Books: He Knew He Was Right

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'I must write and tell her,' said Priscilla.

'I am sure I shall not object,' said Mrs Trevelyan. 'And Hugh must be
told,' said Mrs Stanbury.

'You may tell all the world, if you like,' said Mrs Trevelyan.

In this way it was settled among them that Colonel Osborne was to be
received. On the next morning, Friday morning, Colonel Osborne,
doubtless having heard something of Mrs Crocket from his friend at
Cockchaffington, was up early, and had himself driven over to Nuncombe
Putney before breakfast. The ever-watchful Bozzle was, of course, at
his heels or rather, not at his heels on the first two miles of the
journey; for Bozzle, with painful zeal, had made himself aware of all
the facts, and had started on the Nuncombe Putney road half an hour
before the Colonel's fly was in motion. And when the fly passed him he
was lying discreetly hidden behind an old oak. The driver, however, had
caught a glimpse of him as he was topping a hill, and having seen him
about on the previous day, and perceiving that he was dressed in a
decent coat and trousers, and that, nevertheless, he was not a
gentleman, began to suspect that he was somebody. There was a great
deal said afterwards about Bozzle in Mrs Clegg's yard at Lessboro'; but
the Lessboro' mind was never able to satisfy itself altogether
respecting Bozzle and his mission. As to Colonel Osborne and his
mission, the Lessboro' mind did satisfy itself with much certainty. The
horse was hardly taken from out of Colonel Osborne's fly in Mrs
Crocket's yard when Bozzle stepped into the village by a path which he
had already discovered, and soon busied himself among the tombs in the
churchyard. Now, one corner of the churchyard was immediately opposite
to the iron gate leading into the Clock House. 'Drat 'un,' said the
wooden-legged postman, still sitting on his donkey, to Mrs Crocket's
ostler, 'if there be'ant the chap as was here yesterday when I was a
starting, and I zeed 'un in Lezbro' Street thick very morning.' 'He
be'ant arter no good, that 'un,' said the ostler. After that a close
watch was kept upon the watcher.

In the meantime, Colonel Osborne had ordered his breakfast at the Stag
and Antlers, and had asked questions as to the position of the Clock
House. He was altogether ignorant of Mr Bozzle, although Mr Bozzle had
been on his track now for two days and two nights. He had determined,
as he came on to Nuncombe Putney, that he would not be shame-faced
about his visit to Mrs Trevelyan. It is possible that he was not so
keen in the matter as he had. Been when he planned his journey in
London; and, it may be, that he really tried to make himself believe
that he had come all the way to the confines of Dartmoor to see the
porch of Cockchaffington Church. The session in London was over, and it
was necessary for such a man as Colonel Osborne that he should do
something with himself before he went down to the Scotch grouse. He had
long desired to see something of the most picturesque county in
England; and now, as he sat eating his breakfast in Mrs Crocket's
parlour, he almost looked upon his dear Emily as a subsidiary
attraction. 'Oh, that's the Clock House,' he said to Mrs Crocket. 'No,
I have not the pleasure of knowing Mrs Stanbury; very respectable lady,
so I have heard; widow of a clergyman; ah, yes; son up in London; I
know him always writing books, is he? Very clever, I dare say. But
there's a lady indeed, two ladies whom I do know. Mrs Trevelyan is
there, I think and Miss Rowley.'

'You be'ant Muster Trevelyan, be you?' said Mrs Crocket, looking at him
very hard.

'No, I'm not Mr Trevelyan.'

'Nor yet "the Colonel" they doo be talking about?'

'Well, yes, I am a colonel. I don't know why anybody should talk about
me. I'll just step out now, however, and see my friends.'

'It's madam's lover,' said Mrs Crocket to herself, 'as sure as eggs is
eggs.' As she said so, Colonel Osborne boldly walked across the village
and pulled the bell at the iron gate, while Bozzle, crouching among the
tombs, saw the handle in his hand. 'There he is,' said Priscilla.
Everybody in the Clock House had known that the fly, which they had
seen, had brought 'the Colonel' into Nuncombe Putney. Everybody had
known that he had breakfasted at the Stag and Antlers. And everybody
now knew that he was at the gate, ringing the bell. 'Into the drawing
room,' said Mrs Stanbury, with a fearful, tremulous whisper to the girl
who went across the little garden in front to open the iron gate. The
girl felt as though Apollyon were there, and as though she were called
upon to admit Apollyon. Mrs Stanbury having uttered her whisper,
hurried way upstairs. Priscilla held her ground in the parlour,
determined to be near the scene of action if there might be need. And
it must be acknowledged that she peeped from behind the curtain,
anxious to catch a glimpse of the terrible man, whose coming to
Nuncombe Putney she regarded as so severe a misfortune.

The plan of the campaign had all been arranged. Mrs Trevelyan and Nora
together received Colonel Osborne in the drawing-room. It was
understood that Nora was to remain there during the whole visit. 'It is
horrible to think that such a precaution should be necessary,' Mrs
Trevelyan had said, 'but perhaps it may be best. There is no knowing
what the malice of people may not invent.'

'My dear girls,' said the Colonel, 'I am delighted to see you,' and he
gave a hand to each.

'We are not very cheerful here,' said Mrs Trevelyan, 'as you may
imagine.'

'But the scenery is beautiful,' said Nora, 'and the people we are
living with are very kind and nice.'

'I am very glad of that,' said the Colonel. Then there was a pause, and
it seemed, for a moment, that none of them knew how to begin a general
conversation. Colonel Osborne was quite sure, by this time, that he had
come down to Devonshire with the express object of seeing the door of
the church at Cockchaffington, and Mrs Trevelyan was beginning to think
that he certainly had not come to see her. 'Have you heard from your
father since you have been here?' asked the Colonel.

Then there was an explanation about Sir Marmaduke and Lady Rowley. Mr
Trevelyan's name was not mentioned; but Mrs Trevelyan stated that she
had explained to her mother all the painful circumstances of her
present life. Sir Marmaduke, as Colonel Osborne was aware, was expected
to be in England in the spring, and Lady Rowley would, of course, come
with him. Nora thought that they might probably now come before that
time; but Mrs Trevelyan declared that it was out of the question that
they should do so. She was sure that her father could not leave the
islands except when he did so in obedience to official orders. The
expense of doing so would be ruinous to him. And what good would he do?
In this way there was a great deal of family conversation, in which
Colonel Osborne was able to take a part; but not a word was said about
Mr Trevelyan.

Nor did 'the Colonel' find an opportunity of expressing a spark of that
sentiment, for the purpose of expressing which he had made this journey
to Devonshire. It is not pleasant to make love in the presence of a
third person, even when that love is all fair and above board; but it
is quite impracticable to do so to a married lady, when that married
lady's sister is present. No more futile visit than this of Colonel
Osborne's to the Clock House was ever made. And yet, though not a word
was spoken to which Mr Trevelyan himself could have taken the slightest
exception, the visit, futile as it was, could not but do an enormous
deal Of harm. Mrs Crocket had already guessed that the fine gentleman
down from London was the lover of the married lady at the Clock House,
who was separated from her husband. The wooden-legged postman and the
ostler were not long in connecting the man among the tombstones with
the visitor to the house. Trevelyan, as we are aware, already knew that
Colonel Osborne was in the neighbourhood. And poor Priscilla Stanbury
was now exposed to the terrible necessity of owning the truth to her
aunt. 'The Colonel,' when he had sat an hour with his young friends,
took his leave; and, as he walked back to Mrs Crocket's, and ordered
that his fly might be got ready for him, his mind was heavy with the
disagreeable feeling that he had made an ass of himself. The whole
affair had been a failure; and though he might be able to pass off the
porch at Cockchaffington among his friends, he could not but be aware
himself that he had spent his time, his trouble, and his money for
nothing. He became aware, as he returned to Lessboro', that had he
intended to make any pleasant use whatever of his position in reference
to Mrs Trevelyan, the tone of his letter and his whole mode of
proceeding should have been less patriarchal. And he should have
contrived a meeting without the presence of Nora Rowley.

As soon as he had left them, Mrs Trevelyan went to her own room, and
Nora at once rejoined Priscilla.

'Is he gone?' asked Priscilla.

'Oh, yes he has gone.'

'What would I have given that he had never come!'

'And yet,' said Nora, 'what harm has he done? I wish he had not come,
because, of course, people will talk! But nothing was more natural than
that he should come over to see us when he was so near us.'

'Nora!'

'What do you mean?'

'You don't believe all that? In the neighbourhood! I believe he came on
purpose to see your sister, and I think that it was a dastardly and
most ungentleman-like thing to do.'

'I am quite sure you are wrong, then altogether wrong,' said Nora.

'Very well. We must have our own opinions. I am glad you can be so
charitable. But he should not have come here to this house, even though
imperative business had brought him into the very village. But men in
their vanity never think of the injury they may do to a woman's name.
Now I must go and write to my aunt. I am not going to have it said
hereafter that I deceived her. And then I shall write to Hugh. Oh dear;
oh dear!'

'I am afraid we are a great trouble to you.'

'I will not deceive you, because I like you. This is a great trouble to
me. I have meant to be so prudent, and with all my prudence I have not
been able to keep clear of rocks. And I have been so indignant with
Aunt Stanbury! Now I must go and eat humble-pie.'

Then she eat humble pie after the following fashion:

'Dear Aunt Stanbury

After what has passed between us, I think it right to tell you that
Colonel Osborne has been at Nuncombe Putney, and that he called at the
Clock House this morning. We did not see him. But Mrs Trevelyan and
Miss Rowley, together, did see him. He remained here perhaps an hour.

'I should not have thought it necessary to mention this to you, the
matter being one in which you are not concerned, were it not for our
former correspondence. When I last wrote, I had no idea that he was
coming nor had mamma. And when you first wrote, he was not even
expected by Mrs Trevelyan. The man you wrote about, was another
gentleman as I told you before. All this is most disagreeable, and
tiresome and would be quite nonsensical, but that circumstances seem to
make it necessary.

As for Colonel Osborne, I wish he had not been here; but his coming
would do no harm only that it will be talked about.

I think you will understand how it is that I feel myself constrained to
write to you. I do hope that you will spare mamma, who is disturbed and
harassed when she gets angry letters. If you have anything to say to
myself, I don't mind it.

Yours truly,

Priscilla Stanbury.'

The Clock House, Friday, August 5.'

She wrote also to her brother Hugh; but Hugh himself reached Nuncombe
Putney before the letter reached him.

Mr Bozzle watched the Colonel out of the house, and watched him out of
the village. When the Colonel was fairly started, Mr Bozzle walked back
to Lessboro'.

CHAPTER XXII - SHEWING HOW MISS STANBURY BEHAVED TO HER TWO NIECES

The triumph of Miss Stanbury when she received her niece's letter was
certainly very great so great that in its first flush she could not
restrain herself from exhibiting it to Dorothy. 'Well well what do you
think, Dolly?'

'About what, aunt? I don't know who the letter is from.'

'Nobody writes to me now so constant as your sister Priscilla. The
letter is from Priscilla. Colonel Osborne has been at the Clock House,
after all. I knew that he would be there. I knew it! I knew it!'

Dorothy, when she heard this, was dumbfounded. She had rested her
defence of her mother and sister on the impossibility of any such visit
being admitted. According to her lights the coming of Colonel Osborne,
after all that had been said, would be like the coming of Lucifer
himself. The Colonel was, to her imagination, a horrible roaring lion.
She had no idea that the erratic manoeuvres of such a beast might be
milder and more innocent than the wooing of any turtle-dove. She would
have asked whether the roaring lion had gone away again, and, if so,
whether he had taken his prey with him, were it not that she was too
much frightened at the moment to ask any question. That her mother and
sister should have been wilfully concerned in such iniquity was quite
incredible to her, but yet she did not know how to defend them. 'But
are you quite sure of it, Aunt Stanbury? May there not be another
mistake?'

'No mistake this time, I think, my dear. Any way, Priscilla says that
he is there.' Now in this there was a mistake. Priscilla had said
nothing of the kind.

'You don't mean that he is staying at the Clock House, Aunt Stanbury?'

'I don't know where he is now. I'm not his keeper. And, I'm glad to
say, I'm not the lady's keeper either. Ah, me! It's a bad business. You
can't touch pitch and not be defiled, my dear. If your mother wanted
the Clock House, I would sooner have taken it for her myself than that
all this should have happened for the family's sake.'

But Miss Stanbury, when she was alone, and when she had read her
niece's three letters again and again, began to understand something of
Priscilla's honesty, and began also to perceive that there might have
been a great difficulty respecting the Colonel, for which neither her
niece nor her sister-in-law could fairly be held to be responsible. It
was perhaps the plainest characteristic of all the Stanburys that they
were never wilfully dishonest. Ignorant, prejudiced, and passionate
they might be. In her anger Miss Stanbury, of Exeter, could be almost
malicious; and her niece at Nuncombe Putney was very like her aunt.
Each could say most cruel things, most unjust things, when actuated by
a mistaken consciousness of perfect right on her own side. But neither
of them could lie even by silence. Let an error be brought home to
either. of them so as to be acknowledged at home and the error would be
assuredly confessed aloud. And, indeed, with differences in the shades,
Hugh and Dorothy were of the same nature. They were possessed of
sweeter tempers than their aunt and sister, but they were filled with
the same eager readiness to believe themselves to be right and to own
themselves to others to be wrong, when they had been constrained to
make such confession to themselves. The chances of life, and something
probably of inner nature, had made Dorothy mild and obedient; whereas,
in regard to Hugh, the circumstances of his life and disposition had
made him obstinate and self-reliant. But in all was to be found the
same belief in self which amounted almost to conceit the same warmth of
affection, and the same love of justice.

When Miss Stanbury had again perused the correspondence, and had come
to see, dimly, how things had gone at Nuncombe Putney when the
conviction came upon her mind that Priscilla had entertained a horror
as to the coming of this Colonel equal to that which she herself had
felt when her imagination painted to her all that her niece had
suffered, her heart was softened somewhat. She had declared to Dorothy
that pitch, if touched, would certainly defile; and she had, at first,
intended to send the same opinion, couched in very forcible words, to
her correspondents at the Clock House. They should not continue to go
astray for want of being told that they were going astray. It must be
acknowledged, too, that there was a certain amount of ignoble wrath in
the bosom of Miss Stanbury because her sister-in-law had taken the
Clock House. She had never been told, and had not even condescended to
ask Dorothy, whether the house was taken and paid for by her nephew on
behalf of his mother, or whether it was paid for by Mr Trevelyan on
behalf of his wife. In the latter case, Mrs Stanbury would, she
thought, be little more than an upper servant, or keeper as she
expressed it to herself. Such an arrangement appeared to her to be
quite disgraceful in a Stanbury; but yet she believed that such must be
the existing arrangement, as she could not bring herself to conceive
that Hugh Stanbury could keep such an establishment over his mother's
head out of money earned by writing for a penny newspaper. There would
be a triumph of democracy in this which would vanquish her altogether.
She had, therefore, been anxious enough to trample on Priscilla and
upon all the affairs of the Clock House; but yet she had been unable to
ignore the nobility of Priscilla's truth, and having acknowledged it to
herself she found herself compelled to acknowledge it aloud. She sat
down to think in silence, and it was not till she had fortified herself
by her first draught of beer, and till she had finished her first
portion of bread and cheese, that she spoke. 'I have written to your
sister herself, this time,' she said. 'I don't know that I ever wrote a
line to her before in my life.'

'Poor Priscilla!' Dorothy did not mean to be severe on her aunt, either
in regard to the letters which had not been written, or to the one
letter which now had been written. But Dorothy pitied her sister, whom
she felt to be in trouble.

'Well; I don't know about her being so poor. Priscilla, I'll be bound,
thinks as well of herself as any of us do.'

'She'd cut her fingers off before she'd mean to do wrong,' said
Dorothy.

'But what does that come to? What's the good of that? It isn't meaning
to do right that will save us. For aught I know, the Radicals may mean
to do right. Mr Beales means to do right perhaps.'

'But, aunt if everybody did the best they could?'

'Tush, my dear! you are getting beyond your depth. There are such
things still, thank God! as spiritual pastors and masters. Entrust
yourself to them. Do what they think right.' Now if aught were known in
Exeter of Miss Stanbury, this was known that if any clergyman
volunteered to give to her, unasked and uninvited, counsel, either
ghostly or bodily, that clergyman would be sent from her presence with
a wigging which he would not soon forget. The thing had been tried more
than once, and the wigging had been complete. There was no more
attentive listener in church than Miss Stanbury; and she would, now and
again, appeal to a clergyman on some knotty point. But for the ordinary
authority of spiritual pastors and masters she shewed more of abstract
reverence than of practical obedience.

'I'm sure Priscilla does the best she can,' said Dorothy, going back to
the old subject.

'Ah well yes. What I want to say about Priscilla is this. It is a
thousand pities she is so obstinate, so pigheaded, so certain that she
can manage everything for herself better than anybody else can for
her.' Miss Stanbury was striving to say something good of her niece,
but found the task to be difficult and distasteful to her.

'She has managed for mamma ever so many years; and since she took it we
have hardly ever been in debt,' said Dorothy.

'She'll do all that, I don't doubt. I don't suppose she cares much for
ribbons and false hair for herself.'

'Who? Priscilla! The idea of Priscilla with false hair!'

'I dare say not I dare say not. I do not think she'd spend her mother's
money on things of that kind.'

'Aunt Stanbury, you don't know her.'

'Ah; very well. Perhaps I don't. But, come, my dear, you are very hard
upon me, and very anxious to take your sister's part. And what is it
all about? I've just written to her as civil a letter as one woman ever
wrote to another. And if I had chosen, I could have could have h m m.'
Miss Stanbury, as she hesitated for words in which to complete her
sentence, revelled in the strength of the vituperation which she could
have poured upon her niece's head, had she chosen to write her last
letter about Colonel Osborne in her severe strain.

'If you have written kindly to her, I am so much obliged to you,' said
Dorothy.

'The truth is, Priscilla has meant to be right. Meaning won't go for
much when the account is taken, unless the meaning comes from a proper
source. But the poor girl has done as well as she has known how. I
believe it is Hugh's fault more than anybody else's.' This accusation
was not pleasant to Dorothy, but she was too intent just now on
Priscilla's case to defend her brother, 'That man never ought to have
been there; and that woman never ought to have been there. There cannot
be a doubt about that. If Priscilla were sitting there opposite to me,
she would own as much. I am sure she would.' Miss Stanbury was quite
right if she meant to assert that Priscilla had owned as much to
herself. 'And because I think so, I am willing to forgive her part in
the matter. To me, personally, she has always been rude most
uncourteous and and and unlike a younger woman to an older one, and an
aunt, and all that. I suppose it is because she hates me.'

'Oh, no, Aunt Stanbury!'

'My dear, I suppose it is. Why else should she treat me in such a way?
But I do believe of her that she would rather eat an honest, dry crust,
than dishonest cake and ale.'

'She would rather starve than pick up a crumb that was dishonest,' said
Dorothy, fairly bursting out into tears.

'I believe it. I do believe it. There; what more can I say? Clock
House, indeed! What matter what house you live in, so that you can pay
the rent of it honestly?'

'But the rent is paid honestly,' said Dorothy, amidst her sobs.

'It's paid, I don't doubt. I dare say the woman's husband and your
brother see to that among them. Oh, that my boy, Hugh, as he used to
be, should have brought us all to this! But there's no knowing what
they won't do among them. Reform, indeed! Murder, sacrilege, adultery,
treason, atheism--that's what Reform means; besides every kind of
nastiness under the sun.' In which latter category Miss Stanbury
intended especially to include bad printer's ink, and paper made of
straw.

The reader may as well see the letter which was as civil a letter as
ever one woman wrote to another, so that the collection of the Stanbury
correspondence may be made perfect.

'The Close, August 6, 186-.

My Dear Niece,

Your letter has not astonished me nearly as much as you expected it
would. I am an older woman than you, and, though you will not believe
it, I have seen more of the world. I knew that the gentleman would come
after the lady. Such gentlemen always do go after their ladies. As for
yourself, I can see all that you have done, and pretty nearly hear all
that you have said, as plain as a pikestaff. I do you the credit of
believing that the plan is none of your making. I know who made the
plan, and a very bad plan it is.

As to my former letters and the other man, I understand all about it.
You were very angry that I should accuse you of having this man at the
house; and you were right to be angry. I respect you for having been
that he has come?

If you will consent to take an old woman's advice, get rid of the whole
boiling of them. I say it in firm love and friendship, for I am

Your affectionate aunt,

Jemima Stanbury.'

The special vaunted courtesy of this letter consisted, no doubt, in the
expression of respect which it contained, and in that declaration of
affection with which it terminated. The epithet was one which Miss
Stanbury would by no means use promiscuously in writing to her nearest
relatives. She had not intended to use it when she commenced her letter
to Priscilla. But the respect of which she had spoken had glowed, and
had warmed. itself into something of temporary love; and feeling at the
moment that she was an affectionate aunt, Miss Stanbury had so put
herself down in her letter. Having done such a deed she felt that
Dorothy, though Dorothy knew nothing about it, ought in her gratitude
to listen patiently to anything that she might now choose to say
against Priscilla.

But Dorothy was in truth very miserable, and in her misery wrote a long
letter that afternoon to her mother which, however, it will not be
necessary to place entire among the Stanbury records begging that she
might be informed as to the true circumstances of the case. She did not
say a word of censure in regard either to her mother or sister; but she
expressed an opinion in the mildest words which she could use, that if
anything had happened which had compromised their names since their
residence at the Clock House, she, Dorothy, had better go home and join
them. The meaning of which was that it would not become her to remain
in the house in the Close, if the house in the Close would be disgraced
by her presence, Poor Dorothy had taught herself to think that the
iniquity of roaring lions spread itself very widely.