + sought, when our Mertyr brought her, was, it is Italy he sees in her face—her + voice—name—anysing! And a day passed, and I could not lose her + for my own sake, and felt a somesing, too! She is half man.” + </p> + <p> + “A singular reason for an attraction.” Georgiana smiled. + </p> + <p> + “She is not,” Marini put out his fingers like claws to explain, while his + eyelashes met over his eyes—“she is not what man has made of your + sex; and she is brave of heart.” + </p> + <p> + “Can you possibly tell what such a child can be?” questioned Georgiana, + almost irritably. + </p> + <p> + Marini did not reply to her. + </p> + <p> + “A face to find a home in!—eh, Mertyr?” + </p> + <p> + “Let's discover where that face has found a home,” said Merthyr. “She is a + very plain and unpretending person, if people will not insist upon her + being more. This morbid admiration of heroines puts a trifle too much + weight upon their shoulders, does it not?” + </p> + <p> + Georgiana knew that to call Emilia 'child' was to wound the most sensitive + nerve in Merthyr's system, if he loved her, and she had determined to try + harshly whether he did. Nevertheless, though the expression succeeded, and + was designedly cruel, she could not forgive the insincerity of his last + speech; craving in truth for confidence as her smallest claim on him now. + So, at all the consultations, she acquiesced in any scheme that was + proposed; the advertizings and the use of detectives; the communication + with Emilia's mother and father; and the callings at suburban + concert-rooms. Sir Purcell Barrett frequently called to assist in the + discovery. At first he led them to suspect Mr. Pericles; but a trusty + Italian playing spy upon that gentleman soon cleared him, and they were + more in the dark than ever. It was only when at last Georgiana heard + Merthyr, the picture of polished self-possession, giving way to a burst of + disappointment in the room before them all: “Are we sure that she lives?” + he cried:—then Georgiana, looking at the firelight over her joined + fingers, said:— + </p> + <p> + “But, have you forgotten the serviceable brigade you have in your + organ-boys, Marini? If Emilia sees one, be sure she will speak to him.” + </p> + <p> + “Have I not said she is a General?” Marini pointed at Georgiana with a + gleam of his dark eyes, and Merthyr squeezed his sister's hand, thanking + her; by which he gave her one whole night of remorse, because she had not + spoken earlier. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0038" id="link2HCH0038"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXVIII + </h2> + <h3> + “My voice! I have my voice!” + </h3> + <p> + Emilia had cried it out to herself almost aloud, on the journey from Devon + to London. The landscape slipping under her eyes, with flashing grey pools + and light silver freshets, little glades, little copses, farms, and + meadows rounding away to spires of village churches under blue hills, + would not let her sink, heavy as was the spirit within her, and dead to + everything as she desired to be. Here, a great strange old oak spread out + its arms and seemed to hold the hurrying train a minute. When gone by, + Emilia thought of it as a friend, and that there, there, was the shelter + and thick darkness she had hoped she might be flying to. Or the reach of a + stream was seen, and in the middle of it one fair group of clouds, showing + distance beyond distance in colour. Emilia shut her sight, and tried + painfully to believe that there were no distances for her. This was an + easy task when the train stopped. It was surprising to her then why the + people moved. The whistle of the engine and rush of the scenery set her + imagination anew upon the horror of being motionless. + </p> + <p> + “My voice! I have my voice!” The exclamation recurred at intervals, as a + quick fear, that bubbled up from blind sensation, of her being utterly + abandoned, and a stray thing carrying no light, startled her. Darkness she + still had her desire for; but not to be dark in the darkness. She looked + back on the recent night as a lake of fire, through which she had plunged; + and of all the faculties about her, memory had suffered most, so that it + could recall no images of what had happened, but lay against its black + corner a shuddering bundle of nerves. The varying fields and woods and + waters offering themselves to her in the swiftness, were as wine dashed to + her lips, which could not be dead to it. The wish to be of some worth + began a painful quickening movement. At first she could have sobbed with + the keen anguish that instantaneously beset her. For—“If I am of + worth, who looks on me?” was her outcry, and the darkness she had + previously coveted fell with the strength of a mace on her forehead; but + the creature's heart struggled further, and by-and-by in despite of her + the pulses sprang a clear outlook on hope. It struck through her like the + first throb of a sword-cut. She tried to blind herself to it; the face of + hope was hateful. + </p> + <p> + This conflict of the baffled spirit of youth with its forceful flood of + being continued until it seemed that Emilia was lifted through the fiery + circles into daylight; her last cry being as her first: “I have my voice!” + </p> + <p> + Of that which her voice was to achieve for her she never thought. She had + no thought of value, but only an eagerness to feel herself possessor of + something. Wilfrid had appeared to her to have taken all from her, until + the recollection of her voice made her breathe suddenly quick and deep, as + one recovering the taste of life. + </p> + <p> + Despair, I have said before, is a wilful business, common to corrupt + blood, and to weak woeful minds: native to the sentimentalist of the + better order. The only touch of it that came to Emilia was when she + attempted to penetrate to Wilfrid's reason for calling her down to Devon + that he might renounce and abandon her. She wanted a reason to make him in + harmony with his acts, and she could get none. This made the world look + black to her. But, “I have my voice!” she said, exhausted by the passion + of the night, tearless, and only sensible to pain when the keen swift + wind, and the flying squares of field and meadow prompted her nature + mysteriously to press for healthy action. + </p> + <p> + A man opposite to her ventured a remark: “We're going at a pretty good + pace now, miss.” + </p> + <p> + She turned her eyes to him, and the sense of speed was reduced in her at + once, she could not comprehend how. Remembering presently that she had not + answered him, she said: “It is because you are going home, perhaps, that + you think it fast.” + </p> + <p> + “No, miss,” he replied, “I'm going to market. They can't put on steam too + stiff for me when I'm bound on business.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia found it impossible to fathom the sensations of the man, and their + common desire for speed bewildered her more. She was relieved when the + train was lightened of him. Soon the skirts of red vapour were visible, + and when the guard took poor Braintop's return-ticket from her petulant + hand, all of the journey that she bore in mind was the sight of a + butcher-boy in blue, with a red cap, mounted on a white horse, who rode + gallantly along a broad highroad, and for whom she had struck out some + tune to suit the measure of his gallop. + </p> + <p> + She accepted her capture by the Marinis more calmly than Merthyr had been + led to suppose. The butcher-boy's gallop kept her senses in motion for + many hours, and that reckless equestrian embodied the idea of the + vivifying pace from which she had dropped. He went slower and slower. By + degrees the tune grew dull, and jarred; and then Emilia looked out on the + cold grey skies of our autumn, the rain and the fogs, and roaring London + filled her ears. So had ended a dream, she thought. She would stand at the + window listening to street-organs, whose hideous discord and clippings and + drawls did not madden her, and whose suggestion of a lovely tune rolled + out no golden land to her. That treasure of her voice, to which no one in + the house made allusion, became indeed a buried treasure. + </p> + <p> + In the South-western suburb where the Marinis lived, plots of foliage were + to be seen, and there were lanes not so black but that they showed the + hues of the season. These led to the parks and to noble gardens. Emilia + daily went out to keep the dying colours of the year in view, and walked + to get among the trees, where, with Madame attendant on her, she sat + counting the leaves as each one curved, and slid, and spun to earth, or on + a gust of air hosts went aloft; but it always ended in their coming down; + Emilia verified that fact repeatedly. However high they flew, the ground + awaited them. Madame entertained her with talk of Italy, and Tuscan wine, + and Lombard bread, and Turin chocolate. Marini never alluded to his + sufferings for the loss of these cruelly interdicted dainties, never! But + Madame knew how his exile affected him. And in England the sums one paid + for everything! “One fancies one pays for breath,” said Madame, shivering. + </p> + <p> + One day the ex-organist of Hillford Church passed before them. Emilia let + him go. The day following he passed again, but turned at the end of the + alley and simulated astonishment at the appearance of Emilia, as he neared + her. They shook hands and talked, while Madame zealously eyed any chance + person promenading the neighbourhood. She wrote for instructions + concerning this gentleman calling himself Sir Purcell Barrett, and + receiving them, she permitted Emilia to invite him to their house. “He is + an Englishman under a rope, ready for heaven,” Madame described him to her + husband, who, though more at heart with Englishmen, could not but admit + that this one wore a look that appeared as a prognostication of sadness. + </p> + <p> + Sir Purcell informed Emilia of his accession to title; and in reply to her + “Are you not glad?” smiled and said that a mockery could scarcely make him + glad; indicating nevertheless how feeble the note of poverty was in his + grand scale of sorrow. He came to the house and met them in the gardens + frequently. With some perversity he would analyze to herself Emilia's + spirit of hope, partly perhaps for the sake of probing to what sort of + thing it might be in its nature and defences; and, as against an + accomplished disputant she made but a poor battle, he injured what was + precious to her without himself gaining any good whatever. + </p> + <p> + “Why, what do you look forward to?” she said wondering, at the end of one + of their arguments, as he courteously termed this play of logical foils + with a baby. + </p> + <p> + “Death,” answered the grave gentleman, striding on. + </p> + <p> + Emilia pitied him, thinking: “I might feel as he does, if I had not my + voice.” Seeing that calamity very remote, she added: “I should!” + </p> + <p> + She knew of his position toward Cornelia: that is, she knew as much as he + did: for the want of a woman's heart over which to simmer his troubles was + urgent within him and Emilia's, though it lacked experience, was a woman's + regarding love. And moreover, she did not weep, but practically suggested + his favourable chances, which it was a sad satisfaction to him to prove + baseless, and to knock utterly over. The grief in which the soul of a + human creature is persistently seeking (since it cannot be thrown off) to + clothe itself comfortably, finds in tears an irritating expression of + sympathy. Hints of a brighter future are its nourishment. Such embryos are + not tenacious of existence, and when destroyed they are succulent food for + a space to the moody grief I am describing. + </p> + <p> + The melancholy gentleman did Emilia this good, that, never appearing to + imagine others to know misery save himself, he gave her full occupation + apart from the workings of her own mind. As to her case, he might have + offered the excuse that she really had nothing of the aspect of a lovesick + young lady, and was not a bit sea-green to view, or lamentable in tone. He + was sufficiently humane to have felt for anyone suffering, and the proof + of it is, that the only creature he saw under such an influence he pitied + so deplorably, as to make melancholy a habit with him. He fretted her + because he would do nothing, and this spectacle of a lover beloved, but + consenting to be mystified, consentingly paralyzed:—of a lover + beloved—! + </p> + <p> + “Does she love you?” said Emilia, beseechingly. + </p> + <p> + “If the truth is in her, she does,” he returned. + </p> + <p> + “She has told you she loves you?—that she loves no one else?” + </p> + <p> + “Of this I am certain.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, why are you downcast? my goodness! I would take her by the hand + 'Woman; do you know yourself? you belong to me!'—I would say that; + and never let go her hand. That would decide everything. She must come to + you then, or you know what it is that means to separate you. My goodness! + I see it so plain!” + </p> + <p> + But he declined to look thus low, and stood pitifully smiling:—This + spectacle, together with some subtle spur from the talk of love, roused + Emilia from her lethargy. The warmth of a new desire struck around her + heart. The old belief in her power over Wilfrid joined to a distinct + admission that she had for the moment lost him; and she said, “Yes; now, + as I am now, he can abandon me:” but how if he should see her and hear her + in that hushed hour when she was to stand as a star before men? Emilia + flushed and trembled. She lived vividly though her far-projected + sensations, until truly pity for Wilfrid was active in her bosom, she + feeling how he would yearn for her. The vengeance seemed to her so keen + that pity could not fail to come. Thus, to her contemplation, their + positions became reversed: it was Wilfrid now who stood in the darkness, + unselected. Her fiery fancy, unchained from the despotic heart, illumined + her under the golden future. + </p> + <p> + “Come to us this evening, I will sing to you,” she said, and the + 'Englishman under a rope' bowed assentingly. + </p> + <p> + “Sad songs, if you like,” she added. + </p> + <p> + “I have always thought sadness more musical than mirth,” said he. “Surely + there is more grace in sadness!” + </p> + <p> + Poetry, sculpture, and songs, and all the Arts, were brought forward in + mournful array to demonstrate the truth of his theory. + </p> + <p> + When Emilia understood him, she cited dogs and cats, and birds, and all + things of nature that rejoiced and revelled, in support of the opposite + view. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, if animals are to be your illustration!” he protested. He had been + perhaps half under the delusion that he spoke with Cornelia, and with a + sense of infinite misery, he compressed the apt distinction that he had in + his mind; which was to show where humanity and simple nature drew a line, + and wherein humanity claimed the loftier seat. + </p> + <p> + “But such talk must be uttered to a soul,” he phrased internally, and + Emilia was denied what belonged to Cornelia. + </p> + <p> + Hitherto Emilia had refused to sing, and Madame Marini, faithful to her + instructions, had never allowed her to be pressed to sing. Emilia would + brood over notes, thinking: “I can take that; and that; and dwell on such + and such a note for any length of time;” but she would not call up her + voice; she would not look at her treasure. It seemed more to her, + untouched; and went on doubling its worth, until doubtless her idea of + capacity greatly relieved her of the burden on her breast, and the + reflection that she held a charm for all, and held it from all, flattered + one who had been cruelly robbed. + </p> + <p> + On their way homeward, among the chrysanthemums in the long garden-walk, + they met Tracy Runningbrook, between whose shouts of delight and Emilia's + reserve there was so marked a contrast that one would have deemed Tracy an + offender in her sight. She had said to him entreatingly, “Do not come,” + when he volunteered to call on the Marinis in the evening; and she got + away from him as quickly as she could, promising to be pleased if he + called the day following. Tracy flew leaping to one of the great houses + where he was tame cat. When Sir Purcell as they passed on spoke a + contemptuous word of his soft habits and idleness, Emilia said: “He is one + of my true friends.” + </p> + <p> + “And why is he interdicted the visit this evening?” + </p> + <p> + “Because,” she answered, and grew pale, “he—he does not care for + music. I wish I had not met him.” + </p> + <p> + She recollected how Tracy's flaming head had sprung up before her—he + who had always prophesied that she would be famous for arts unknown to + her, and not for song just when she was having a vision of triumph and + caressing the idea of her imprisoned voice bursting its captivity, and + soaring into its old heavens. + </p> + <p> + “He does not care for music!” interjected Sir Purcell, with something like + a frown. “I have nothing in common with him. But that I might have known. + I can have nothing in common with a man who is not to be impressed by + music.” + </p> + <p> + “I love him quite as well,” said Emilia. “He is a quick friend. I am + always certain of him.” + </p> + <p> + “And I imagine also that you are quits with your quick friend,” added Sir + Purcell. “You do not care for verse, or he for voices!” + </p> + <p> + “Poetry?” said Emilia; “no, not much. It seems like talking on tiptoe; + like animals in cages, always going to one end and back again....” + </p> + <p> + “And making the same noise when they get at the end—like the bears!” + Sir Purcell slightly laughed. “You don't approve of the rhymes?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I like the rhymes; but when you use words—I mean, if you are + in earnest—how can you count and have stops, and—no, I do not + care anything for poetry.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Purcell's opinion of Emilia, though he liked her, was, that if a + genius, she was an incomplete one; and his positive judgement (which I set + down in phrase that would have startled him) ranked both her and Tracy as + a pair of partial humbugs, entertaining enough. They were both too real + for him. + </p> + <p> + Haply at that moment the girl was intensely susceptible, for she chilled + by his side; and when he left her she begged Madame to walk fast. “I + wonder whether I have a cold!” she said. + </p> + <p> + Madame explained all the signs of it with tragic minuteness, deciding that + Emilia was free at present, and by miracle, from this English scourge; but + Emilia kept her hands at her mouth. Over the hornbeam hedge of the lane + that ran through the market-gardens, she could see a murky sunset + spreading its deep-coloured lines, that seemed to her really like a great + sorrowing over earth. It had never seemed so till now; and, entering the + house, the roar of vehicles in a neighbouring road sounded like something + implacable in the order of things among us, and clung about her ears + pitilessly. Running upstairs, she tried a scale of notes that broke on a + cough. “Did I cough purposely?” she asked herself; but she had not the + courage to try the notes again. While dressing she hummed a passage, and + sought stealthily to pass the barrier of her own watchfulness by dwelling + on a deep note, from which she was to rise bursting with full bravura + energy, and so forth on a tide of song. But her breath failed. She stared + into the glass and forced the note. A panic caught at her heart when she + heard the sound that issued. “Am I ill? I must be hungry!” she exclaimed. + “It is a cough! But I don't cough! What is the matter with me?” + </p> + <p> + Under these auspices she forced her voice again, and subsequently loosened + her dress, complaining of the dressmaker's affection for tightness. “Now,” + she said, having fallen upon an attempt at simple “do, re, me, fa,” and + laughed at herself. Was it the laugh, that stopping her at “si,” made that + “si” so husky, asthmatic, like the wheezing of a crooked old witch? “I am + unlucky, to-night,” said Emilia. Or, rather, so said her surface-self. The + submerged self—self in the depths—rarely speaks to the + occasions, but lies under calamity quietly apprehending all; willing that + the talker overhead should deceive others, and herself likewise, if + possible. Emilia found her hands acting daintily and critically in the + attirement of her person; and then surprised herself murmuring: “I forgot + that Tracy won't be here to-night.” By which she betrayed that she had + divined those arts she was to shine in, according to Tracy; and betrayed + that she had a terrible fear of a loss of all else. It pained her now that + Tracy should not be coming. “Can I send for him?” she thought, as she + looked winningly into the glass, trying to feel what sort of a feeling it + was to be in love with a face like that one fronting her, so familiar in + its aspects, so strange when scrutinized studiously! She drew a chair, and + laying her elbow on the toilet-table, gazed hard, until the thought: “What + face did Wilfrid see last?” (meaning, “when he saw me last”) drove her + away. + </p> + <p> + Not only did she know herself now a face of many faces; but the life + within her likewise as a soul of many souls. The one Emilia, so + unquestioning, so sure, lay dead; and a dozen new spirits, with but a dim + likeness to her, were fighting for possession of her frame, now occupying + it alone, now in couples; and each casting grim reflections on the other. + Which is only a way of telling you that the great result of mortal + suffering—consciousness—had fully set in; to ripen; perhaps to + debase; at any rate, to prove her. + </p> + <p> + To be of worth was still her fixed idea—all that was clear in the + thickening mist. “I cannot be ugly,” she said, and reproved herself for + simulating a childish tone. “Why do I talk in that way? I know I am not + ugly. But if a fire scorched my face? There is nothing that seems safe!” + The love of friends was suggested to her as something to rely on; and the + loving them. “But if I have nothing to give!” said Emilia, and opened both + her empty hands. She had diverted her mind from the pressure upon it, by + this colloquy with a looking-glass, and gave herself a great rapture by + running up notes to this theme:— + </p> + <p> + “No, no, no, no, no!—nothing! nothing!” + </p> + <p> + Clear, full, sonant notes; the notes of her true voice. She did not + attempt them a second time; nor, when Sir Purcell requested her to sing in + the course of the evening, did she comply. “The Signora thinks I have a + cold,” she said. Madame Marini protested that she hoped not, she even + thought not, though none could avoid it at this season in this climate, + and she turned to Sir Purcell to petition for any receipts he might have + in his possession, specifics for warding off the frightful affliction of + households in England. + </p> + <p> + “I have now twenty,” said Madame, and throwing up her eyes; “I have tried + all! oh! so many lozenge!” + </p> + <p> + Marini and Emilia laughed. While Sir Purcell was maintaining the fact of + his total ignorance of the subject against Madame's incredulity, Emilia + left the room. When she came back Madame was pressing her visitor to be + explicit with regard to a certain process of cure conducted by an + application of cold water. The Neapolitan gave several shudders as she + marked him attentively. “Water cold!” she murmured with the deepest + pathos, and dropped her face in her hands with narrowed shoulders. Emilia + held a letter over to Sir Purcell. He took it, first assuring himself that + Marini was in complicity with them. To Marini Emilia addressed a Momus + forefinger, and Marini shrugged, smiling. “Water cold!” ejaculated Madame, + showing her countenance again. “In winter! Luigi, they are mad!” Marini + poked the fire briskly, for his sensations entirely sided with his wife. + </p> + <p> + The letter Sir Purcell held contained these words: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Be kind, and meet me to-morrow at ten in the morning, at that place + where you first saw me sitting. I want you to take me to one who + will help me. I cannot lose time any more. I must work. I have + been dead for I cannot say how long. I know you will come. + + “I am, for ever, + + “Your thankful friend, + + “Emilia.” + </pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0039" id="link2HCH0039"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XXXIX + </h2> + <p> + The pride of punctuality brought Sir Purcell to that appointed seat in the + gardens about a minute in advance of Emilia. She came hurrying up to him + with three fingers over her lips. The morning was cold; frost edged the + flat brown chestnut and beech leaves lying about on rimy grass; so at + first he made no remark on her evident unwillingness to open her mouth, + but a feverish look of her eyes touched him with some kindly alarm for + her. + </p> + <p> + “You should not have come out, if you think you are in any danger,” he + said. + </p> + <p> + “Not if we walk fast,” she replied, in a visibly-controlled excitement. + “It will be over in an hour. This way.” + </p> + <p> + She led the marvelling gentleman toward the row, and across it under the + big black elms, begging him to walk faster. To accommodate her, he + suggested, that if they had any distance to go, they might ride, and after + a short calculating hesitation, she consented, letting him know that she + would tell him on what expedition she was bound whilst they were riding. + The accompaniment of the wheels, however, necessitated a higher pitch of + her voice, which apparently caused her to suffer from a contraction of the + throat, for she remained silent, with a discouraged aspect, her full brown + eyes showing as in a sombre meditation beneath the thick brows. The + direction had been given to the City. On they went with the torrent, and + were presently engulfed in fog. The roar grew muffled, phantoms poured + along the pavement, yellow beamless lights were in the shop-windows, all + the vehicles went at a slow march. + </p> + <p> + “It looks as if Business were attending its own obsequies,” said Sir + Purcell, whose spirits were enlivened by an atmosphere that confirmed his + impression of things. + </p> + <p> + Emilia cried twice: “Oh! what cruel weather!” Her eyelids blinked, either + with anger or in misery. + </p> + <p> + They were set down a little beyond the Bank, and when they turned from the + cabman, Sir Purcell was warm in his offer of his arm to her, for he had + seen her wistfully touching what money she had in her pocket, and approved + her natural good breeding in allowing it to pass unmentioned. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” he said, “I must know what you want to do.” + </p> + <p> + “A quiet place! there is no quiet place in this City,” said Emilia + fretfully. + </p> + <p> + A gentleman passing took off his hat, saying, with City politeness, + “Pardon me: you are close to a quiet place. Through that door, and the + hall, you will find a garden, where you will hear London as if it sounded + fifty miles off.” + </p> + <p> + He bowed and retired, and the two (Emilia thankful, Sir Purcell tending to + anger), following his indication, soon found themselves in a most perfect + retreat, the solitude of which they had the misfortune, however, of + destroying for another, and a scared, couple. + </p> + <p> + Here Emilia said: “I have determined to go to Italy at once. Mr. Pericles + has offered to pay for me. It's my father's wish. And—and I cannot + wait and feel like a beggar. I must go. I shall always love England—don't + fear that!” + </p> + <p> + Sir Purcell smiled at the simplicity of her pleading look. + </p> + <p> + “Now, I want to know where to find Mr. Pericles,” she pursued. “And if you + will come to him with me! He is sure to be very angry—I thought you + might protect me from that. But when he hears that I am really going at + last—at once!—he can laugh sometimes! you will see him rub his + hands.” + </p> + <p> + “I must enquire where his chambers are to be found,” said Sir Purcell. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! anybody in the City must know him, because he is so rich.” Emilia + coughed. “This fog kills me. Pray make haste. Dear friend, I trouble you + very much, but I want to get away from this. I can hardly breathe. I shall + have no heart for my task, if I don't see him soon.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait for me, then,” said Sir Purcell; “you cannot wait in a better place. + And I must entreat you to be careful.” He half alluded to the adjustment + of her shawl, and to anything else, as far as she might choose to + apprehend him. Her dexterity in tossing him the letter, unseen by Madame + Marini, might have frightened him and given him a dread, that albeit + woman, there was germ of wickedness in her. + </p> + <p> + This pained him acutely, for he never forgot that she had been the means + of his introduction to Cornelia, from whom he could not wholly dissociate + her: and the idea that any prospective shred of impurity hung about one + who had even looked on his beloved, was utter anguish to the keen + sentimentalist. “Be very careful,” he would have repeated, but that he had + a warning sense of the ludicrous, and Emilia's large eyes when they fixed + calmly on a face were not of a flighty east She stood, too, with the + “dignity of sadness,” as he was pleased to phrase it. + </p> + <p> + “She must be safe here,” he said to himself. And yet, upon reflection, he + decided not to leave her, peremptorily informing her to that effect. + Emilia took his arm, and as they were passing through the hall of entrance + they met the same gentleman who had directed them to the spot of quiet. + Both she and Sir Purcell heard him say to a companion: “There she is.” A + deep glow covered Emilia's face. “Do they know you?” asked Sir Purcell. + “No,” she said: and then he turned, but the couple had gone on. + </p> + <p> + “That deserves chastisement,” he muttered. Briefly telling her to wait, he + pursued them. Emilia was standing in the gateway, not at all comprehending + why she was alone. “Sandra Belloni!” struck her ear. Looking forward she + perceived a hand and a head gesticulating from a cab-window. She sprang + out into the street, and instantly the hand clenched and the head glared + savagely. It was Mr. Pericles himself, in travelling costume. + </p> + <p> + “I am your fool?” he began, overbearing Emilia's most irritating “How are + you?” and “Are you quite well? + </p> + <p> + “I am your fool? hein? You send me to Paris! to Geneve! I go over Lago + Maggiore, and aha! it is your joke, meess! I juste return. Oh capital! At + Milano I wait—I enquire—till a letter from old Belloni, and I + learn I am your fool—of you all! Jomp in.” + </p> + <p> + “A gentleman is coming,” said Emilia, by no means intimidated, though the + forehead of Mr. Pericles looked portentous. “He was bringing me to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Zen, jomp in!” cried Mr. Pericles. + </p> + <p> + Here Sir Purcell came up. + </p> + <p> + Emilia said softly: “Mr. Pericles.” + </p> + <p> + There was the form of a bow of moderate recognition between them, but + other hats were off to Emilia. The two gentlemen who had offended Sir + Purcell had insisted, on learning the nature of their offence, that they + had a right to present their regrets to the lady in person, and beg an + excuse from her lips. Sir Purcell stood white with a futile effort at + self-control, as one of them, preluding “Pardon me,” said: “I had the + misfortune to remark to my friend, as I passed you, 'There she is.' May I, + indeed, ask your pardon? My friend is an artist. I met him after I had + first seen you. He, at least, does not think foolish my recommendation to + him that he should look on you at all hazards. Let me petition you to + overlook the impertinence.” + </p> + <p> + “I think, gentlemen, you have now made the most of the advantage my folly, + in supposing you would regret or apologize fittingly for an impropriety, + has given you,” interposed Sir Purcell. + </p> + <p> + His new and superior tone (for he had previously lost his temper and + spoken with a silly vehemence) caused them to hesitate. One begged the + word of pardon from Emilia to cover his retreat. She gave it with an air + of thorough-bred repose, saying, “I willingly pardon you,” and looking at + them no more, whereupon they vanished. Ten minutes later, Emilia and Sir + Purcell were in the chambers of Mr. Pericles. + </p> + <p> + The Greek had done nothing but grin obnoxiously to every word spoken on + the way, drawing his hand down across his jaw, to efface the hard pale + wrinkles, and eyeing Emilia's cavalier with his shrewdest suspicious look. + </p> + <p> + “You will excuse,”—he pointed to the confusion of the room they were + in, and the heap of unopened letters,—“I am from ze Continent; I do + not expect ze pleasure. A seat?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pericles handed chairs to his visitors. + </p> + <p> + “It is a climate, is it not,” he resumed. + </p> + <p> + Emilia said a word, and he snapped at her, immediately adding, “Hein? Ah! + so!” with a charming urbanity. + </p> + <p> + “How lucky that we should meet you,” exclaimed Emilia. “We were just + coming to you—to find out, I mean, where you were, and call on you.” + </p> + <p> + “Ough! do not tell me lies,” said Mr. Pericles, clasping the hollow of his + cheeks between thumb and forefinger. + </p> + <p> + “Allow me to assure you that what Miss Belloni has said is perfectly + correct,” Sir Purcell remarked. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pericles gave a short bow. “It is ze same; I am much obliged.” + </p> + <p> + “And you have just come from Italy?” said Emilia. + </p> + <p> + “Where you did me ze favour to send me, it is true. Sanks!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, what a difference between Italy and this!” Emilia turned her face to + the mottled yellow windows. + </p> + <p> + “Many sanks,” repeated Mr. Pericles, after which the three continued + silent for a time. + </p> + <p> + At last Emilia said, bluntly, “I have come to ask you to take me to + Italy.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pericles made no sign, but Sir Purcell leaned forward to her with a + gaze of astonishment, almost of horror. + </p> + <p> + “Will you take me?” persisted Emilia. + </p> + <p> + Still the sullen Greek refused either to look at her or to answer. + </p> + <p> + “Because I am ready to go,” she went on. “I want to go at once; to-day, if + you like. I am getting too old to waste an hour.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pericles uncrossed his legs, ejaculating, “What a fog! Ah!” and that + was all. He rose, and went to a cupboard. + </p> + <p> + Sir Purcell murmured hurriedly in Emilia's ear, “Have you considered what + you've been saying?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes. It is only a journey,” Emilia replied, in a like tone. + </p> + <p> + “A journey!” + </p> + <p> + “My father wishes it.” + </p> + <p> + “Your mother?” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! I intend to make him take the Madre with me.” + </p> + <p> + She designated Mr. Pericles, who had poured into a small liqueur glass + some green Chartreuse, smelling strong of pines. His visitors declined to + eject the London fog by this aid of the mountain monks, and Mr. Pericles + warmed himself alone. + </p> + <p> + “You are wiz old Belloni,” he called out. + </p> + <p> + “I am not staying with my father,” said Emilia. + </p> + <p> + “Where?” Mr. Pericles shed a baleful glance on Sir Purcell. + </p> + <p> + “I am staying with Signor Marini.” + </p> + <p> + “Servente!” Mr. Pericles ducked his head quite low, while his hand swept + the floor with an imaginary cap. Malice had lighted up his features, and + finding, after the first burst of sarcasm, that it was vain to indulge it + toward an absent person, he altered his style. “Look,” he cried to Emilia, + “it is Marini stops you and old Belloni—a conspirator, aha! Is it + for an artist to conspire, and be carbonaro, and kiss books, and, mon + Dieu! bon! it is Marini plays me zis trick. I mark him. I mark him, I say! + He is paid by young Pole. I hold zat family in my hand, I say! So I go to + be met by you, and on I go to Italy. I get a letter at Milano,—'Marini + stop me at Dover,' signed 'Giuseppe Belloni.' Ze letter have been spied + into by ze Austrians. I am watched—I am dogged—I am imprisoned—I + am examined. 'You know zis Giuseppe Belloni?' 'Meine Herrn! he was to + come. I leave word at Paris for him, at Geneve, at Stresa, to bring his + daughter to ze Conservatoire, for which I pay. She has a voice—or + she had.'” + </p> + <p> + “Has!” exclaimed Emilia. + </p> + <p> + “Had!” Mr. Pericles repeated. + </p> + <p> + “She has!” + </p> + <p> + “Zen sing!” with which thunder of command, Mr. Pericles gave up his + vindictive narration of the points of his injuries sustained, and, + pitching into a chair, pressed his fingers to his temples, frowning + attention. His eyes were on the floor. Presently he glanced up, and saw + Emilia's chest rising quickly. No voice issued. + </p> + <p> + “It is to commence,” cried Mr. Pericles. “Hein! now sing.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia laid her hand under her throat. “Not now! Oh, not now! When you + have told me what those Austrians did to you. I want to hear; I am very + anxious to hear. And what they said of my father. How could he have come + to Milan without a passport? He had only a passport to Paris.” + </p> + <p> + “And at Paris I leave instructions for ze procuration of a passport over + Lombardy. Am I not Antonio Pericles Agriolopoulos? Sing, I say!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but what voices you must have heard in Italy,” said Emilia softly. “I + am afraid to sing after them. Si: I dare not.” + </p> + <p> + She panted, little in keeping with the cajolery of her tones, but she had + got Mr. Pericles upon a theme serious to his mind. + </p> + <p> + “Not a voice! not one!” he cried, stamping his foot. “All is French. I go + twice wizin six monz, and if I go to a goose-yard I hear better. Oh, yes! + it is tune—'ta-ta-ta—ti-ti-ti—to!' and of ze heart—where + is zat? Mon Dieu! I despair. I see music go dead. Let me hear you, + Sandra.” + </p> + <p> + His enthusiasm had always affected Emilia, and painfully since her love + had given her a consciousness of infidelity to her Art, but now the + pathetic appeal to her took away her strength, and tears rose in her eyes + at the thought of his faith in her. His repetition of her name—the + 'Sandra' being uttered with unwonted softness—plunged her into a fit + of weeping. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” Mr. Pericles shouted. “See what she has come to!” and he walked two + or three paces off to turn upon her spitefully, “she will be vapeurs, + nerfs, I know not! when it wants a physique of a saint! Sandra Belloni,” + he added, gravely, “lift up ze head! Sing, 'Sempre al tuo santo nome.'” + </p> + <p> + Emilia checked her tears. His hand being raised to beat time, she could + not withstand the signal. “Sempre;”—there came two struggling notes, + to which another clung, shuddering like two creatures on the deeps. + </p> + <p> + She stopped; herself oddly calling out “Stop.” + </p> + <p> + “Stop who, donc?” Mr. Pericles postured an indignant interrogation. + </p> + <p> + “I mean, I must stop,” Emilia faltered. “It's the fog. I cannot sing in + this fog. It chokes me.” + </p> + <p> + Apparently Mr. Pericles was about to say something frightfully savage, + which was restrained by the presence of Sir Purcell. He went to the door + in answer to a knock, while Emilia drew breath as calmly as she might; her + head moving a little backward with her breathing, in a sad mechanical way + painful to witness. Sir Purcell stretched his hand out to her, but she did + not take it. She was listening to voices at the door. Was it really Mr. + Pole who was there? Quite unaware of the effect the sight of her would + produce on him, Emilia rose and walked to the doorway. She heard Mr. Pole + abusing Mr. Pericles half banteringly for his absence while business was + urgent, saying that they must lay their heads together and consult, + otherwise—a significant indication appeared to close the sentence. + </p> + <p> + “But if you've just come off your journey, and have got a lady in there, + we must postpone, I suppose. Say, this afternoon. I'll keep up to the + mark, if nothing happens....” + </p> + <p> + Emilia pushed the door from the hand of Mr. Pericles, and was advancing + toward the old man on the landing; but no sooner did the latter verify to + his startled understanding that he had seen her, than with an exclamation + of “All right! good-bye!” he began a rapid descent, of the stairs. A + distance below, he bade Mr. Pericles take care of her, and as an excuse + for his abrupt retreat, the word “busy” sounded up. + </p> + <p> + “Does my face frighten him?” Emilia thought. It made her look on herself + with a foreign eye. This is a dreadful but instructive piece of + contemplation; acting as if the rich warm blood of self should have ceased + to hug about us, and we stand forth to be dissected unresistingly. All + Emilia's vital strength now seemed to vanish. At the renewal of Mr. + Pericles' peremptory mandate for her to sing, she could neither appeal to + him, nor resist; but, raising her chest, she made her best effort, and + then covered her face. This was done less for concealment of her + shame-stricken features than to avoid sight of the stupefaction imprinted + upon Mr. Pericles. + </p> + <p> + “Again, zat A flat!” he called sternly. + </p> + <p> + She tried it. + </p> + <p> + “Again!” + </p> + <p> + Again she did her utmost to accomplish the task. If you have seen a girl + in a fit of sobs elevate her head, with hard-shut eyelids, while her + nostrils convulsively take in a long breath, as if for speech, but it is + expended in one quick vacant sigh, you know how Emilia looked. And it + requires a humane nature to pardon such an aspect in a person from whom we + have expected triumphing glances and strong thrilling tones. + </p> + <p> + “What is zis?” Mr. Pericles came nearer to her. + </p> + <p> + He would listen to no charges against the atmosphere. Commanding her to + give one simple run of notes, a contralto octave, he stood over her with + keenly watchful eyes. Sir Purcell bade him observe her distress. + </p> + <p> + “I am much obliged,” Mr. Pericles bowed, “she is ruined. I have suspected. + Ha! But I ask for a note! One!” + </p> + <p> + This imperious signal drew her to another attempt. The deplorable sound + that came sent Emilia sinking down with a groan. + </p> + <p> + “Basta, basta! So, it is zis tale,” said Mr. Pericles, after an + observation of her huddled shape. “Did I not say—” + </p> + <p> + His voice was so menacingly loud and harsh that Sir Purcell remarked: + “This is not the time to repeat it—pardon me—whatever you + said.” + </p> + <p> + “Ze fool—she play ze fool! Sir, I forget ze Christian—ah! + Purcell!—I say she play ze fool, and look at her! Why is it she + comes to me now? A dozen times I warn her. To Italy! to Italy! all is + ready: you will have a place at ze Conservatorio. No: she refuse. I say + 'Go, and you are a queen. You are a Prima at twenty, and Europe is beneas + you.' No: she refuse, and she is ruined. 'What,' I say, 'what zat dam + silly smile mean?' Oh, no! I am not lazy!' 'But you area fool!' 'Oh, no!' + 'And what are you, zen? And what shall you do?' Nussing! nussing! nussing! + And, dam! zere is an end.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia had caught blindly at Sir Purcell's hand, by which she raised + herself, and then uncovering her face, looked furtively at the malign + furnace-white face of Mr. Pericles. + </p> + <p> + “It cannot have gone,”—she spoke, as if mentally balancing the + possibility. + </p> + <p> + “It has gone, I say; and you know why, Mademoiselle ze Fool!” Mr. Pericles + retorted. + </p> + <p> + “No, no; it can't be gone. Gone? voices never go!” + </p> + <p> + The reiteration of the “You know why,” from Mr. Pericles, and all the + wretchedness of loss it suggested, robbed her of the little spark of + nervous fire by which she felt half-reviving in courage and confidence. + </p> + <p> + “Let me try once more,” she appealed to him, in a frenzy. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pericles, though fully believing in his heart that it might only be a + temporary deprivation of voice, affected to scout the notion of another + trial, but finally extended his forefinger: “Well, now; start! 'Sempre al + tuo Santo!' Commence: Sem—” and Mr. Pericles hummed the opening bar, + not as an unhopeful man would do. The next moment he was laughing + horribly. Emilia, to make sure of the thing she dreaded, forced the note, + and would not be denied. What voice there was in her came to the summons. + It issued, if I may so express it, ragged, as if it had torn through a + briar-hedge: then there was a whimper of tones, and the effect was like + the lamentation of a hardly-used urchin, lacking a certain music that + there is in his undoubted heartfelt earnestness. No single note poised + firmly for the instant, but swayed, trembling on its neighbour to right + and to left when pressed for articulate sound, it went into a ghastly + whisper. The laughter of Mr. Pericles was pleasing discord in comparison. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0040" id="link2HCH0040"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XL + </h2> + <p> + Emilia stretched out her hand and said, “Good-bye.” Seeing that the + hardened girl, with her dead eyelids, did not appear to feel herself at + his mercy, and also that Sir Purcell's forehead looked threatening, Mr. + Pericles stopped his sardonic noise. He went straight to the door, which + he opened with alacrity, and mimicking very wretchedly her words of adieu, + stood prepared to bow her out. She astonished him by passing without + another word. Before he could point a phrase bitter enough for expression, + Sir Purcell had likewise passed, and in going had given him a quietly + admonishing look. + </p> + <p> + “Zose Poles are beggars!” Mr. Pericles roared after them over the stairs, + and slammed his door for emphasis. Almost immediately there was a knock at + it. Mr. Pericles stood bent and cat-like as Sir Purcell reappeared. The + latter, avoiding all preliminaries, demanded of the Greek that he should + promise not to use the names of his friends publicly in such a manner + again. + </p> + <p> + “I require a promise for the future. An apology will be needless from + you.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall not give it,” said Mr. Pericles, with a sharp lift of his upper + lip. + </p> + <p> + “But you will give me the promise I have returned for.” + </p> + <p> + In answer Mr. Pericles announced that he had spoken what was simply true: + that the prosperity of the Poles was fictitious: that he, or any + unfavourable chance, could ruin them: and that their friends might do + better to protect their interests than by menacing one who had them in his + power. + </p> + <p> + Sir Purcell merely reiterated his demand for the promise, which was + ultimately snarled to him; whereupon he retired, joy on his features. For, + Cornelia poor, she might be claimed by him fearlessly: that is to say, + without the fear of people whispering that the penniless baronet had sued + for gold, and without the fear of her father rejecting his suit. At least + he might, with this knowledge that he had gained, appoint to meet her now! + All the morning Sir Purcell had been combative, owing to that subordinate + or secondary post he occupied in a situation of some excitement;—which + combativeness is one method whereby men thus placed, imagining that they + are acting devotedly for their friends, contrive still to assert + themselves. He descended to the foot of the stairs, where he had told + Emilia to wait for him, full of kind feelings and ready cheerful counsels; + as thus: “Nothing that we possess belongs to us;—All will come round + rightly in the end; Be patient, look about for amusement, and improve your + mind.” And more of this copper coinage of wisdom in the way of proverbs. + But Emilia was nowhere visible to receive the administration of comfort. + Outside the house the fog appeared to have swallowed her. With some + chagrin on her behalf (partly a sense of duty unfulfilled) Sir Purcell + made his way to the residence of the Marinis, to report of her there, if + she should not have arrived. The punishment he inflicted on himself in + keeping his hand an hour from that letter to be written to Cornelia, was + almost pleasing; and he was rewarded by it, for the projected sentences + grew mellow and rich, condensed and throbbed eloquently. What wonder, that + with such a mental occupation, he should pass Emilia and not notice her? + She let him go. + </p> + <p> + But when he was out of sight, all seemed gone. The dismally-lighted city + wore a look of Judgement terrible to see. Her brain was slave to her + senses: she fancied she had dropped into an underground kingdom, among a + mysterious people. The anguish through which action had just hurried her, + now fell with a conscious weight upon her heart. She stood a moment, + seeing her desolation stretch outwardly into endless labyrinths; and then + it narrowed and took hold of her as a force within: changing thus, almost + with each breathing of her body. + </p> + <p> + The fog had thickened. Up and down the groping city went muffled men, few + women. Emilia looked for one of her sex who might have a tender face. + Desire to be kissed and loved by a creature strange to her, and to lay her + head upon a woman's bosom, moved her to gaze around with a longing once or + twice; but no eyes met hers, and the fancy recurred vividly that she was + not in the world she had known. Otherwise, what had robbed her of her + voice? She played with her fancy for comfort, long after any real vitality + in it had oozed out. Her having strength to play at fancies showed that a + spark of hope was alive. In truth, firm of flesh as she was, to believe + that all worth had departed from her was impossible, and when she reposed + simply on her sensations, very little trouble beset her: only when she + looked abroad did the aspect of numerous indifferent faces, and the harsh + flowing of the world its own way, tell her she had lost her power. Could + it be lost? The prospect of her desolation grew so wide to her that she + shut her eyes, abandoning herself to feeling; and this by degrees moved + her to turn back and throw herself at the feet of Mr. Pericles. For, if he + said, “Wait, my child, and all will come round well,” she was prepared + blindly to think so. The projection of the words in her mind made her + ready to weep: but as she neared the house of his office the wish to hear + him speak that, became passionate; she counted all that depended on it, + and discovered the size of the fabric she had built on so thin a plank. + After a while, her steps were mechanically swift. Before she reached the + chambers of Mr. Pericles she had walked, she knew not why, once round the + little quiet enclosed city-garden, and a cold memory of those men who had + looked at her face gave her some wonder, to be quickly kindled into fuller + comprehension. + </p> + <p> + Beholding Emilia once more, Mr. Pericles enjoyed a revival of his taste + for vengeance; but, unhappily for her, he found it languid, and when he + had rubbed his hands, stared, and by sundry sharp utterances brought her + to his feet, his satisfaction was less poignant than he had expected. As a + consequence, instead of speaking outrageously, according to his habit, in + wrath, he was now frigidly considerate, informing Emilia that it would be + good for her if she were dead, seeing that she was of no use whatever; + but, as she was alive, she had better go to her father and mother, and + learn knitting, or some such industrial employment. “Unless zat man for + whom you play fool!—” Mr. Pericles shrugged the rest of his meaning. + </p> + <p> + “But my voice may not be gone,” urged Emilia. “I may sing to you to-morrow—this + evening. It must be the fog. Why do you think it lost? It can't be—” + </p> + <p> + “Cracked!” cried Mr. Pericles. + </p> + <p> + “It is not! No; do not think it. I may stay here. Don't tell me to go yet. + The streets make me wish to die. And I feel I may, perhaps, sing + presently. Wait. Will you wait?” + </p> + <p> + A hideous imitation of her lamentable tones burst from Mr. Pericles. + “Cracked!” he cried again. + </p> + <p> + Emilia lifted her eyes, and looked at him steadily. She saw the idea grow + in the eyes fronting her that she had a pleasant face, and she at once + staked this little bit of newly-conceived worth on an immediate chance. + Remember; that she was as near despair as a creature constituted so + healthily could go. Speaking no longer in a girlish style, but with the + grave pleading manner of a woman, she begged Mr. Pericles to take her to + Italy, and have faith in the recovery of her voice. He, however, far from + being softened, as he grew aware of her sweetness of feature, waxed + violent and insulting. + </p> + <p> + “Take me,” she said. “My voice will reward you. I feel that you can cure + it.” + </p> + <p> + “For zat man! to go to him again!” Mr. Pericles sneered. + </p> + <p> + “I never shall do that.” There sprang a glitter as of steel in Emilia's + eyes. “I will make myself yours for life, if you like. Take my hand, and + let me swear. I do not break my word. I will swear, that if I recover my + voice to become what you expected,—I will marry you whenever you ask + me, and then—” + </p> + <p> + More she was saying, but Mr. Pericles, sputtering a laugh of “Sanks!” + presented a postured supplication for silence. + </p> + <p> + “I am not a man who marries.” + </p> + <p> + He plainly stated the relations that the woman whom he had distinguished + by the honours of selection must hold toward him. + </p> + <p> + Emilia's cheeks did not redden; but, without any notion of shame at the + words she listened to, she felt herself falling lower and lower the more + her spirit clung to Mr. Pericles: yet he alone was her visible + personification of hope, and she could not turn from him. If he cast her + off, it seemed to her that her voice was condemned. She stood there still, + and the cold-eyed Greek formed his opinion. + </p> + <p> + He was evidently undecided as regards his own course of proceeding, for + his chin was pressed by thumb and forefinger hard into his throat, while + his eyebrows were wrinkled up to their highest elevation. From this + attitude, expressive of the accurate balancing of the claims of an + internal debate, he emerged into the posture of a cock crowing, and Emilia + heard again his bitter mimicry of her miserable broken tones, followed by, + “Ha! dam! Basta! basta!” + </p> + <p> + “Sit here,” cried Mr. Pericles. He had thrown himself into a chair, and + pointed to his knee. + </p> + <p> + Emilia remained where she was standing. + </p> + <p> + He caught at her hand, but she plucked that from him. Mr. Pericles rose, + sounding a cynical “Hein!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't touch me,” said Emilia. + </p> + <p> + Nothing exasperates certain natures so much as the effort of the visibly + weak to intimidate them. + </p> + <p> + “I shall not touch you?” Mr. Pericles sneered. “Zen, why are you here?” + </p> + <p> + “I came to my friend,” was Emilia's reply. + </p> + <p> + “Your friend! He is not ze friend of a couac-couac. Once, if you please: + but now” (Mr. Pericles shrugged), “now you are like ze rest of women. You + are game. Come to me.” + </p> + <p> + He caught once more at her hand, which she lifted; then at her elbow. + </p> + <p> + “Will you touch me when I tell you not to?” + </p> + <p> + There was the soft line of an involuntary frown over her white face, and + as he held her arm from the doubled elbow, with her clenched hand aloft, + she appeared ready to strike a tragic blow. + </p> + <p> + Anger and every other sentiment vanished from Mr. Pericles in the + rapturous contemplation of her admirable artistic pose. + </p> + <p> + “Mon Dieu! and wiz a voice!” he exclaimed, dashing his fist in a delirium + of forgetfulness against the one plastered lock of hair on his shining + head. “Little fool! little dam fool!—zat might have been”—(Mr. + Pericles figured in air with his fingers to signify the exaltation she was + to have attained)—“Mon Dieu! and look at you! Did I not warn you? + non a vero? Did I not say 'Ruin, ruin, if you go so? For a man!—a + voice! You will not come to me? Zen, hear! you shall go to old Belloni. I + do not want you, my pretty dear. Woman is a trouble, a drug. You shall go + to old Belloni; and, crack! if ze voice will come back to a whip,—bravo, + old Belloni!” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pericles turned to reach down his hat from a peg. At the same instant + Emilia quitted the room. + </p> + <p> + Dusk was deepening the yellow atmosphere, and the crowd was now steadily + flowing in one direction. The bereaved creature went with the stream, glad + to be surrounded and unseen, till it struck her, at last, that she was + moving homeward. She stopped with a pang of grief, turned, and met all + those people to whom the fireside was a beacon. For some time she bore + against the pressure, but her loneliness overwhelmed her. None seemed to + go her way. For a refuge, she turned into one of the city side streets, + where she was quite alone. Unhappily, the street was of no length, and she + soon came to the end of it. There was the choice of retracing her steps, + or entering a strange street; and while she hesitated a troop of sheep + went by, that made a piteous noise. She followed them, thinking curiously + of the something broken that appeared to be in their throats. By-and-by, + the thought flashed in her that they were going to be slaughtered. She + held her step, looking at them, but without any tender movement of the + heart. They came to a butcher's yard, and went in. + </p> + <p> + When she had passed along a certain distance, a shiver seized her, and her + instinct pushed her toward the lighted shops, where there were pictures. + In one she saw the portrait of that Queen of Song whom she had heard at + Besworth. Two young men, glancing as they walked by arm in arm, pronounced + the name of the great enchantress, and hummed one of her triumphant airs. + The features expressed health, humour, power, every fine animal faculty. + Genius was on the forehead and the plastic mouth; the forehead being well + projected, fair, and very shapely, showing clear balance, as well as + capacity to grasp flame, and fling it. The line reaching to a dimple from + the upper lip was saved from scornfulness by the lovely gleam, + half-challenging, half-consoling, regal, roguish—what you would—that + sat between her dark eyelashes, like white sunlight on the fringed smooth + roll of water by a weir. Such a dimple, and such a gleam of eyes, would + have been keys to the face of a weakling, and it was the more fascinating + from the disregard of any minor charm notable upon this grand visage, + which could not suffer a betrayal. You saw, and there was no effort to + conceal, that the spirit animating it was intensely human; but it was + human of the highest chords of humanity, indifferent to finesse and + despising subtleties; gifted to speak, to inspire, and to command all + great emotions. In fact, it was the masque of a dramatic artist in repose. + Tempered by beauty, the robust frame showed that she possessed a royal + nature, and could, as a foremost qualification for Art, feel harmoniously. + She might have many of the littlenesses of which women are accused; for + Art she promised unspotted excellence; and, adorable as she was by + attraction of her sex, she was artist over all. + </p> + <p> + Emilia found herself on one of the bridges, thinking of this aspect. + Beneath her was the stealing river, with its red intervals, and the fog + had got a wider circle. She could not disengage that face from her mind. + It seemed to say to her, boldly, “I live because success is mine;” and to + hint, as with a paler voice, “Death the fruit of failure.” Could she, + Emilia, ever be looked on again by her friends? The dread of it gave her + shudders. Then, death was certainly easy! But death took no form in her + imagination, as it does to one seeking it. She desired to forget and to + hide her intolerable losses; to have the impostor she felt herself to be + buried. As she walked along she held out her hands, murmuring, “Helpless! + useless!” It came upon her as a surprise that one like herself should be + allowed to live. “I don't want to,” she said; and the neat moment, “I + wonder what a drowned woman is like?” She hurried back to the streets and + the shops. The shops failed now to give her distraction, for a stiff and + dripping image floated across all the windows, and she was glad to see the + shutters being closed; though, when the streets were dark, some + friendliness seemed to have gone. When the streets were quits dark, save + for the row of lamps, she walked fast, fearing she knew not what. + </p> + <p> + A little Italian boy sat doubled over his organ on a doorstep, while a yet + smaller girl at his elbow plied him with questions in English. Emilia + stopped before them, and the girl complained to her that the perverse + little foreigner would not answer. Two or three words in his native tongue + soon brought his face to view. Emilia sat down between them, and listened + to the prattle of two languages. The girl said that she never had supper, + which was also the case with the boy; so Emilia felt for her purse, and + sent the girl with sixpence in search of a shop that sold cafes. The girl + came back with her apron full. As they were all about to eat, a policeman + commanded them to quit the spot, informing them that he knew both them and + their dodges. Emilia stood up, and was taking her little people away, when + the policeman, having suddenly changed his accurate opinion of her, said, + “You're giving 'em some supper, miss? Oh, they must sit down to their + suppers, you know!” and walked away, not to be a witness of this + infraction of the law. So, they sat down and ate, and the boy and girl + tried to say intelligible things to one another, and laughed. Emilia could + not help joining in their laughter. The girl was very anxious to know + whether the boy was ever beaten, and hearing that he was, she appeared + better satisfied, remarking that she was also, but curious still as to the + different forms of chastisement they received. This being partially + explained, she wished to know whether he would be beaten that night, + Emilia interpreting. A grin, and a rapid whistle and 'cluck,' significant + of the application of whips, told the state of his expectations; at which + the girl clapped her hands, adding, lamentably, “So shall I, 'cause I am + always.” Emilia gathered them under each shoulder, when, to her delight + and half perplexity, they closed their eyes, leaning against her. + </p> + <p> + The policeman passed, and for an hour endured this spectacle. At last he + felt compelled to explain to Emilia what were the sentiments of + gentlefolks with regard to their doorsteps, apart from the law of the + matter. He put it to her human nature whether she would like her doorsteps + to be blocked, so that no one could enter, and anyone emerging stood a + chance of being precipitated, nose foremost, upon the pavement. Then, + again, as gentle-folks had good experience of, the young ones in London + were twice as cunning as the old. Emilia pleaded for her sleeping pair, + that they might not be disturbed. Her voice gave the keeper of the peace + notions of her being one of the eccentric young ladies who are + occasionally 'missing,' and have advertizing friends. He uttered a stern + ahem! preliminary to assent; but the noise wakened the children, who + stared, and readily obeyed his gesture, which said, “Be off!” while his + words were those of remonstrance. Emilia accompanied them a little way. + Both promised eagerly that they would be at the same place the night + following and departed—the boy with laughing nods and waving of + hands, which the girl imitated. Emilia's feeling of security went with + them. She at once feigned a destination in the distance, and set forward + to reach it, but the continued exposure of this delusion made it difficult + to renew. She fell to counting the hours that were to elapse before she + would meet those children, saying to herself, that whatever she did she + must keep her engagement to be at the appointed steps. This restriction + set her darkly fancying that she wished for her end. + </p> + <p> + Remembering those men who had looked at her admiringly, “Am I worth + looking at?” she said; and it gave her some pleasure to think that she had + it still in her power to destroy a thing of value. She was savagely + ashamed of going to death empty-handed. By-and-by, great fatigue stiffened + her limbs, and she sat down from pure want of rest. The luxury of rest and + soothing languor kept hard thoughts away. She felt as if floating, for a + space. The fear of the streets left her. But when necessity for rest had + gone, she clung to the luxury still, and sitting bent forward, with her + hands about her knees, she began to brood over tumbled images of a wrong + done to her. She had two distinct visions of herself, constantly + alternating and acting like the temptation of two devils. One represented + her despicable in feature, and bade her die; the other showed a fair face, + feeling which to be her own, Emilia had fits of intolerable rage. This + vision prevailed; and this wicked side of her humanity saved her. Active + despair is a passion that must be superseded by a passion. Passive despair + comes later; it has nothing to do with mental action, and is mainly a + corruption or degradation of our blood. The rage in Emilia was blind at + first, but it rose like a hawk, and singled its enemy. She fixed her mind + to conceive the foolishness of putting out a face that her rival might + envy, and of destroying anything that had value. The flattery of beauty + came on her like a warm garment. When she opened her eyes, seeing what she + was and where, she almost smiled at the silly picture that had given her + comfort. Those men had looked on her admiringly, it was true, but would + Wilfrid have ceased to love her if she had been beautiful? An + extraordinary intuition of Wilfrid's sentiment tormented her now. She saw + herself in the light that he would have seen her by, till she stood with + the sensations of an exposed criminal in the dark length of the street, + and hurried down it, back, as well as she could find her way, to the + friendly policeman. + </p> + <p> + Her question on reaching him, “Are you married?” was prodigiously + astonishing, and he administered the rebuff of an affirmative with + severity. “Then,” said Emilia, “when you go home, let me go with you to + your wife. Perhaps she will consent to take care of me for this night.” + The policeman coughed mildly and replied, “It's plain you know nothing of + women—begging your pardon, miss,—for I can see you're a lady.” + Emilia repeated her petition, and the policeman explained the nature of + women. Not to be baffled, Emilia said, “I think your wife must be a good + woman.” Hereat the policeman laughed, arming “that the best of them knew + what bad suspicions was.” Ultimately, he consented to take her to his + wife, when he was relieved, after the term of so many minutes. Emilia + stood at a distance, speculating on the possible choice he would make of a + tune to accompany his monotonous walk to and fro, and on the certainty of + his wearing any tune to nothing. + </p> + <p> + She was in a bed, sleeping heavily, a little before dawn. + </p> + <p> + The day that followed was her day of misery. The blow that had stunned her + had become as a loud intrusive pulse in her head. By this new daylight she + fathomed the depth, and reckoned the value, of her loss. And her senses + had no pleasure in the light, though there was sunshine. The woman who was + her hostess was kind, but full of her first surprise at the strange visit, + and too openly ready for any information the young lady might be willing + to give with regard to her condition, prospects, and wishes. Emilia gave + none. She took the woman's hand, asking permission to remain under her + protection. The woman by-and-by named a sum of money as a sum for weekly + payment, and Emilia transferred all to her that she had. The policeman and + his wife thought her, though reasonable, a trifle insane. She sat at a + window for hours watching a 'last man' of the fly species walking up and + plunging down a pane of glass. On this transparent solitary field for the + most objectless enterprise ever undertaken, he buzzed angrily at times, as + if he had another meaning in him, which was being wilfully misinterpreted. + Then he mounted again at his leisure, to pitch backward as before. Emilia + found herself thinking with great seriousness that it was not wonderful + for boys to be always teasing and killing flies, whose thin necks and + bobbing heads themselves suggested the idea of decapitation. She said to + her hostess: “I don't like flies. They seem never to sing but when they + are bothered.” The woman replied: “Ah, indeed?” very smoothly, and + thought: “If you was to bust out now, which of us two would be strongest?” + Emilia grew distantly aware that the policeman and his wife talked of her + and watched her with combined observation. + </p> + <p> + When it was night she went to keep her appointment. The girl was there, + but the boy came late. He said he had earned only a few pence that day, + and would be beaten. He spoke in a whimpering tone which caused the girl + to desire a translation of his words. Emilia told her how things were with + him, and the girl expressed a wish that she had an organ, as in that case + she would be sure to earn more than sixpence a day; such being the amount + that procured her nightly a comfortable reception in the arms of her + parents. “Do you like music?” said Emilia. The girl replied that she liked + organs; but, as if to avoid committing an injustice, cited parrots as + foremost in her affections. Holding them both to her breast, Emilia + thought that she would rescue them from this beating by giving them the + money they had to offer for kindness: but the restlessness of the children + suddenly made her a third party to the thought of cakes. She had no money. + Her heart bled for the poor little hungry, apprehensive creatures. For a + moment she half fancied she had her voice, and looked up at the windows of + the pitiless houses with a bold look; but there was a speedy mockery of + her thought “You shall listen: you shall open!” She coughed hoarsely, and + then fell into fits of crying. Her friend the policeman came by and took + her arm with a force that he meant to be persuasive; so lifting her and + handing her some steps beyond the limit of his beat, with stern directions + for her to proceed home immediately. She obeyed. Next day she asked her + hostess to lend her half-a-crown. The woman snapped shortly in answer: + “No; the less you have the better.” Emilia was obliged to abandon her + little people. + </p> + <p> + She was to this extent the creature of mania: that she could not conceive + of a way being open by which she might return to her father and mother, or + any of her friends. It was to her not a matter for her will to decide + upon, but simply a black door shut that nothing could displace. When the + week, for which term of shelter she had paid, was ended, her hostess spoke + upon this point, saying, more to convince Emilia of the necessity for + seeking her friends than from any unkindness: “Me and my husband can't go + on keepin' you, you know, my dear, however well's our meaning.” Emilia + drew the woman toward her with both her lands, softly shaking her head. + She left the house about noon. + </p> + <p> + It was now her belief that she had probably no more than another day to + live, for she was destitute of money. The thought relieved her from that + dreadful fear of the street, and she walked at her own pace, even after + dark. The rumble and the rattle of wheels; the cries and grinding noises; + the hum of motion and talk; all under the lingering smoky red of a London + Winter sunset, were not discord to her animated blood. Her unhunted spirit + made a music of them. It was not like the music of other days, nor was the + exultation it created at all like happiness: but she at least forgot + herself. Voices came in her ear, and hung unheard until long after the + speaker had passed. Hunger did not assail her. She was not beset by an + animal weakness; and having in her mind no image of death, and with her + ties to life cut away;—thus devoid of apprehension or regret, she + was what her quick blood made her, for the time. She recognized that, for + one near extinction, it was useless to love or to hate: so Wilfrid and + Lady Charlotte were spared. Emilia thought of them both with a sort of + equanimity; not that any clear thought filled her brain through that + delirious night. The intoxicating music raged there at one level + depression, never rising any scale, never undulating ever so little, + scarcely changing its barbarous monotony of notes. She had no power over + it. Her critical judgement would at another moment have shrieked at it. + She was moved by it as by a mechanical force. + </p> + <p> + The South-west wind blew, and the hours of the night were not evil to + outcasts. Emilia saw many lying about, getting rest where they might. She + hurried her eye pityingly over little children, but the devil that had + seized her sprang contempt for the others—older beggars, who + appeared to succumb to their fate when they should have lifted their heads + up bravely. On she passed from square to market, market to park; and + presently her mind shot an arrow of desire for morning, which was nothing + less than hunger beginning to stir. “When will the shops open?” She tried + to cheat herself by replying that she did not care when, but pangs of + torment became too rapid for the counterfeit. Her imagination raised the + roof from those great rich houses, and laid bare a brilliancy of + dish-covers; and if any sharp gust of air touched the nerve in her + nostril, it seemed instantaneously charged with the smell of old dinners. + “No,” cried Emilia, “I dislike anything but plain food.” She quickly gave + way, and admitted a craving for dainty morsels. “One lump of sugar!” she + subsequently sighed. But neither sugar nor meat approached her. + </p> + <p> + Her seat was under trees, between a man and a woman who slanted from her + with hidden chins. The chilly dry leaves began to waken, and the sky + showed its grey. Hunger had become as a leaden ball in Emilia's chest. She + could have eaten eagerly still, but she had no ravenous images of food. + Nevertheless, she determined to beg for bread at a baker's shop. Coming + into the empty streets again, the dread of exposing her solitary + wretchedness and the stains of night upon her, kept her back. When she did + venture near the baker's shop, her sensation of weariness, want of + washing, and general misery, made her feel a contrast to all other women + she saw, that robbed her of the necessary effrontery. She preferred to + hide her head. + </p> + <p> + The morning hours went in this conflict. She was between-whiles hungry and + desperate, or stricken with shame. Fatigue, bringing the imperious + necessity for rest, intervened as a relief. Emilia moaned at the weary + length of the light, but when dusk fell and she beheld flame in the lamps, + it seemed to be too sudden and she was alarmed. Passive despair had set + in. She felt sick, though not weak, and the thought of asking help had + gone. + </p> + <p> + A street urchin, of the true London species, in whom excess of woollen + comforter made up for any marked scantiness in the rest of his attire, + came trotting the pavement, pouring one of the favourite tunes of his + native metropolis through the tube of a penny-whistle, from which it did + not issue so disguised but that attentive ears might pronounce it the + royal march of the Cannibal Islands. A placarded post beside a lamp met + this musician's eye; and, still piping, he bent his knees and read the + notification. Emilia thought of the Hillford and Ipley clubmen, the big + drum, the speeches, the cheers, and all the wild strength that lay in her + that happy morning. She watched the boy piping as if he were reading from + a score, and her sense of humour was touched. “You foolish boy!” she said + to herself softly. But when, having evidently come to the last printed + line, the boy rose and pocketed his penny-whistle, Emilia was nearly + laughing. “That's because he cannot turn over the leaf,” she said, and + stood by the post till long after the boy had disappeared. The slight + emotion of fun had restored to her some of her lost human sensations, and + she looked about for a place where to indulge them undisturbed. One of the + bridges was in sight She yearned for the solitude of the wharf beside it, + and hurried to the steps. To descend she had to pass a street-organ and a + small figure bent over it. “Sei buon' Italiano?” she said. The answer was + a surly “Si.” Emilia cried convulsively “Addio!” Her brain had become on a + sudden vacant of a thought, and all she knew was that she descended. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0041" id="link2HCH0041"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLI + </h2> + <h3> + “Sei buon' Italiana?” + </h3> + <p> + Across what chasm did the words come to her? + </p> + <p> + It seemed but a minutes and again many hours back, that she had asked that + question of a little fellow, who, if he had looked up and nodded would + have given her great joy, but who kept his face dark from her and with a + sullen “Si” extinguished her last feeling of a desire for companionship + with life. + </p> + <p> + “Si,” she replied, quite as sullenly, and without looking up. + </p> + <p> + But when her hand was taken and other words were uttered, she that had + crouched there so long between death and life immovable, loving neither, + rose possessed of a passion for the darkness and the void, and struggling + bitterly with the detaining hand, crying for instant death. No strength + was in her to support the fury. + </p> + <p> + “Merthyr Powys is with you,” said her friend, “and will never leave you.” + </p> + <p> + “Will never take me up there?” Emilia pointed to the noisy level above + them. + </p> + <p> + “Listen, and I will tell you how I have found you,” replied Merthyr. + </p> + <p> + “Don't force me to go up.” + </p> + <p> + She spoke from the end of her breath. Merthyr feared that it was more than + misery, even madness, afflicting her. He sat on the wharf-bench silent + till she was reassured. But at his first words, the eager question came: + “You will not force me to go up there?” + </p> + <p> + “No; we can stay and talk here,” said Merthyr. “And this is how I have + found you. Do you suppose you have been hidden from us all this time? + Perhaps you fancy you do not belong to your friends? Well, I spoke to all + of your 'children,' as you used to call them. Do you remember? The day + before yesterday two had seen you. You said to one, 'From Savoy or + Piedmont?' He said, 'From Savoy;' and you shook your head: 'Not looking on + Italy!' you said. This night I roused one of them, and he stretched his + finger down the steps, saying that you had gone down there. 'Sei buon' + Italiano?” you said. “And that is how I have found you. Sei buon' + Italiana?” + </p> + <p> + Emilia let her hand rest in Merthyr's, wondering to think that there + should be no absolute darkness for a creature to escape into while living. + A trembling came on her. “Let me look over at the water,” she said; and + Merthyr, who trusted her even in that extremity, allowed her to lean + forward, and felt her grasp grow moist in his, till she turned back with + shudders, giving him both her hands. “A drowned woman looks so dreadful!” + Her speech was faint as she begged to be taken away from that place. + Merthyr put his hand to her arm-pit, sustaining her steps. As they neared + the level where men were, she looked behind her and realized the black + terrors she had just been blindly handling. Fright sped her limbs for a + second or two, and then her whole weight hung upon Merthyr. He held her in + both arms, thinking that she had swooned, but she murmured: “Have you + heard that my voice has gone?” + </p> + <p> + “If you have suffered, I do not wonder,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I am useless. My voice is dead.” + </p> + <p> + “Useless to your friends? Tush, my little Emilia! Sandra mia! Don't you + know that while you love your friends that's all they want of you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she moaned; “the gas-lamp hurts me. What a noise there is!” + </p> + <p> + “We shall soon get away from the noise.” + </p> + <p> + “No; I like it; but not the light. Oh, my feet!—why are you walking + still? What friends?” + </p> + <p> + “For instance, myself.” + </p> + <p> + “You knew of my wandering about London! It makes me believe in heaven. I + can't bear to think of being unseen.” + </p> + <p> + “This morning,” said Merthyr, “I saw the policeman in whose house you have + been staying.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia bowed her head to the mystery by which this friend was endowed to + be cognizant of her actions. “I feel that I have not seen the streets for + years. If it were not for you I should fall down.—Oh! do you + understand that my voice has quite gone?” + </p> + <p> + Merthyr perceived her anxiety to be that she might not betaken on doubtful + terms. “Your hand hasn't,” he said, pressing it, and so gratified her with + a concrete image of something that she could still bestow upon a friend. + To this she clung while the noisy wheels bore her through London, till her + weak body failed to keep courage in her breast, and she wept and came + closer to Merthyr. He who supposed that her recent despair and present + tears were for the loss of her lover, gave happily more comfort than he + took. “When old gentlemen choose to interest themselves about very young + ladies,” he called upon his humorous philosophy to observe internally, as + men do to forestall the possible cynic external;—and the rest of the + sentence was acted under his eyes by the figures of three persons. But, + there she was, lying within his arm, rescued, the creature whom he had + found filling his heart, when lost, and whom he thought one of the most + hopeful of the women of earth! He thanked God for bare facts. She lay + against him with her eyelids softly joined, and as he felt the breathing + of her body, he marvelled to think how matter-of-fact they had both been + on the brink of a tragedy, and how naturally she had, as it were, argued + herself up to the gates of death. For want of what? “My sister may supply + it,” thought Merthyr. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! that river is like a great black snake with a sick eye, and will come + round me!” said Emilia, talking as from sleep; then started, with fright + in her face: “Oh! my hunger again!” + </p> + <p> + “Hunger!” said he, horrified. + </p> + <p> + “It comes worse than ever,” she moaned. “I was half dead just now, and + didn't feel it. There's—there's no pain in death. But this—it's + like fire and frost! I feel being eaten up. Give me something.” + </p> + <p> + Merthyr set his teeth and enveloped her in a tight hug that relieved her + from the sharper pangs; and so held her, the tears bursting through his + shut eyelids, till at the first hotel they reached he managed to get food + for her. She gave a little gasping cry when he put bread through the + window of the cab. Bit by bit he handed her the morsels. It was impossible + to procure broth. When they drove on, she did not complain of suffering, + but her chest rose and fell many times heavily. She threw him out in the + reading of her character, after a space, by excusing herself for having + eaten with such eagerness; and it was long before he learnt what Wilfrid's + tyrannous sentiment had done to this simple nature. He understood better + the fear she expressed of meeting Georgiana. Nevertheless, she exhibited + none on entering the house, and returned Georgiana's embrace with what + strength was left to her. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0042" id="link2HCH0042"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLII + </h2> + <p> + Up the centre aisle of Hillford Church, the Tinleys (late as usual) were + seen trooping for morning service in midwinter. There was a man in the + rear known to be a man by the sound of his boots and measure of his + stride, for the ladies of Brookfield, having rejected the absurd + pretensions of Albert Tinley, could not permit curiosity to encounter the + risk of meeting his gaze by turning their heads. So, with charitable + condescension they returned the slight church nod of prim Miss Tinley + passing, of the detestable Laura Tinley, of affected Rose Tinley (whose + complexion was that of a dust-bin), and of Madeline Tinley (too young for + a character beyond what the name bestowed), and then they arranged their + prayer-books, and apparently speculated as to the possible text that + morning to be given forth from the pulpit. But it seemed to them all that + an exceedingly bulky object had passed as guardian of the light-footed + damsels preceding him. Though none of the ladies had looked up as he + passed, they were conscious of a stature and a circumference which they + had deemed to be entirely beyond the reach of the Tinleys, and a scornful + notion of the Tinleys having hired a guardsman, made Arabella smile at the + stretch of her contempt, that could help her to conceive the ironic + possibility. Relieved on the suspicion that Albert was in attendance of + his sisters, they let their eyes fall calmly on the Tinley pew. Could two + men upon this earthly sphere possess such a bearskin? There towered the + shoulders of Mr. Pericles; his head looking diminished by the hugeous + collar. Arabella felt a seizure of her hand from Adela's side. She placed + her book open before her, and stared at the pulpit. From neither of the + three of Brookfield could Laura's observation extract a sign of the utter + astonishment she knew they must be experiencing; and had it not been for + the ingenuous broad whisper of Mrs. Chump, which sounded toward the verge + even of her conception of possibilities, the Tinleys would not have been + gratified by the first public display of the prize they had wrested from + the Poles. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Paricles—oh!” went Mrs. Chump, and a great many pews were set + in commotion. + </p> + <p> + Forthwith she bent over Cornelia's lap, and Cornelia, surveying her + placidly, had to murmur, “By-and-by; by-and-by.” + </p> + <p> + “But, did ye see 'm, my dear? and a forr'ner in a Protestant Church! And + such a forr'ner as he is, to be sure! And, ye know, ye said he'd naver + come with you, and it's them creatures ye don't like. Corrnelia!” + </p> + <p> + “The service commences,” remarked that lady, standing up. + </p> + <p> + Many eyes were on Mr. Pericles, who occasionally inspected the cornices + and corbels and stained glass to right and left, or detected a young lady + staring at him, or anticipated her going to stare, and put her to + confusion by a sharp turn of his head, and then a sniff and smoothing down + of his moustache. But he did not once look at the Brookfield pew. By + hazard his eye ranged over it, and after the first performance of this + trick he would have found the ladies a match for him, even if he had + sought to challenge their eyes. They were constrained to admit that Laura + Tinley managed him cleverly. She made him hold a book and appear + respectably devout. She got him down in good time when seats were taken, + and up again, without much transparent persuasion. The first notes of the + organ were seen to agitate the bearskin. Laura had difficulty to induce + the man to rise for the hymn, and when he had listened to the intoning of + a verse, Mr. Pericles suddenly bent, as if he had snapped in two: nor + could Laura persuade him to rejoin the present posture of the + congregation. Then only did Laura, to cover her failure, turn the subdued + light of a merry smile upon the Brookfield pew. + </p> + <p> + The smile was noticed by Apprehension sitting in the corner of one eye, + and it was likewise known that Laura's chagrin at finding that she was not + being watched affected her visibly. At the termination of the sermon, the + ladies bowed their heads a short space, and placing Mrs. Chump in front + drove her out, so that her exclamations of wonderment, and affectedly + ostentatious gaspings of sympathy for Brookfield, were heard by few. On + they hurried, straight and fast to Brookfield. Mr. Pole was talking to + Tracy Runningbrook at the gate. The ladies cut short his needless apology + to the young man for not being found in church that day, by asking + questions of Tracy. The first related to their brother's whereabouts; the + second to Emilia's condition. Tracy had no time to reply. Mrs. Chump had + identified herself with Brookfield so warmly that the defection of Mr. + Pericles was a fine legitimate excitement to her. “I hate 'm!” she cried. + “I pos'tively hate the man! And he to go to church! A pretty figure for an + angel—he, now! But, my dears, we cann't let annybody else have 'm. + Shorrt of his bein' drowned or killed, we must intrigue to keep the wretch + to ourselves.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear!” said Adela impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “Well, and I didn't say to myself, ye little jealous thing!” retorted Mrs. + Chump. + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, ma'am, you are welcome to him.” + </p> + <p> + “And indeed, miss, I don't want 'm. And, perhaps, ye were flirtin' all the + fun out of him on board the yacht, and got tired of 'm; and that's why.” + </p> + <p> + Adela said: “Thank you,” with exasperating sedateness, which provoked an + intemperate outburst from Mrs. Chump. “Sunday! Sunday!” cried Mr. Pole. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't I the first to remember ut, Pole? And didn't I get up airly so as + to go to church and have my conscience qui't, and 'stead of that I come + out full of evil passions, all for the sake o' these ungrateful garls + that's always where ye cann't find 'em. Why, if they was to be married at + the altar, they'd stare and be 'ffendud if ye asked them if they was + thinking of their husbands, they would! 'Oh, dear, no! and ye're mistaken, + and we're thinkin' o' the coal-scuttle in the back parlour,'—or + somethin' about souls, if not coals. There's their answer. What did ye do + with Mr. Paricles on board the yacht? Aha!” + </p> + <p> + “What's this about Pericles?” said Mr. Pole. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing, Papa,” returned Adela. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, do ye call ut!” said Mrs. Chump. “And, mayhap, good cause too. + Didn't ye tease 'm, now, on board the yacht? Now, did he go on board the + yacht at all?” + </p> + <p> + “I should think you ought to know that as well as Adela,” said Mr. Pole. + </p> + <p> + Adela interposed, hurriedly: “All this, my dear Papa, is because Mr. + Pericles has thought proper to visit the Tinleys' pew. Who would complain + how or where he does it, so long as the duty is fulfilled?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Pole stared, muttering: “The Tinleys!” + </p> + <p> + “She's botherin' of ye, Pole, the puss!” said Mrs. Chump, certain that she + had hit a weak point in that mention of the yacht. “Ask her what sorrt of + behaviour—” + </p> + <p> + “And he didn't speak to any of you?” said Mr. Pole. + </p> + <p> + “No, Papa.” + </p> + <p> + “He looked the other way?” + </p> + <p> + “He did us that honour.” + </p> + <p> + “Ask her, Pole, how she behaved to 'm on board the yacht,” cried Mrs. + Chump. “Oh! there was flirtin', flirtin'! And go and see what the noble + poet says of tying up in sacks and plumpin' of poor bodies of women into + forty fathoms by them Turks and Greeks, all because of jeal'sy. So, they + make a woman in earnest there, the wretches, 'cause she cann't have onny + of her jokes. Didn't ye tease Mr. Paricles on board the yacht, Ad'la? Now, + was he there?” + </p> + <p> + “Martha! you're a fool!” said Mr. Pole, looking the victim of one of his + fits of agitation. “Who knows whether he was there better than you? You'll + be forgetting soon that we've ever dined together. I hate to see a woman + so absurd! There—never mind! Go in: take off bonnet something—anything! + only I can't bear folly! Eh, Mr. Runningbrook?” + </p> + <p> + “'Deed, Pole, and ye're mad.” Mrs. Chump crossed her hands to reply with + full repose. “I'd like to know how I'm to know what I never said.” + </p> + <p> + The scene was growing critical. Adela consulted the eyes of her sisters, + which plainly said that this was her peculiar scrape. Adela ended it by + going up to Mrs. Chump, taking her by the shoulders, and putting a kiss + upon her forehead. “Now you will see better,” she said. “Don't you know + Mr. Pericles was not with us? As surely as he was with the Tinleys this + morning!” + </p> + <p> + “And a nice morning it is!” ejaculated Mr. Pole, trotting off hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + “Does Pole think—” Mrs. Chump murmured, with reference to her + voyaging on the yacht. The kiss had bewildered her sequent sensations. + </p> + <p> + “He does think, and will think, and must think,” Adela prattled some + persuasive infantine nonsense: her soul all the while in revolt against + her sisters, who left her the work to do, and took the position of + spectators and critics, condemning an effort they had not courage to + attempt. + </p> + <p> + “By the way, I have to congratulate a friend of mine,” said Tracy, + selecting Adela for an ironical bow. + </p> + <p> + “Then it is Captain Gambier,” cried Mrs. Chump, as if a whole revelation + had burst on her. Adela blushed. “Oh! and what was that I heard?” + continued the aggravating woman. + </p> + <p> + Adela flashed her eyes round on her sisters. Even then they left her + without aid, their feeling being that she had debased the house by her + familiarity with this woman before Tracy. + </p> + <p> + “Stay! didn't ye both—” Mrs. Chump was saying. + </p> + <p> + “Yes?”—Adela passed by her—“only in your ears alone, you + know!” At which hint Mrs. Chump gleefully turned and followed her. A + rumour was prevalent of some misadventure to Adela and the captain on + board the yacht. Arabella saw her depart, thinking, “How singular is her + propensity to imitate me!” for the affirmative uttered in the tone of + interrogation was quite Arabella's own; as also occasionally the negative,—the + negative, however, suiting the musical indifference of the sound, and its + implied calm breast. + </p> + <p> + “As for Pericles,” said Tracy, “you need not wonder that the fellow prays + in other pews than yours. By heaven! he may pray and pray: I'd send him to + Hades with an epigram in his heart!” + </p> + <p> + From Tracy the ladies learnt that Wilfrid had inflicted public + chastisement upon Mr. Pericles for saying a false thing of Emilia. He + danced the prettiest pas seal that was ever footed by debutant on the hot + iron plates of Purgatory. They dared not ask what it was that Mr. Pericles + had said, but Tracy was so vehement on the subject of his having met his + deserts, that they partly guessed it to bear some relation to their sex's + defencelessness, and they approved their brother's work. + </p> + <p> + Sir Twickenham and Captain Gambier dined at Brookfield that day. However + astonishing it might be to one who knew his character and triumphs, the + captain was a butterfly netted, and was on the highroad to an exhibition + of himself pinned, with his wings outspread. During the service of the + table Tracy relieved Adela from Mrs. Chump's inadvertencies and little + bits of feminine malice, but he could not help the captain, who blundered + like a schoolboy in her rough hands. It was noted that Sir Twickenham + reserved the tolerating smile he once had for her. Mr. Pole's nervous + fretfulness had increased. He complained in occasional underbreaths, + correcting himself immediately with a “No, no!” and blinking briskly. + </p> + <p> + But after dinner came the time when the painfullest scene was daily + enacted. Mrs. Chump drank Port freely. To drink it fondly, it was + necessary that she should have another rosy wineglass to nod to, and Mr. + Pole, whose taste for wine had been weakened, took this post as his duty. + The watchful, pinched features of the poor pale little man bloomed + unnaturally, and his unintelligible eyes sparkled as he emptied his glass. + His daughters knew that he drank, not for his pleasure, but for their + benefit; that he might sustain Martha Chump in the delusion that he was a + fitting bridegroom, and with her money save them from ruin. Each evening, + with remorse that blotted all perception of the tragic comicality of the + show, they saw him, in his false strength and his anxiety concerning his + pulse's play, act this part. The recurring words, “Now, Martha, here's the + Port,” sent a cold wave through their blood. They knew what the doctor + remarked on the effect of that Port. “Ill!” Mrs. Chump would cry, when she + saw him wink after sipping; “you, Pole! what do they say of ye, ye deer!” + and she returned the wink, the ladies looking on. Not to drink a proper + quantum of Port, when Port was on the table, was, in Mrs. Chump's eyes, + mean for a man. Even Chump, she would say, was master of his bottle, and + thought nothing of it. “Who does?” cried her present suitor, and the Port + ebbed, and his cheeks grew crimson. + </p> + <p> + This frightful rivalry with the ghost of Alderman Chump continued night + after night. The rapturous Martha was incapable of observing that if she + drank with a ghost in memory, in reality she drank with nothing better + than an animated puppet. The nights ended with Mr. Pole either sleeping in + his arm-chair (upon which occasions one daughter watched him and told + dreadful tales of his waking), or staggering to bed, debating on the + stairs between tea and brandy, complaining of a loss of sensation at his + knee-cap, or elbow, or else rubbing his head and laughing hysterically. + His bride was not at such moments observant. No wonder Wilfrid kept out of + the way, if he had not better occupation elsewhere. The ladies, in their + utter anguish, after inveighing against the baneful Port, had begged their + father to delay no more to marry the woman. “Why?” said Mr. Pole, sharply; + “what do you want me to marry her for?” They were obliged to keep up the + delusion, and said, “Because she seems suited to you as a companion.” That + satisfied him. “Oh! we won't be in a hurry,” he said, and named a day + within a month; and not liking their unready faces, laughed, and dismissed + the idea aloud, as if he had not earnestly been entertaining it. + </p> + <p> + The ladies of Brookfield held no more their happy, energetic midnight + consultations. They had begun to crave for sleep and a snatch of + forgetfulness, the scourge being daily on their flesh: and they had now no + plans to discuss; they had no distant horizon of low vague lights that + used ever to be beyond their morrow. They kissed at the bedroom door of + one, and separated. Silence was their only protection to the Nice + Feelings, now that Fine Shades had become impossible. Adela had almost + made herself distinct from her sisters since the yachting expedition. She + had grown severely careful of the keys of her writing-desk, and would + sometimes slip the bolt of her bedroom door, and answer “Eh?” dubiously in + tone, when her sisters had knocked twice, and had said “Open” once. The + house of Brookfield showed those divisional rents which an admonitory + quaking of the earth will create. Neither sister was satisfied with the + other. Cornelia's treatment of Sir Twickenham was almost openly condemned, + but at the same time it seemed to Arabella that the baronet was receiving + more than the necessary amount of consolation from the bride of Captain + Gambier, and that yacht habits and moralities had been recently imported + to Brookfield. Adela, for her part, looked sadly on Arabella, and longed + to tell her, as she told Cornelia, that if she continued to play + Freshfield Sumner purposely against Edward Buxley, she might lose both. + Cornelia quietly measured accusations and judged impartially; her mind + being too full to bring any personal observations to bear. She said, + perhaps, less than she would have said, had she not known that hourly her + own Nice Feelings had to put up a petition for Fine Shades: had she not + known, indeed, that her conduct would soon demand from her sisters an + absolutely merciful interpretation. For she was now simply attracting Sir + Twickenham to Brookfield as a necessary medicine to her Papa. Since Mrs. + Chump's return, however, Mr. Pole had spoken cheerfully of himself, and, + by innuendo emphasized, had imparted that his mercantile prospects were + brighter. In fact, Cornelia half thought that he must have been pretending + bankruptcy to gain his end in getting the consent of his daughters to + receive the woman. She, and Adela likewise, began to suspect that the + parental transparency was a little mysterious, and that there is, after + all, more than we see in something that we see through. They were now in + danger of supposing that because the old man had possibly deceived them to + some extent, he had deceived them altogether. But was not the after-dinner + scene too horribly true? Were not his hands moist and cold while the + forehead was crimson? And could a human creature feel at his own pulse, + and look into vacancy with that intense apprehensive look, and be but an + actor? They could not think so. But his conditions being dependent upon + them, the ladies felt in their hearts a spring of absolute rebellion when + the call for fresh sacrifices came. Though they did not grasp the image, + they had a feeling that he was nourished bit by bit by everything they + held dear; and though they loved him, and were generous, they had begun to + ask, “What next?” + </p> + <p> + The ladies were at a dead-lock, and that the heart is the father of our + histories, I am led to think when I look abroad on families stagnant + because of so weak a motion of the heart. There are those who have none at + all; the mass of us are moved from the propulsion of the toes of the + Fates. But the ladies of Brookfield had hearts lively enough to get them + into scrapes. The getting out of them, or getting on at all, was left to + Providence. They were at a dead-lock, for Arabella, flattered as she was + by Freshfield Sumner's wooing, could not openly throw Edward over, whom + indeed she thought that she liked the better of the two, though his + letters had not so wide an intellectual range. Her father was irritably + anxious that she should close with Edward. Adela could not move: at least, + not openly. Cornelia might have taken an initiative; but tenderness for + her father's health had hitherto restrained her, and she temporized with + Sir Twickenham on the noblest of principles. She was, by the devotion of + her conduct, enabled to excuse herself so far that she could even fish up + an excuse in the shape of the effort she had made to find him + entertaining: as if the said effort should really be re-payment enough to + him for his assiduous and most futile suit. One deep grief sat on + Cornelia's mind. She had heard from Lady Gosstre that there was something + like madness in the Barrett family. She had consented to meet Sir Purcell + clandestinely (after debate on his claim to such a sacrifice on her part), + and if, on those occasions, her lover's tone was raised, it gave her a + tremour. And he had of late appeared to lose his noble calm; he had spoken + (it might almost be interpreted) as if he doubted her. Once, when she had + mentioned her care for her father, he had cried out upon the name of + father with violence, looking unlike himself. + </p> + <p> + His condemnation of the world, too, was not so Christian as it had been; + it betrayed what the vulgar would call spite, and was not all compassed in + his peculiar smooth shrug—expressive of a sort of border-land + between contempt and charity: which had made him wear in her sight all the + superiority which the former implies, with a considerable share of the + benign complacency of the latter. This had gone. He had been sarcastic + even to her; saying once, and harshly: “Have you a will?” Personally she + liked the poor organist better than the poor baronet, though he had less + merit. It was unpleasant in her present mood to be told “that we have come + into this life to fashion for ourselves souls;” and that “whosoever cannot + decide is a soulless wretch fit but to pass into vapour.” He appeared to + have ceased to make his generous allowances for difficult situations. A + senseless notion struck Cornelia, that with the baronetcy he had perhaps + inherited some of the madness of his father. + </p> + <p> + The two were in a dramatic tangle of the Nice Feelings worth a glance as + we pass on. She wished to say to him, “You are unjust to my perplexities;” + and he to her, “You fail in your dilemma through cowardice.” Instead of + uttering which, they chid themselves severally for entertaining such + coarse ideas of their idol. Doubtless they were silent from consideration + for one another: but I must add, out of extreme tenderness for themselves + likewise. There are people who can keep the facts that front them absent + from their contemplation by not framing them in speech; and much + benevolence of the passive order may be traced to a disinclination to + inflict pain upon oneself. “My duty to my father,” being cited by + Cornelia, Sir Purcell had to contend with it. + </p> + <p> + “True love excludes no natural duty,” she said. + </p> + <p> + And he: “Love discerns unerringly what is and what is not duty.” + </p> + <p> + “In the case of a father, can there be any doubt?” she asked, the answer + shining in her confident aspect. + </p> + <p> + “There are many things that fathers may demand of us!” he interjected + bitterly. + </p> + <p> + She had a fatal glimpse here of the false light in which his resentment + coloured the relations between fathers and children; and, deeming him + incapable of conducting this argument, she felt quite safe in her + opposition, up to a point where feeling stopped her. + </p> + <p> + “Devotedness to a father I must conceive to be a child's first duty,” she + said. + </p> + <p> + Sir Purcell nodded: “Yes; a child's!” + </p> + <p> + “Does not history give the higher praise to children who sacrifice + themselves for their parents?” asked Cornelia. + </p> + <p> + And he replied: “So, you seek to be fortified in such matters by history!” + </p> + <p> + Courteous sneers silenced her. Feeling told her she was in the wrong; but + the beauty of her sentiment was not to be contested, and therefore she + thought that she might distrust feeling: and she went against it somewhat; + at first very tentatively, for it caused pain. She marked a line where the + light of duty should not encroach on the light of our human desires. “But + love for a parent is not merely duty,” thought Cornelia. “It is also love;—and + is it not the least selfish love?” + </p> + <p> + Step by step Sir Purcell watched the clouding of her mind with false + conceits, and knew it to be owing to the heart's want of vigour. Again and + again he was tempted to lay an irreverent hand on the veil his lady walked + in, and make her bare to herself. Partly in simple bitterness, he + refrained: but the chief reason was that he had no comfort in giving a + shock to his own state of deception. He would have had to open a dark + closet; to disentangle and bring to light what lay in an undistinguishable + heap; to disfigure her to herself, and share in her changed eyesight; + possibly to be, or seem, coarse: so he kept the door of it locked, + admitting sadly in his meditation that there was such a place, and saying + all the while: “If I were not poor!” He saw her running into the shelter + of egregious sophisms, till it became an effort to him to preserve his + reverence for her and the sex she represented. Finally he imagined that he + perceived an idea coming to growth in her, no other than this: “That in + duty to her father she might sacrifice herself, though still loving him to + whom she had given her heart; thus ennobling her love for father and for + lover.” With a wicked ingenuity he tracked her forming notions, encouraged + them on, and provoked her enthusiasm by putting an ironical question: + “Whether the character of the soul was subdued and shaped by the endurance + and the destiny of the perishable?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! no, no!” she exclaimed. “It cannot be, or what comfort should we + have?” + </p> + <p> + Few men knew better that when lovers' sentiments stray away from feeling, + they are to be suspected of a disloyalty. Yet he admired the tone she + took. He had got an 'ideal' of her which it was pleasanter to magnify than + to distort. An 'ideal' is so arbitrary, that if you only doubt of its + being perfection, it will vanish and never come again. Sir Purcell refused + to doubt. He blamed himself for having thought it possible to doubt, and + this, when all the time he knew. + </p> + <p> + Through endless labyrinths of delusion these two unhappy creatures might + be traced, were it profitable. Down what a vale of little intricate + follies should we be going, lighted by one ghastly conclusion! At times, + struggling from the midst of her sophisms, Cornelia prayed her lover would + claim her openly, and so nerve her to a pitch of energy that would clinch + the ruinous debate. Forgetting that she was an 'ideal'—the + accredited mistress of pure wisdom and of the power of deciding rightly—she + prayed to be dealt with as a thoughtless person, and one of the herd of + women. She felt that Sir Purcell threw too much on her. He expected her to + go calmly to her father, and to Sir Twickenham, and tell them individually + that her heart was engaged; then with a stately figure to turn, quit the + house, and lay her hand in his. He made no allowance for the weakness of + her sex, for the difficulties surrounding her, for the consideration due + to Sir Twickenham's pride, and to her father's ill-health. She + half-protested to herself that he expected from her the mechanical + correctness of a machine, and overlooked the fact that she was human. It + was a grave comment on her ambition to be an 'ideal.' + </p> + <p> + So let us leave them, till we come upon the ashy fruit of which this + blooming sentimentalism is the seed. + </p> + <p> + It was past midnight when Mrs. Chump rushed to Arabella's room, and her + knock was heard vociferous at the door. The ladies, who were at work upon + diaries and letters, allowed her to thump and wonder whether she had come + to the wrong door, for a certain period; after which, Arabella placidly + unbolted her chamber, and Adela presented herself in the passage to know + the meaning of the noise. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! ye poor darlin's, I've heard ut all, I have.” + </p> + <p> + This commencement took the colour from their cheeks. Arabella invited her + inside, and sent Adela for Cornelia. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, and ye poor deers!” cried Mrs. Chump to Arabella, who remarked: “Pray + wait till my sisters come;” causing the woman to stare and observe: “If + ye're not as cold as the bottom of a pot that naver felt fire.” She + repeated this to Cornelia and Adela as an accusation, and then burst on + “My heart's just breakin' for ye, and ye shall naver want bread, eh! and + roast beef, and my last bottle of Port ye'll share, though ye've no ideea + what a lot o' thoughts o' poor Chump's under that cork, and it'll be a + waste on you. Oh! and that monster of a Mr. Paricles that's got ye in his + power and's goin' to be the rroon of ye—shame to 'm! Your father's + told me; and, oh! my darlin' garls, don't think ut my fault. For, Pole—Pole—” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Chump was choked by her grief. The ladies, unbending to some + curiosity, eliminated from her gasps and sobs that Mr. Pole had, in the + solitude of his library below, accused her of causing the defection of Mr. + Pericles, and traced his possible ruin to it, confessing, that in the way + of business, he was at Mr. Pericles' mercy. + </p> + <p> + “And in such a passion with me!” Mrs. Chump wrung her hands. “What could I + do to Mr. Paricles? He isn't one o' the men that I can kiss; and Pole + shouldn't wish me. And Pole settin' down his rroon to me! What'll I do? My + dears! I do feel for ye, for I feel I'd feel myself such a beast, without + money, d'ye see? It's the most horrible thing in the world. It's like no + candle in the darrk. And I, ye know, I know I'd naver forgive annybody + that took my money; and what'll Pole think of me? For oh! ye may call + riches temptation, but poverty's punishment; and I heard a young curate + say that from the pulpit, and he was lean enough to know, poor fella!” + </p> + <p> + Both Cornelia and Arabella breathed more freely when they had heard Mrs. + Chump's tale to an end. They knew perfectly well that she was blameless + for the defection of Mr. Pericles, and understood from her exclamatory + narrative that their father had reason to feel some grave alarm at the + Greek's absence from their house, and had possibly reasons of his own for + accusing Mrs. Chump, as he had done. The ladies administered consolation + to her, telling her that for their part they would never blame her; even + consenting to be kissed by her, hugged by her, playfully patted, + complimented, and again wept over. They little knew what a fervour of + secret devotion they created in Mrs. Chump's bosom by this astounding + magnanimity displayed to her, who laboured under the charge of being the + source of their ruin; nor could they guess that the little hypocrisy they + were practising would lead to any singular and pregnant resolution in the + mind of the woman, fraught with explosion to their house, and that quick + movement which they awaited. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Chump, during the patient strain of a tender hug of Arabella, had + mutely resolved in a great heat of gratitude that she would go to Mr. + Pericles, and, since he was necessary to the well-being of Brookfield, + bring him back, if she had to bring him back in her arms. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0043" id="link2HCH0043"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLIII + </h2> + <h3> + [Georgiana Ford to Wilfrid:] + </h3> + <p> + “I have omitted replying to your first letter, not because of the nature + of its contents: nor do I write now in answer to your second because of + the permission you give me to lay it before my brother. I cannot think + that concealment is good, save for very base persons; and since you take + the initiative in writing very openly, I will do so likewise. + </p> + <p> + “It is true that Emilia is with me. Her voice is lost, and she has fallen + as low in spirit as one can fall and still give us hope of her recovery. + But that hope I have, and I am confident that you will not destroy it. In + the summer she goes with us to Italy. We have consulted one doctor, who + did not prescribe medicine for her. In the morning she reads with my + brother. She seems to forget whatever she reads: the occupation is + everything necessary just now. Our sharp Monmouth air provokes her to walk + briskly when she is out, and the exercise has once or twice given colour + to her cheeks. Yesterday being a day of clear frost, we drove to a point + from which we could mount the Buckstone, and here, my brother says, the + view appeared to give her something of her lost animation. It was a look + that I had never seen, and it soon went: but in the evening she asked me + whether I prayed before sleeping, and when she retired to her bedroom, I + remained there with her for a time. + </p> + <p> + “You will pardon me for refusing to let her know that you have written to + your relative in the Austrian service to obtain a commission for you. But, + on the other hand, I have thought it right to tell her incidentally that + you will be married in the Summer of this year. I can only say that she + listened quite calmly. + </p> + <p> + “I beg that you will not blame yourself so vehemently. By what you do, her + friends may learn to know that you regret the strange effect produced by + certain careless words, or conduct: but I cannot find that self-accusation + is ever good at all. In answer to your question, I may add that she has + repeated nothing of what she said when we were together in Devon. + </p> + <p> + “Our chief desire (for, as we love her, we may be directed by our + instinct), in the attempt to restore her, is to make her understand that + she is anything but worthless. She has recently followed my brother's + lead, and spoken of herself, but with a touch of scorn. This morning, + while the clear frosty sky continues, we were to have started for an old + castle lying toward Wales; and I think the idea of a castle must have + struck her imagination, and forced some internal contrast on her mind. I + am repeating my brother's suggestion—she seemed more than usually + impressed with an idea that she was of no value to anybody. She asked why + she should go anywhere, and dropped into a chair, begging to be allowed to + stay in a darkened room. My brother has some strange intuition of her + state of mind. She has lost any power she may have had of grasping + abstract ideas. In what I conceived to be play, he told her that many + would buy her even now. She appeared to be speculating on this, and then + wished to know how much those persons would consider her to be worth, and + who they were. Nor did it raise a smile on her face to hear my brother + mention Jews, and name an absolute sum of money; but, on the contrary, + after evidently thinking over it, she rose up, and said that she was ready + to go. I write fully to you, telling you these things, that you may see + she is at any rate eager not to despair, and is learning, much as a child + might learn it, that it need not be. + </p> + <p> + “Believe me, that I will in every way help to dispossess your mind of the + remorse now weighing upon you, as far as it shall be within my power to do + so. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Runningbrook has been invited by my brother to come and be her + companion. They have a strong affection for one another. He is a true + poet, full of reverence for a true woman.” + </p> + <p> + [Wilfrid to Georgiana Ford:] + </p> + <p> + “I cannot thank you enough. When I think of her I am unmanned; and if I + let my thoughts fall back upon myself, I am such as you saw me that night + in Devon—helpless, and no very presentable figure. But you do not + picture her to me. I cannot imagine whether her face has changed; and, + pardon me, were I writing to you alone, I could have faith that the + delicate insight and angelic nature of a woman would not condemn my desire + to realize before my eyes the state she has fallen to. I see her now under + a black shroud. Have her features changed? I cannot remember one—only + at an interval her eyes. Does she look into the faces of people as she + used? Or does she stare carelessly away? Softly between the eyes, is what + I meant. I mean—but my reason for this particularity is very simple. + I would state it to you, and to no other. I cannot have peace till she is + restored; and my prayer is, that I may not haunt her to defeat your + labour. Does her face appear to show that I am quite absent from her + thoughts? Oh! you will understand me. You have seen me stand and betray no + suffering when a shot at my forehead would have been mercy. To you I will + dare to open my heart. I wish to be certain that I have not injured her—that + is all. Perhaps I am more guilty than you think: more even than I can call + to mind. If I may fudge by the punishment, my guilt is immeasurable. Tell + me—if you will but tell me that the sacrifice of my life to her will + restore her, it is hers. Write, and say this, and I will come: Do not + delay or spare me. Her dumb voice is like a ghost in my ears. It cries to + me that I have killed it. Be actuated by no charitable considerations in + refraining to write. Could a miniature of her be sent? You will think the + request strange; but I want to be sure she is not haggard—not the + hospital face I fancy now, which accuses me of murder. Does she preserve + the glorious freshness she used to wear? She had a look—or did you + see her before the change? I only want to know that she is well.” + </p> + <p> + [Tracy Runningbrook to Wilfrid:] + </p> + <p> + “You had my promise that I would write and give your conscience a + nightcap. I have a splendid one for you. Put it on without any hesitation. + I find her quite comfortable. Powys reads Italian with her in the morning. + His sister (who might be a woman if she liked, but has an insane + preference for celestial neutrality) does the moral inculcation. The + effect is comical. I should like you to see Cold Steel leading Tame Fire + about, and imagining the taming to be her work! You deserve well of your + generation. You just did enough to set this darling girl alight. Knights + and squires numberless will thank you. The idea of your reproaching + yourself is monstrous. Why, there's no one thanks you more than she does. + You stole her voice, which some may think a pity, but I don't, seeing that + I would rather have her in a salon than before the footlights. Imagine my + glory in her!—she has become half cat! She moves softly, as if she + loved everything she touched; making you throb to feel the little ball of + her foot. Her eyes look steadily, like green jewels before the veil of an + Egyptian temple. Positively, her eyes have grown green—or greenish! + They were darkish hazel formerly, and talked more of milkmaids and + chattering pastorals than a discerning master would have wished. Take + credit for the change; and at least I don't blame you for the tender + hollows under the eyes, sloping outward, just hinted... Love's mark on + her, so that men's hearts may faint to know that love is known to her, and + burn to read her history. When she is about to speak, the upper lids droop + a very little; or else the under lids quiver upward—I know not + which. Take further credit for her manner. She has now a manner of her + own. Some of her naturalness has gone, but she has skipped clean over the + 'young lady' stage; from raw girl she has really got as much of the great + manner as a woman can have who is not an ostensibly retired dowager, or a + matron on a pedestal shuffling the naked virtues and the decorous vices + together. She looks at you with an immense, marvellous gravity, before she + replies to you—enveloping you in a velvet light. This, is fact, not + fine stuff, my dear fellow. The light of her eyes does absolutely cling + about you. Adieu! You are a great master, and know exactly when to make + your bow and retire. A little more, and you would have spoilt her. Now she + is perfect.” + </p> + <p> + [Wilfrid to Tracy Runningbrook:] + </p> + <p> + “I have just come across a review of your last book, and send it, thinking + you may wish to see it. I have put a query to one of the passages, which I + think misquoted: and there will be no necessity to call your attention to + the critic's English. You can afford to laugh at it, but I confess it puts + your friends in a rage. Here are a set of fellows who arm themselves with + whips and stand in the public thoroughfare to make any man of real genius + run the gauntlet down their ranks till he comes out flayed at the other + extremity! What constitutes their right to be there?—By the way, I + met Sir Purcell Barrett (the fellow who was at Hillford), and he would + like to write an article on you that should act as a sort of rejoinder. + You won't mind, of course—it's bread to him, poor devil! I doubt + whether I shall see you when you comeback, so write a jolly lot of + letters. Colonel Pierson, of the Austrian army, my uncle (did you meet him + at Brookfield?), advises me to sell out immediately. He is getting me an + Imperial commission—cavalry. I shall give up the English service. + And if they want my medal, they can have it, and I'll begin again. I'm + sick of everything except a cigar and a good volume of poems. Here's to + light one, and now for the other! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'Large eyes lit up by some imperial sin,'” etc. + (Ten lines from Tracy's book are here copied neatly.) +</pre> + <p> + [Tracy Runningbrook to Wilfrid:] + </p> + <p> + “Why the deuce do you write me such infernal trash about the opinions of a + villanous dog who can't even en a decent sentence? I've been damning you + for a white-livered Austrian up and down the house. Let the fellow bark + till he froths at the mouth, and scatters the virus of the beast among his + filthy friends. I am mad-dog proof. The lines you quote were written in an + awful hurry, coming up in the train from Richford one morning. You have + hit upon my worst with commendable sagacity. If it will put money in + Barren's pocket, let him write. I should prefer to have nothing said. The + chances are all in favour of his writing like a fool. If you're going to + be an Austrian, we may have a chance of shooting one another some day, so + here's my hand before you go and sell your soul; and anything I can do in + the meantime—command me.” + </p> + <p> + [Georgiana Ford to Wilfrid:] + </p> + <p> + “I do not dare to charge you with a breach of your pledged word. Let me + tell you simply that Emilia has become aware of your project to enter the + Austrian service, and it has had the effect on her which I foresaw. She + could bear to hear of your marriage, but this is too much for her, and it + breaks my heart to see her. It is too cruel. She does not betray any + emotion, but I can see that every principle she had gained is gone, and + that her bosom holds the shadows of a real despair. I foresaw it, and + sought to guard her against it. That you, whom she had once called (to me) + her lover, should enlist himself as an enemy, of her country!—it + comes to her as a fact striking her brain dumb while she questions it, and + the poor body has nothing to do but to ache. Surely you could have no + object in doing this? I will not suspect it. Mr. Runningbrook is + acquainted with your plans, I believe; but he has no remembrance of having + mentioned this one to Emilia. He distinctly assures me that he has not + done so, and I trust him to speak truth. How can it have happened? But + here is the evil done. I see no remedy. I am not skilled in sketching the + portraits you desire of her, and yet, if you have ever wished her to know + this miserable thing, it would be as well that you should see the + different face that has come among us within twenty hours.” + </p> + <p> + [Wilfrid to Georgiana Ford:] + </p> + <p> + “I will confine my reply to a simple denial of having caused this fatal + intelligence to reach her ears; for the truth of which, I pledge my honour + as a gentleman. A second's thought would have told me—indeed I at + once acquiesced in your view—that she should not know it. How it has + happened it is vain to attempt to guess. Can you suppose that I desired + her to hate me? Yet this is what the knowledge of the step I am taking + will make her do! If I could see—if I might see her for five + minutes, I should be able to explain everything, and, I sincerely think + (painful as it would be to me), give her something like peace. It is too + late even to wish to justify myself; but her I can persuade that she—Do + you not see that her mind is still unconvinced of my—I will call it + baseness! Is this the self-accusing you despise? A little of it must be + heard. If I may see her I will not fail to make her understand my + position. She shall see that it is I who am worthless—not she! You + know the circumstances under which I last beheld her—when I saw pang + upon pang smiting her breast from my silence! But now I may speak. Do not + be prepossessed against my proposal! It shall be only for five minutes—no + more. Not that it is my desire to come. In truth, it could not be. I have + felt that I alone can cure her—I who did the harm. Mark me: she will + fret secretly—, but dear and kindest lady, do not smile too + critically at the tone I adopt. I cannot tell how I am writing or what + saying. Believe me that I am deeply and constantly sensible of your + generosity. In case you hesitate, I beg you to consult Mr. Powys.” + </p> + <p> + [Georgiana Ford to Wilfrid:] + </p> + <p> + “I had no occasion to consult my brother to be certain that an interview + between yourself and Emilia should not take place. There can be no object, + even if the five minutes of the meeting gave her happiness, why the wound + of the long parting should be again opened. She is wretched enough now, + though her tenderness for us conceals it as far as possible. When some + heavenly light shall have penetrated her, she will have a chance of peace. + The evil is not of a nature to be driven out by your hands. If you are not + going into the Austrian service, she shall know as much immediately. + Otherwise, be as dead to her as you may, and your noblest feelings cannot + be shown under any form but that.” + </p> + <p> + [Wilfrid to Tracy Runningbrook:] + </p> + <p> + “Some fellows whom I know want you to write a prologue to a play they are + going to get up. It's about Shakespeare—at least, the proceeds go to + something of that sort. Do, like a good fellow, toss us off twenty lines. + Why don't you write? By the way, I hope there's no truth in a report that + has somehow reached me, that they have the news down in Monmouth of my + deserting to the black-yellow squadrons? Of course, such a thing as that + should have been kept from them. I hear, too, that your—I suppose I + must call her now your—pupil is falling into bad health. Think me as + cold and 'British' as you like; but the thought of this does really affect + me painfully. Upon my honour, it does! 'And now he yawns!' you're saying. + You're wrong. We Army men feel just as you poets do, and for a longer + time, I think, though perhaps not so acutely. I send you the 'Venus' cameo + which you admired. Pray accept it from an old friend. I mayn't see you + again.” + </p> + <p> + [Tracy Runningbrook to Wilfrid:] (enclosing lines) + </p> + <p> + “Here they are. It will require a man who knows something about metre to + speak them. Had Shakespeare's grandmother three Christian names? and did + she anticipate feminine posterity in her rank of life by saying + habitually, 'Drat it?' There is as yet no Society to pursue this + investigation, but it should be started. Enormous thanks for the Venus. I + wore it this morning at breakfast. Just as we were rising, I leaned + forward to her, and she jumped up with her eyes under my chin. 'Isn't she + a beauty?' I said. 'It was his,' she answered, changing eyes of eagle for + eyes of dove, and then put out the lights. I had half a mind to offer it, + on the spot. May I? That is to say, if the impulse seizes me I take + nobody's advice, and fair Venus certainly is not under my chin at this + moment. As to ill health, great mother Nature has given a house of iron to + this soul of fire. The windows may blaze, or the windows may be + extinguished, but the house stands firm. When you are lightning or + earthquake, you may have something to reproach yourself for; as it is, be + under no alarm. Do not put words in my mouth that I have not uttered. 'And + now he yawns,' is what I shall say of you only when I am sure you have + just heard a good thing. You really are the best fellow of your set that I + have come across, and the only one pretending to brains. Your modesty in + estimating your value as a leader of Pandours will be pleasing to them who + like that modesty. Good-bye. This little Emilia is a marvel of flying + moods. Yesterday she went about as if she said, 'I've promised Apollo not + to speak till to-morrow.' To-day, she's in a feverish gabble—or + began the day with a burst of it; and now she's soft and sensible. If you + fancy a girl at her age being able to see, that it's a woman's duty to + herself and the world to be artistic—to perfect the thing of beauty + she is meant to be by nature!—and, seeing, too, that Love is an + instrument like any other thing, and that we must play on it with + considerate gentleness, and that tearing at it or dashing it to earth, + making it howl and quiver, is madness, and not love!—I assure you + she begins to see it! She does see it. She is going to wear a wreath of + black briony (preserved and set by Miss Ford, a person cunning in these + matters). She's going to the ball at Penarvon Castle, and will look—supply + your favourite slang word. A little more experience, and she will have + malice. She wants nothing but that to make her consummate. Malice is the + barb of beauty. She's just at present a trifle blunt. She will knock over, + but not transfix. I am anxious to watch the effect she produces at + Penarvon. Poor little woman! I paid a compliment to her eyes. 'I've got + nothing else,' said she. Dine as well as you can while you are in England. + German cookery is an education for the sentiment of hogs. The play of sour + and sweet, and crowning of the whole with fat, shows a people determined + to go down in civilization, and try the business backwards. Adieu, curst + Croat! On the Wallachian border mayst thou gather philosophy from + meditation.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0044" id="link2HCH0044"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLIV + </h2> + <p> + Dexterously as Wilfrid has turned Tracy to his uses by means of the + foregoing correspondence, in doing so he had exposed himself to the + retributive poison administered by that cunning youth. And now the + Hippogriff seized him, and mounted with him into mid-air; not as when the + idle boy Ganymede was caught up to act as cup-bearer in celestial Courts, + but to plunge about on yielding vapours, with nothing near him save the + voice of his desire. + </p> + <p> + The Philosopher here peremptorily demands the pulpit. We are subject, he + says, to fantastic moods, and shall dry ready-minted phrases picture them + forth? As, for example, can the words 'delirium,' or 'frenzy,' convey an + image of Wilfrid's state, when his heart began to covet Emilia again, and + his sentiment not only interposed no obstacle, but trumpeted her charms + and fawned for her, and he thought her lost, remembered that she had been + his own, and was ready to do any madness to obtain her? 'Madness' is the + word that hits the mark, but it does not fully embrace the meaning. To be + in this state, says the Philosopher, is to be 'On The Hippogriff;' and to + this, as he explains, the persons who travel to Love by the road of + sentiment will come, if they have any stuff in them, and if the one who + kindles them is mighty. He distinguishes being on the Hippogriff from + being possessed by passion. Passion, he says, is noble strength on fire, + and points to Emilia as a representation of passion. She asks for what she + thinks she may have; she claims what she imagines to be her own. She has + no shame, and thus, believing in, she never violates, nature, and offends + no law, wild as she may seem. Passion does not turn on her and rend her + when it is thwarted. She was never carried out of the limit of her own + intelligent force, seeing that it directed her always, with the simple + mandate to seek that which belonged to her. She was perfectly sane, and + constantly just to herself, until the failure of her voice, telling her + that she was a beggar in the world, came as a second blow, and partly + scared her reason. Constantly just to herself, mind! This is the quality + of true passion. Those who make a noise, and are not thus distinguishable, + are on Hippogriff. —By which it is clear to me that my fantastic + Philosopher means to indicate the lover mounted in this wise, as a + creature bestriding an extraneous power. “The sentimentalist,” he says, + “goes on accumulating images and hiving sensations, till such time as (if + the stuff be in him) they assume a form of vitality, and hurry him + headlong. This is not passion, though it amazes men, and does the madder + thing.” + </p> + <p> + In fine, it is Hippogriff. And right loath am I to continue my partnership + with a fellow who will not see things on the surface, and is, as a + necessary consequence, blind to the fact that the public detest him. I + mean, this garrulous, super-subtle, so-called Philosopher, who first set + me upon the building of 'The Three Volumes,' it is true, but whose + stipulation that he should occupy so large a portion of them has made them + rock top-heavy, to the forfeit of their stability. He maintains that a + story should not always flow, or, at least, not to a given measure. When + we are knapsack on back, he says, we come to eminences where a survey of + our journey past and in advance is desireable, as is a distinct pause in + any business, here and there. He points proudly to the fact that our + people in this comedy move themselves,—are moved from their own + impulsion,—and that no arbitrary hand has posted them to bring about + any event and heap the catastrophe. In vain I tell him that he is meantime + making tatters of the puppets' golden robe illusion: that he is sucking + the blood of their warm humanity out of them. He promises that when Emilia + is in Italy he will retire altogether; for there is a field of action, of + battles and conspiracies, nerve and muscle, where life fights for plain + issues, and he can but sum results. Let us, he entreats, be true to time + and place. In our fat England, the gardener Time is playing all sorts of + delicate freaks in the lines and traceries of the flower of life, and + shall we not note them? If we are to understand our species, and mark the + progress of civilization at all, we must. Thus the Philosopher. Our + partner is our master, and I submit, hopefully looking for release with my + Emilia, in the day when Italy reddens the sky with the banners of a land + revived. + </p> + <p> + I hear Wilfrid singing out that he is aloft, burning to rush ahead, while + his beast capers in one spot, abominably ludicrous. This trick of + Hippogriff is peculiar, viz., that when he loses all faith in himself, he + sinks—in other words, goes to excesses of absurd humility to regain + it. Passion has likewise its panting intervals, but does nothing so + preposterous. The wreath of black briony, spoken of by Tracy as the crown + of Emilia's forehead, had begun to glow with a furnace-colour in Wilfrid's + fancy. It worked a Satanic distraction in him. The girl sat before him + swathed in a darkness, with the edges of the briony leaves shining deadly—radiant + above—young Hecate! The next instant he was bleeding with pity for + her, aching with remorse, and again stung to intense jealousy of all who + might behold her (amid a reserve of angry sensations at her present + happiness). + </p> + <p> + Why had she not made allowance for his miserable situation that night in + Devon? Why did she not comprehend his difficulties in relation to his + father's affairs? Why did she not know that he could not fail to love her + for ever? + </p> + <p> + Interrogations such as these were so many switches of the whip in the + flanks of Hippogriff. + </p> + <p> + Another peculiarity of the animal gifted with wings is, that around the + height he soars to he can see no barriers nor any of the fences raised by + men. And here again he differs from Passion, which may tug against common + sense but is never, in a great nature, divorced from it: In air on + Hippogriff, desires wax boundless, obstacles are hidden. It seemed nothing + to Wilfrid (after several tremendous descents of humility) that he should + hurry for Monmouth away, to gaze on Emilia under her fair, infernal, + bewitching wreath; nothing that he should put an arm round her; nothing + that he should forthwith carry her off, though he died for it. Forming no + design beyond that of setting his eyes on her, he turned the head of + Hippogriff due Westward. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0045" id="link2HCH0045"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLV + </h2> + <p> + Penarvon castle lay over the borders of Monmouthshire. Thither, on a night + of frosty moonlight, troops of carriages were hurrying with the usual + freightage for a country ball:—the squire who will not make himself + happy by seeing that his duty to the softer side of his family must be + performed during the comfortable hours when bachelors snooze in + arm-chairs, and his nobler dame who, not caring for Port or tobacco, + cheerfully accepts the order of things as bequeathed to her: the + everlastingly half-satisfied young man, who looks forward to the hour when + his cigar-light will shine; and the damsel thrice demure as a cover for + her eagerness. Within a certain distance of one of the carriages, a man + rode on horseback. The court of the castle was reached, and he turned + aside, lingering to see whether he could get a view of the lighted steps. + To effect his object, he dismounted and led his horse through the gates, + turning from gravel to sward, to keep in the dusk. A very agile + middle-aged gentleman was the first to appear under the portico-lamps, and + he gave his hand to a girl of fifteen, and then to a most portly lady in a + scarlet mantle. The carriage-door slammed and drove off, while a groan + issued from the silent spectator. “Good heavens! have I followed these + horrible people for five-and-twenty miles!” Carriage after carriage + rattled up to the steps, was disburdened of still more 'horrible people' + to him, and went the way of the others. “I shan't see her, after all,” he + cried hoarsely, and mounting, said to the beast that bore him, “Now go + sharp.” + </p> + <p> + Whether you recognize the rider of Hippogriff or not, this is he; and the + poor livery-stable screw stretched madly till wind failed, when he was + allowed to choose his pace. Wilfrid had come from London to have sight of + Emilia in the black-briony wreath: to see her, himself unseen, and go. But + he had not seen her; so he had the full excuse to continue the adventure. + He rode into a Welsh town, and engaged a fresh horse for the night. + </p> + <p> + “She won't sing, at all events,” thought Wilfrid, to comfort himself, + before the memory that she could not, in any case, touched springs of + weakness and pitying tenderness. From an eminence to which he walked + outside the town, Penarvon was plainly visible with all its lighted + windows. + </p> + <p> + “But I will pluck her from you!” he muttered, in a spasm of jealousy; the + image of himself as an outcast against the world that held her, striking + him with great force at that moment. + </p> + <p> + “I must give up the Austrian commission, if she takes me.” + </p> + <p> + And be what? For he had sold out of the English service, and was to + receive the money in a couple of days. How long would the money support + him? It would not pay half his debts! What, then, did this pursuit of + Emilia mean? To blink this question, he had to give the spur to + Hippogriff. It meant (upon Hippogriff at a brisk gallop), that he intended + to live for her, die for her, if need be, and carve out of the world all + that she would require. Everything appears possible, on Hippogriff, when + he is going; but it is a bad business to put the spur on so willing a + beast. When he does not go of his own will;—when he sees that there + are obstructions, it is best to jump off his back. And we should abandon + him then, save that having once tasted what he can do for us, we become + enamoured of the habit of going keenly, and defying obstacles. Thus do we + begin to corrupt the uses of the gallant beast (for he is a gallant beast, + though not of the first order); we spoil his instincts and train him to + hurry us to perdition. + </p> + <p> + “If my sisters could see me now!” thought Wilfrid, half-smitten with a + distant notion of a singularity in his position there, the mark for a + frosty breeze, while his eyes kept undeviating watch over Penarvon. + </p> + <p> + After a time he went back to the inn, and got among coachmen and footmen, + all battling lustily against the frost with weapons scientifically + selected at the bar. They thronged the passages, and lunged hearty punches + at one another, drank and talked, and only noticed that a gentleman was in + their midst when he moved to get a light. One complained that he had to + drive into Monmouth that night, by a road that sent him five miles out of + his way, owing to a block—a great stone that had fallen from the + hill. “You can't ask 'em to get out and walk ten steps,” he said; “or + there! I'd lead the horses and just tip up the off wheels, and round the + place in a twinkle, pop 'm in again, and nobody hurt; but you can't ask + ladies to risk catchin' colds for the sake of the poor horses.” + </p> + <p> + Several coachmen spoke upon this, and the shame and marvel it was that the + stone had not been moved; and between them the name of Mr. Powys was + mentioned, with the remark that he would spare his beasts if he could. + </p> + <p> + “What's that block you're speaking of, just out of Monmouth?” enquired + Wilfrid; and it being described to him, together with the exact bearings + of the road and situation of the mass of stone, he at once repeated a part + of what he had heard in the form of the emphatic interrogation, “What! + there?” and flatly told the coachman that the stone had been moved. + </p> + <p> + “It wasn't moved this morning, then, sir,” said the latter. + </p> + <p> + “No; but a great deal can be done in a couple of hours,” said Wilfrid. + </p> + <p> + “Did you see 'em at work, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “No; but I came that way, and the road was clear.” + </p> + <p> + “The deuce it was!” ejaculated the coachman, willingly convinced. + </p> + <p> + “And that's the way I shall return,” added Wilfrid. + </p> + <p> + He tossed some money on the bar to aid in warming the assemblage, and + received numerous salutes as he passed out. His heart was beating fast. “I + shall see her, in the teeth of my curst luck,” he thought, picturing to + himself the blessed spot where the mass of stone would lie; and to that + point he galloped, concentrating all the light in his mind on this maddest + of chances, till it looked sound, and finally certain. + </p> + <p> + “It's certain, if that's not a hired coachman,” he calculated. “If he is, + he won't risk his fee. If he isn't, he'll feel on the safe side anyhow. At + any rate, it's my only chance.” And away he flew between glimmering slopes + of frost to where a white curtain of mist hung across the wooded hills of + the Wye. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0046" id="link2HCH0046"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLVI + </h2> + <p> + Emilia was in skilful hands, and against anything less powerful than a + lover mounted upon Hippogriff, might have been shielded. What is poison to + most girls, Merthyr prescribed for her as medicine. He nourished her + fainting spirit upon vanity. In silent astonishment Georgiana heard him + address speeches to her such as dowagers who have seen their day can alone + of womankind complacently swallow. He encouraged Tracy Runningbrook to + praise the face of which she had hitherto thought shyly. Jewels were + placed at her disposal, and dresses laid out cunningly suited to her + complexion. She had a maid to wait on her, who gabbled at the momentous + hours of robing and unrobing: “Oh, miss! of all the dark young ladies I + ever see!”—Emilia was the most bewitching. By-and-by, Emilia was led + to think of herself; but with a struggle and under protest. How could it + be possible that she was so very nice to the eye, and Wilfrid had + abandoned her? The healthy spin of young new blood turned the wheels of + her brain, and then she thought: “Perhaps I am really growing handsome?” + The maid said artfully of her hair: “If gentlemen could only see it down, + miss! It's the longest, and thickest, and blackest, I ever touched!” And + so saying, slid her fingers softly through it after the comb, and thrilled + the owner of that hair till soft thoughts made her bosom heave, and then + self-love began to be sensibly awakened, followed by self-pity, and some + further form of what we understand as consciousness. If partially a + degradation of her nature, this saved her mind from true despair when it + began to stir after the vital shock that had brought her to earth. “To + what purpose should I be fair?” was a question that did not yet come to + her; but it was sweet to see Merthyr's eyes gather pleasure from the light + of her own. Sweet, though nothing more than coldly sweet. She compared + herself to her father's old broken violin, that might be mended to please + the sight; but would never give the tones again. Sometimes, if hope + tormented her, she would strangle it by trying her voice: and such a + little piece of self-inflicted anguish speedily undid all Merthyr's work. + He was patient as one who tends a flower in the Spring. Georgiana + marvelled that the most sensitive and proud of men should be striving to + uproot an image from the heart of a simple girl, that he might place his + own there. His methods almost led her to think that his estimate of human + nature was falling low. Nevertheless, she was constrained to admit that + there was no diminution of his love for her, and it chastened her to think + so. “Would it be the same with me, if I—?” she half framed the + sentence, blushing remorsefully while she denied that anything could + change her great love for her brother. She had caught a glimpse of + Wilfrid's suppleness and selfishness. Contrasting him with Merthyr, she + was singularly smitten with shame, she knew not why. + </p> + <p> + The anticipation of the ball at Penarvon Castle had kindled very little + curiosity in Emilia's bosom. She seemed to herself a machine; “one of the + rest;” and looked more to see that she was still coveted by Merthyr's eyes + than at the glitter of the humming saloons. A touch of her old gladness + made her smile when Captain Gambier unexpectedly appeared and walked + across the dancers to sit beside her. She asked him why he had come from + London: to which he replied, with a most expressive gaze under her + eyelids, that he had come for one object. “To see me?” thought Emilia, + wondering, and reddening as she ceased to wonder. She had thought as a + child, and the neat instant felt as a woman. He finished Merthyr's work + for him. Emilia now thought: “Then I must be worth something.” And with “I + am,” she ended her meditation, glowing. He might have said that she had + all beauty ever showered upon woman: she would have been led to believe + him at that moment of her revival. + </p> + <p> + Now, Lady Charlotte had written to Georgiana, telling her that Captain + Gambier was soon to be expected in her neighbourhood, and adding that it + would be as well if she looked closely after her charge. When Georgiana + saw him go over to Emilia she did not remember this warning: but when she + perceived the sudden brilliancy and softness in Emilia's face after the + first words had fallen on her ears, she grew alarmed, knowing his + reputation, and executed some diversions, which separated them. The + captain made no effort to perplex her tactics, merely saying that he + should call in a day or two. Merthyr took to himself all the credit of the + visible bloom that had come upon Emilia, and pacing with her between the + dances, said: “Now you will come to Italy, I think.” + </p> + <p> + She paused before answering, “Now?” and feverishly continued: “Yes; at + once. I will go. I have almost felt my voice again to-night.” + </p> + <p> + “That's well. I shall write to Marini to-morrow. You will soon find your + voice if you will not fret for it. Touch Italy!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; but you must be near me,” said Emilia. + </p> + <p> + Georgiana heard this, and could not conceive other than that Emilia was + growing to be one of those cormorant creatures who feed alike on the + homage of noble and ignoble. She was critical, too, of that very assured + pose of Emilia's head and firm planting of her feet as the girl paraded + the room after the dances in which she could not join. Previous to this + evening, Georgiana had seen nothing of the sort in her; but, on the + contrary, a doubtful droop of the shoulders and an unwilling gaze, as of a + soul submerged in internal hesitations. “I earnestly trust that this is a + romantic folly of Merthyr's, and no more,” thought Georgiana, who would + have had that view concerning his love for Italy likewise, if recollection + of her own share of adventure there had not softly interposed. + </p> + <p> + Tracy, Georgiana, Merthyr, and Emilia were in the carriage, well muffled + up, with one window open to the white mist. Emilia was eager to thank her + friend, if only for the physical relief from weariness and sluggishness + which she was experiencing. She knew certainly that the dim light of a + recovering confidence in herself was owing, all, to him, and burned to + thank him. Once on the way their hands touched, and he felt a shy pressure + from her fingers as they parted. Presently the carriage stopped abruptly, + and listening they heard the coachman indulge his companion outside with + the remark that they were a couple of fools, and were now regularly + 'dished.' + </p> + <p> + “I don't see why that observation can't go on wheels,” said Tracy. + </p> + <p> + Merthyr put out his head, and saw the obstruction of the mass of stone + across the road. He alighted, and together with the footman, examined the + place to see what the chance was of their getting the carriage past. After + a space of waiting, Georgiana clutched the wraps about her throat and + head, and impetuously followed her brother, as her habit had always been. + Emilia sat upright, saying, “I must go too.” Tracy moaned a petition to + her to rest and be comfortable while the Gods were propitious. He checked + her with his arm, and tried to pacify her by giving a description of the + scene. The coachman remained on his seat. Merthyr, Georgiana, and the + footman were on the other side of the rock, measuring the place to see + whether, by a partial ascent of the sloping rubble down which it had + bowled, the carriage might be got along. + </p> + <p> + “Go; they have gone round; see whether we can give any help,” said Emilia + to Tracy, who cried: “My goodness! what help can we give? This is an + express situation where the Fates always appear in person and move us on. + We're sure to be moved, if we show proper faith in them. This is my + attitude of invocation.” He curled his legs up on the seat, resting his + head on an arm; but seeing Emilia preparing for a jump he started up, and + immediately preceded her. Emilia looked out after him. She perceived a + figure coming stealthily from the bank. It stopped, and again advanced, + and now ran swiftly down. She drew back her head as it approached the open + door of the carriage; but the next moment trembled forward, and was caught + with a cat-like clutch upon Wilfrid's breast. + </p> + <p> + “Emilia! my own for ever! I swore to die this night it I did not see you!” + </p> + <p> + “You love me, Wilfrid? love me?” + </p> + <p> + “Come with me now!” + </p> + <p> + “Now?” + </p> + <p> + “Away! with me! your lover!” + </p> + <p> + “Then you love me! + </p> + <p> + “I love you! Come!” + </p> + <p> + “Now? I cannot move.” + </p> + <p> + “I am out in the night without you.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my lover! Oh, Wilfrid!” + </p> + <p> + “Come to me!” + </p> + <p> + “My feet are dead!” + </p> + <p> + “It's too late!” + </p> + <p> + A sturdy hulloa! sounding from the coachman made Merthyr's ears alive. + When he returned he found Emilia huddled up on the seat, alone, her face + in her hands, and the touch of her hands like fire. He had to entreat her + to descend, and in helping her to alight bore her whole weight, and + supported her in a sad wonder, while the horses were led across the + rubble, and the carriage was with difficulty, and some confusions, guided + to clear its wheels of the obstructing mass. Emilia persisted in saying + that nothing ailed her; and to the coachman, who could have told him + something, and was willing to have done so (notwithstanding a gold fee for + silence that stuck in his palm), Merthyr put no question. + </p> + <p> + As they were taking their seats in the carriage again, Georgiana said, + “Where is your wreath, Sandra?” + </p> + <p> + The black-briony wreath was no longer on her head. + </p> + <p> + “Then, it wasn't a dream!” gasped Emilia, feeling at her temples. + </p> + <p> + Georgiana at once fell into a scrutinizing coldness, and when Merthyr, who + fancied the wreath might have fallen as he was lifting Emilia from the + carriage, proposed to go and search the place for it, his sister laid her + fingers on his arm, remarking, “You will not find it, dear;” and Emilia + cried “Oh! no, no! it is not there;” and, with her hands pressed hard + against her bosom, sat fixed and silent. + </p> + <p> + Out of this mood she issued with looks of such tenderness that one who + watched her, speculating on her character as Merthyr did, could see that + in some mysterious way she had been, during the few minutes that separated + them, illumined upon the matter nearest her heart. Was it her own + strength, inspired by some sublime force, that had sprung up suddenly to + eject a worthless love? So he hoped in despite of whispering reason, till + Georgiana spoke to him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0047" id="link2HCH0047"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLVII + </h2> + <p> + When the force of Wilfrid's embrace had died out from her body, Emilia + conceived wilfully that she had seen an apparition, so strange, sudden, + and wild had been his coming and going: but her whole body was a song to + her. “He is not false: he is true.” So dimly, however, was the 'he' now + fashioned in her brain, and so like a thing of the air had he descended on + her, that she almost conceived the abstract idea, 'Love is true,' and + possibly, though her senses did not touch on it to shape it, she had the + reflection in her: “After all, power is mine to bring him to my side.” + Almost it seemed to her that she had brought him from the grave. She sat + hugging herself in the carriage, hating to hear words, and seeing a ball + of fire away in the white mist. Georgiana looked at her no more; and when + Tracy remarked that he had fancied having seen a fellow running up the + bank, she said quietly, “Did you?” + </p> + <p> + “Robert must have seen him, too,” added Merthyr, and so the interloper was + dismissed. + </p> + <p> + On reaching home, no sooner were they in the hall than Emilia called for + her bedroom candle in a thin, querulous voice that made Tracy shout with + laughter and love of her quaintness. + </p> + <p> + Emilia gave him her hand, and held up her mouth to kiss Georgiana, but no + cheek was bent forward for the salute. The girl passed from among them, + and then Merthyr said to his sister: “What is the matter?” + </p> + <p> + “Surely, Merthyr, you should not be at a loss,” she answered, in a + somewhat unusual tone, that was half irony. + </p> + <p> + Merthyr studied her face. Alone with her, he said: “I could almost suppose + that she has seen this man.” + </p> + <p> + Georgiana smiled sadly. “I have not seen him, dear; and she has not told + me so.” + </p> + <p> + “You think it was so?” + </p> + <p> + “I can imagine it just possible.” + </p> + <p> + “What! while we were out and had left her! He must be mad!” + </p> + <p> + “Not necessarily mad, unless to be without principle is to be mad.” + </p> + <p> + “Mad, or graduating for a Spanish comedie d'intrigue,” said Merthyr. “What + on earth can he mean by it? If he must see her, let him come here. But to + dog a carriage at midnight, and to prefer to act startling surprises!—one + can't help thinking that he delights in being a stage-hero.” + </p> + <p> + Georgiana's: “If he looks on her as a stage-heroine?” was unheeded, and he + pursued: “She must leave England at once,” and stated certain arrangements + that were immediately to be made. + </p> + <p> + “You will not give up this task you have imposed on yourself?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “To do what?” + </p> + <p> + She could have answered: “To make this unsatisfactory creature love you;” + but her words were, “To civilize this little savage.” + </p> + <p> + Merthyr was bright in a moment: “I don't give up till I see failure.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it not possible, dear, to be dangerously blind?” urged Georgiana. + </p> + <p> + “Keep to the particular case,” he returned; “and don't tempt me into your + woman's snare of a generalization. It's possible, of course, to be + one-ideaed and obstinate. But I have not yet seen your savage guilty of a + deceit. Her heart has been stirred, and her heart, as you may judge, has + force enough to be constant, though none can deny that it has been roughly + proved.” + </p> + <p> + “For which you like her better?” said Georgiana, herself brightening. + </p> + <p> + “For which I like her better,” he replied, and smiled, perfectly armed. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! is it because I am a woman that I do not understand this sort of + friendship?” cried Georgiana. “And from you, Merthyr, to a girl such as + she is! Me she satisfies less and less. You speak of force of heart, as if + it were manifested in an abandonment of personal will.” + </p> + <p> + “No, my darling, but in the strong conception of a passion.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; if she had discriminated, and fixed upon a worthy object!” + </p> + <p> + “That,” rejoined Merthyr, “is akin to the doctrine of justification by + success.” + </p> + <p> + “You seek to foil me with sophisms,” said Georgiana, warming. “A woman—even + a girl—should remember what is due to herself. You are attracted by + a passionate nature—I mean, men are.” + </p> + <p> + “The general instance,” assented Merthyr. + </p> + <p> + “Then, do you never reflect,” pursued Georgiana, “on the composition and + the elements of that sort of nature? I have tried to think the best of it. + It seems to me still no, not contemptible at all—but selfishness is + the groundwork of it; a brilliant selfishness, I admit. I see that it + shows its best feature, but is it the nobler for that? I think, and I must + think, that excellence is a point to be reached only by unselfishness, and + that usefulness is the test of excellence.” + </p> + <p> + “Before there has been any trial of her?” asked Merthyr. “Have you not + been a little too eager to put the test to her?” + </p> + <p> + Georgiana reluctantly consented to have her argument attached to a single + person. “She is not a child, Merthyr.” + </p> + <p> + “Ay; but she should bethought one.” + </p> + <p> + “I confess I am utterly at sea,” Georgiana sighed. “Will you at least + allow that sordid selfishness does less mischief than this 'passion' you + admire so much?” + </p> + <p> + “I will allow that she may do herself more mischief than if she had the + opposite vice of avarice—anything you will, of that complexion.” + </p> + <p> + “And why should she be regarded as a child?” asked Georgiana piteously. + </p> + <p> + “Because, if she has outnumbered the years of a child, she is no further + advanced than a child, owing to what she has to get rid of. She is + overburdened with sensations that set her head on fire. Her solid, firm, + and gentle heart keeps her balanced, so long as there is no one playing on + it. That a fool should be doing so, is scarcely her fault.” + </p> + <p> + Georgiana murmured to herself, “He is not a fool.” She said, “I do see a + certain truth in what you say, dear Merthyr. But I have been disappointed + in her. I have taken her among my poor. She listens to their tales, + without sympathy. I took her into a sick-room. She stood by a dying bed + like a statue. Her remark when we came into the air was, 'Death seems + easy, if it were not so stifling!' Herself always! herself the centre of + what she sees and feels! And again, she has no active desire to do good to + any mortal thing. A passive wish that everybody should be happy, I know + she has. Few have not. She would give money if she had it. But this is + among the mysteries of Providence to me, that one no indifferent to others + should be gifted with so inexplicable a power of attraction.” + </p> + <p> + Merthyr put this case to her: “Suppose you saw any of the poor souls you + wait on lying sick with fever, would it be just to describe the character + of one so situated as fretful, ungrateful, of rambling tongue, poor in + health, and generally of loose condition of mind?” + </p> + <p> + “There, again, is that foreign doctrine which exults in the meanest + triumphs by getting the thesis granted that we are animal—only + animals!” Georgiana burst out. “You argue that at this season and at that + season she is helpless. If she is a human creature, must she not have a + mind to cover those conditions?” + </p> + <p> + “And a mind,” Merthyr took her up, “specially experienced, armed, and + alert to be a safeguard to her at the most critical period of her life! + Oh, yes! Whether she 'must' have it is one thing; but no one can content + the value of such a jewel to any young person.” + </p> + <p> + Georgiana stood silenced; and knew later that she had been silenced by a + fallacy. For, is youth the most critical period of life? Neither brother + nor sister, however, were talking absolutely for the argument. Beneath + this dialogue, the current in her mind pressed to elicit some avowal of + his personal feeling for the girl, toward whom Georgiana's disposition was + kindlier than her words might lead one to think. He, on the other hand, + talked with the distinct object of disguising his feelings under a tone of + moderate friendship for Emilia, that was capable of excusing her. A + sensitive man of thirty odd years does not loudly proclaim his + appreciation of a girl under twenty: moreover, Merthyr wished to spare his + sister. + </p> + <p> + He thought of questioning Robert, the coachman, whether anyone had visited + the carriage during his five minutes' absence from it: but Merthyr's + peculiar Welsh delicacy kept him from doing that, hard as it was to remain + in doubt and endure the little poisoned shafts of a suspicion. + </p> + <p> + In the morning there was a letter from Marini on the breakfast-table. + Merthyr glanced down the contents. His countenance flashed with a + marvellous light. “Where is she?” he said, looking keenly for Emilia. + </p> + <p> + Emilia came in from the garden. + </p> + <p> + “Now, my Sandra!” cried Merthyr, waving the letter to her; “can you pack + up, to start in an hour? There's work coming on for us, and I shall be a + boy again, and not the drumstick I am in this country. I have a letter + from Marini. All Lombardy is prepared to rise, and this time the business + will be done. Marini is off for Genoa. Under the orange-trees, my Sandra! + and looking on the bay, singing of Italy free!” + </p> + <p> + Emilia fell back a step, eyeing him with a grave expression of wonder, as + if she beheld another being from the one she had hitherto known. The calm + Englishman had given place to a volcanic spirit. + </p> + <p> + “Isn't that the sketch we made?” he resumed. “The plot's perfect. I detest + conspiracies, but we must use what weapons we can, and be Old Mole, if + they trample us in the earth. Once up, we have Turin to back us. This I + know. We shall have nothing but the Tedeschi to manage: and if they beat + us in cavalry, it's certain that they can't rely on their light horse. The + Magyars would break in a charge. We know that they will. As for the rest:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + 'Soldati settentrionali, + Come sarebbe Boemi a Croati,' +</pre> + <p> + we are a match for them! Artillery we shall get. The Piedmontese are mad + for the signal. Come; sit and eat. The air seems dead down in this quiet + country; we're out of the stream. I must rush up to London to breathe and + then we won't lose a moment. We shall be in Italy in four days. Four days, + my Sandra! And Italy going to be free; Georgey, I'm fasting. And you will + see all your old friends. All? Good God! No!—not all! Their blood + shall nerve us. The Austrian thinks he wastes us by slaughter. With every + dead man he doubles the life of the living! Am I talking like a foreigner, + Sandra mia? My child, you don't eat! And I, who dreamed last night that I + looked out over Novara from the height of the Col di Colma, and saw the + plain under a red shadow from a huge eagle!” + </p> + <p> + Merthyr laughed, swinging round his arm. Emilia continued staring at him + as at a man transformed, while Georgiana asked: “May Marini's letter be + seen?” Her visage had become firm and set in proportion as her brother's + excitement increased. + </p> + <p> + “Eat, my Sandra! eat!” called Merthyr, who was himself eating with a + campaigning appetite. + </p> + <p> + Georgiana laid down the letter folded under Merthyr's fingers, keeping her + hand on it till he grew alive to her meaning, that it should be put away. + </p> + <p> + “Marini is vague about artillery,” she murmured. + </p> + <p> + “Vague!” echoed Merthyr. “Say prudent. If he said we could lay hands on + fifty pieces, then distrust him!” + </p> + <p> + “God grant that this be not another pit for further fruitless bloodshed!” + was the interjection standing in Georgiana's eyes, and then she dropped + them pensively, while Merthyr recounted the patient schemes that had led + to this hour, the unuttered anxieties and the bursting hopes. + </p> + <p> + Still Emilia kept her distressfully unenthusiastic looks turned from one + to the other, though her Italy was the theme. She did not eat, but had + dropped one hand flat on her plate, looking almost idiotic. She heard of + Italy as of a distant place, known to her in ancient years. Merthyr's + transformation, too, helped some form of illusion in her brain that she + was cut off from any kindred feeling with other people. + </p> + <p> + As soon as he had finished, Merthyr jumped up; and coming round to Emilia, + touched her shoulder affectionately, saying: “Now! There won't be much + packing to do. We shall be in London to-night in time for your mother to + pass the evening with you.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia rose straightway, and her eyes fell vacantly on Georgiana for help, + as far as they could express anything. + </p> + <p> + Georgiana gave no response, save a look well nigh as vacant in the + interchange. + </p> + <p> + “But you haven't eaten at all!” said Merthyr. + </p> + <p> + Emilia shook her head. “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Eat, my Sandra! to please me! You will need all your strength if you + would be a match for Georgey anywhere where there's action.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes!” Emilia traversed his words with a sudden outcry. “Yes, I will go to + London. I am ready to go to London now.” + </p> + <p> + It was clear that a new light had fallen on her intelligence. + </p> + <p> + Merthyr was satisfied to see her sit down to the table, and he at once + went out to issue directions for the first step in the new and momentous + expedition. + </p> + <p> + Emilia put the bread to her mouth, and crumbled it on a dry lip: but it + was evident to Georgiana, hostile witness as she was, that Emilia's mind + was gradually warming to what Merthyr had said, and that a picture was + passing before the girl. She perceived also a thing that no misery of her + own had yet drawn from Emilia. It was a tear that fell heavily on the back + of her hand. Soon the tears came in quick succession, while the girl tried + to eat, and bit at salted morsels. It was a strange sight for Georgiana, + this statuesque weeping, that got human bit by bit, till the bosom heaved + long sobs: and yet no turn of the head for sympathy; nothing but + passionless shedding of big tear-drops! + </p> + <p> + She went to the girl, and put her hand upon her; kissed her, and then + said: “We have no time to lose. My brother never delays when he has come + to a resolve.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia tried to articulate: “I am ready.” + </p> + <p> + “But you have not eaten!” + </p> + <p> + Emilia made a mechanical effort to eat. + </p> + <p> + “Remember,” said Georgiana, “we have a long distance to go. You will want + your strength. You would not be a burden to him? Eat, while I get your + things ready.” And Georgiana left her, secretly elated to feel that in + this expedition it was she, and she alone, who was Merthyr's mate. What + storm it was, and what conflict, agitated the girl and stupefied her, she + cared not to guess, now that she had the suitable designation, 'savage,' + confirmed in all her acts, to apply to her. + </p> + <p> + When Tracy Runningbrook came down at his ordinary hour of noon to + breakfast, he found a twisted note from Georgiana, telling him that + important matters had summoned Merthyr to London, and that they were all + to be seen at Lady Gosstre's town-house. + </p> + <p> + “I believe, by Jove! Powys manoeuvres to get her away from me,” he + shouted, and sat down to his breakfast and his book with a comforted mind. + It was not Georgiana to whom he alluded; but the appearance of Captain + Gambier, and the pronounced discomposure visible in the handsome face of + the captain on his hearing of the departure, led Tracy to think that + Georgiana's was properly deplored by another, though that other was said + to be engaged. 'On revient toujours,' he hummed. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0048" id="link2HCH0048"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLVIII + </h2> + <p> + Three days passed as a running dream to Emilia. During that period she + might have been hurried off to Italy without uttering a remonstrance. + Merthyr's spirited talk of the country she called her own; of its heroic + youth banded to rise, and sworn to liberate it or die; of good historic + names borne by men, his comrades, in old campaigning adventures; and + stories and incidents of those past days—all given with his changed + face, and changed ringing voice, almost moved her to plunge forgetfully + into this new tumultuous stream while the picture of the beloved land, + lying shrouded beneath the perilous star it was about to follow grew in + her mind. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I go with the Army?” she asked Georgiana. + </p> + <p> + “No, my child; you will simply go to school,” was the cold reply. + </p> + <p> + “To school!” Emilia throbbed, “while they are fighting!” + </p> + <p> + “To the Academy. My brother's first thought is to further your progress in + Art. When your artistic education is complete, you will choose your own + course.” + </p> + <p> + “He knows, he knows that I have no voice!” Emilia struck her lap with + twisted fingers. “My voice is thick in my throat. If I am not to march + with him, I can't go; I will not go. I want to see the fight. You have. + Why should I keep away? Could I run up notes, even if I had any voice, + while he is in the cannon-smoke?” + </p> + <p> + “While he is in the cannon-smoke!” Georgiana revolved the line + thoughtfully. “You are aware that my brother looks forward to the recovery + of your voice,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “My voice is like a dead serpent in my throat,” rejoined Emilia. “My + voice! I have forgotten music. I lived for that, once; now I live for + nothing, only to take my chance everywhere with my friend. I want to smell + powder. My father says it is like salt, the taste of blood, and is like + wine when you smell it. I have heard him shout for it. I will go to Italy, + if I may go where my friend Merthyr goes; but nothing can keep me shut up + now. My head's a wilderness when I'm in houses. I can scarcely bear to + hear this London noise, without going out and walking till I drop.” + </p> + <p> + Coming to a knot in her meditation, Georgiana concluded that Emilia's + heart was warming to Merthyr. She was speedily doubtful again. + </p> + <p> + These two delicate Welsh natures, as exacting as they were delicate, were + little pleased with Emilia's silence concerning her intercourse with + Wilfrid. Merthyr, who had expressed in her defence what could be said for + her, was unwittingly cherishing what could be thought in her disfavour. + Neither of them hit on the true cause, which lay in Georgiana's coldness + to her. One little pressure of her hand, carelessly given, made Merthyr + better aware of the nature he was dealing with. He was telling her that a + further delay might keep them in London for a week; and that he had sent + for her mother to come to her. + </p> + <p> + “I must see my mother,” she had said, excitedly. The extension of the + period named for quitting England made it more imminent m her imagination + than when it was a matter of hours. “I must see her.” + </p> + <p> + “I have sent for her,” said Merthyr, and then pressed Emilia's hand. But + she who, without having brooded on complaints of its absence, thirsted for + demonstrative kindness, clung to the hand, drawing it, doubled, against + her chin. + </p> + <p> + “That is not the reason,” she said, raising her full eyes up at him over + the unrelinquished hand. “I love the poor Madre; let her come; but I have + no heart for her just now. I have seen Wilfrid.” + </p> + <p> + She took a tighter hold of his fingers, as fearing he might shrink from + her. Merthyr hated mysteries, so he said, “I supposed it must have been so—that + night of our return from Penarvon?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she murmured, while she read his face for a shadow of a repulsion; + “and, my friend, I cannot go to Italy now!” + </p> + <p> + Merthyr immediately drew a seat beside her. He perceived that there would + be no access to her reason, even as he was on the point of addressing it. + </p> + <p> + “Then all my care and trouble are to be thrown away?” he said, taking the + short road to her feelings. + </p> + <p> + She put the hand that was disengaged softly on his shoulder. “No; not + thrown away. Let me be what Merthyr wishes me to be! That is my chief + prayer.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, then, will you not do what Merthyr wishes you to do?” + </p> + <p> + Emilia's eyelids shut, while her face still fronted him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I will speak all out to you,” she cried. “Merthyr, my friend, he came + to kiss me once, before I have only just understood it! He is going to + Austria. He came to touch me for the last time before his hand is red with + my blood. Stop him from going! I am ready to follow you:—I can hear + of his marrying that woman:—Oh! I cannot live and think of him in + that Austrian white coat. Poor thing!—my dear! my dear!” And she + turned away her head. + </p> + <p> + It is not unnatural that Merthyr hearing these soft epithets, should + disbelieve in the implied self-conquest of her preceding words. He had no + clue to make him guess that these were simply old exclamations of hers + brought to her lips by the sorrowful contrast in her mind. + </p> + <p> + “It will be better that you should see him,” he said, with less of his + natural sincerity; so soon are we corrupted by any suspicion that our + egoism prompts. + </p> + <p> + “Here?” And she hung close to him, open-lipped, open-eyed, open-eared, as + if (Georgiana would think it, thought Merthyr) her savage senses had laid + the trap for this proposal, and now sprung up keen for their prey. “Here, + Merthyr? Yes! let me see him. You will! Let me see him, for he cannot + resist me. He tries. He thinks he does: but he cannot. I can stretch out + my finger—I can put it on the day when, if he has galloped one way + he will gallop another. Let him come.” + </p> + <p> + She held up both her hands in petition, half dropping her eyelids, with a + shadowy beauty. + </p> + <p> + In Merthyr's present view, the idea of Wilfrid being in ranks opposed to + him was so little provocative of intense dissatisfaction, that it was out + of his power to believe that Emilia craved to see him simply to dissuade + the man from the obnoxious step. “Ah, well! See him; see him, if you + must,” he said. “Arrange it with my sister.” + </p> + <p> + He quitted the room, shrinking from the sound of her thanks, and still + more from the consciousness of his torment. + </p> + <p> + The business that detained him was to get money for Marini. Georgiana + placed her fortune at his disposal a second time. There was his own, which + he deemed it no excess of chivalry to fling into the gulf. The two sat + together, arranging what property should be sold, and how they would share + the sacrifice in common. Georgiana pressed him to dispose of a little + estate belonging to her, that money might immediately be raised. They + talked as they sat over the fire toward the dusk of the winter evening. + </p> + <p> + “You would not have refused me once, Merthyr!” + </p> + <p> + “When you were a child, and I hardly better than a boy. Now it's + different. Let mine go first, Georgey. You may have a husband, who will + not look on these things as we do.” + </p> + <p> + “How can I love a husband!” was all she said; and Merthyr took her in his + arms. His gaiety had gone. + </p> + <p> + “We can't go dancing into a pit of this sort,” he sighed, partly to baffle + the scrutiny he apprehended in her silence. “The garrison at Milan is + doubled, and I hear they are marching troops through Tyrol. Some alerte + has been given, and probably some traitors exist. One wouldn't like to be + shot like a dog! You haven't forgotten poor Tarani? I heard yesterday of + the girl who calls herself his widow.” + </p> + <p> + “They were betrothed, and she is!” exclaimed Georgiana. + </p> + <p> + “Well, there's a case of a man who had two loves—a woman and his + country; and both true to him!” + </p> + <p> + “And is he so singular, Merthyr?” + </p> + <p> + “No, my best! my sweetest! my heart's rest! no!” + </p> + <p> + They exchanged tender smiles. + </p> + <p> + “Tarani's bride—beloved! you can listen to such matters—she + has undertaken her task. Who imposed it? I confess I faint at the thought + of things so sad and shameful. But I dare not sit in judgement on a people + suffering as they are. Outrage upon outrage they have endured, and that + deadens—or rather makes their heroism unscrupulous. Tarani's bride + is one of the few fair girls of Italy. We have a lock of her hair. She + shore it close the morning her lover was shot, and wore the thin white + skull-cap you remember, until it was whispered to her that her beauty must + serve.” + </p> + <p> + “I have the lock now in my desk,” said Georgiana, beginning to tremble. + “Do you wish to look at it?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; fetch it, my darling.” + </p> + <p> + He sat eyeing the firelight till she returned, and then taking the long + golden lock in his handy he squeezed it, full of bitter memories and + sorrowfulness. + </p> + <p> + “Giulietta?” breathed his sister. + </p> + <p> + “I would put my life on the truth of that woman's love. Well!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes?” + </p> + <p> + “She abandons herself to the commandant of the citadel.” + </p> + <p> + A low outcry burst from Georgiana. She fell at Merthyr's knees sobbing + violently. He let her sob. In the end she struggled to speak. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! can it be permitted? Oh! can we not save her? Oh, poor soul! my + sister! Is she blind to her lover in heaven?” + </p> + <p> + Georgiana's face was dyed with shame. + </p> + <p> + “We must put these things by,” said Merthyr. “Go to Emilia presently, and + tell her—settle with her as you think fitting, how she shall see + this Wilfrid Pole. I have promised her she shall have her wish.” + </p> + <p> + Coloured by the emotion she was burning from, these words smote Georgiana + with a mournful compassion for Merthyr. + </p> + <p> + He had risen, and by that she knew that nothing could be said to alter his + will. + </p> + <p> + A sentimental pair likewise, if you please; but these were sentimentalists + who served an active deity; and not that arbitrary protection of a subtle + selfishness which rules the fairer portion of our fat England. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0049" id="link2HCH0049"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XLIX + </h2> + <h3> + “My brother tells me it is your wish to see Mr. Wilfrid Pole.” + </h3> + <p> + Emilia's “Yes” came faintly in answer to Georgiana's cold accents. + </p> + <p> + “Have you considered what you are doing in expressing such a desire?” + </p> + <p> + Another “Yes” was heard from under an uplifted head:—a culprit + affirmative, whereat the just take fire. + </p> + <p> + “Be honest, Emilia. Seek counsel and guidance to-night, as you have done + before with me, and profited, I think. If I write to bid him come, what + will it mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing more,” breathed Emilia. + </p> + <p> + “To him—for in his way he seems to care for you fitfully—it + will mean—stop! hear me. The words you speak will have no part of + the meaning, even if you restrain your tongue. To him it will imply that + his power over you is unaltered. I suppose that the task of making you + perceive the effect it really will have on you is hopeless.” + </p> + <p> + “I have seen him, and I know,” said Emilia, in a corresponding tone. + </p> + <p> + “You saw him that night of our return from Penarvon? Judge of him by that. + He would not spare you. To gratify I know not what wildness in his nature, + he did not hesitate to open your old wound. And to what purpose? A freak + of passion!” + </p> + <p> + “He could not help it. I told him he would come, and he came.” + </p> + <p> + “This, possibly, you call love; do you not?” + </p> + <p> + Emilia was about to utter a plain affirmative, but it was checked. The + novelty of the idea of its not being love arrested her imagination. + </p> + <p> + “If he comes to you here,” resumed Georgiana— + </p> + <p> + “He must come!” cried Emilia. + </p> + <p> + “My brother has sanctioned it, so his coming or not will rest with him. If + he comes, let me know the good that you think will result from an + interview? Ah! you have not weighed that question. Do so;—or you + give no heed to it? In any ease, try to look into your own breast. You + were not born to live unworthily. You can be, or will be, if you follow + your better star, self-denying and noble. Do you not love your country? + Judge of this love by that. Your love, if you have this power over him, is + merely a madness to him; and his—what has it done for you? If he + comes, and this begins again, there will be a similar if not the same + destiny for you.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia panted in her reply. “No; it will not begin again.” She threw out + both arms, shaking her head. “It cannot, I know. What am I now? It is what + I was that he loves. He will not know what I am till he sees me. And I + know that I have done things that he cannot forgive. You have forgiven it, + and Merthyr, because he is my friend; but I am sure Wilfrid will not. He + might pardon the poor 'me,' but not his Emilia! I shall have to tell him + what I did; so” (and she came closer to Georgiana) “there is some pain for + me in seeing him.” + </p> + <p> + Georgiana was not proof against this simplicity of speech, backed by a + little dying dimple, which seemed a continuation of the plain sadness of + Emilia's tone. + </p> + <p> + She said, “My poor child!” almost fondly, and then Emilia looked in her + face, murmuring, “You sometimes doubt me.” + </p> + <p> + “Not your truth, but the accuracy of your perceptions and your knowledge + of your real designs. You are certainly deceiving yourself at this + instant. In the first place, the relation of that madness—no, poor + child, not wickedness—but if you tell it to him, it is a wilful and + unnecessary self-abasement. If he is to be your husband, unburden your + heart at once. Otherwise, why? why? You are but working up a scene, + provoking needless excesses: you are storing misery in retrospect, or + wretchedness to be endured. Had you the habit of prayer! By degrees it + will give you the thirst for purity, and that makes you a fountain of + prayer, in whom these blind deceits cannot hide.” + </p> + <p> + Georgiana paused emphatically; as when, by our unrolling out of our ideas, + we have more thoroughly convinced ourselves. + </p> + <p> + “You pray to heaven,” said Emilia, and then faltered, and blushed. “I must + be loved!” she cried. “Will you not put your arms round me?” + </p> + <p> + Georgiana drew her to her bosom, bidding her continue. Emilia lay + whispering under her chin. “You pray, and you wish to be seen as you are, + do you not? You do. Well, if you knew what love is, you would see it is + the same. You wish him to see and know you: you wish to be sure that he + loves nothing but exactly you; it must be yourself. You are jealous of his + loving an idea of you that is not you. You think, 'He will wake up and + find his mistake;' or you think, 'That kiss was not intended for me; not + for me as I am.' Those are tortures!” + </p> + <p> + Her discipline had transformed her, when she could utter such sentiments + as these! + </p> + <p> + Feeling her shudder, and not knowing how imagination forestalls experience + in passionate blood, Georgiana said, “You speak like one who has undergone + them. But now at least you have thrown off the mask. You love him still, + this man! And with as little strength of will! Do you not see impiety in + the comparison you have made?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! what I see is, that I wish I could say to him, 'Look on me, for I + need not be ashamed—I am like Miss Ford!'” + </p> + <p> + The young lady's cheeks took fire, and the clear path of speech becoming + confused in her head she said, “Miss Ford?” + </p> + <p> + “Georgiana,” said Emilia, and feeling that her friend's cold manner had + melted; “Georgey! my beloved! my darling in Italy, where will we go! I + envy no woman but you who have seen my dear ones fight. You and I, and + Merthyr! Nothing but Austrian shot shall part us.” + </p> + <p> + “And so we make up a pretty dream!” interjected Georgiana. “The Austrian + shot, I think, will be fired by one who is now in the Austrian service, or + who will soon be.” + </p> + <p> + “Wilfrid?” Emilia called out. “No; that is what I am going to stop. Why + did I not tell you so at first? But I never know what I say or do when I + am with you, and everything seems chance. I want to see him to prevent him + from doing that. I can.” + </p> + <p> + “Why should you?” asked Georgiana; and one to whom the faces of the two + had been displayed at that moment would have pronounced them a hostile + couple. + </p> + <p> + “Why should I prevent him?” Emilia doled out the question slowly, and gave + herself no further thought of replying to it. + </p> + <p> + Apparently Georgiana understood the significance of this odd silence: she + was perhaps touched by it. She said, “You feel that you have a power over + him. You wish to exercise it. Never mind wherefore. If you do—if you + try, and succeed—if, by the aid of this love presupposed to exist, + you win him to what you require of him—do you honestly think the + love is then immediately to be dropped?” + </p> + <p> + Emilia meditated. She caught up her voice hastily. “I think so. Yes. I + hope so. I mean it to be.” + </p> + <p> + “With a noble lover, Emilia. Not with a selfish one. In showing him the + belief you have in your power over him, you betray that he has power over + you. And it is to no object. His family, his position, his prospects—all + tell you that he cannot marry you if he would. And he is, besides, engaged—” + </p> + <p> + “Let her suffer!” Emilia's eyes flashed. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” and Georgiana thought, “Have I come upon your nature at last?” + </p> + <p> + However it might be, Emilia was determined to show it. + </p> + <p> + “She took my lover from me, and I say, let her suffer! I would not hurt + her myself—I would not lay my finger on her: but she has eyes like + blue stones, and such a mouth!—I think the Austrian executioner has + one like it. If she suffers, and goes all dark as I did, she will show a + better face. Let her keep my lover. He is not mine, but he was; and she + took him from me. That woman cannot feed on him as I did. I know she has + no hunger for love. He will look at those blue bits of ice, and think of + me. I told him so. Did I not tell him that in Devon? I saw her eyelids + move as fast as I spoke. I think I look on Winter when I see her lips. + Poor, wretched Wilfrid!” + </p> + <p> + Emilia half-sobbed this exclamation out. “I don't wish to hurt either of + them,” she added, with a smile of such abrupt opposition to her words that + Georgiana was in perplexity. A lady who has assumed the office of + lecturer, will, in such a frame of mind, lecture on, if merely to + vindicate to herself her own preconceptions. Georgiana laid her finger + severely upon Wilfrid's manifest faults; and, in fine, she spoke a great + deal of the common sense that the situation demanded. Nevertheless, Emilia + held to her scheme. But, in the meantime, Georgiana had seen more clearly + into the girl's heart; and she had been won, also, by a natural + gracefulness that she now perceived in her, and which led her to think, + “Is Merthyr again to show me that he never errs in his judgement?” An + unaccountable movement of tenderness to Emilia made her drop a few kisses + on her forehead. Emilia shut her eyes, waiting for more. Then she looked + up, and said, “Have you felt this love for me very long?” at which the + puny flame, scarce visible, sprang up, and warmed to a great heat. + </p> + <p> + “My own Emilia! Sandra! listen to me: promise me not to seek this + interview.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you always love me as much?” Emilia bargained. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes; I never vary. It is my love for you that begs you.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia fell into a chair and propped her head behind both hands, tapping + the floor briskly with her feet. Georgiana watched the conflict going on. + To decide it promptly, she said: “And not only shall I love you thrice as + well, but my brother Merthyr, whom you call your friend—he will—he + cannot love you better; but he will feel you to be worthy the best love he + can give. There is a heart, you simple girl! He loves you, and has never + shown any of the pain your conduct has given him. When I say he loves you, + I tell you his one weakness—the only one I have discovered. And + judge whether, he has shown want of self-control while you were dying for + another. Did he attempt to thwart you? No; to strengthen you; and never + once to turn your attention to himself. That is love. Now, think of what + anguish you have made him pass through: and think whether you have ever + witnessed an alteration of kindness in his face toward you. Even now, when + he had the hope that you were cured of your foolish fruitless affection + for a man who merely played with you, and cannot give up the habit, even + now he hides what he feels—” + </p> + <p> + So far Emilia let her speak without interruption; but gradually awakening + to the meaning of the words:— + </p> + <p> + “For me?” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; for you.” + </p> + <p> + “The same sort of love as Wilfrid feels?” + </p> + <p> + “By no means the same sort; but the love of man for woman.” + </p> + <p> + “And he saw me when I was that wretched heap? And he knows everything! and + loves me. He has never kissed me.” + </p> + <p> + “Does that miserable test—?” Georgiana was asking. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon, pardon,” said Emilia penitently; “I know that is almost nothing, + now. I am not a child. I spoke from a sudden feeling. For if he loves me, + how—! Oh, Merthyr! what a little creature I seem. I cannot + understand it. I lose a brother. And he was such a certainty to me. What + did he love—what did he love, that night he found me on the pier? I + looked like a creature picked off a mud-bank. I felt like a worm, and + miserably abandoned, I was a shameful sight. Oh! how can I look on + Merthyr's face again?” + </p> + <p> + In these interjections Georgiana did not observe the proper humility and + abject gratitude of a young person who had heard that she was selected by + a prince of the earth. A sort of 'Eastern handmaid' prostration, with + joined hands, and, above all things, a closed mouth, the lady desired. She + half regretted the revelation she had made; and to be sure at once that + she had reaped some practical good, she said: “I need scarce ask you + whether you have come to a right decision upon that other question.” + </p> + <p> + “To see Wilfrid?” said Emilia. She appeared to pause musingly, and then + turned to Georgiana, showing happy features; “Yes: I shall see him. I must + see him. Let him know he is to come immediately.” + </p> + <p> + “That is your decision.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “After what I have told you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes; yes! Write the letter.” + </p> + <p> + Georgiana chid at an internal wrath that struggled to win her lips. + “Promise me simply that what I have told you of my brother, you will + consider yourself bound to keep secret. You will not speak of it to + others, nor to him.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia gave the promise, but with the thought; “To him?—will not he + speak of it?” + </p> + <p> + “So, then, I am to write this letter?” said Georgiana. + </p> + <p> + “Do, do; at once!” Emilia put on her sweetest look to plead for it. + </p> + <p> + “Decidedly the wisest of men are fools in this matter,” Georgiana's + reflection swam upon her anger. + </p> + <p> + “And dearest! my Georgey!” Emilia insisted on being blunt to the outward + indications to which she was commonly so sensitive and reflective; “my + Georgey! let me be alone this evening in my bedroom. The little Madre + comes, and—and I haven't the habit of being respectful to her. And, + I must be alone! Do not send up for me, whoever wishes it.” + </p> + <p> + Georgiana could not stop her tongue: “Not if Mr. Wilfrid Pole—?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he! I will see him,” said Emilia; and Georgiana went from her + straightway. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0050" id="link2HCH0050"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER L + </h2> + <p> + Emilia remained locked up with her mother all that evening. The good + little shrill woman, tender-eyed and slatternly, had to help try on + dresses, and run about for pins, and express her critical taste in + undertones, believing all the while that her daughter had given up music + to go mad with vanity. The reflection struck her, notwithstanding, that it + was a wiser thing for one of her sex to make friends among rich people + than to marry a foreign husband. + </p> + <p> + The girl looked a brilliant woman in a superb Venetian dress of purple + velvet, which she called 'the Branciani dress,' and once attired in it, + and the rich purges and swelling creases over the shoulders puffed out to + her satisfaction, and the run of yellow braid about it properly inspected + and flattened, she would not return to her more homely wear, though very + soon her mother began to whimper and say that she had lost her so long, + and now that she had found her it hardly seemed the same child. Emilia + would listen to no entreaties to put away her sumptuous robe. She silenced + her mother with a stamp of her foot, and then sighed: “Ah! Why do I always + feel such a tyrant with you?” kissing her. + </p> + <p> + “This dress,” she said, and held up her mother's chin fondlingly between + her two hands, “this dress was designed by my friend Merthyr—that + is, Mr. Powys—from what he remembered of a dress worn by Countess + Branciani, of Venice. He had it made to give to me. It came from Paris. + Countess Branciani was one of his dearest friends. I feel that I am twice + as much his friend with this on me. Mother, it seems like a deep blush all + over me. I feel as if I looked out of a rose.” + </p> + <p> + She spread her hands to express the flower magnified. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! what silly talk,” said her mother: “it does turn your head, this + dress does!” + </p> + <p> + “I wish it would give me my voice, mother. My father has no hope. I wish + he would send me news to make me happy about him; or come and run his + finger up the strings for hours, as he used to. I have fancied I heard him + at times, and I had a longing to follow the notes, and felt sure of my + semi-tones. He won't see me! Mother! he would think something of me if he + saw me now!” + </p> + <p> + Her mother's lamentations reached that vocal pitch at last which Emilia + could not endure, and the little lady was despatched to her home under + charge of a servant. + </p> + <p> + Emilia feasted on the looking-glass when alone. Had Merthyr, in restoring + her to health, given her an overdose of the poison? + </p> + <p> + “Countess Branciani made the Austrian Governor her slave,” she uttered, + planting one foot upon a stool to lend herself height. “He told her who + were suspected, and who would be imprisoned, and gave her all the State + secrets. Beauty can do more than music. I wonder whether Merthyr loved + her? He loves me!” + </p> + <p> + Emilia was smitten with a fear that he would speak of it when she next saw + him. “Oh! I hope he will be just the same as he has been,” she sighed; and + with much melancholy shook her head at her fair reflection, and began to + undress. It had not struck her with surprise that two men should be loving + her, until, standing away from the purple folds, she seemed to grow + smaller and smaller, as a fire-log robbed of its flame, and felt + insufficient and weak. This was a new sensation. She depended no more on + her own vital sincerity. It was in her nature, doubtless, to crave + constantly for approval, but in the service of personal beauty instead of + divine Art, she found herself utterly unwound without it: victim of a + sense of most uncomfortable hollowness. She was glad to extinguish the + candle and be covered up dark in the circle of her warmth. Then her young + blood sang to her again. + </p> + <p> + An hour before breakfast every morning she read with Merthyr. Now, this + morning how was she to appear to him? There would be no reading, of + course. How could he think of teaching one to whom he trembled. Emilia + trusted that she might see no change in him, and, above all, that he would + not speak of his love for her. Nevertheless, she put on her robe of + conquest, having first rejected with distaste a plainer garb. She went + down the stairs slowly. Merthyr was in the library awaiting her. “You are + late,” he said, eyeing the dress as a thing apart from her, and remarking + that it was hardly suited for morning wear. “Yellow, if you must have a + strong colour, and you wouldn't exhibit the schwartz-gelb of the Tedeschi + willingly. But now!” + </p> + <p> + This was the signal for the reading to commence. + </p> + <p> + “Wilfrid would not have been so cold to me,” thought Emilia, turning the + leaves of Ariosto as a book of ashes. Not a word of love appeared to be in + his mind. This she did not regret; but she thirsted for the assuring look. + His eyes were quietly friendly. So friendly was he, that he blamed her for + inattention, and took her once to task about a melodious accent in which + she vulgarized the vowels. All the flattery of the Branciani dress could + not keep Emilia from her feeling of smallness. Was it possible that he + loved her? She watched him as eagerly as her shyness would permit. Any + shadow of a change was spied for. Getting no softness from him, or + superadded kindness, no shadow of a change in that direction, she stumbled + in her reading purposely, to draw down rebuke; her construing was + villanously bad. He told her so, and she replied: “I don't like poetry.” + But seeing him exchange Ariosto for Roman History, she murmured, “I like + Dante.” Merthyr plunged her remorselessly into the second Punic war. + </p> + <p> + But there was worse to follow. She was informed that after breakfast she + would be called upon to repeat the principal facts she had been reading + of. Emilia groaned audibly. + </p> + <p> + “Take the book,” said Merthyr. + </p> + <p> + “It's so heavy,” she complained. + </p> + <p> + “Heavy?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean, to carry about.” + </p> + <p> + “If you want to 'carry it about,' the boy shall follow you with it.” + </p> + <p> + She understood that she was being laughed at. Languor, coupled with the + consciousness of ridicule, overwhelmed her. + </p> + <p> + “I feel I can't learn,” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Feel, that you must,” was replied to her. + </p> + <p> + “No; don't take any more trouble with me!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I expect you to distinguish Scipio from Cicero, and not make the + mistake of the other evening, when you were talking to Mrs. Cameron.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia left him, abashed, to dread shrewdly their meeting within five + minutes at the breakfast-table; to dread eating under his eyes, with + doubts of the character of her acts generally. She was, indeed, his humble + scholar, though she seemed so full of weariness and revolt. He, however, + when alone, looked fixedly at the door through which she had passed, and + said, “She loves that man still. Similar ages, similar tastes, I suppose! + She is dressed to be ready for him. She can't learn: she can do nothing. + My work mayn't be lost, but it's lost for me.” + </p> + <p> + Merthyr did not know that Georgiana had betrayed him, but in no case would + he have given Emilia the signs she expected: in the first place, because + he had self-command; and, secondly, because of those years he counted in + advance of her. So she had the full mystery of his loving her to think + over, without a spot of the weakness to fasten on. + </p> + <p> + Georgiana's first sight of Emilia in her Branciani dress shut her heart + against the girl with iron clasps. She took occasion to remark, “We need + not expect visitors so very early;” but the offender was impervious. + Breakfast finished, the reading with Merthyr recommenced, when Emilia, + having got over her surprise at the sameness of things this day, acquitted + herself better, and even declaimed the verses musically. Seeing him look + pleased, she spoke them out sonorously. Merthyr applauded. Upon which + Emilia said, with odd abruptness and solemnity, “Will he come to-day?” It + was beyond Merthyr's power of self-control to consent to be taken into a + consultation on this matter, and he attempted to put it aside. “He may or + he may not—probably to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + “No; to-day, in the afternoon,” said Emilia, “be near me.” + </p> + <p> + “I have engagements.” + </p> + <p> + “Some word, say, that will seem to be you with me.” + </p> + <p> + “Some flattery, or you won't remember it.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I like flattery.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you look like Countess Branciani when, after thinking her husband + the basest of men, she discovered him to be the noblest.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia blushed. “That's not easily forgotten! But she must have looked + braver, bolder, not so under a burden as I feel.” + </p> + <p> + “The comparison was meant to suit the moment of your reciting.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Emilia, half-mournfully, “then 'myself' doesn't sit on my + shoulders: I don't even care what I am.” + </p> + <p> + “That is what Art does for you.” + </p> + <p> + “Only by fits and starts now. Once I never thought of myself.” + </p> + <p> + There was a knock at the street-door, and she changed countenance. + Presently there came a gentle tap at their own door. + </p> + <p> + “It is that woman,” said Emilia. + </p> + <p> + “I fancy it must be Lady Charlotte. You will not see her?” + </p> + <p> + Merthyr was anticipating a negative, but Emilia said, “Let her come in.” + </p> + <p> + She gave her hand to the lady, and was the less concerned of the two. Lady + Charlotte turned away from her briskly. + </p> + <p> + “Georgey didn't say anything of you in her letter, Merthyr; I am going up + to her, but I wished to satisfy myself that you were in town, first:—to + save half-a-minute, you see I anticipate the philosophic manly sneer. Is + it really true that you are going to mix yourself up in this mad Italian + business again? Now that you're a man, my dear Merthyr, it seems almost + inexcuseable—for a sensible Englishman!” + </p> + <p> + Lady Charlotte laughed, giving him her hand at the same time. + </p> + <p> + “Don't you know I swore an oath?” Merthyr caught up her tone. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but you never succeed. I complain that you never succeed. Of what + use on earth are all your efforts if you never succeed?” + </p> + <p> + Emilia's voice burst out:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'Piacemi almen che i miei sospir sien quali + Spera 'l Tevero e 'l Arno, + E 'l Po,—'” + </pre> + <p> + Merthyr continued the ode, acting a similar fervour:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “'Ben provvide Natura al nostro stato + Quando dell' Alpi schermo + Pose fra noi e la tedesca rabbis.” + </pre> + <p> + “We are merely bondsmen to the re-establishment of the provisions of + nature.” + </p> + <p> + “And we know we shall succeed!” said Emilia, permitting her antagonism to + pass forth in irritable emphasis. + </p> + <p> + Lady Charlotte quickly left them, to run up to Georgiana. She was not long + in the house. Emilia hung near Merthyr all day, and she was near him when + the knock was heard which she could suppose to be Wilfrid's, as it proved. + Wilfrid was ushered in to Georgiana. Delicacy had prevented Merthyr from + taking special notice to Emilia of Lady Charlotte's visit, and he treated + Wilfrid's similarly, saying, “Georgey will send down word.” + </p> + <p> + “Only, don't leave me till she does,” Emilia rejoined. + </p> + <p> + Her agitation laid her open to be misinterpreted. It was increased when + she saw him take a book and sit in the armchair between two lighted + candles, calmly careless of her. She did not actually define to herself + that he should feel jealously, but his indifference was one extreme which + provoked her instinct to imagine a necessity for the other. Word came from + Georgiana, and Emilia moved to the door. “Remember, we dine half-an-hour + earlier to-day, on account of the Cameron party,” was all that he uttered. + Emilia made an effort to go. She felt herself as a ship sailing into + perilous waters, without compass. Why did he not speak tenderly? Before + Georgiana had revealed his love for her, she had been strong to see + Wilfrid. Now, the idea smote her softened heart that Wilfrid's passion + might engulf her if she had no word of sustainment from Merthyr. She + turned and flung herself at his feet, murmuring, “Say something to me.” + Merthyr divined this emotion to be a sort of foresight of remorse on her + part: he clasped the interwoven fingers of her hands, letting his eyes + dwell upon hers. The marvel of their not wavering or softening meaningly + kept her speechless. She rose with a strength not her own: not comforted, + and no longer speculating. It was as if she had been eyeing a golden door + shut fast, that might some day open, but was in itself precious to behold. + She arose with deep humbleness, which awakened new ideas of the nature of + worth in her bosom. She felt herself so low before this man who would not + be played upon as an obsequious instrument—who would not leap into + ardour for her beauty! Before that man upstairs how would she feel? The + question did not come to her. She entered the room where he was, without a + blush. Her step was firm, and her face expressed a quiet gladness. + Georgiana stayed through the first commonplaces: then they were alone. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0051" id="link2HCH0051"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LI + </h2> + <p> + Commonplaces continued to be Wilfrid's refuge, for sentiment was surging + mightily within him. The commonplaces concerning father, sisters, health, + weather, sickened him when uttered, so much that for a time he was + unobservant of Emilia's ready exchange of them. To a compliment on her + appearance, she said: “You like this dress? I will tell you the history of + it. I call it the Branciani dress. Mr. Powys designed it for me. The + Countess Branciani was his friend. She used always to dress in this + colour; just in this style. She also was dark. And she imagined that her + husband favoured the Austrians. She believed he was an Austrian spy. It + was impossible for her not to hate him—” + </p> + <p> + “Her husband!” quoth Wilfrid. The unexpected richness that had come upon + her beauty and the coolness of her prattle at such an interview amazed and + mortified him. + </p> + <p> + “She supposed him to be an Austrian spy!” + </p> + <p> + “Still he was her husband!” + </p> + <p> + Emilia gave her features a moment's play, but she had not full command of + them, and the spark of scorn they emitted was very slight. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” his tone had fallen into a depth, “how I thank you for the honour + you have done me in desiring to see me once before you leave England! I + know that I have not merited it.” + </p> + <p> + More he said on this theme, blaming himself emphatically, until, startled + by the commonplaces he was uttering, he stopped short; and the stopping + was effective, if the speech was not. Where was the tongue of his passion? + He almost asked it of himself. Where was Hippogriff? He who had burned to + see her, he saw her now, fair as a vision, and yet in the flesh! Why was + he as good as tongue-tied in her presence when he had such fires to pour + forth? + </p> + <p> + (Presuming that he has not previously explained it, the philosopher here + observes that Hippogriff, the foal of Fiery Circumstance out of Sentiment, + must be subject to strong sentimental friction before he is capable of a + flight: his appetites must fast long in the very eye of provocation ere he + shall be eloquent. Let him, the Philosopher, repeat at the same time that + souls harmonious to Nature, of whom there are few, do not mount this + animal. Those who have true passion are not at the mercy of Hippogriff—otherwise + Sur-excited Sentiment. You will mark in them constantly a reverence for + the laws of their being, and a natural obedience to common sense. They are + subject to storm, as in everything earthly, and they need no lesson of + devotion; but they never move to an object in a madness.) + </p> + <p> + Now this is good teaching: it is indeed my Philosopher's object—his + purpose—to work out this distinction; and all I wish is that it were + good for my market. What the Philosopher means, is to plant in the + reader's path a staring contrast between my pet Emilia and his puppet + Wilfrid. It would be very commendable and serviceable if a novel were what + he thinks it: but all attestation favours the critical dictum, that a + novel is to give us copious sugar and no cane. I, myself, as a reader, + consider concomitant cane an adulteration of the qualities of sugar. My + Philosopher's error is to deem the sugar, born of the cane, inseparable + from it. The which is naturally resented, and away flies my book back at + the heads of the librarians, hitting me behind them a far more grievous + blow. + </p> + <p> + Such is the construction of my story, however, that to entirely deny the + Philosopher the privilege he stipulated for when with his assistance I + conceived it, would render our performance unintelligible to that acute + and honourable minority which consents to be thwacked with aphorisms and + sentences and a fantastic delivery of the verities. While my Play goes on, + I must permit him to come forward occasionally. We are indeed in a sort of + partnership, and it is useless for me to tell him that he is not popular + and destroys my chance. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0052" id="link2HCH0052"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LII + </h2> + <h3> + “Don't blame yourself, my Wilfrid.” + </h3> + <p> + Emilia spoke thus, full of pity for him, and in her adorable, deep-fluted + tones, after the effective stop he had come to. + </p> + <p> + The 'my Wilfrid' made the owner of the name quiver with satisfaction. He + breathed: “You have forgiven me?” + </p> + <p> + “That I have. And there was indeed no blame. My voice has gone. Yes, but I + do not think it your fault.” + </p> + <p> + “It was! it is!” groaned Wilfrid. “But, has your voice gone?” He leaned + nearer to her, drawing largely on the claim his incredulity had to inspect + her sweet features accurately. “You speak just as—more deliciously + than ever! I can't think you have lost it. Ah! forgive me! forgive me!” + </p> + <p> + Emilia was about to put her hand over to him, but the prompt impulse was + checked by a simultaneous feminine warning within. She smiled, saying: “'I + forgive' seems such a strange thing for me to say;” and to convey any + further meaning that might comfort him, better than words could do, she + held on her smile. The smile was of the acceptedly feigned, conventional + character; a polished Surface: belonging to the passage of the discourse, + and not to the emotions. Wilfrid's swelling passion slipped on it. + Sensitively he discerned an ease in its formation and disappearance that + shot a first doubt through him, whether he really maintained his empire in + her heart. If he did not reign there, why had she sent for him? He + attributed the unheated smile to a defect in her manner, that was always + chargeable with something, as he remembered. He began systematically to + account for his acts: but the man was so constituted that as he laid them + out for pardon, he himself condemned them most; and looking back at his + weakness and double play, he broke through his phrases to cry without + premeditation: “Can you have loved me then?” + </p> + <p> + Emilia's cheeks tingled: “Don't speak of that night in Devon,” she + replied. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” sighed he. “I did not mean then. Then you must have hated me.” + </p> + <p> + “No; for, what did I say? I said that you would come to me—nothing + more. I hated that woman. You? Oh, no!” + </p> + <p> + “You loved me, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Did I not offer to work for you, if you were poor? And—I can't + remember what I said. Please, do not speak of that night.” + </p> + <p> + “Emilia! as a man of honour, I was bound—” + </p> + <p> + She lifted her hands: “Oh! be silent, and let that night die.” + </p> + <p> + “I may speak of that night when you drove home from Penarvon Castle, and a + robber? You have forgotten him, perhaps! What did he steal? not what he + came for, but something dearer to him than anything he possesses. How can + I say—? Dear to me? If it were dipped in my heart's blood!—” + </p> + <p> + Emilia was far from being carried away by the recollection of the scene; + but remembering what her emotion had then been, she wondered at her + coolness now. + </p> + <p> + “I may speak of Wilming Weir?” he insinuated. + </p> + <p> + Her bosom rose softly and heavily. As if throwing off some cloak of + enchantment that clogged her spirit! “I was telling you of this dress,” + she said: “I mean, of Countess Branciani. She thought her husband was the + Austrian spy who had betrayed them, and she said, 'He is not worthy to + live.' Everybody knew that she had loved him. I have seen his portrait and + hers. I never saw faces that looked so fond of life. She had that Italian + beauty which is to any other like the difference between velvet and silk.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! do I require to be told the difference?” Wilfrid's heart throbbed. + </p> + <p> + “She,” pursued Emilia, “she loved him still, I believe, but her country + was her religion. There was known to be a great conspiracy, and no one + knew the leader of it. All true Italians trusted Countess Branciani, + though she visited the Austrian Governor's house—a General with some + name on the teeth. One night she said to him, 'You have a spy who betrays + you.' The General never suspected Countess Branciani. Women are devils of + cleverness sometimes. + </p> + <p> + “But he did suspect it must be her husband—thinking, I suppose, 'How + otherwise would she have known he was my spy?' He gave Count Branciani + secret work and high pay. Then he set a watch on him. Count Branciani was + to find out who was this unknown leader. He said to the Austrian Governor, + 'You shall know him in ten days.' This was repeated to Countess Branciani, + and she said to herself, 'My husband! you shall perish, though I should + have to stab you myself.'” + </p> + <p> + Emilia's sympathetic hand twitched. Wilfrid's seized it, but it proved no + soft melting prize. She begged to be allowed to continue. He entreated her + to. Thereat she pulled gently for her hand, and persisting, it was + grudgingly let go. + </p> + <p> + “One night Countess Branciani put the Austrians on her husband's track. He + knew that she was true to her country, and had no fear of her, whether she + touched the Black-yellow gold or not. But he did not confide any, of his + projects to her. And his reason was, that as she went to the Governor's, + she might accidentally, by a word or a sign, show that she was an + accomplice in the conspiracy. He wished to save her from a suspicion. + Brave Branciani!” + </p> + <p> + Emilia had a little shudder of excitement. + </p> + <p> + “Only,” she added, “why will men always think women are so weak? The Count + worked with conspirators who were not dreaming they would do anything, but + were plotting to do it. The Countess belonged to the other party—men + who never thought they were strong enough to see their ideas acting—I + mean, not bold enough to take their chance. As if we die more than one + death, and the blood we spill for Italy is ever wasted! That night the + Austrian spy followed the Count to the meeting-house of the conspirators. + It was thought quite natural that the Count should go there. But the spy, + not having the password, crouched outside, and heard from two that came + out muttering, the next appointment for a meeting. This was told to + Countess Branciani, and in the meantime she heard from the Austrian + Governor that her husband had given in names of the conspirators. She + determined at once. 'Now may Christ and the Virgin help me!'” + </p> + <p> + Emilia struck her knees, while tears started through her shut eyelids. The + exclamation must have been caught from her father, who liked not the + priests of his native land well enough to interfere between his English + wife and their child in such a matter as religious training. + </p> + <p> + “What happened?” said Wilfrid, vainly seeking for personal application in + this narrative. + </p> + <p> + “Listen!—Ah!” she fought with her tears, and said, as they rolled + down her face: “For a miserable thing one can not help, I find I must cry. + This is what she did. She told him she knew of the conspiracy, and asked + permission to join it, swearing that she was true to Italy. He said he + believed her.—Oh, heaven!—And for some time she had to beg and + beg; but to spare her he would not let her join. I cannot tell why—he + gave her the password for the neat meeting, and said that an old gold coin + must be shown. She must have coaxed it, though he was a strong man, who + could resist women. I suppose he felt that he had been unkind.—Were + I Queen of Italy he should stand for ever in a statue of gold!—The + next appointed night a spy entered among the conspirators, with the + password and the coin. Did I tell you the Countess had one child—a + girl! She lives now, and I am to know her. She is like her mother. That + little girl was playing down the stairs with her nurse when a band of + Austrian soldiers entered the hall underneath, and an officer, with his + sword drawn, and some men, came marching up in their stiff way—the + machines! This officer stooped to her, and before the nurse could stop + her, made her say where her father was. Those Austrians make children + betray their parents! They don't think how we grow up to detest them. Do + I? Hate is not the word: it burns so hot and steady with me. The Countess + came out on the first landing; she saw what was happening. When her + husband was led out, she asked permission to embrace him. The officer + consented, but she had to say to him, 'Move back,' and then, with her lips + to her husband's cheek, 'Betray no more of them!' she whispered. Count + Branciani started. Now he understood what she had done, and why she had + done it. 'Ask for the charge that makes me a prisoner,' he said. Her + husband's noble face gave her a chill of alarm. The Austrian spoke. 'He is + accused of being the chief of the Sequin Club.' And then the Countess + looked at her husband; she sank at his feet. My heart breaks. Wilfrid! + Wilfrid! You will not wear that uniform? Say 'Never, never!' You will not + go to the Austrian army—Wilfrid? Would you be my enemy? Brutes, + knee-deep in blood! with bloody fingers! Ogres! Would you be one of them? + To see me turn my head shivering with loathing as you pass? This is why I + sent for you, because I loved you, to entreat you, Wilfrid, from my soul, + not to blacken the dear happy days when I knew you! Will you hear me? That + woman is changeing you—doing all this. Resist her! Think of me in + this one thing! Promise it, and I will go at once, and want no more. I + will swear never to trouble you. Oh, Wilfrid it's not so much our being + enemies, but what you become, I think of. If I say to myself, 'He also, + who was once my lover—Oh! paid murderer of my dear people!'” + </p> + <p> + Emilia threw up both hands to her eyes: but Wilfrid, all on fire with a + word, made one of her hands his own, repeating eagerly: “Once? once?” + </p> + <p> + “Once?” she echoed him. + </p> + <p> + “'Once my love?'” said he. “Not now?—does it mean, 'not now?' My + darling!—pardon me, I must say it. My beloved! you said: 'He who was + once my lover:'—you said that. What does it mean? Not that—not—? + does it mean, all's over? Why did you bring me here? You know I must love + you forever. Speak! 'Once?'” + </p> + <p> + “'Once?'” Emilia was breathing quick, but her voice was well contained: + “Yes, I said 'once.' You were then.” + </p> + <p> + “Till that night in Devon? + </p> + <p> + “Let it be.” + </p> + <p> + “But you love me still?” + </p> + <p> + “We won't speak of it.” + </p> + <p> + “I see! You cannot forgive. Good heavens! I think I remember your saying + so once—Once! Yes, then: you said it then, during our 'Once;' when I + little thought you would be merciless to me—who loved you from the + first! the very first! I love you now! I wake up in the night, thinking I + hear your voice. You haunt me. Cruel! cold!—who guards you and + watches over you but the man you now hate? You sit there as if you could + make yourself stone when you pleased. Did I not chastise that man Pericles + publicly because he spoke a single lie of you? And by that act I have made + an enemy to our house who may crush us in ruin. Do I regret it? No. I + would do any madness, waste all my blood for you, die for you!” + </p> + <p> + Emilia's fingers received a final twist, and were dropped loose. She let + them hang, looking sadly downward. Melancholy is the most irritating reply + to passion, and Wilfrid's heart waged fierce at the sight of her, grown + beautiful!—grown elegant!—and to reject him! When, after a + silence which his pride would not suffer him to break, she spoke to ask + what Mr. Pericles had said of her, he was enraged, forgot himself, and + answered: “Something disgraceful.” + </p> + <p> + Deep colour came on Emilia. “You struck him, Wilfrid?” + </p> + <p> + “It was a small punishment for his infamous lie, and, whatever might be + the consequences, I would do it again.” + </p> + <p> + “Wilfrid, I have heard what he has said. Madame Marini has told me. I wish + you had not struck him. I cannot think of him apart from the days when I + had my voice. I cannot bear to think of your having hurt him. He was not + to blame. That is, he did not say: it was not untrue.” + </p> + <p> + She took a breath to make this last statement, and continued with the same + peculiar implicity of distinctness, which a terrific thunder of “What?” + from Wilfrid did not overbear: “I was quite mad that day I went to him. I + think, in my despair I spoke things that may have led him to fancy the + truth of what he has said. On my honour, I do not know. And I cannot + remember what happened after for the week I wandered alone about London. + Mr. Powys found me on a wharf by the river at night.” + </p> + <p> + A groan burst from Wilfrid. Emilia's instinct had divined the antidote + that this would be to the poison of revived love in him, and she felt + secure, though he had again taken her hand; but it was she who nursed a + mere sentiment now, while passion sprang in him, and she was not prepared + for the delirium with which he enveloped her. She listened to his raving + senselessly, beginning to think herself lost. Her tortured hands were + kissed; her eyes gazed into. He interpreted her stupefaction as + contrition, her silence as delicacy, her changeing of colour as flying + hues of shame: the partial coldness at their meeting he attributed to the + burden on her mind, and muttering in a magnanimous sublimity that he + forgave her, he claimed her mouth with force. + </p> + <p> + “Don't touch me!” cried Emilia, showing terror. + </p> + <p> + “Are you not mine?” + </p> + <p> + “You must not kiss me.” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid loosened her waist, and became in a minute outwardly most cool and + courteous. + </p> + <p> + “My successor may object. I am bound to consider him. Pardon me. Once!—” + </p> + <p> + The wretched insult and silly emphasis passed harmlessly from her: but a + word had led her thoughts to Merthyr's face, and what is meant by the + phrase 'keeping oneself pure,' stood clearly in Emilia's mind. She had not + winced; and therefore Wilfrid judged that his shot had missed because + there was no mark. With his eye upon her sideways, showing its circle wide + as a parrot's, he asked her one of those questions that lovers sometimes + permit between themselves. “Has another—?” It is here as it was + uttered. Eye-speech finished the sentence. + </p> + <p> + Rapidly a train of thought was started in Emilia, and she came to this + conclusion, aloud: “Then I love nobody!” For she had never kissed Merthyr, + or wished for his kiss. + </p> + <p> + “You do not?” said Wilfrid, after a silence. “You are generous in being + candid.” + </p> + <p> + A pressure of intensest sorrow bowed his head. The real feeling in him + stole to Emilia like a subtle flame. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! what can I do for you?” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, if you do not love me,” he was replying mournfully, when, “Yes! + yes!” rushed to his lips; “marry me: marry me to-morrow. You have loved + me. 'I am never to leave you!' Can you forget the night when you said it? + Emilia! Marry me and you will love me again. You must. This man, whoever + he is—Ah! why am I such a brute! Come! be mine! Let me call you my + own darling! Emilia!—or say quietly 'you have nothing to hope for:' + I shall not reproach you, believe me.” + </p> + <p> + He looked resigned. The abrupt transition had drawn her eyes to his. She + faltered: “I cannot be married.” And then: “How could I guess that you + felt in this way?” + </p> + <p> + “Who told me that I should?” said he. “Your words have come true. You + predicted that I should fly from 'that woman,' as you called her, and come + to you. See! here it is exactly as you willed it. You—you are + changed. You throw your magic on me, and then you are satisfied, and turn + elsewhere.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia's conscience smote her with a verification of this charge, and she + trembled, half-intoxicated for the moment, by the aspect of her power. + This filled her likewise with a dangerous pity for its victim; and now, + putting out both hands to him, her chin and shoulders raised entreatingly, + she begged the victim to spare her any word of marriage. + </p> + <p> + “But you go, you run away from me—I don't know where you are or what + you are doing,” said Wilfrid. “And you leave me to that woman. She loves + the Austrians, as you know. There! I will ask nothing—only this: I + will promise, if I quit the Queen's service for good, not to wear the + white uniform—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” Emilia breathed inward deeply, scarce noticing the 'if' that + followed; nodding quick assent to the stipulation before she heard the + nature of it. It was, that she should continue in England. + </p> + <p> + “Your word,” said Wilfrid; and she pledged it, and did not think she was + granting much in the prospect of what she gained. + </p> + <p> + “You will, then?” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I will.” + </p> + <p> + “On your honour?” + </p> + <p> + These reiterated questions were simply pretexts for steps nearer to the + answering lips. + </p> + <p> + “And I may see you?” he went on. + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + “Wherever you are staying? And sometimes alone? Alone!—” + </p> + <p> + “Not if you do not know that I am to be respected,” said Emilia, huddled + in the passionate fold of his arms. He released her instantly, and was + departing, wounded; but his heart counselled wiser proceedings. + </p> + <p> + “To know that you are in England, breathing the same air with me, near me! + is enough. Since we are to meet on those terms, let it be so. Let me only + see you till some lucky shot puts me out of your way.” + </p> + <p> + This 'some lucky shot,' which is commonly pointed at themselves by the + sentimental lovers, with the object of hitting the very centre of the + hearts of obdurate damsels, glanced off Emilia's, which was beginning to + throb with a comprehension of all that was involved in the word she had + given. + </p> + <p> + “I have your promise?” he repeated: and she bent her head. + </p> + <p> + “Not,” he resumed, taking jealousy to counsel, now that he had advanced a + step: “Not that I would detain you against your will! I can't expect to + make such a figure at the end of the piece as your Count Branciani—who, + by the way, served his friends oddly, however well he may have served his + country.” + </p> + <p> + “His friends?” She frowned. + </p> + <p> + “Did he not betray the conspirators? He handed in names, now and then.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she cried, “you understand us no better than an Austrian. He handed + in names—yes he was obliged to lull suspicion. Two or three of the + least implicated volunteered to be betrayed by him; they went and + confessed, and put the Government on a wrong track. Count Branciani made a + dish of traitors—not true men—to satisfy the Austrian ogre. No + one knew the head of the plot till that night of the spy. Do you not see?—he + weeded the conspiracy!” + </p> + <p> + “Poor fellow!” Wilfrid answered, with a contracted mouth: “I pity him for + being cut off from his handsome wife.” + </p> + <p> + “I pity her for having to live,” said Emilia. + </p> + <p> + And so their duett dropped to a finish. He liked her phrase better than + his own, and being denied any privileges, and feeling stupefied by a + position which both enticed and stung him, he remarked that he presumed he + must not detain her any longer; whereupon she gave him her hand. He + clutched the ready hand reproachfully. + </p> + <p> + “Good-bye,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “You are the first to say it,” he complained. + </p> + <p> + “Will you write to that Austrian colonel, your cousin, to say 'Never! + never!' to-morrow, Wilfrid?” + </p> + <p> + “While you are in England, I shall stay, be sure of that.” + </p> + <p> + She bade him give her love to all Brookfield. + </p> + <p> + “Once you had none to give but what I let you take back for the purpose!” + he said. “Farewell! I shall see the harp to-night. It stands in the old + place. I will not have it moved or touched till you—” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! how kind you were, Wilfrid!” + </p> + <p> + “And how lovely you are!” + </p> + <p> + There was no struggle to preserve the backs of her fingers from his lips, + and, as this time his phrase was not palpably obscured by the one it + countered, artistic sentiment permitted him to go. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0053" id="link2HCH0053"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LIII + </h2> + <p> + A minute after his parting with Emilia, Wilfrid swung round in the street + and walked back at great strides. “What a fool I was not to see that she + was acting indifference!” he cried. “Let me have two seconds with her!” + But how that was to be contrived his diplomatic brain refused to say. “And + what a stiff, formal fellow I was all the time!” He considered that he had + not uttered a sentence in any way pointed to touch her heart. “She must + think I am still determined to marry that woman.” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid had taken his stand on the opposite side of the street, and beheld + a male figure in the dusk, that went up to the house and then stood back + scanning the windows. Wounded by his audacious irreverence toward the + walls behind which his beloved was sheltered, Wilfrid crossed and stared + at the intruder. It proved to be Braintop. + </p> + <p> + “How do you do, sir!—no! that can't be the house,” stammered + Braintop, with a very earnest scrutiny. + </p> + <p> + “What house? what do you want?” enquired Wilfrid. + </p> + <p> + “Jenkinson,” was the name that won the honour of rescuing Braintop from + this dilemma. + </p> + <p> + “No; it is Lady Gosstre's house: Miss Belloni is living there; and stop: + you know her. Just wait, and take in two or three words from me, and + notice particularly how she is looking, and the dress she wears. You can + say—say that Mrs. Chump sent you to enquire after Miss Belloni's + health.” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid tore a leaf from his pocket-book, and wrote: + </p> + <p> + “I can be free to-morrow. One word! I shall expect it, with your name in + full.” + </p> + <p> + But even in the red heat of passion his born diplomacy withheld his own + signature. It was not difficult to override Braintop's scruples about + presenting himself, and Wilfrid paced a sentinel measure awaiting the + reply. “Free to-morrow,” he repeated, with a glance at his watch under a + lamp: and thus he soliloquized: “What a time that fellow is! Yes, I can be + free to-morrow if I will. I wonder what the deuce Gambier had to do in + Monmouthshire. If he has been playing with my sister's reputation, he + shall have short shrift. That fellow Braintop sees her now—my little + Emilia! my bird! She won't have changed her dress till she has dined. If + she changes it before she goes out—by Jove, if she wears it to-night + before all those people, that'll mean 'Good-bye' to me: 'Addio, caro,' as + those olive women say, with their damned cold languor, when they have + given you up. She's not one of them! Good God! she came into the room + looking like a little Empress. I'll swear her hand trembled when I went, + though! My sisters shall see her in that dress. She must have a clever + lady's maid to have done that knot to her back hair. She's getting as full + of art as any of them—Oh! lovely little darling! And when she smiles + and holds out her hand! What is it—what is it about her? Her upper + lip isn't perfectly cut, there's some fault with her nose, but I never saw + such a mouth, or such a face. 'Free to-morrow?' Good God! she'll think I + mean I'm free to take a walk!” + </p> + <p> + At this view of the ghastly shortcoming of his letter as regards + distinctness, and the prosaic misinterpretation it was open to, Wilfrid + called his inventive wits to aid, and ran swiftly to the end of the + street. He had become—as like unto a lunatic as resemblance can + approach identity. Commanding the length of the pavement for an instant, + to be sure that no Braintop was in sight, he ran down a lateral street, + but the stationer's shop he was in search of beamed nowhere visible for + him, and he returned at the same pace to experience despair at the thought + that he might have missed Braintop issuing forth, for whom he scoured the + immediate neighbourhood, and overhauled not a few quiet gentlemen of all + ages. “An envelope!” That was the object of his desire, and for that he + wooed a damsel passing jauntily with a jug in her hand, first telling her + that he knew her name was Mary, at which singular piece of divination she + betrayed much natural astonishment. But a fine round silver coin and an + urgent request for an envelope, told her as plainly as a blank confession + that this was a lover. She informed him that she lived three streets off, + where there were shops. “Well, then,” said Wilfrid, “bring me the envelope + here, and you'll have another opportunity of looking down the area.” + </p> + <p> + “Think of yourself,” replied she, saucily; but proved a diligent + messenger. Then Wilfrid wrote on a fresh slip: + </p> + <p> + “When I said 'Free,' I meant free in heart and without a single chain to + keep me from you. From any moment that you please, I am free. This is + written in the dark.” + </p> + <p> + He closed the envelope, and wrote Emilia's name and the address as black + as his pencil could achieve it, and with a smart double-knock he deposited + the missive in the box. From his station opposite he guessed the instant + when it was taken out, and from that judged when she would be reading it. + Or perhaps she would not read it till she was alone? “That must be her + bedroom,” he said, looking for a light in one of the upper windows; but + the voice of a fellow who went by with: “I should keep that to myself, if + I was you,” warned him to be more discreet. + </p> + <p> + “Well, here I am. I can't leave the street,” quoth Wilfrid, to the stock + of philosophy at his disposal. He burned with rage to think of how he + might be exhibiting himself before Powys and his sister. + </p> + <p> + It was half-past nine when a carriage drove up to the door. Into this Mr. + Powys presently handed Georgiana and Emilia. Braintop followed the ladies, + and then the coachman received his instructions and drove away. Forthwith + Wilfrid started in pursuit. He calculated that if his wind held till he + could jump into a light cab, his legitimate prey Braintop might be caught. + For, “they can't be taking him to any party with them!” he chose to think, + and it was a fair calculation that they were simply conducting Braintop + part of his way home. The run was pretty swift. Wilfrid's blood was fired + by the pace, until, forgetting the traitor Braintop, up rose Truth from + the bottom of the well in him, and he felt that his sole desire was to see + Emilia once more—but once! that night. Running hard, in the midst of + obstacles, and with eye and mind fined on one object, disasters befell + him. He knocked apples off a stall, and heard vehement hallooing behind: + he came into collision with a gentleman of middle age courting digestion + as he walked from his trusty dinner at home to his rubber at the Club: + finally he rushed full tilt against a pot-boy who was bringing all his + pots broadside to the flow of the street. “By Jove! is this what they + drink?” he gasped, and dabbed with his handkerchief at the beer-splashes, + breathlessly hailing the looked-for cab, and, with hot brow and + straightened-out forefinger, telling the driver to keep that carriage in + sight. The pot-boy had to be satisfied on his master's account, and then + on his own, and away shot Wilfrid, wet with beer from throat to knee—to + his chief protesting sense, nothing but an exhalation of beer! “Is this + what they drink?” he groaned, thinking lamentably of the tastes of the + populace. All idea of going near Emilia was now abandoned. An outward + application of beer quenched his frenzy. She seemed as an unattainable + star seen from the depths of foul pits. “Stop!” he cried from the window. + </p> + <p> + “Here we are, sir,” said the cabman. + </p> + <p> + The carriage had drawn up, and a footman's alarum awakened one of the + houses. The wretched cabman had likewise drawn up right under the windows + of the carriage. Wilfrid could have pulled the trigger of a pistol at his + forehead that moment. He saw that Miss Ford had recognized him, and he at + once bowed elegantly. She dropped the window, and said, “You are in + evening dress, I think; we will take you in with us.” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid hoped eagerly he might be allowed to hand them to the door, and + made three skips across the mire. Emilia had her hands gathered away from + the chances of seizure. In wild rage he began protesting that he could not + possibly enter, when Georgiana said, “I wish to speak to you,” and put + feminine pressure upon him. He was almost on the verge of the word “beer,” + by way of despairing explanation, when the door closed behind him. + </p> + <p> + “Permit me to say a word to your recent companion. He is my father's + clerk. I had to see him on urgent business; that is why I took this + liberty,” he said, and retreated. + </p> + <p> + Braintop was still there, quietly posted, performing upon his head with a + pocket hair-brush. + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid put Braintop's back to the light, and said, “Is my shirt soiled?” + </p> + <p> + After a short inspection, Braintop pronounced that it was, “just a + little.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you smell anything?” said Wilfrid, and hung with frightful suspense on + the verdict. “A fellow upset beer on me.” + </p> + <p> + “It is beer!” sniffed Braintop. + </p> + <p> + “What on earth shall I do?” was the rejoinder; and Wilfrid tried to + remember whether he had felt any sacred joy in touching Emilia's dress as + they went up the steps to the door. + </p> + <p> + Braintop fumbled in the breast-pocket of his coat. “I happen to have,” he + said, rather shamefacedly. + </p> + <p> + “What is it?” + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Chump gave it to me to-day. She always makes me accept something: I + can't refuse. It's this:—the remains of some scent she insisted on + my taking, in a bottle.” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid plucked at the stopper with a reckless desperation, saturated his + handkerchief, and worked at his breast as if he were driving a lusty + dagger into it. + </p> + <p> + “What scent is it?” he asked hurriedly. + </p> + <p> + “Alderman's Bouquet, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Of all the detestable!—-” Wilfrid had no time for more, owing to + fresh arrivals. He hastened in, with his smiling, wary face, half trusting + that there might after all be purification in Alderman's Bouquet, and + promising heaven due gratitude if Emilia's senses discerned not the curse + on him. In the hall a gust from the great opening contention between + Alderman's Bouquet and bad beer, stifled his sickly hope. Frantic, but + under perfect self-command outwardly, he glanced to right and left, for + the suggestion of a means of escape. They were seven steps up the stairs + before his wits prompted him to say to Georgiana, “I have just heard very + serious news from home. I fear—” + </p> + <p> + “What?—or, pardon me: does it call you away?” she asked, and Emilia + gave him a steady look. + </p> + <p> + “I fear I cannot remain here. Will you excuse me?” + </p> + <p> + His face spoke plainly now of mental torture repressed. Georgiana put her + hand out in full sympathy, and Emilia said, in her deep whisper, “Let me + hear to-morrow.” Then they bowed. Wilfrid was in the street again. + </p> + <p> + “Thank God, I've seen her!” was his first thought, overhearing “What did + she think of me?” as he sighed with relief at his escape. For, lo! the + Branciani dress was not on her shoulders, and therefore he might imagine + what he pleased:—that she had arrayed herself so during the day to + delight his eyes; or that, he having seen her in it, she had determined + none others should. Though feeling utterly humiliated, he was yet happy. + Driving to the station, he perceived starlight overhead, and blessed it; + while his hand waved busily to conduct a current of fresh, oblivious air + to his nostrils. The quiet heavens seemed all crowding to look down on the + quiet circle of the firs, where Emilia's harp had first been heard by him, + and they took her music, charming his blood with imagined harmonies, as he + looked up to them. Thus all the way to Brookfield his fancy soared, + plucked at from below by Alderman's Bouquet. + </p> + <p> + The Philosopher, up to this point rigidly excluded, rushes forward to the + footlights to explain in a note, that Wilfrid, thus setting a perfume to + contend with a stench, instead of wasting for time, change of raiment, and + the broad lusty airs of heaven to blow him fresh again, symbolizes the + vice of Sentimentalism, and what it is always doing. Enough! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0054" id="link2HCH0054"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LIV + </h2> + <p> + “Let me hear to-morrow.” Wilfrid repeated Emilia's petition in the tone + she had used, and sent a delight through his veins even with that clumsy + effort of imitation. He walked from the railway to Brookfield through the + circle of firs, thinking of some serious tale of home to invent for her + ears to-morrow. Whatever it was, he was able to conclude it—“But + all's right now.” He noticed that the dwarf pine, under whose spreading + head his darling sat when he saw her first, had been cut down. Its absence + gave him an ominous chill. + </p> + <p> + The first sight that saluted him as the door opened, was a pile of Mrs. + Chump's boxes: he listened, and her voice resounded from the library. + Gainsford's eye expressed a discretion significant that there had been an + explosion in the house. + </p> + <p> + “I sha'nt have to invent much,” said Wilfrid to himself, bitterly. + </p> + <p> + There was a momentary appearance of Adela at the library-door; and over + her shoulder came an outcry from Mrs. Chump. Arabella then spoke: Mr. Pole + and Cornelia following with a word, to which Mrs. Chump responded shrilly: + “Ye shan't talk to 'm, none of ye, till I've had the bloom of his ear, + now!” A confused hubbub of English and Irish ensued. The ladies drew their + brother into the library. + </p> + <p> + Doubtless you have seen a favourite sketch of the imaginative youthful + artist, who delights to portray scenes on a raft amid the tossing waters, + where sweet and satiny ladies, in a pardonable abandonment to the + exigencies of the occasion, are exhibiting the full energy and activity of + creatures that existed before sentiment was born. The ladies of Brookfield + had almost as utterly cast off their garb of lofty reserve and inscrutable + superiority. They were begging Mrs. Chump to be, for pity's sake, silent. + They were arguing with the woman. They were remonstrating—to such an + extent as this, in reply to an infamous outburst: “No, no: indeed, Mrs. + Chump, indeed!” They rose, as she rose, and stood about her, motioning a + beseeching emphasis with their hands. Not visible for one second was the + intense indignation at their fate which Wilfrid, spying keenly into them, + perceived. This taught him that the occasion was as grave as could be. In + spite of the oily words his father threw from time to time abruptly on the + tumult, he guessed what had happened. + </p> + <p> + Briefly, Mrs. Chump, aided by Braintop, her squire, had at last hunted Mr. + Pericles down, and the wrathful Greek had called her a beggar. With + devilish malice he had reproached her for speculating in such and such + Bonds, and sending ventures to this and that hemisphere, laughing + infernally as he watched her growing amazement. “Ye're jokin', Mr. + Paricles,” she tried to say and think; but the very naming of poverty had + given her shivers. She told him how she had come to him because of Mr. + Pole's reproach, which accused her of causing the rupture. Mr. Pericles + twisted the waxy points of his moustache. “I shall advise you, go home,” + he said; “go to a lawyer: say, 'I will see my affairs, how zey stand.' Ze + man will find Pole is ruined. It may be—I do not know—Pole has + left a little of your money; yes, ma'am, it may be.” + </p> + <p> + The end of the interview saw Mrs. Chump flying past Mr. Pericles to where + Braintop stood awaiting her with a meditative speculation on that official + promotion which in his attention to the lady he anticipated. It need + scarcely be remarked that he was astonished to receive a scent-bottle on + the spot, as the only reward his meritorious service was probably destined + ever to meet with. Breathless in her panic, Mrs. Chump assured him she was + a howling beggar, and the smell of a scent was like a crool blow to her; + above all, the smell of Alderman's Bouquet, which Chump—“tell'n a + lie, ye know, Mr. Braintop, said was after him. And I, smell'n at 't over + 'n Ireland—a raw garl I was—I just thought 'm a prince, the + little sly fella! And oh! I'm a beggar, I am!” With which, she shouted in + the street, and put Braintop to such confusion that he hailed a cab + recklessly, declaring to her she had no time to lose, if she wished to + catch the train. Mrs. Chump requested the cabman that as a man possessed + of a feeling heart for the interests of a helpless woman, he would drive + fast; and, at the station, disputed his charge on the ground of the + knowledge already imparted to him of her precarious financial state. In + this frame of mind she fell upon Brookfield, and there was clamour in the + house. Wilfrid arrived two hours after Mrs. Chump. For that space the + ladies had been saying over and over again empty words to pacify her. The + task now devolved on their brother. Mr. Pole, though he had betrayed + nothing under the excitement of the sudden shock, had lost the proper + control of his mask. Wilfrid commenced by fixedly listening to Mrs. Chump + until for the third time her breath had gone. Then, taking on a smile, he + said: “Perhaps you are aware that Mr. Pericles has a particular reason for + animosity tome. We've disagreed together, that's all. I suppose it's the + habit of those fellows to attack a whole family where one member of it + offends them.” As soon as the meaning of this was made clear to Mrs. + Chump, she caught it to her bosom for comfort; and finding it gave less + than at the moment she required, she flung it away altogether; and then + moaned, a suppliant, for it once more. “The only thing, if you are in a + state of alarm about my father's affairs, is for him to show you by his + books that his house is firm,” said Wilfrid, now that he had so far helped + to eject suspicion from her mind. + </p> + <p> + “Will Pole do ut?” ejaculated Mrs. Chump, half off her seat. + </p> + <p> + “Of course I will—of course! of course. Haven't I told you so?” said + Mr. Pole, blinking mightily from his armchair over the fire. “Sit down, + Martha.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! but how'll I understand ye, Pole?” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “I'll do my best to assist in explaining,” Wilfrid condescended to say. + </p> + <p> + The ladies were touched when Mrs. Chump replied, with something of a + curtsey, “I'll thank ye vary much, sir.” She added immediately, “Mr. + Wilfrud,” as if correcting the 'sir,' for sounding cold. + </p> + <p> + It was so trustful and simple, that it threw alight on the woman under + which they had not yet beheld her. Compassion began to stir in their + bosoms, and with it an inexplicable sense of shame, which soon threw any + power of compassion into the background. They dared not ask themselves + whether it was true that their father had risked the poor thing's money in + some desperate stake. What hopeful force was left to them they devoted to + her property, and Adela determined to pray that night for its safe + preservation. The secret feeling in the hearts of the ladies was, that in + putting them on their trial with poverty, Celestial Powers would never at + the same time think it necessary to add disgrace. Consequently, and as a + defence against the darker dread, they now, for the first time, fully + believed that monetary ruin had befallen their father. They were civil to + Mrs. Chump, and forgiving toward her brogue, and her naked outcries of + complaint and suddenly—suggested panic; but their pity, save when + some odd turn in her conduct moved them, was reserved dutifully for their + father. His wretched sensations at the pouring of a storm of tears from + the exhausted creature, caused Arabella to rise and say to Mrs. Chump + kindly, “Now let me take you to bed.” + </p> + <p> + But such a novel mark of tender civility caused the woman to exclaim: “Oh, + dear! if ye don't sound like wheedlin' to keep me blind.” + </p> + <p> + Even this was borne with. “Come; it will do you good to rest,” said + Arabella. + </p> + <p> + “And how'll I sleep?” + </p> + <p> + “By shutting my eye—'peeps,'—as I used to tell my old nurse,” + said Adela; and Mrs. Chump, accustomed to an occasional (though not + public) bit of wheedling from her, was partially reassured. + </p> + <p> + “I'll sit with you till you do sleep,” said Arabella. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose,” Mrs. Chump moaned, “suppose I'm too poor aver to repay ye? If + I'm a bankrup'?—oh!” + </p> + <p> + Arabella smiled. “Whatever I may do is certainly not done for a + remuneration, and such a service as this, at least, you need not speak + of.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Chump's evident surprise, and doubt of the honesty of the change in + her manner, caused Arabella very acutely to feel its dishonesty. She + looked at Cornelia with envy. The latter lady was leaning meditatively, + her arm on a side of her chair, like a pensive queen, with a ready, mild, + embracing look for the company. 'Posture' seemed always to triumph over + action. + </p> + <p> + Before quitting the room, Mrs. Chump asked Mr. Pole whether he would be up + early the next morning. + </p> + <p> + “Very early,—you beat me, if you can,” said he, aware that the + question was put as a test to his sincerity. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear! Suppose it's onnly a false alarrm of the 'bomunable Mr. + Paricles—which annybody'd have listened to—ye know that!” said + Mrs. Chump, going forth. + </p> + <p> + She stopped in the doorway, and turned her head round, sniffing, in a very + pronounced way. “Oh, it's you,” she flashed on Wilfrid; “it's you, my + dear, that smell so like poor Chump. Oh! if we're not rooned, won't we + dine together! Just give me a kiss, please. The smell of ye's comfortin'.” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid bent his cheek forward, affecting to laugh, though the subject was + tragic to him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! perhaps I'll sleep, and not look in the mornin' like that beastly + tallow, Mr. Paricles says I spent such a lot of money on, speculator—whew, + I hate ut!—and hemp too! Me!—Martha Chump! Do I want to hang + myself, and burn forty thousand pounds worth o' candles round my corpse + danglin' there? Now, there, now! Is that sense? And what'd Pole want to + buy me all that grease for? And where'd I keep ut, I'll ask ye? And sure + they wouldn't make me a bankrup' on such a pretence as that. For, where's + the Judge that's got the heart?” + </p> + <p> + Having apparently satisfied her reason with these interrogations, Mrs. + Chump departed, shaking her head at Wilfrid: “Ye smile so nice, ye do!” by + the way. Cornelia and Adela then rose, and Wilfrid was left alone with his + father. + </p> + <p> + It was natural that he should expect the moment for entire confidence + between them to have come. He crossed his legs, leaning over the + fireplace, and waited. The old man perceived him, and made certain humming + sounds, as of preparation. Wilfrid was half tempted to think he wanted + assistance, and signified attention; upon which Mr. Pole became + immediately absorbed in profound thought. + </p> + <p> + “Singular it is, you know,” he said at last, with a candid air, “people + who know nothing about business have the oddest ideas—no common + sense in 'em!” + </p> + <p> + After that he fell dead silent. + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid knew that it would be hard for him to speak. To encourage him, he + said: “You mean Mrs. Chump, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! silly woman—absurd! No, I mean all of you; every man Jack, as + Martha'd say. You seem to think—but, well! there! let's go to bed.” + </p> + <p> + “To bed?” cried Wilfrid, frowning. + </p> + <p> + “Why, when it's two or three o'clock in the morning, what's an old fellow + to do? My feet are cold, and I'm queer in the back—can't talk! Light + my candle, young gentleman—my candle there, don't you see it? And + you look none of the freshest. A nap on your pillow'll do you no harm.” + </p> + <p> + “I wanted to talk to you a little, sir,” said Wilfrid, about as much + perplexed as he was irritated. + </p> + <p> + “Now, no talk of bankers' books to-night!” rejoined his father. “I can't + and won't. No cheques written 'tween night and morning. That's positive. + There! there's two fingers. Shall have three to-morrow morning—a pen + in 'em, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + With which wretched pleasantry the little merchant nodded to his son, and + snatching up his candle, trotted to the door. + </p> + <p> + “By the way, give a look round my room upstairs, to see all right when + you're going to turn in yourself,” he said, before disappearing. + </p> + <p> + The two fingers given him by his father to shake at parting, had told + Wilfrid more than the words. And yet how small were these troubles around + him compared with what he himself was suffering! He looked forward to the + bittersweet hour verging upon dawn, when he should be writing to Emilia + things to melt the vilest obduracy. The excitement which had greeted him + on his arrival at Brookfield was to be thanked for its having made him + partially forget his humiliation. He had, of course, sufficient rational + feeling to be chagrined by calamity, but his dominant passion sucked + sustaining juices from every passing event. + </p> + <p> + In obedience to his father's request, Wilfrid went presently into the old + man's bedroom, to see that all was right. The curtains of the bed were + drawn close, and the fire in the grate burnt steadily. Calm sleep seemed + to fill the chamber. Wilfrid was retiring, with a revived anger at his + father's want of natural confidence in him, or cowardly secresy. His name + was called, and he stopped short. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Door's shut?” + </p> + <p> + “Shut fast.” + </p> + <p> + The voice, buried in curtains, came after a struggle. + </p> + <p> + “You've done this, Wilfrid. Now, don't answer:—I can't stand talk. + And you must undo it. Pericles can if he likes. That's enough for you to + know. He can. He won't see me. You know why. If he breaks with me—it's + a common case in any business—I'm... we're involved together.” Then + followed a deep sigh. The usual crisp brisk way of his speaking was + resumed in hollow tones: “You must stop it. Now, don't answer. Go to + Pericles to-morrow. You must. Nothing wrong, if you go at once.” + </p> + <p> + “But, Sir! Good heaven!” interposed Wilfrid, horrified by the thought of + the penance here indicated. + </p> + <p> + The bed shook violently. + </p> + <p> + “If not,” was uttered with a sort of muted vehemence, “there's another + thing you can do. Go to the undertaker's, and order coffins for us all. + There—good night!” + </p> + <p> + The bed shook again. Wilfrid stood eyeing the mysterious hangings, as if + some dark oracle had spoken from behind them. In fear of irritating the + old man, and almost as much in fear of bringing on himself a revelation of + the frightful crisis that could only be averted by his apologizing + personally to the man he had struck, Wilfrid stole from the room. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0055" id="link2HCH0055"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LV + </h2> + <p> + There is a man among our actors here who may not be known to you. It had + become the habit of Sir Purcell Barren's mind to behold himself as under a + peculiarly malign shadow. Very young men do the same, if they are much + afflicted: but this is because they are still boys enough to have the + natural sense to be ashamed of ill-luck, even when they lack courage to + struggle against it. The reproaching of Providence by a man of full + growth, comes to some extent from his meanness, and chiefly from his + pride. He remembers that the old Gods selected great heroes whom to + persecute, and it is his compensation for material losses to conceive + himself a distinguished mark for the Powers of air. One who wraps himself + in this delusion may have great qualities; he cannot be of a very + contemptible nature; and in this place we will discriminate more closely + than to call him fool. Had Sir Purcell sunk or bent under the thong that + pursued him, he might, after a little healthy moaning, have gone along as + others do. Who knows?—though a much persecuted man, he might have + become so degraded as to have looked forward with cheerfulness to his + daily dinner; still despising, if he pleased, the soul that would invent a + sauce. I mean to say, he would, like the larger body of our + sentimentalists, have acquiesced in our simple humanity, but without + sacrificing a scruple to its grossness, or going arm-in-arm with it by any + means. Sir Purcell, however, never sank, and never bent. He was invariably + erect before men, and he did not console himself with a murmur in secret. + He had lived much alone; eating alone; thinking alone. To complain of a + father is, to a delicate mind, a delicate matter, and Sir Purcell was a + gentleman to all about him. His chief affliction in his youth, therefore, + kept him dumb. A gentleman to all about him, he unhappily forgot what was + due to his own nature. Must we not speak under pressure of a grief? Little + people should know that they must: but then the primary task is to teach + them that they are little people. For, if they repress the outcry of a + constant irritation, and the complaint against injustice, they lock up a + feeding devil in their hearts, and they must have vast strength to crush + him there. Strength they must have to kill him, and freshness of spirit to + live without him, after he has once entertained them with his most + comforting discourses. Have you listened to him, ever? He does this:—he + plays to you your music (it is he who first teaches thousands that they + have any music at all, so guess what a dear devil he is!); and when he has + played this ravishing melody, he falls to upon a burlesque contrast of + hurdy-gurdy and bag-pipe squeal and bellow and drone, which is meant for + the music of the world. How far sweeter was yours! This charming devil Sir + Purcell had nursed from childhood. + </p> + <p> + As a child, between a flighty mother and a father verging to insanity from + caprice, he had grown up with ideas of filial duty perplexed, and with a + fitful love for either, that was not attachment: a baffled natural love, + that in teaching us to brood on the hardness of our lot, lays the + foundation for a perniciously mystical self-love. He had waged + precociously philosophic, when still a junior. His father had kept him by + his side, giving him no profession beyond that of the obedient expectant + son and heir. His first allusion to the youth's dependency had provoked + their first breach, which had been widened by many an ostentatious + forgiveness on the one hand, and a dumbly-protesting submission on the + other. His mother died away from her husband's roof. The old man then + sought to obliterate her utterly. She left her boy a little money, and the + injunction of his father was, that he was never to touch it. He inherited + his taste for music from her, and his father vowed, that if ever he laid + hand upon a musical instrument again, he would be disinherited. All these + signs of a vehement spiteful antagonism to reason, the young man might + have treated more as his father's misfortune than his own, if he could + only have brought himself to acknowledge that such a thing as madness + stigmatized his family. But the sentimental mind conceived it as + 'monstrous impiety' to bring this accusation against a parent who did not + break windows, or grin to deformity. He behaved toward him as to a + reasonable person, and felt the rebellious rancour instead of the pity. + Thus sentiment came in the way of pity. By degrees, Sir Purcell + transferred all his father's madness to the Fates by whom he was + persecuted. There was evidently madness somewhere, as his shuddering human + nature told him. It did not offend his sentiment to charge this upon the + order of the universe. + </p> + <p> + Against such a wild-hitting madness, or concentrated ire of the superior + Powers, Sir Purcell stood up, taking blow upon blow. As organist of + Hillford Church, he brushed his garments, and put a polish on his apparel, + with an energetic humility that looked like unconquerable patience; as + though he had said: “While life is left in me, I will be seen for what I + am.” We will vary it—“For what I think myself.” In reality, he + fought no battle. He had been dead-beaten from his boyhood. Like the old + Spanish Governor, the walls of whose fortress had been thrown down by an + earthquake, and who painted streets to deceive the enemy, he was rendered + safe enough by his astuteness, except against a traitor from within. + </p> + <p> + One who goes on doggedly enduring, doggedly doing his best, must subsist + on comfort of a kind that is likely to be black comfort. The mere piping + of the musical devil shall not suffice. In Sir Purcell's case, it had long + seemed a magnanimity to him that he should hold to a life so vindictively + scourged, and his comfort was that he had it at his own disposal. To know + so much, to suffer, and still to refrain, flattered his pride. “The term + of my misery is in my hand,” he said, softened by the reflection. It is + our lowest philosophy. + </p> + <p> + But, when the heart of a man so fashioned is stirred to love a woman, it + has a new vital force, new health, and cannot play these solemn pranks. + The flesh, and all its fatality, claims him. When Sir Purcell became + acquainted with Cornelia, he found the very woman his heart desired, or + certainly a most admirable picture of her. It was, perhaps, still more to + the lady's credit, if she was only striving to be what he was learning to + worship. The beneficial change wrought in him, made him enamoured of + healthy thinking and doing. Had this, as a result of sharp mental + overhauling, sprung from himself, there would have been hope for him. + Unhappily, it was dependent on her who inspired it. He resolved that life + should be put on a fresh trial in her person; and expecting that naturally + to fail, of which he had always entertained a base conception, he was + perforce brought to endow her with unexampled virtues, in order to keep + any degree of confidence tolerably steadfast in his mind. The lady + accepted the decorations thus bestowed on her, with much grace and + willingness. She consented, little aware of her heroism, to shine forth as + an 'ideal;' and to this he wantonly pinned his faith. Alas! in our world, + where all things must move, it becomes, by-and-by, manifest that an + 'ideal,' or idol, which you will, has not been gifted with two legs. What + is, then, the duty of the worshipper? To make, as I should say, some + compromise between his superstitious reverence and his recognition of + facts. Cornelia, on her pedestal, could not prefer such a request plainly; + but it would have afforded her exceeding gratification, if the man who + adored her had quietly taken her up and fixed her in a fresh post, of his + own choosing entirely, in the new circles of changeing events. Far from + doing that, he appeared to be unaware that they went, with the varying + days, through circles, forming and reforming. He walked rather as a man + down a lengthened corridor, whose light to which he turns is in one + favourite corner, visible till he reaches the end. What Cornelia was, in + the first flaming of his imagination around her, she was always, + unaffected by circumstance, to remain. It was very hard. The 'ideal' did + feel the want—if not of legs—of a certain tolerant allowance + for human laws on the part of her worshipper; but he was remorselessly + reverential, both by instinct and of necessity. Women are never quite so + mad in sentimentalism as men. + </p> + <p> + We have now looked into the hazy interior of their systems—our last + halt, I believe, and last examination of machinery, before Emilia quits + England. + </p> + <p> + About the time of the pairing of the birds, and subsequent to the + Brookfield explosion, Cornelia received a letter from her lover, bearing + the tone of a summons. She was to meet him by the decayed sallow—the + 'fruitless tree,' as he termed it. Startled by this abruptness, her + difficulties made her take counsel of her dignity. “He knows that these + clandestine meetings degrade me. He is wanting in faith, to require + constant assurances. He will not understand my position!” She remembered + the day at Besworth, of which Adela (somewhat needlessly, perhaps) had + told her; that it had revealed two of the family, in situations censurable + before a gossiping world, however intrinsically blameless. That day had + been to the ladies a lesson of deference to opinion. It was true that + Cornelia had met her lover since, but she was then unembarrassed. She had + now to share in the duties of the household—duties abnormal, + hideous, incredible. Her incomprehensible father was absent in town. Daily + Wilfrid conducted Adela thither on mysterious business, and then Mrs. + Chump was left to Arabella and herself in the lonely house. Numberless + things had to be said for the quieting of this creature, who every morning + came downstairs with the exclamation that she could no longer endure her + state of uncertainty, and was “off to a lawyer.” It was useless to attempt + the posture of a reply. Words, and energetic words, the woman demanded, + not expostulations—petitions that she would be respectful to the + house before the household. Yes, occasionally (so gross was she!) she had + to be fed with lies. Arabella and Cornelia heard one another mouthing + these dreadful things, with a wretched feeling of contemptuous compassion. + The trial was renewed daily, and it was a task, almost a physical task, to + hold the woman back from London, till the hour of lunch came. If they kept + her away from her bonnet till then they were safe. + </p> + <p> + At this meal they had to drink champagne with her. Diplomatic Wilfrid had + issued the order, with the object, first, of dazzling her vision; and + secondly, to set the wheels of her brain in swift motion. The effect was + marvellous; and, had it not been for her determination never to drink + alone, the miserable ladies might have applauded it. Adela, on the rare + days when she was fortunate enough to reach Brookfield in time for dinner, + was surprised to hear her sisters exclaim, “Oh, the hatefulness of that + champagne!” She enjoyed it extremely. She, poor thing, had again to go + through a round of cabs and confectioners' shops in London. “If they had + said, 'Oh, the hatefulness of those buns and cold chickens!'” she thought + to herself. Not objecting to champagne at lunch with any particular + vehemence, she was the less unwilling to tell her sisters what she had to + do for Wilfrid daily. + </p> + <p> + “Three times a week I go to see Emilia at Lady Gosstre's town-house. Mr. + Powys has gone to Italy, and Miss Ford remains, looking, if I can read + her, such a temper. On the other days I am taken by Wilfrid to the + arcades, or we hire a brougham to drive round the park,—for nothing + but the chance of seeing that girl an instant. Don't tell me it's to meet + Lady Charlotte! That lovely and obliging person it is certainly not my + duty to undeceive. She's now at Stornley, and speaks of our affairs to + everybody, I dare say. Twice a week Wilfrid—oh! quite casually!—calls + on Miss Ford, and is gratified, I suppose; for this is the picture:—There + sits Emilia, one finger in her cheek, and the thumb under her chin, and + she keeps looking down so. Opposite is Miss Ford, doing some work—making + lint for patriots, probably. Then Wilfrid, addressing commonplaces to her; + and then Emilia's father—a personage, I assure you! up against the + window, with a violin. I feel a bitter edge on my teeth still! What do you + think he does to please his daughter for one while hour! He draws his + fingers—does nothing else; she won't let him; she won't hear a + tune-up the strings in the most horrible caterwaul, up and down. It is + really like a thousand lunatics questioning and answering, and is enough + to make you mad; but there that girl sits, listening. Exactly in this + attitude—so. She scarcely ever looks up. My brother talks, and + occasionally steals a glance that way. We passed one whole hour as I have + described. In the middle of it, I happened to look at Wilfrid's face, + while the violin was wailing down. I fancied I heard the despair of one of + those huge masks in a pantomime. I was almost choked.” + </p> + <p> + When Adela had related thus much, she had to prevent downright revolt, and + spoil her own game, by stating that Wilfrid did not leave the house for + his special pleasure, and a word, as to the efforts he was making to see + Mr. Pericles, convinced the ladies that his situation was as pitiable as + their own. + </p> + <p> + Cornelia refused to obey her lover's mandate, and wrote briefly. She would + not condescend to allude to the unutterable wretchedness afflicting her, + but spoke of her duty to her father being foremost in her prayers for + strength. Sir Purcell interpreted this as indicating the beginning of + their alienation. He chided her gravely in an otherwise pleasant letter. + She was wrong to base her whole reply upon the little sentence of + reproach, but self-justification was necessary to her spirit. Indeed, an + involuntary comparison of her two suitors was forced on her, and, dry as + was Sir Twickenham's mind, she could not but acknowledge that he had + behaved with an extraordinary courtesy, amounting to chivalry, in his + suit. On two occasions he had declined to let her be pressed to decide. He + came to the house, and went, like an ordinary visitor. She was indebted to + him for that splendid luxury of indecision, which so few of the maids of + earth enjoy for a lengthened term. The rude shakings given her by Sir + Purcell, at a time when she needed all her power of dreaming, to support + the horror of accumulated facts, was almost resented. “He as much as says + he doubts me, when this is what I endure!” she cried to herself, as Mrs. + Chump ordered her champagne-glass to be filled, with “Now, Cornelia, my + dear; if it's bad luck we're in for, there's nothin' cheats ut like + champagne,” and she had to put the (to her) nauseous bubbles to her lips. + Sir Purcell had not been told of her tribulations, and he had not + expressed any doubt of her truth; but sentimentalists can read one another + with peculiar accuracy through their bewitching gauzes. She read his + unwritten doubt, and therefore expected her unwritten misery to be read. + </p> + <p> + So it is when you play at Life! When you will not go straight, you get + into this twisting maze. Now he wrote coldly, and she had to repress a + feeling of resentment at that also. She ascribed the changes of his tone + fundamentally to want of faith in her, and absolutely, during the struggle + she underwent, she by this means somehow strengthened her idea of her own + faithfulness. She would have phrased her projected line of conduct thus: + “I owe every appearance of assent to my poor father's scheme, that will + spare his health. I owe him everything, save the positive sacrifice of my + hand.” In fact, she meant to do her duty to her father up to the last + moment, and then, on the extreme verge, to remember her duty to her lover. + But she could not write it down, and tell her lover as much. She knew + instinctively that, facing the eyes, it would not look well. Perhaps, at + another season, she would have acted and thought with less folly; but the + dull pain of her great uncertainty, and the little stinging whips daily + applied to her, exaggerated her tendency to self-deception. “Who has ever + had to bear so much?—what slave?” she would exclaim, as a refuge + from the edge of his veiled irony. For a slave has, if not selection of + what he will eat and drink, the option of rejecting what is distasteful. + Cornelia had not. She had to act a part every day with Mrs. Chump, while + all those she loved, and respected, and clung to, were in the same + conspiracy. The consolation of hating, or of despising, her tormentress + was denied. The thought that the poor helpless creature had been possibly + ruined by them, chastened Cornelia's reflections mightily, and taught her + to walk very humbly through the duties of the day. Her powers of endurance + were stretched to their utmost. A sublime affliction would, as she felt + bitterly, have enlarged her soul. This sordid misery narrowed it. Why did + not her lover, if his love was passionate, himself cut the knot claim her, + and put her to a quick decision? She conceived that were he to bring on a + supreme crisis, her heart would declare itself. But he appeared to be + wanting in that form of courage. Does it become a beggar to act such + valiant parts? perhaps he was even then replying from his stuffy lodgings. + </p> + <p> + The Spring was putting out primroses,—the first handwriting of the + year,—as Sir Purcell wrote to er prettily. Deire for fresh air, and + the neighbourhood of his beloved, sent him on a journey down to Hillford. + Near the gates of the Hillford station, he passed Wilfrid and Adela, + hurrying to catch the up-train, and received no recognition. His face + scarcely changed colour, but the birds on a sudden seemed to pipe far away + from him. He asked himself, presently, what were those black circular + spots which flew chasing along the meadows and the lighted walks. It was + with an effort that he got the landscape close about his eyes, and + remembered familiar places. He walked all day, making occupation by + directing his steps to divers eminences that gave a view of the Brookfield + chimneys. After night-fall he found himself in the firwood, approaching + the 'fruitless tree.' He had leaned against it musingly, for a time, when + he heard voices, as of a couple confident in their privacy. + </p> + <p> + The footman, Gainsford, was courting a maid of the Tinley's, and here, + being midway between the two houses, they met. He had to obtain pardon for + tardiness, by saying that dinner at Brookfield had been delayed for the + return of Mr. Pole. The damsel's questions showed her far advanced in + knowledge of affairs at Brookfield and may account for Laura Tinley's + gatherings of latest intelligence concerning those 'odd girls,' as she + impudently called the three. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! don't you listen!” was the comment pronounced on Gainsford's stock of + information. But, he told nothing signally new. She wished to hear + something new and striking, “because,” she said, “when I unpin Miss Laura + at night, I'm as likely as not to get a silk dress that ain't been worn + more than half-a-dozen times—if I manage. When I told her that Mr. + Albert, her brother, had dined at your place last Thursday—demeaning + of himself, I do think—there!—I got a pair of silk stockings,—not + letting her see I knew what it was for, of coursed and about Mrs. Dump,—Stump;—I + can't recollect the woman's name; and her calling of your master a + bankrupt, right out, and wanting her money of him,—there! if Miss + Laura didn't give me a pair of lavender kid-gloves out of her box!—and + I wish you would leave my hands alone, when you know I shouldn't be so + silly as to wear them in the dark; and for you, indeed!” + </p> + <p> + But Gainsford persisted, upon which there was fooling. All this was too + childish for Sir Purcell to think it necessary to give warning of his + presence. They passed, and when they had gone a short way the damsel + cried, “Well, that is something,” and stopped. “Married in a month!” she + exclaimed. “And you don't know which one?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” returned Gainsford; “master said 'one of you' as they was at dinner, + just as I come into the room. He was in jolly spirits, and kept going so: + 'What's a month! champagne, Gainsford,' and you should have sees Mrs.—not + Stump, but Chump. She'll be tipsy to-night, and I shall bust if I have to + carry of her upstairs. Well, she is fun!—she don't mind handin' you + a five-shilling piece when she's done tender: but I have nearly lost my + place two or three time along of that woman. She'd split logs with + laughing:—no need of beetle and wedges! 'Och!' she sings out, 'by + the piper!'—and Miss Cornelia sitting there—and, 'Arrah!'—bother + the woman's Irish,” (thus Gainsford gave up the effort at imitation, with + a spirited Briton's mild contempt for what he could not do) “she pointed + out Miss Cornelia and said she was like the tinker's dog:—there's + the bone he wants himself, and the bone he don't want anybody else to + have. Aha! ain't it good?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! the tinker's dog! won't I remember that!” said the damsel, “she can't + be such a fool.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't know,” Gainsford meditated critically. “She is; and yet she + ain't, if you understand me. What I feel about her is—hang it! she + makes ye laugh.” + </p> + <p> + Sir Purcell moved from the shadow of the tree as noiselessly as he could, + so that this enamoured couple might not be disturbed. He had already heard + more than he quite excused himself for hearing in such a manner, and + having decided not to arrest the man and make him relate exactly what Mr. + Pole had spoken that evening at the Brookfield dinner-table, he hurried on + his return to town. + </p> + <p> + It was not till he had sight of his poor home; the solitary company of + chairs; the sofa looking bony and comfortless as an old female house + drudge; the table with his desk on it; and, through folding-doors, his + cold and narrow bed; not till then did the fact of his great loss stand + before him, and accuse him of living. He seated himself methodically and + wrote to Cornelia. His fancy pictured her now as sharp to every turn of + language and fall of periods: and to satisfy his imagined, rigorous + critic, he wrote much in the style of a newspaper leading article. No one + would have thought that tragic meaning underlay those choice and sounding + phrases. On reperusing the composition, he rejected it, but only to + produce one of a similar cast. He could not get to nature in his tone. He + spoke aloud a little sentence now and then, that had the ring of a + despairing tenderness. Nothing of the sort inhabited his written words, + wherein a strained philosophy and ironic resignation went on stilts. “I + should desire to see you once before I take a step that some have not + considered more than commonly serious,” came toward the conclusion; and + the idea was toyed with till he signed his name. “A plunge into the deep + is of little moment to one who has been stripped of all clothing. Is he + not a wretch who stands and shivers still?” This letter, ending with a + short and not imperious, or even urgent, request for an interview, on the + morrow by the 'fruitless tree,' he sealed for delivery into Cornelia's + hands some hours before the time appointed. He then wrote a clear business + letter to his lawyer, and one of studied ambiguity to a cousin on his + mother's side. His father's brother, Percival Barrett, to whom the estates + had gone, had offered him an annuity of five hundred pounds: “though he + had, as his nephew was aware, a large family.” Sir Purcell had replied: + “Let me be the first to consider your family,” rejecting the benevolence. + He now addressed his cousin, saying: “What would you think of one who + accepts such a gift?—of me, were you to hear that I had bowed my + head and extended my hand? Think this, if ever you hear of it: that I have + acceded for the sake of winning the highest prize humanity can bestow: + that I certainly would not have done it for aught less than the highest.” + After that he went to his narrow bed. His determination was to write to + his uncle, swallowing bitter pride, and to live a pensioner, if only + Cornelia came to her tryst, “the last he would ask of her,” as he told + her. Once face to face with his beloved, he had no doubt of his power; and + this feeling which he knew her to share, made her reluctance to meet him + more darkly suspicious. + </p> + <p> + As he lay in the little black room, he thought of how she would look when + a bride, and of the peerless beauty towering over any shades of + earthliness which she would present. His heated fancy conjured up every + device and charm of sacredness and adoring rapture about that white veiled + shape, until her march to the altar assumed the character of a religious + procession—a sight to awe mankind! And where, when she stood before + the minister in her saintly humility, grave and white, and tall—where + was the man whose heart was now racing for that goal at her right hand? He + felt at the troubled heart and touched two fingers on the rib, + mock-quietingly, and smiled. Then with great deliberation he rose, lit a + candle, unlocked a case of pocket-pistols, and loaded them: but a second + idea coming into his head, he drew the bullet out of one, and lay down + again with a luxurious speculation on the choice any hand might possibly + make of the life-sparing or death-giving of those two weapons. In his neat + half-slumber he was twice startled by a report of fire-arms in a church, + when a crowd of veiled women and masked men rushed to the opening, and a + woman throwing up the veil from her face knelt to a corpse that she lifted + without effort, and weeping, laid it in a grave, where it rested and was + at peace, though multitudes hurried over it, and new stars came and went, + and the winds were strange with new tongues. The sleeper saw the morning + upon that corpse when light struck his eyelids, and he awoke like a man + who knew no care. + </p> + <p> + His landlady's little female scrubber was working at the grate in his + sitting-room. He had endured many a struggle to prevent service of this + nature being done for him by one of the sex—at least, to prevent it + within his hearing and sight. He called to her to desist; but she replied + that she had her mistress's orders. Thereupon he maintained that the grate + did not want scrubbing. The girl took this to be a matter of opinion, not + a challenge to controversy, and continued her work in silence. Irritated + by the noise, but anxious not to seem harsh, he said: “What on earth are + you about, when there was no fire there yesterday?” + </p> + <p> + “There ain't no stuff for afire now, sir,” said she. + </p> + <p> + “I tell you I did not light it.” + </p> + <p> + “It's been and lit itself then,” she mumbled. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean to say you found the fire burnt out, when you entered the + room this morning?” + </p> + <p> + She answered that she had found it so, and lots of burnt paper lying + about. + </p> + <p> + The symbolism of this fire burnt out, that had warmed and cheered none, + oppressed his fancy, and he left the small maid-of-all-work to triumph + with black-lead and brushes. + </p> + <p> + She sang out, when she had done: “If you please, sir, missus have had a + hamper up from the country, and would you like a country aig, which is + quite fresh, and new lay. And missus say, she can't trust the bloaters + about here bein' Yarmouth, but there's a soft roe in one she've squeezed; + and am I to stop a water-cress woman, when the last one sold you them, and + all the leaves jellied behind 'em, so as no washin' could save you from + swallowin' some, missus say?” + </p> + <p> + Sir Purcell rolled over on his side. “Is this going to be my epitaph?” he + groaned; for he was not a man particular in his diet, or exacting in + choice of roes, or panting for freshness in an egg. He wondered what his + landlady could mean by sending up to him, that morning of all others, to + tempt his appetite after her fashion. “I thought I remembered eating + nothing but toast in this place;” he observed to himself. A grunting + answer had to be given to the little maid, “Toast as usual.” She appeared + satisfied, but returned again, when he was in his bath, to ask whether he + had said “No toast to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “Toast till the day of my death—tell your mistress that!” he + replied; and partly from shame at his unaccountable vehemence, he paused + in his sponging, meditated, and chilled. An association of toast with + spectral things grew in his mind, when presently the girl's voice was + heard: “Please, sir, did say you'd have toast, or not, this morning?” It + cost him an effort to answer simply, “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + That she should continue, “Not sir?” appeared like perversity. “No aig?” + was maddening. + </p> + <p> + “Well, no; never mind it this morning,” said he. + </p> + <p> + “Not this morning,” she repeated. + </p> + <p> + “Then it will not be till the day of your death, as you said,” she is + thinking that, was the idea running in his brain, and he was half ready to + cry out “Stop,” and renew his order for toast, that he might seem + consecutive. The childishness of the wish made him ask himself what it + mattered. “I said 'Not till the day;' so, none to-day would mean that I + have reached the day.” Shivering with the wet on his pallid skin, he + thought this over. + </p> + <p> + His landlady had used her discretion, and there was toast on the table. A + beam of Spring's morning sunlight illuminated the toast-rack. He sat, and + ate, and munched the doubt whether “not till” included the final day, or + stopped short of it. By this the state of his brain may be conceived. A + longing for beauty, and a dark sense of an incapacity to thoroughly enjoy + it, tormented him. He sent for his landlady's canary, and the ready shrill + song of the bird persuaded him that much of the charm of music is wilfully + swelled by ourselves, and can be by ourselves withdrawn: that is to say, + the great chasm and spell of sweet sounds is assisted by the force of our + imaginations. What is that force?—the heat and torrent of the blood. + When that exists no more—to one without hope, for instance—what + is music or beauty? Intrinsically, they are next to nothing. He argued it + out so, and convinced himself of his own delusions, till his hand, being + in the sunlight, gave him a pleasant warmth. “That's something we all + love,” he said, glancing at the blue sky above the roofs. “But there's + little enough of it in this climate,” he thought, with an eye upon the + darker corners of his room. When he had eaten, he sent word to his + landlady to make up his week's bill. The week was not at an end, and that + good woman appeased before him, astonished, saying: “To be sure, your + habits is regular, but there's little items one I'll guess at, and how + make out a bill, Sir Purcy, and no items?” + </p> + <p> + He nodded his head. + </p> + <p> + “The country again?” she asked smilingly. + </p> + <p> + “I am going down there,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “And beautiful at this time of the year, it is! though, for market + gardening, London beats any country I ever knew; and if you like creature + comforts, I always say, stop in London! And then the policemen! who really + are the greatest comfort of all to us poor women, and seem sent from above + especially to protect our weakness. I do assure you, Sir Purcy, I feel it, + and never knew a right-minded woman that did not. And how on earth our + grandmothers contrived to get about without them! But there! people who + lived before us do seem like the most uncomfortable! When—my + goodness! we come to think there was some lived before tea! Why, as I say + over almost every cup I drink, it ain't to be realized. It seems almost + wicked to say it, Sir Purcy; but it's my opinion there ain't a Christian + woman who's not made more of a Christian through her tea. And a man who + beats his wife my first question is, 'Do he take his tea regular?' For, + depend upon it, that man is not a tea-drinker at all.” + </p> + <p> + He let her talk away, feeling oddly pleased by this mundane chatter, as + was she to pour forth her inmost sentiments to a baronet. + </p> + <p> + When she said: “Your fire shall be lighted to-night to welcome you,” the + man looked up, and was going to request that the trouble might be spared, + but he nodded. His ghost saw the burning fire awaiting him. Or how if it + sparkled merrily, and he beheld it with his human eyes that night? His + beloved would then have touched him with her hand—yea, brought the + dead to life! He jumped to his feet, and dismissed the worthy dame. On + both sides of him, 'Yes,' and 'No,' seemed pressing like two hostile + powers that battled for his body. They shrieked in his ears, plucked at + his fingers. He heard them hushing deeply as he went to his pistol-case, + and drew forth one—he knew not which. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0056" id="link2HCH0056"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LVI + </h2> + <p> + On a wild April morning, Emilia rose from her bed and called to mind a day + of the last year's Spring when she had watched the cloud streaming up, and + felt that it was the curtain of an unknown glory. But now it wore the + aspect of her life itself, with nothing hidden behind those stormy folds, + save peace. South-westward she gazed, eyeing eagerly the struggle of + twisting vapour; long flying edges of silver went by, and mounds of faint + crimson, and here and there a closing space of blue, swift as a thought of + home to a soldier in action. The heavens were like a battle-field. Emilia + shut her lips hard, to check an impulse of prayer for Merthyr fighting in + Italy: for he was in Italy, and she once more among the Monmouth hills: he + was in Italy fighting, and she chained here to her miserable promise! + Three days after she had given the promise to Wilfrid, Merthyr left, + shaking her hand like any common friend. Georgiana remained, by his + desire, to protect her. Emilia had written to Wilfrid for release, but + being no apt letter-writer, and hating the task, she was soon involved by + him in a complication of bewildering sentiments, some of which she + supposed she was bound to feel, while perhaps one or two she did feel, at + the summons. The effect was that she lost the true wording of her blunt + petition for release: she could no longer put it bluntly. But her heart + revolted the more, and gave her sharp eyes to see into his selfishness. + The purgatory of her days with Georgiana, when the latter was kept back + from her brother in his peril, spurred Emilia to renew her appeal; but she + found that all she said drew her into unexpected traps and pitfalls. There + was only one thing she could say plainly: “I want to go.” If she repeated + this, Wilfrid was ready with citations from her letters, wherein she had + said 'this,' and 'that,' and many other phrases. His epistolary power and + skill in arguing his own case were creditable to him. Affected as Emilia + was by other sensations, she could not combat the idea strenuously + suggested by him, that he had reason to complain of her behaviour. He + admitted his special faults, but, by distinctly tracing them to their + origin, he complacently hinted the excuse for them. Moreover, and with + artistic ability, he painted such a sentimental halo round the 'sacredness + of her pledged word,' that Emilia could not resist a superstitious notion + about it, and about what the breaking of it would imply. Georgiana had + removed her down to Monmouth to be out of his way. A constant flight of + letters pursued them both, for Wilfrid was far too clever to allow letters + in his hand-writing to come for one alone of two women shut up in a + country-house together. He saw how the letterless one would sit + speculating shrewdly and spitefully; so he was careful to amuse his + mystified Dragon, while he drew nearer and nearer to his gold apple. + Another object was, that by getting Georgiana to consent to become in part + his confidante, he made it almost a point of honour for her to be secret + with Lady Charlotte. + </p> + <p> + At last a morning came with no Brookfield letter for either of them. The + letters stopped from that time. It was almost as if a great buzzing had + ceased in Emilia's ears, and she now heard her own sensations clearly. To + Georgiana's surprise, she manifested no apprehension or regret. “Or else,” + the lady thought, “she wears a mask to me;” and certainly it was a pale + face that Emilia was beginning to wear. At last came April and its wild + morning. No little female hypocrisies passed between them when they met; + they shook hands at arm's length by the breakfast-table. Then Emilia said: + “I am ready to go to Italy: I will go at once.” + </p> + <p> + Georgiana looked straight at her, thinking: “This is a fit of indignation + with Wilfrid.” She answered: “Italy! I fancied you had forgotten there was + such a country.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't forget my country and my friends,” said Emilia. + </p> + <p> + “At least, I must ask the ground of so unexpected a resolution,” was + rejoined. + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember what Merthyr wrote in his letter from Arona? How long it + takes to understand the meaning of some, words! He says that I should not + follow an impulse that is not the impulse of all my nature—myself + altogether. Yes! I know what that means now. And he tells me that my life + is worth more than to be bound to the pledge of a silly moment. It is! He, + Georgey, unkind that you are!—he does not distrust me; but always + advises and helps me: Merthyr waits for me. I cannot be instantly ready + for every meaning in the world. What I want to do, is to see Wilfrid: if + not, I will write to him. I will tell him that I intend to break my + promise.” + </p> + <p> + A light of unaffected pride shone from the girl's face, as she threw down + this gauntlet to sentimentalism. + </p> + <p> + “And if he objects?” said Georgiana. + </p> + <p> + “If he objects, what can happen? If he objects by letter, I am gone. I + shall not write for permission. I shall write what my will is. If I see + him, and he objects, I can look into his eyes and say what I think right. + Why, I have lived like a frozen thing ever since I gave him my word. I + have felt at times like a snake hissing at my folly. I think I have felt + something like men when they swear.” + </p> + <p> + Georgiana's features expressed a slight but perceptible disgust. Emilia + continued humbly: “Forgive me. I wish you to know how I hate the word I + gave that separates me from Merthyr in my Italy, and makes you dislike + your poor Emilia. You do. I have pardoned it, though it was twenty stabs a + day.” + </p> + <p> + “But, why, if this promise was so hateful to you, did you not break it + before?” asked Georgiana. + </p> + <p> + “I had not the courage,” Emilia stooped her head to confess; “and + besides,” she added, curiously half-closing her eyelids, as one does to + look on a minute object, “I could not see through it before.” + </p> + <p> + “If,” suggested Georgiana, “you break your word, you release him from + his.” + </p> + <p> + “No! if he cannot see the difference,” cried Emilia, wildly, “then let him + keep away from me for ever, and he shall not have the name of friend! Is + there no difference—I wish you would let me cry out as they do in + Shakespeare, Georgey!” Emilia laughed to cover her vehemence. “I want + something more than our way of talking, to witness that there is such a + difference between us. Am I to live here till all my feelings are burnt + out, and my very soul is only a spark in a log of old wood? and to keep + him from murdering my countrymen, or flogging the women of Italy! God + knows what those Austrians would make him do. He changes. He would easily + become an Austrian. I have heard him once or twice, and if I had shut my + eyes, I might have declared an Austrian spoke. I wanted to keep him here, + but it is not right that I—I should be caged till I scarcely feel my + finger-ends, or know that I breathe sensibly as you and others do. I am + with Merthyr. That is what I intend to tell him.” + </p> + <p> + She smiled softly up to Georgiana's cold eyes, to get a look of + forgiveness for her fiery speaking. + </p> + <p> + “So, then, you love my brother?” said Georgiana. + </p> + <p> + Emilia could have retorted, “Cruel that you are!” The pain of having an + unripe feeling plucked at without warning, was bitter; but she repressed + any exclamation, in her desire to maintain simple and unsensational + relations always with those surrounding her. + </p> + <p> + “He is my friend,” she said. “I think of something better than that other + word. Oh, that I were a man, to call him my brother-in-arms! What's a + girl's love in return for his giving his money, his heart, and offering + his life every day for Italy?” + </p> + <p> + As soon as Georgiana could put faith in her intention to depart, she gave + her a friendly hand and embrace. + </p> + <p> + Two days later they were at Richford, with Lady Gosstre. The journals were + full of the Italian uprising. There had been a collision between the + Imperial and patriotic forces, near Brescia, from which the former had + retired in some confusion. Great things were expected of Piedmont, though + many, who had reason to know him, distrusted her king. All Lombardy + awaited the signal from Piedmont. Meanwhile blood was flowing. + </p> + <p> + In the excitement of her sudden rush from dead monotony to active life, + Emilia let some time pass before she wrote to Wilfrid. Her letter was in + her hand, when one was brought in to her from him. It ran thus:— + </p> + <p> + “I have just returned home, and what is this I hear? Are you utterly + faithless? Can I not rely on you to keep the word you have solemnly + pledged! Meet me at once. Name a place. I am surrounded by misery and + distraction. I will tell you all when we meet. I have trusted that you + were firm. Write instantly. I cannot ask you to come here. The house is + broken up. There is no putting to paper what has happened. My father lies + helpless. Everything rests on me. I thought that I could rely on you.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia tore up her first letter, and replied:— + </p> + <p> + “Come here at once. Or, if you would wish to meet me elsewhere, it shall + be where you please: but immediately. If you have heard that I am going to + Italy, it is true. I break my promise. I shall hope to have your + forgiveness. My heart bleeds for my dear Cornelia, and I am eager to see + my sisters, and embrace them, and share their sorrow. If I must not come, + tell them I kiss them. Adieu!” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid replied:— + </p> + <p> + “I will be by Richford Park gates to-morrow at a quarter to nine. You + speak of your heart. I suppose it is a habit. Be careful to put on a cloak + or thick shawl; we have touches of frost. If I cannot amuse you, perhaps + the nightingales will. Do you remember those of last year? I wonder + whether we shall hear the same?—we shall never hear the same.” + </p> + <p> + This iteration, whether cunningly devised or not, had a charm for Emilia's + ear. She thought: “I had forgotten all about them.” When she was in her + bedroom at night, she threw up her window. April was leaning close upon + May, and she had not to wait long before a dusky flutter of low notes, + appearing to issue from the great rhododendron bank across the lawn, + surprised her. She listened, and another little beginning was heard, + timorous, shy, and full of mystery for her. The moon hung over branches, + some that showed young buds, some still bare. Presently the long, rich, + single notes cut the air, and melted to their glad delicious chuckle. The + singer was answered from a farther bough, and again from one. It grew to + be a circle of melody round Emilia at the open window. Was it the same as + last year's? The last year's lay in her memory faint and well-nigh + unawakened. There was likewise a momentary sense of unreality in this + still piping peacefulness, while Merthyr stood in a bloody-streaked field, + fronting death. And yet the song was sweet. Emilia clasped her arms, shut + her eyes, and drank it in. Not to think at all, or even to brood on her + sensations, but to rest half animate and let those divine sounds find a + way through her blood, was medicine to her. + </p> + <p> + Next day there were numerous visits to the house. Emilia was reserved, and + might have been thought sad, but she welcomed Tracy Runningbrook gladly, + with “Oh! my old friend!” and a tender squeeze of his hand. + </p> + <p> + “True, if you like; hot, if you like; but I old?” cried Tracy. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, because I seem to have got to the other side of you; I mean, I know + you, and am always sure of you,” said Emilia. “You don't care for music; I + don't care for poetry, but we're friends, and I am quite certain of you, + and think you 'old friend' always.” + </p> + <p> + “And I,” said Tracy, better up to the mark by this time, “I think of you, + you dear little woman, that I ought to be grateful to you, for, by heaven! + you give me, every time I see you, the greatest temptation to be a fool + and let me prove that I'm not. Altro! altro!” + </p> + <p> + “A fool!” said Emilia caressingly; showing that his smart insinuation had + slipped by her. + </p> + <p> + The tale of Brookfield was told over again by Tracy, and Emilia shuddered, + though Merthyr and her country held her heart and imagination active and + in suspense, from moment to moment. It helped mainly to discolour the + young world to her eyes. She was under the spell of an excitement too keen + and quick to be subdued, by the sombre terrors of a tragedy enacted in a + house that she had known. Brookfield was in the talk of all who came to + Richford. Emilia got the vision of the wretched family seated in the + library as usual, when upon midnight they were about to part, and a knock + came at the outer door, and two men entered the hall, bearing a lifeless + body with a red spot above the heart. She saw Cornelia fall to it. She saw + the pale-faced family that had given her shelter, and moaned for lack of a + way of helping them and comforting them. She reproached herself for + feeling her own full physical life so warmly, while others whom she had + loved were weeping. It was useless to resist the tide of fresh vitality in + her veins, and when her thoughts turned to their main attraction, she was + rejoicing at the great strength she felt coming to her gradually. Her face + was smooth and impassive: this new joy of strength came on her like the + flowing of a sea to a land-locked water. “Poor souls!” she sighed for her + friends, while irrepressible exultation filled her spirit. + </p> + <p> + That afternoon, in the midst of packing and preparations for the journey, + at all of which Lady Gosstre smiled with a complacent bewilderment, a + card, bearing the name of Miss Laura Tinley, was sent up to Emilia. She + had forgotten this person, and asked Lady Gosstre who it was. Arabella's + rival presented herself most winningly. For some time, Emilia listened to + her, with wonder that a tongue should be so glib on matters of no earthly + interest. At last, Laura said in an undertone: “I am the bearer of a + message from Mr. Pericles; do you walk at all in the garden?” + </p> + <p> + Emilia read her look, and rose. Her thoughts struck back on the creature + that she was when she had last seen Mr. Pericles, and again, by contrast, + on what she was now. Eager to hear of him, or rather to divine the mystery + in her bosom aroused by the unexpected mention of his name, she was soon + alone with Laura in the garden. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, those poor Poles!” Laura began. + </p> + <p> + “You were going to say something of Mr. Pericles,” said Emilia. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, indeed, my dear; but, of course, you have heard all the details of + that dreadful night? It cannot be called a comfort to us that it enables + my brother Albert to come forward in the most disinterested—I might + venture to say, generous—manner, and prove the chivalry of his soul; + still, as things are, we are glad, after such misunderstandings, to prove + to that sorely-tried family who are their friends. I—you would + little think so from their treatment of me—I was at school with + them. I knew them before they became unintelligible, though they always + had a turn for it. To dress well, to be refined, to marry well—I + understand all that perfectly; but who could understand them? Not they + themselves, I am certain! And now penniless! and not only that, but + lawyers! You know that Mrs. Chump has commenced an action?—no? Oh, + yes! but I shall have to tell you the whole story.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it?—they want money?” said Emilia. + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you. Our poor gentlemanly organist, whom you knew, was really + a baronet's son, and inherited the title.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia interrupted her: “Oh, do let me hear about them!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, my dear, this unfortunate—I may call him 'lover,' for if a + man does not stamp the truth of his affection with a pistol, what other + means has he? And just a word as to romance. I have been sighing for it—no + one would think so—all my life. And who would have thought that + these poor Poles should have lived to convince me of the folly! Oh, + delicious humdrum!—there is nothing like it. But you are anxious, + naturally. Poor Sir Purcell Barren—he may or may not have been mad, + but when he was brought to the house at Brookfield—quite by chance—I + mean, his body—two labouring men found him by a tree—I don't + know whether you remembered a pollard-willow that stood all white and + rotten by the water in the fir-wood:—well, as I said, mad or not, no + sooner did poor Cornelia see him than she shrieked that she was the cause + of his death. He was laid in the hall—which I have so often trod! + and there Cornelia sat by his poor dead body, and accused Wilfrid and her + father of every unkindness. They say that the scene was terrible. Wilfrid—but + I need not tell you his character. He flutters from flower to flower, but + he has feeling Now comes the worst of all—in one sense; that is, + looking on it as people of the world; and being in the world, we must take + a worldly view occasionally. Mr. Pole—you remember how he behaved + once at Besworth: or, no; you were not there, but he used your name. His + mania was, as everybody could see, to marry his children grandly. I don't + blame him in any way. Still, he was not justified in living beyond his + means to that end, speculating rashly, and concealing his actual + circumstances. Well, Mr. Pericles and he were involved together; that is, + Mr. Pericles—” + </p> + <p> + “Is Mr. Pericles near us now?” said Emilia quickly. + </p> + <p> + “We will come to him,” Laura resumed, with the complacency of one who saw + a goodly portion of the festival she was enjoying still before her. “I was + going to say, Mr. Pericles had poor Mr. Pole in his power; has him, would + be the correcter tense. And Wilfrid, as you may have heard, had really + grossly insulted him, even to the extent of maltreating him—a poor + foreigner—rich foreigner, if you like! but not capable of standing + against a strong young man in wrath. However, now there can be little + doubt that Wilfrid repents. He had been trying ever since to see Mr. + Pericles; and the very morning of that day, I believe, he saw him and + humbled himself to make an apology. This had put Mr. Pole in good spirits, + and in the evening—he and Mrs. Chump were very fond of their wine + after dinner—he was heard that very evening to name a day for his + union with her; for that had been quite understood, and he had asked his + daughters and got their consent. The sight of Sir Purcell's corpse, and + the cries of Cornelia, must have turned him childish. I cannot conceive a + situation so harrowing as that of those poor children hearing their father + declare himself an impostor! a beggar! a peculator! He cried, poor unhappy + man, real tears! The truth was that his nerves suddenly gave way. For, + just before—only just before, he was smiling and talking largely. He + wished to go on his knees to every one of them, and kept telling them of + his love—the servants all awake and listening! and more gossiping + servants than the Poles always, by the most extraordinary inadvertence, + managed to get, you never heard of! Nothing would stop him from + humiliating himself! No one paid any attention to Mrs. Chump until she + started from her chair. They say that some of the servants who were crying + outside, positively were compelled to laugh when they heard her first + outbursts. And poor Mr. Pole confessed that he had touched her money. He + could not tell her how much. Fancy such a scene, with a dead man in the + house! Imagination almost refuses to conjure it up! Not to dwell on it too + long—for, I have never endured such a shock as it has given me—Mrs. + Chump left the house, and the next thing received from her was a lawyer's + letter. Business men say she is not to blame: women may cherish their own + opinion. But, oh, Miss Belloni! is it not terrible? You are pale.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia behind what she felt for her friends, had a dim comprehension of + the meaning of their old disgust at Laura, during this narration. But, + hearing the word of pity, she did not stop to be critical. “Can you do + nothing for them?” she said abruptly. + </p> + <p> + The thought in Laura's shocked grey eyes was, “They have done little + enough for you,” i.e., toward making you a lady. “Oh!” she cried; “I can + you teach me what to do? I must be extremely delicate, and calculate upon + what they would accept from me. For—so I hear—they used to—and + may still—nourish a—what I called—silly—though not + in unkindness—hostility to our family—me. And perhaps now + natural delicacy may render it difficult for them to...” + </p> + <p> + In short, to accept an alms from Laura Tinley; so said her pleading look + for an interpretation. + </p> + <p> + “You know Mr. Pericles,” said Emilia, “he can do the mischief—can he + not? Stop him.” + </p> + <p> + Laura laughed. “One might almost say that you do not know him, Miss + Belloni. What is my influence? I have neither a voice, nor can I play on + any instrument. I would—indeed I will—do my best my utmost; + only, how even to introduce the subject to him? Are not you the person? He + speaks of you constantly. He has consulted doctors with regard to your + voice, and the only excuse, dear Miss Belloni, for my visit to you to-day, + is my desire that any misunderstanding between you may be cleared. + Because, I have just heard—Miss Belloni will forgive me!—the + origin of it; and tidings coming that you were in the neighbourhood, I + thought—hoped that I might be the means of re-uniting two evidently + destined to be of essential service to one another. And really, life means + that, does it not?” + </p> + <p> + Emilia was becoming more critical of this tone the more she listened. She + declared, her immediate willingness to meet Mr. Pericles. With which, and + Emilia's assurance that she would write, and herself make the appointment, + Laura retired, in high glee at the prospect of winning the gratitude of + the inscrutable millionaire. It was true that the absence of any rivalry + for the possession of the man took much of his sweetness from him. She + seemed to be plucking him from the hands of the dead, and half recognized + that victory over uncontesting rivals claps the laurel-wreath rather + rudely upon our heads. + </p> + <p> + Emilia lost no time in running straight to Georgiana, who was busy at her + writing-desk. She related what she had just heard, ending breathlessly: + “Georgey! my dear! will you help them?” + </p> + <p> + “In what possible way can I do so?” said Georgiana. “To-morrow night we + shall have left England.” + </p> + <p> + “But to-day we are here.” Emilia pressed a hand to her bosom: “my heart + feels hollow, and my friends cry out in it. I cannot let him suffer.” She + looked into Georgiana's eyes. “Will you not help them?—they want + money.” + </p> + <p> + The lady reddened. “Is it not preposterous to suppose that I can offer + them assistance of such a kind?” + </p> + <p> + “Not you,” returned Emilia, sighing; and in an under-breath, “me—will + you lend it to me? Merthyr would. I shall repay it. I cannot tell what + fills me with this delight, but I know I am able to repay any sum. Two + thousand pounds would help them. I think—I think my voice has come + back.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you tried it?” said Georgiana, to produce a diversion from the other + topic. + </p> + <p> + “No; but believe me when I tell you, it must be. I scarcely feel the + floor; no misery touches me. I am only sorry for my friends, not down on + the ground with them. Believe me! And I have been studying all this while. + I have not lost an hour. I would accept a part, and step on the boards + within a week, and be certain to succeed. I am just as willing to go to + the Conservatorio and submit to discipline. Only, dear friend, believe me, + that I ask for money now, because I am sure I can repay it. I want to send + it immediately, and then, good-bye to England.” + </p> + <p> + Georgiana closed her desk. She had been suspicious at first of another + sentiment in the background, but was now quite convinced of the simplicity + of Emilia's design. She said: “I will tell you exactly how I am placed. I + do not know, that under any circumstances, I could have given into your + hands so large a sum as this that you ask for. My brother has a fortune; + and I have also a little property. When I say my brother has a fortune, he + has the remains of one. All that has gone has been devoted to relieve your + countrymen, and further the interests he has nearest at heart. What is + left to him, I believe, he has now thrown into the gulf. You have heard + Lady Charlotte call him a fanatic.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia's lip quivered. + </p> + <p> + “You must not blame her for that,” Georgiana continued. “Lady Gosstre + thinks much the same. The world thinks with them. I love him, and prove my + love by trusting him, and wish to prove my love by aiding him, and being + always at hand to succour, as I should be now, but that I obeyed his + dearest wish in resting here to watch over you. I am his other self. I + have taught him to feel that; so that in his devotion to this cause he may + follow every impulse he has, and still there is his sister to fall back + on. My child! see what I have been doing. I have been calculating here.” + Georgiana took a scroll from her desk, and laid it under Emilia's eyes. “I + have reckoned our expenses as far as Turin, and have only consented to + take Lady Gosstre's valet for courier, just to please her. I know that he + will make the cost double, and I feel like a miser about money. If Merthyr + is ruined, he will require every farthing that I have for our common + subsistence. Now do you understand? I can hardly put the case more + plainly. It is out of my power to do what you ask me to do.” + </p> + <p> + Emilia sighed lightly, and seemed not much cast down by the refusal. She + perceived that it was necessarily positive, and like all minds framed to + resolve to action, there was an instantaneous change of the current of her + thoughts in another direction. + </p> + <p> + “Then, my darling, my one prayer!” she said. “Postpone our going for a + week. I will try to get help for them elsewhere.” + </p> + <p> + Georgiana was pleased by Emilia's manner of taking the rebuff; but it + required an altercation before she consented to this postponement; she + nodded her head finally in anger. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0057" id="link2HCH0057"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LVII + </h2> + <p> + By the park-gates that evening, Wilfrid received a letter from the hands + of Tracy Runningbrook. It said: “I am not able to see you now. When I tell + you that I will see you before I leave England, I insist upon your + believing me. I have no head for seeing anybody now. Emilia”—was the + simple signature, perused over and over again by this maddened lover, + under the flitting gate-lamp, after Tracy had left him. The coldness of + Emilia's name so briefly given, concentrated every fire in his heart. What + was it but miserable cowardice, he thought, that prevented him from + getting the peace poor Barrett had found? Intolerable anguish weakened his + limbs. He flung himself on a wayside bank, grovelling, to rise again calm + and quite ready for society, upon the proper application of the + clothes-brush. Indeed; he patted his shoulder and elbow to remove the soil + of his short contact with earth, and tried a cigar: but the first taste of + the smoke sickened his lips. Then he stood for a moment as a man in a new + world. This strange sensation of disgust with familiar comforting habits, + fixed him in perplexity, till a rushing of wild thoughts and hopes from + brain to heart, heart to brain, gave him insight, and he perceived his + state, and that for all he held to in our life he was dependent upon + another; which is virtually the curse of love. + </p> + <p> + “And he passed along the road,” adds the Philosopher, “a weaker man, a + stronger lover. Not that love should diminish manliness or gains by so + doing; but travelling to love by the ways of Sentiment, attaining to the + passion bit by bit, does full surely take from us the strength of our + nature, as if (which is probable) at every step we paid fee to move + forward. Wilfrid had just enough of the coin to pay his footing. He was + verily fining himself down. You are tempted to ask what the value of him + will be by the time that he turns out pure metal? I reply, something + considerable, if by great sacrifice he gets to truth—gets to that + oneness of feeling which is the truthful impulse. At last, he will stand + high above them that have not suffered. The rejection of his cigar.” + </p> + <p> + This wages too absurd. At the risk of breaking our partnership for ever, I + intervene. My Philosopher's meaning is plain, and, as usual, good; but not + even I, who have less reason to laugh at him than anybody, can gravely + accept the juxtaposition of suffering and cigars. And, moreover, there is + a little piece of action in store. + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid had walked half way to Brookfield, when the longing to look upon + the Richford chamber-windows stirred so hotly within him that he returned + to the gates. He saw Captain Gambier issuing on horseback from under the + lamp. The captain remarked that it was a fine night, and prepared to ride + off, but Wilfrid requested him to dismount, and his voice had the + unmistakeable ring in it by which a man knows that there must be no + trifling. The captain leaned forward to look at him before he obeyed the + summons, All self-control had abandoned Wilfrid in the rage he felt at + Gambier's having seen Emilia, and the jealous suspicion that she had + failed to keep her appointment for the like reason. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you come here?” he said, hoarsely. + </p> + <p> + “By Jove! that's an odd question,” said the captain, at once taking his + ground. + </p> + <p> + “Am I to understand that you've been playing with my sister, as you do + with every other woman?” + </p> + <p> + Captain Gambier murmured quietly, “Every other woman?” and smoothed his + horse's neck. “They're not so easily played with, my dear fellow. You + speak like a youngster.” + </p> + <p> + “I am the only protector of my sister's reputation,” said Wilfrid, “and, + by heaven! if you have cast her over to be the common talk, you shall meet + me.” + </p> + <p> + The captain turned to his horse, saying, “Oh! Well!” Being mounted, he + observed: “My dear Pole, you might have sung out all you had to say. Go to + your sister, and if she complains of my behaviour, I'll meet you. Oh, yes! + I'll meet you; I have no objection to excitement. You're in the hands of + an infernally clever woman, who does me the honour to wish to see my blood + on the carpet, I believe; but if this is her scheme, it's not worthy of + her ability. She began pretty well. She arranged the preliminaries + capitally. Why, look here,” he relinquished his ordinary drawl; “I'll tell + you something, which you may put down in my favour or not—just as + you like. That woman did her best to compromise your sister with me on + board the yacht. I can't tell you how, and won't. Of course, I wouldn't if + I could; but I have sense enough to admire a very charming person, and I + did the only honourable thing in my power. It's your sister, my good + fellow, who gave me my dismissal. We had a little common sense + conversation—in which she shines. I envy the man that marries her, + but she denies me such luck. There! if you want to shoot me for my share + in that transaction, I'll give you your chance: and if you do, my dear + Pole, either you must be a tremendous fool, or that woman's ten times + cleverer than I thought. You know where to find me. Good night.” + </p> + <p> + The captain gave heel to his horse, hearing no more. + </p> + <p> + Adela confirmed to Wilfrid what Gambier had spoken; and that it was she + who had given him his dismissal. She called him by his name, “Augustus,” + in a kindly tone, remarking, that Lady Charlotte had persecuted him + dreadfully. “Poor Augustus! his entire reputation for evil is owing to her + black paint-brush. There is no man so easily 'hooked,' as Mrs. Bayruffle + would say, as he, though he has but eight hundred a year: barely enough to + live on. It would have been cruel of me to keep him, for if he is in love, + it's with Emilia.” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid here took upon himself to reproach her for a certain negligence of + worldly interests. She laughed and blushed with humorous satisfaction; + and, on second thoughts, he changed his opinion, telling her that he + wished he could win his freedom as she had done. + </p> + <p> + “Wilfrid,” she said suddenly, “will you persuade Cornelia not to wear + black?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, if you wish it,” he replied. + </p> + <p> + “You will, positively? Then listen, dear. I don't like the prospect of + your alliance with Lady Charlotte.” + </p> + <p> + Wilfrid could not repress a despondent shrug. + </p> + <p> + “But you can get released,” she cried; and ultimately counselled him: + “Mention the name of Lord Eltham before her once, when you are alone. + Watch the result. Only, don't be clumsy. But I need not tell you that.” + </p> + <p> + For hours he cudgelled his brains to know why she desired Cornelia not to + wear black, and when the light broke in on him he laughed like a jolly + youth for an instant. The reason why was in a web so complicated, that, to + have divined what hung on Cornelia's wearing of black, showed a rare + sagacity and perception of character on the little lady's part. As thus:—Sir + Twickenham Pryme is the most sensitive of men to ridicule and vulgar + tattle: he has continued to visit the house, learning by degrees to prefer + me, but still too chivalrous to withdraw his claim to Cornelia, + notwithstanding that he has seen indications of her not too absolute + devotion towards him:—I have let him become aware that I have broken + with Captain Gambier (whose income is eight hundred a year merely), for + the sake of a higher attachment: now, since the catastrophe, he can with + ease make it appear to the world that I was his choice from the first, + seeing that Cornelia will assuredly make no manner of objection:—but, + if she, with foolish sentimental persistence, assumes the garb of sorrow, + then Sir Twickenham's ears will tingle; he will retire altogether; he will + not dare to place himself in a position which will lend a colour to the + gossip, that jilted by one sister, he flew for consolation to the other; + jilted, too, for the mere memory of a dead man! an additional insult! + </p> + <p> + Exquisite intricacy! Wilfrid worked through all the intervolutions, and + nearly forgot his wretchedness in admiration of his sister's mental + endowments. He was the more willing to magnify them, inasmuch as he + thereby strengthened his hope that liberty would follow the speaking of + the talismanic name of Eltham to Lady Charlotte, alone. He had come to + look upon her as the real barrier between himself and Emilia. + </p> + <p> + “I think we have brains,” he said softly, on his pillow, upon a review of + the beggared aspect of his family; and he went to sleep with a smile on + his face. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0058" id="link2HCH0058"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LVIII + </h2> + <p> + A sharp breath of air had passed along the dews, and all the young green + of the fresh season shone in white jewels. The sky, set with very dim + distant stars, was in grey light round a small brilliant moon. Every space + of earth lifted clear to her; the woodland listened; and in the bright + silence the nightingales sang loud. + </p> + <p> + Emilia and Tracy Runningbrook were threading their way toward a lane over + which great oak branches intervolved; thence under larches all with + glittering sleeves, and among spiky brambles, with the purple leaf and the + crimson frosted. The frost on the edges of the brown-leaved bracken gave a + faint colour. Here and there, intense silver dazzled their eyes. As they + advanced amid the icy hush, so hard and instant was the ring of the earth + under them, their steps sounded as if expected. + </p> + <p> + “This night seems made for me!” said Emilia. + </p> + <p> + Tracy had no knowledge of the object of the expedition. He was her squire + simply; had pitched on a sudden into an enamoured condition, and walked + beside her, caring little whither he was led, so that she left him not. + </p> + <p> + They came upon a clearing in the wood where a tournament of knights might + have been held. Ranged on two sides were rows of larches, and forward, fit + to plume a dais, a clump of tall firs stood with a flowing silver fir to + right and left, and the white stems of the birch-tree shining from among + them. This fair woodland court had three broad oaks, as for gateways; and + the moon was above it. Moss and the frosted brown fern were its flooring. + </p> + <p> + Emilia said eagerly, “This way,” and ran under one of the oaks. She turned + to Tracy following: “There is no doubt of it.” Her hand was lying softly + on her throat. + </p> + <p> + “Your voice?” Tracy divined her. + </p> + <p> + She nodded, but frowned lovingly at the shout he raised, and he understood + that there was haply some plot to be worked out. The open space was quite + luminous in the middle of those three deep walls of shadow. Emilia + enjoined him to rest where he was, and wait for her on that spot like a + faithful sentinel, whatsoever ensued. Coaxing his promise, she entered the + square of white light alone. Presently she stood upon a low mound, so that + her whole figure was distinct, while the moon made her features visible. + </p> + <p> + Expectancy sharpened the stillness to Tracy's ears. A nightingale began + the charm. He was answered by another. Many were soon in song, till even + the pauses were sweet with them. Tracy had the thought that they were + calling for Emilia to commence; that it was nature preluding the divine + human voice, weaving her spell for it. He was seized by a thirst to hear + the adorable girl, who stood there patiently, with her face lifted soft in + moonlight. And then the blood thrilled along his veins, as if one more + than mortal had touched him. It seemed to him long before he knew that + Emilia's voice was in the air. + </p> + <p> + In such a place, at such a time, there is no wizardry like a woman's + voice. Emilia had gained in force and fulness. She sang with a stately + fervour, letting the notes flow from her breast, while both her arms hung + loose, and not a gesture escaped her. Tracy's fiery imagination set him + throbbing, as to the voice of the verified spirit of the place. He heard + nothing but Emilia, and scarce felt that it was she, or that tears were on + his eyelids, till her voice sank richly, deep into the bosom of the woods. + Then the stillness, like one folding up a precious jewel, seemed to pant + audibly. + </p> + <p> + “She's not alone!” This was human speech at his elbow, uttered in some + stupefied amazement. In an extremity of wrath, Tracy turned about to curse + the intruder, and discerned Wilfrid, eagerly bent forward on the other + side of the oak by which he leaned. Advancing toward Emilia, two figures + were seen. Mr. Pericles in his bearskin was easily to be distinguished. + His companion was Laura Tinley. The Greek moved at rapid strides, and + coming near upon Emilia, raised his hands as in exclamation. At once he + disencumbered his shoulders of the enormous wrapper, held it aloft + imperiously, and by main force extinguished Emilia. Laura's shrill laugh + resounded. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! beastly bathos!” Tracy groaned in his heart. “Here we are down in + Avernus in a twinkling!” + </p> + <p> + There was evidently quick talk going on among the three, after which + Emilia, heavily weighted, walked a little apart with Mr. Pericles, who + looked lean and lank beside her, and gesticulated in his wildest manner. + Tracy glanced about for Wilfrid. The latter was not visible, but, stepping + up the bank of sand and moss, appeared a lady in shawl and hat, in whom he + recognized Lady Charlotte. He went up to her and saluted. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! Tracy,” she said. “I saw you leave the drawing room, and expected to + find you here. So, the little woman has got her voice again; but why on + earth couldn't she make the display at Richford? It's very pretty, and I + dare say you highly approve of this kind of romantic interlude, Signor + Poet, but it strikes me as being rather senseless.” + </p> + <p> + “But, are you alone? What on earth brings you here?” asked Tracy. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” the lady shrugged. “I've a guard to the rear. I told her I would + come. She said I should hear something to-night, if I did. I fancied + naturally the appointment had to do with her voice, and wished to please + her. It's only five minutes from the west-postern of the park. Is she + going to sing any more? There's company apparently. Shall we go and + declare ourselves?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm on duty, and can't,” replied Tracy, and twisting his body in an + ecstasy, added: “Did you hear her?” + </p> + <p> + Lady Charlotte laughed softly. “You speak as if you had taken a hurt, my + dear boy. This sort of scene is dangerous to poets. But, I thought you + slighted music.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know whether I'm breathing yet,” Tracy rejoined. “She's a Goddess + to me from this moment. Not like music? Am I a dolt? She would raise me + from the dead, if she sang over me. Put me in a boat, and let her sing on, + and all may end! I could die into colour, hearing her! That's the voice + they hear in heaven.” + </p> + <p> + “When they are good, I suppose,” the irreverent lady appended. “What's + that?” And she held her head to listen. + </p> + <p> + Emilia's mortal tones were calling Wilfrid's name. The lady became grave, + as with keen eyes she watched the open space, and to a second call Wilfrid + presented himself in a leisurely way from under cover of the trees; + stepping into the square towards the three, as one equal to all occasions, + and specially prepared for this. He was observed to bow to Mr. Pericles, + and the two men extended hands, Laura Tinley standing decently away from + them. + </p> + <p> + Lady Charlotte could not contain her mystification. “What does it mean?” + she said. “Wilfrid was to be in town at the Ambassador's to-night! He + wrote to me at five o'clock from his Club! Is he insane? Has he lost every + sense of self-interest? He can't have made up his mind to miss his + opportunity, when all the introductions are there! Run, like a good + creature, Tracy, and see if that is Wilfrid, and come back and tell me; + but don't sag I am here.” + </p> + <p> + “Desert my post?” Tracy hugged his arms tight together. “Not if I freeze + here!” + </p> + <p> + The doubt in Lady Charlotte's eyes was transient. She dropped her glass. + Visible adieux were being waved between Mr. Pericles and Laura Tinley on + the one hand, and Wilfrid and Emilia, on the other. After which, and at a + quick pace, manifestly shivering, Mr. Pericles drew Laura into the + shadows, and Emilia, clad in the immense bearskin, as with a trailing + black barbaric robe, walked toward the oaks. Wilfrid's head was stooped to + a level with Emilia's, into whose face he was looking obliviously, while + the hot words sprang from his lips. They neared the oak, and Emilia + slanted her direction, so as to avoid the neighbourhood of the tree. Tracy + felt a sudden grasp of his arm. It was momentary, coming simultaneously + with a burst of Wilfrid's voice. + </p> + <p> + “Do I know what I love, you ask? I love your footprints! Everything you + have touched is like fire to me. Emilia! Emilia!” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” came the clear reply, “you do not love Lady Charlotte?” + </p> + <p> + “Love her!” he shouted scornfully, and subdued his voice to add: “she has + a good heart, and whatever scandal is talked of her and Lord Eltham, she + is a well-meaning friend. But, love her! You, you I love!” + </p> + <p> + “Theatrical business,” Lady Charlotte murmured, and imagined she had + expected it when she promised Emilia she would step out into the night + air, as possibly she had. + </p> + <p> + The lady walked straight up to them. + </p> + <p> + “Well, little one!” she addressed Emilia; “I am glad you have recovered + your voice. You play the game of tit-for-tat remarkably well. We will now + sheath our battledores. There is my hand.” + </p> + <p> + The unconquerable aplomb in Lady Charlotte, which Wilfrid always + artistically admired, and which always mastered him; the sight of her pale + face and courageous eyes; and her choice of the moment to come forward and + declare her presence;—all fell upon the furnace of Wilfrid's heart + like a quenching flood. In a stupefaction, he confessed to himself that he + could say actually nothing. He could hardly look up. + </p> + <p> + Emilia turned her eyes from the outstretched hand, to the lady's face. + </p> + <p> + “What will it mean?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “That we are quits, I presume; and that we bear no malice. At any rate, + that I relinquish the field. I like a hand that can deal a good stroke. I + conceived you to be a mere little romantic person, and correct my mistake. + You win the prize, you see.” + </p> + <p> + “You would have made him an Austrian, and he is now safe from that. I win + nothing more,” said Emilia. + </p> + <p> + When Tracy and Emilia stood alone, he cried out in a rapture of praise, + “Now I know what a power you have. You may bid me live or die.” + </p> + <p> + The recent scene concerned chiefly the actors who had moved onward: it had + touched Emilia but lightly, and him not at all. But, while he magnified + the glory of her singing, the imperishable note she had sounded this + night, and the power and the triumph that would be hers, Emilia's bosom + began to heave, and she checked him with a storm of tears. “Triumph! yes! + what is this I have done? Oh, Merthyr, my true hero! He praises me and + knows nothing of how false I have been to you. I am a slave! I have sold + myself—sold myself!” She dropped her face in her hands, broken with + grief. “He fights,” she pursued; “he fights for my country. I feel his + blood—it seems to run from my body as it runs from his. Not if he is + dying—I dare not go to him if he is dying! I am in chains. I have + sworn it for money. See what a different man Merthyr is from any on earth! + Would he shoot himself for a woman? Would he grow meaner the more he loved + her? My hero! my hero! and Tracy, my friend! what is my grief now? Merthyr + is my hero, but I hear him—I hear him speaking it into my ears with + his own lips, that I do not love him. And it is true. I never should have + sold myself for three weary years away from him, if I had loved him. I + know it now it is done. I thought more of my poor friends and Wilfrid, + than of Merthyr, who bleeds for my country! And he will not spurn me when + we meet. Yes, if he lives, he will come to me gentle as a ghost that has + seen God!” + </p> + <p> + She abandoned herself to weeping. Tracy, in a tender reverence for one who + could speak such solemn matter spontaneously, supported her, and felt her + tears as a rain of flame on his heart. + </p> + <p> + The nightingales were mute. Not a sound was heard from bough or brake. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0059" id="link2HCH0059"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER LIX + </h2> + <p> + A wreck from the last Lombard revolt landed upon our shores in June. His + right arm was in a sling, and his Italian servant following him, kept + close by his side, with a ready hand, as if fearing that at any moment the + wounded gentleman's steps might fail. There was no public war going on + just then: for which reason he was eyed suspiciously by the rest of the + passengers making their way up the beach; who seemed to entertain an + impression that he had no business at such a moment to be crippled, and + might be put down as one of those foreign fools who stand out for a trifle + as targets to fools a little luckier than themselves. Here, within our + salt girdle, flourishes common sense. We cherish life; we abhor bloodshed; + we have no sympathy with your juvenile points of honour: we are, in short, + a civilized people; and seeing that Success has made us what we are, we + advise other nations to succeed, or be quiet. Of all of which the + gravely-smiling gentleman appeared well aware; for, with an eye that + courted none, and a perfectly calm face, he passed through the crowd, only + once availing himself of his brown-faced Beppo's spontaneously depressed + shoulder when a twinge of pain shooting from his torn foot took his + strength away. While he remained in sight, some speculation as to his + nationality continued: he had been heard to speak nothing but Italian, and + yet the flower of English cultivation was signally manifest in his style + and bearing. The purchase of that day's journal, giving information that + the Lombard revolt was fully, it was thought finally, crushed out, and the + insurgents scattered, hanged, or shot, suggested to a young lady in a + group melancholy with luggage, that the wounded gentleman was one who had + escaped from the Austrians. + </p> + <p> + “Only, he is English.” + </p> + <p> + “If he is, he deserves what he's got.” + </p> + <p> + A stout Briton delivered this sentence, and gave in addition a sermon on + meddling, short, emphatic, and not uncheerful apparently, if estimated by + the hearty laugh that closed it; though a lady remarked, “Oh, dear me! You + are very sweeping.” + </p> + <p> + “By George! ma'am,” cried the Briton, holding out his newspaper, “here's a + leader on the identical subject, with all my views in it! Yes! those + Italians are absurd: they never were a people: never agreed. Egad! the + only place they're fit for is the stage. Art! if you like. They know all + about colouring canvas, and sculpturing. I don't deny 'em their merits, + and I don't mind listening to their squalling, now and then: though, I'll + tell you what: have you ever noticed the calves of those singers?—I + mean, the men. Perhaps not—for they' ve got none. They're sticks, + not legs. Who can think much of fellows with such legs? Now, the next time + you go to the Italian Opera, notice 'em. Ha! ha!—well, that would + sound queer, told at secondhand; but, just look at their legs, ma'am, and + ask yourself whether there's much chance for a country that stands on legs + like those! Let them paint, and carve blocks, and sing. They're not fit + for much else, as far as I can see.” + </p> + <p> + Thus, in the pride of his manliness, the male Briton. A shrill cry drew + the attention of this group once more to the person who had just kindly + furnished a topic. He had been met on his way by a lady unmistakeably + foreign in her appearance. “Marini!” was the word of the cry; and the lady + stood with her head bent and her hands stiffened rigidly. + </p> + <p> + “Lost her husband, I dare say!” the Briton murmured. “Perhaps he's one of + the 'hanged, or shot,' in the list here Hanged! shot! Ask those Austrians + to be merciful, and that's their reply. Why, good God! it's like the grunt + of a savage beast! Hanged! shot!—count how many for one day's work! + Ten at Verona; fifteen at Mantua; five—there, stop! If we enter into + another alliance with those infernal ruffians!—if they're not + branded in the face of Europe as inhuman butchers! if I—by George! + if I were an Italian I'd handle a musket myself, and think great guns the + finest music going. Mind, if there's a subscription for the widows of + these poor fellows, I put down my name; so shall my wife, so shall my + daughters, so we will all, down to the baby!” + </p> + <p> + Merthyr's name was shouted first on his return to England by Mrs. Chump. + He was waiting on the platform of the London station for the train to take + him to Richford, when, “Oh! Mr. Pow's, Mr. Pow's!” resounded, and Mrs. + Chump fluttered before him. She was on her way to Brookfield, she said; + and it was, she added, her firm belief that heaven had sent him to her + sad, not deeming “that poor creature, Mr. Braintop, there, sufficient for + the purpose. For what I've got to go through, among them at Brookfield, + Mr. Pow's, it's perf'ctly awful. Mr. Braintop,” she turned to the youth, + “you may go now. And don't go takin' ship and sailin' for Italy after the + little Belloni, for ye haven't a chance—poor fella! though he combs + 's hair so careful, Mr. Pow's, and ye might almost laugh and cry together + to see how humble he is, and audacious too—all in a lump. For, when + little Belloni was in the ship, ye know, and she thinkin', 'not one of my + friends near to wave a handkerchief!' behold, there's that boy Braintop + just as by maguc, and he wavin' his best, which is a cambric, and a + present from myself, and precious wet that night, ye might swear; for the + quiet lovers, Mr. Pow's, they cry, they do, buckutsful!” + </p> + <p> + “And is Miss Belloni gone?” said Merthyr, looking steadily for answer. + </p> + <p> + “To be sure, sir, she has; but have ye got a squeak of pain? Oh, dear! it + makes my blood creep to see a man who's been where there's been firing of + shots in a temper. Ye're vary pale, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “She went—on what day?” asked Merthyr. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! I can't poss'bly tell ye that, Mr. Pow's, havin' affairs of my own + most urrgent. But, Mr. Paricles has got her at last. That's certain. + Gall'ns of tears has poor Mr. Braintop cried over it, bein' one of the + mew-in-a-corner sort of young men, ye know, what never win the garl, but + cry enough to float her and the lucky fella too, and off they go, and he + left on the shore.” + </p> + <p> + Merthyr looked impatiently out of the window. His wounds throbbed and his + forehead was moist. + </p> + <p> + “With Mr. Pericles?” he queried, while Mrs. Chump was giving him the + reasons for the immediate visit to Brookfield. + </p> + <p> + “They're cap'tal friends again, ye know, Mr. Pow's, Mr. Paricles and Pole; + and Pole's quite set up, and yesterday mornin' sends me two thousand + pounds—not a penny less! and ye'll believe me, I was in a stiff gape + for five minutes when Mr. Braintop shows the money. What a temptation for + the young man! But Pole didn't know his love for little Belloni.” + </p> + <p> + “Has she no one with her?” Merthyr seized the opportunity of her name + being pronounced to get clear tidings of her, if possible. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear, yes, Mr. Paricles is with her,” returned Mrs. Chump. “And, as I + was sayin', sir, two thousand pounds! I ran off to my lawyer; for, it'll + seem odd to ye, now, Mr. Pow's, that know my 'ffection for the Poles, poor + dears, I'd an action against 'em. 'Stop ut,' I cries out to the man: if + he'd been one o' them that wears a wig, I couldn't ha' spoken so—'Stop + ut,' I cries, not a bit afraid of 'm. I wouldn't let the man go on, for + all I want to know is, that I'm not rrooned. And now I've got money, I + must have friends; for when I hadn't, ye know, my friends seemed against + me, and now I have, it's the world that does, where'll I hide it? Oh, + dear! now I'm with you, I don't mind, though this brown-faced forr'ner + servant of yours, he gives me shivers. Can he understand English?—becas + I've got ut all in my pockut!” + </p> + <p> + Merthyr sighed wearily for release. At last the train slackened speed, and + the well-known fir-country appeared in sight. Mrs. Chump caught him by the + arm as he prepared to alight. “Oh! and are ye goin' to let me face the + Poles without anyone to lean on in that awful moment, and no one to bear + witness how kind I've spoken of 'em. Mr. Pow's! will ye prove that you're + a blessed angel, sir, and come, just for five minutes—which is a + short time to do a thing for a woman she'll never forget.” + </p> + <p> + “Pray spare me, madam,” Merthyr pleaded. “I have much to learn at + Richford.” + </p> + <p> + “I cann't spare ye, sir,” cried Mrs. Chump. “I cann't go before that + fam'ly quite alone. They're a tarr'ble fam'ly. Oh! I'll be goin' on my + knees to ye, Mr. Pow's. Weren't ye sent by heaven now? And you to run + away! And if you're woundud, won't I have a carr'ge from the station, + which'll be grander to go in, and impose on 'em, ye know. Pray, sir! I + entreat ye!” + </p> + <p> + The tears burst from her eyes, and her hot hand clung to his imploringly. + </p> + <p> + Merthyr was a witness of the return of Mrs. Chump to Brookfield. In that + erewhile abode of Fine Shades, the Nice Feelings had foundered. The circle + of a year, beginning so fairly for them, enfolded the ladies and their + first great scheme of life. Emilia had been a touchstone to this family. + They could not know it in their deep affliction, but in manger they had + much improved. Their welcome of Mrs. Chump was an admirable seasoning of + stateliness with kindness. Cornelia and Arabella took her hand, listening + with an incomparable soft smile to her first protestations, which they + quieted, and then led her to Mr. Pole; of whom it may be said, that an + accomplished coquette could not in his situation have behaved with a finer + skill; so that, albeit received back into the house, Mrs. Chump had yet to + discover what her footing there was to be, and trembled like the meanest + of culprits. Mr. Pole shook her hand warmly, tenderly, almost tearfully, + and said to the melted woman: “You're right, Martha; it's much better for + us to examine accounts in a friendly way, than to have strangers and + lawyers, and what not—people who can't possibly know the whole + history, don't you see—meddling and making a scandal; and I'm much + obliged to you for coming.” + </p> + <p> + Vainly Mrs. Chump employed alternately innuendo and outcry to make him + perceive that her coming involved a softer business, and that to money, + she having it now, she gave not a thought. He assured her that in future + she must; that such was his express desire; that it was her duty to + herself and others. And while saying this, which seemed to indicate that + widowhood would be her state as far as he was concerned, he pressed her + hand with extreme sweetness, and his bird's-eyes twinkled obligingly. It + is to be feared that Mr. Pole had passed the age of improvement, save in + his peculiar art. After a time Nature stops, and says to us 'thou art now + what thou wilt be.' + </p> + <p> + Cornelia was in black from neck to foot. She joined the conversation as + the others did, and indeed more flowingly than Adela, whose visage was + soured. It was Cornelia to whom Merthyr explained his temporary subjection + to the piteous appeals of Mrs. Chump. She smiled humorously to reassure + him of her perfect comprehension of the apology for his visit, and of his + welcome: and they talked, argued a little, differed, until the terrible + thought that he talked, and even looked like some one else, drew the blood + from her lips, and robbed her pulses of their play. She spoke of Emilia, + saying plainly and humbly: “All we have is owing to her.” Arabella spoke + of Emilia likewise, but with a shade of the foregone tone of patronage. + “She will always be our dear little sister.” Adela continued silent, as + with ears awake for the opening of a door. Was it in ever-thwarted + anticipation of the coming of Sir Twickenham? + </p> + <p> + Merthyr's inquiry after Wilfrid produced a momentary hesitation on + Cornelia's Part—“He has gone to Verona. We have an uncle in the + Austrian service,” she said; and Merthyr bowed. + </p> + <p> + What was this tale of Emilia, that grew more and more perplexing as he + heard it bit by bit? The explanation awaited him at Richford. There, when + Georgiana had clasped her brother in one last jealous embrace, she gave + him the following letter straightway, to save him, haply, from the false + shame of that eager demand for one, which she saw ready to leap to words + in his eyes. He read it, sitting in the Richford library alone, while the + great rhododendron bloomed outside, above the shaven sunny sward, looking + like a monstrous tropic bird alighted to brood an hour in full sunlight. + </p> + <p> + “My Friend!” + </p> + <p> + “I would say my Beloved! I will not write it, for it would be false. I + have read of the defeat. Why was a battle risked at that cruel place! Here + are we to be again for so many years before we can win God to be on our + side! And I—do you not know? we used to talk of it!—I never + can think it the Devil who has got the upper hand. What succeeds, I always + think should succeed—was meant to, because the sky looks clear over + it. This knocks a blow at my heart and keeps it silent and only just + beating. I feel that you are safe. That, I am thankful for. If you were + not, God would warn me, and not let me mock him with thanks when I pray. I + pray till my eyelids burn, on purpose to get a warning if there is any + black messenger to be sent to me. I do not believe it. + </p> + <p> + “For three years I am a prisoner. I go to the Conservatorio in Milan with + Mr. Pericles, and my poor little mother, who cries, asking me where she + will be among such a people, until I wonder she should be my mother. My + voice has returned. Oh, Merthyr! my dear, calm friend! to keep calling you + friend, and friend, puts me to sleep softly!—Yes, I have my voice. I + felt I had it, like some one in a room with us when we will not open our + eyes. There was misery everywhere, and yet I was glad. I kept it secret. I + began to feel myself above the world. I dreamed of what I would do for + everybody. I thought of you least! I tell you so, and take a scourge and + scourge myself, for it is true that in her new joy this miserable creature + that I am thought of you least. Now I have the punishment! + </p> + <p> + “My friend! the Poles were at the mercy of Mr. Pericles: Wilfrid had + struck him: Mr. Pericles was angry and full of mischief. Those dear people + had been kind to me, and I heard they were poor. I felt money in my + breast, in my throat, that only wanted coining. I went to Georgiana, and + oh! how truly she proved to me that she loves you better than I do. She + refused to part with money that you might soon want. I laid a scheme for + Mr. Pericles to hear me sing. He heard me, and my scheme succeeded. If + Italy knew as well as I, she would never let her voice be heard till she + is sure of it:—Yes! from foot to head, I knew it was impossible to + fail. If a country means to be free, the fire must run through it and make + it feel that certainty. Then—away the whitecoat! I sang, and the man + twisted, as if I had bent him in my hand. He rushed to me, and offered me + any terms I pleased, if for three years I would go to the Conservatorio at + Milan, and learn submissively. It is a little grief to me that I think + this man loves music more deeply than I do. In the two things I love best, + the love of others exceeds mine. I named a sum of money—immense! and + I desired that Mr. Pericles should assist Mr. Pole in his business. He + consented at once to everything. The next day he gave me the money, and I + signed my name and pledged my honour to an engagement. My friends were + relieved. + </p> + <p> + “It was then I began to think of you. I had not to study the matter long + to learn that I did not love you: and I will not trust my own feelings as + they come to me now. I judge myself by my acts, or, Merthyr! I should sink + to the ground like a dead body when I think of separation from you for + three years. But, what am I? I am a raw girl. I command nothing but raw + and flighty hearts of men. Are they worth anything? Let me study three + years, without any talk of hearts at all. It commenced too early, and has + left nothing to me but a dreadful knowledge of the weakness in most + people:—not in you! + </p> + <p> + “If I might call you my Beloved! and so chain myself to you, I think I + should have all your firmness and double my strength. I will not; for I + will not have what I do not deserve. I think of you reading this, till I + try to get to you; my heart is like a bird caught in the hands of a cruel + boy. By what I have done I know I do not love you. Must we half-despise a + man to love him? May no dear woman that I know ever marry the man she + first loves! My misery now is gladness, is like rain-drops on rising + wings, if I say to myself 'Free! free, Emilia!' I am bound for three + years, but I smile at such a bondage to my body. Evviva! my soul is free! + Three years of freedom, and no sounding of myself—three years of + growing, and studying; three years of idle heart!—Merthyr! I throb + to think that those three years—true man! my hero, I may call you!—those + three years may make me worthy of you. And if you have given all to Italy, + that a daughter of Italy should help to return it, seems, my friend, so + tenderly sweet—here is the first drop from my eyes! + </p> + <p> + “I would break what you call a Sentiment: I broke my word to Wilfrid. But + this sight of money has a meaning that I cannot conquer. I know you would + not wish me to for your own pleasure; and therefore I go. I hope to be + growing; I fly like a seed to Italy. Let me drill, and take sharp words, + and fret at trifles! I lift my face to that prospect as if I smelt new + air. I am changeing—I have no dreams of Italy, no longings, but go + to see her like a machine ready to do my work. Whoever speaks to me, I + feel that I look at them and know them. I see the faults of my country—Oh, + beloved Breseians! not yours, Florentines! nor yours, dear Venice! We will + be silent when they speak of the Milanese, till Italy can say to them, + 'That conduct is not Italian, my children.' I see the faults. Nothing + vexes me. + </p> + <p> + “Addio! My friend, we will speak English in dear England! Tell all that I + shall never forget England! My English Merthyr! the blood you have shed is + not for a woman. The blood that you have shed, laurels spring from it! For + a woman, the blood spilt is sickly and poor, and nourishes nothing. I + shudder at the thought of one we knew. He makes Love seem like a yellow + light over a plague-spotted city, like a painting I have seen. Goodbye to + the name of Love for three years! My engagement to Mr. Pericles is that I + am not to write, not to receive letters. To you I say now, trust me for + three years! Merthyr's answer is already in my bosom. Beloved!—let + me say it once—when the answer to any noble thing I might ask of you + is in my bosom instantly, is not that as much as marriage? But be under no + deception. See me as I am. Oh, good-bye! good-bye! Good-bye to you! + Good-bye to England! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “I am, + + “Most humbly and affectionately, + + “Your friend, + + “And her daughter by the mother's side, + + “Emilia Alessandra Belloni.” + </pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS + + A plunge into the deep is of little moment + A marriage without love is dishonour + Active despair is a passion that must be superseded + Am I ill? I must be hungry! + And, ladies, if you will consent to be likened to a fruit + And he passed along the road, adds the Philosopher + Bear in mind that we are sentimentalists—The eye is our servant + Being heard at night, in the nineteenth century + Beyond a plot of flowers, a gold-green meadow dipped to a ridge + But love for a parent is not merely duty + Depreciating it after the fashion of chartered hypocrites. + Emilia alone of the party was as a blot to her + Fine Shades were still too dominant at Brookfield + Had Shakespeare's grandmother three Christian names? + He thinks that the country must be saved by its women as well + His alien ideas were not unimpressed by the picture + Hushing together, they agreed that it had been a false move + I had to cross the park to give a lesson + I cannot delay; but I request you, that are here privileged + I had to make my father and mother live on potatoes + I detest anything that has to do with gratitude + I know that your father has been hearing tales told of me + I am not ashamed + It was as if she had been eyeing a golden door shut fast + Littlenesses of which women are accused + Love that shrieks at a mortal wound, and bleeds humanly + Love discerns unerringly what is and what is not duty + Love the poor devil + Love, with his accustomed cunning + Man who beats his wife my first question is, 'Do he take his tea?' + My mistress! My glorious stolen fruit! My dark angel of love + My voice! I have my voice! Emilia had cried it out to herself + My engagement to Mr. Pericles is that I am not to write + No nose to the hero, no moral to the tale + Nor can a protest against coarseness be sweepingly interpreted + Oh! beastly bathos + On a wild April morning + Once my love? said he. Not now?—does it mean, not now? + One of those men whose characters are read off at a glance + Our partner is our master + Passion does not inspire dark appetite—Dainty innocence does + Passion, he says, is noble strength on fire + Pleasure sat like an inextinguishable light on her face + Poor mortals are not in the habit of climbing Olympus to ask + Revived for them so much of themselves + She was perhaps a little the taller of the two + She had great awe of the word 'business' + Silence was their only protection to the Nice Feelings + So it is when you play at Life! When you will not go straight + Solitude is pasturage for a suspicion + The majority, however, had been snatched out of this bliss + The circle which the ladies of Brookfield were designing + The woman follows the man, and music fits to verse, + The sentimentalists are represented by them among the civilized + The dismally-lighted city wore a look of Judgement terrible to see + The sentimentalist goes on accumulating images + The gallant cornet adored delicacy and a gilded refinement + The philosopher (I would keep him back if I could) + Their way was down a green lane and across long meadow-paths + They, meantime, who had a contempt for sleep + They had all noticed, seen, and observed + To know that you are in England, breathing the same air with me + True love excludes no natural duty + Victims of the modern feminine 'ideal' + We have now looked into the hazy interior of their systems + We are, in short, a civilized people + What was this tale of Emilia, that grew more and more perplexing + Wilfrid perceived that he had become an old man + Women are wonderfully quick scholars under ridicule + You have not to be told that I desire your happiness above all +</pre> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Sandra Belloni, Complete, by George Meredith + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SANDRA BELLONI, COMPLETE *** + +***** This file should be named 4420-h.htm or 4420-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/4/4/2/4420/ + +Produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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