Books: He Knew He Was Right

A >> Anthony Trollope >> He Knew He Was Right

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49 | 50 | 51 | 52 | 53 | 54 | 55 | 56 | 57 | 58 | 59 | 60 | 61 | 62 | 63 | 64 | 65 | 66 | 67 | 68 | 69 | 70 | 71 | 72

She was sitting one evening alone, thinking of all this, having left
Martha with her aunt, and was trying to reconcile the circumstances of
her life as it now existed with the circumstances as they had been with
her in the old days at Nuncombe Putney, wondering at herself in that
she should have a lover, and trying to convince herself that for her
this little episode of romance could mean nothing serious, when Martha
crept down into the room to her. Of late days the alteration might
perhaps be dated from the rejection of Mr Gibson Martha, who had always
been very kind, had become more respectful in her manner to Dorothy
than had heretofore been usual with her. Dorothy was quite aware of it,
and was not unconscious of a certain rise in the world which was
thereby indicated. 'If you please, miss,' said Martha, 'who do you
think is here?'

'But there is nobody with my aunt?' said Dorothy.

'She is sleeping like a babby, and I came down just for a moment. Mr
Gibson is here, miss in the house! He asked for your aunt, and when, of
course, he could not see her, he asked for you.' Dorothy for a few
minutes was utterly disconcerted, but at last she consented to see Mr
Gibson. 'I think it is best,' said Martha, 'because it is bad to be
fighting, and missus so ill. "Blessed are the peace-makers," miss, "for
they shall be called the children of God."' Convinced by this argument,
or by the working of her own mind, Dorothy directed that Mr Gibson
might be shewn into the room. When he came, she found herself unable to
address him. She remembered the last time in which she had seen him,
and was lost in wonder that he should be there. But she shook hands
with him, and went through some form of greeting in which no word was
uttered.

'I hope you will not think that I have done wrong,' said he, 'in
calling to ask after my old friend's state of health?'

'Oh dear, no,' said Dorothy, quite bewildered.

'I have known her for so very long, Miss Dorothy, that now in the hour
of her distress, and perhaps mortal malady, I cannot stop to remember
the few harsh words that she spoke to me lately.'

'She never means to be harsh, Mr Gibson.'

'Ah; well; no perhaps not. At any rate I have learned to forgive and
forget. I am afraid your aunt is very ill, Miss Dorothy.'

'She is ill, certainly, Mr Gibson.'

'Dear, dear! We are all as the grass of the field, Miss Dorothy here
to-day and gone to-morrow, as sparks fly upwards. Just fit to be cut
down and cast into the oven. Mr Jennings has been with her, I believe?'
Mr Jennings was the other minor canon.

'He comes three times a week, Mr Gibson.'

'He is an excellent young man a very good young man. It has been a
great comfort to me to have Jennings with me. But he's very young, Miss
Dorothy; isn't he?' Dorothy muttered something, purporting to declare,
that she was not acquainted with the exact circumstances of Mr
Jennings' age. 'I should be so glad to come if my old friend would
allow me,' said Mr Gibson, almost with a sigh. Dorothy was clearly of
opinion that any change at the present would be bad for her aunt, but
she did not know how to express her opinion; so she stood silent and
looked at him. 'There needn't be a word spoken, you know, about the
ladies at Heavitree,' said Mr Gibson.

'Oh dear, no,' said Dorothy. And yet she knew well that there would be
such words spoken if Mr Gibson were to make his way into her aunt's
room. Her aunt was constantly alluding to the ladies at Heavitree, in
spite of all the efforts of her old servant to restrain her.

'There was some little misunderstanding,' said Mr Gibson; 'but all that
should be over now. We both intended for the best, Miss Dorothy; and
I'm sure nobody here can say that I wasn't sincere.' But Dorothy,
though she could not bring herself to answer Mr Gibson plainly, could
not be induced to assent to his proposition. She muttered something
about her aunt's weakness, and the great attention which Mr Jennings
shewed. Her aunt had become very fond of Mr Jennings, and she did at
last express her opinion, with some clearness, that her aunt should not
be disturbed by any changes at present. 'After that I should not think
of pressing it, Miss Dorothy,' said Mr Gibson; 'but, still, I do hope
that I may have the privilege of seeing her yet once again in the
flesh. And touching my approaching marriage, Miss Dorothy--' He paused,
and Dorothy felt that she was blushing up to the roots of her hair.
'Touching my marriage,' continued Mr Gibson, 'which however will not be
solemnized till the end of March;'--it was manifest that he regarded
this as a point that would in that household be regarded as an argument
in his favour--'I do hope that you will look upon it in the most
favourable light and your excellent aunt also, if she be spared to us.'

'I am sure we hope that you will be happy, Mr Gibson.'

'What was I to do, Miss Dorothy? I know that I have been very much
blamed but so unfairly! I have never meant to be untrue to a mouse,
Miss Dorothy.' Dorothy did not at all understand whether she were the
mouse, or Camilla French, or Arabella. 'And it is so hard to find that
one is ill-spoken of because things have gone a little amiss.' It was
quite impossible that Dorothy should make any answer to this, and at
last Mr Gibson left her, assuring her with his last word that nothing
would give him so much pleasure as to be called upon once more to see
his old friend in her last moments.

Though Miss Stanbury had been described as sleeping 'like a babby,' she
had heard the footsteps of a strange man in the house, and had made
Martha tell her whose footsteps they were. As soon as Dorothy went to
her, she darted upon the subject with all her old keenness.

'What did he want here, Dolly?'

'He said he would like to see you, aunt when you are a little better,
you know. He spoke a good deal of his old friendship and respect.'

'He should have thought of that before. How am I to see people now?'

'But when you are better, aunt ?'

'How do I know that I shall ever be better? He isn't off with those
people at Heavitree is he?'

'I hope not, aunt.'

'Psha! A poor, weak, insufficient creature that's what he is. Mr
Jennings is worth twenty of him.' Dorothy, though she put the question
again in its most alluring form of Christian charity and forgiveness,
could not induce her aunt to say that she would see Mr Gibson. 'How can
I see him, when you know that Sir Peter has forbidden me to see
anybody, except Mrs Clifford and Mr Jennings?'

Two days afterwards there was an uncomfortable little scene at
Heavitree. It must, no doubt, have been the case, that the same train
of circumstances which had produced Mr Gibson's visit to the Close,
produced also the scene in question. It was suggested by some who were
attending closely to the matter that Mr Gibson had already come to
repent his engagement with Camilla French; and, indeed, there were
those who pretended to believe that he was induced, by the prospect of
Miss Stanbury's demise, to transfer his allegiance yet again, and to
bestow his hand upon Dorothy at last. There were many in the city who
could never be persuaded that Dorothy had refused him these being, for
the most part, ladies in whose estimation the value of a husband was
counted so great, and a beneficed clergyman so valuable among suitors,
that it was to their thinking impossible that Dorothy Stanbury should
in her sound senses have rejected such an offer. 'I don't believe a bit
of it,' said Mrs Crumbie to Mrs Apjohn; 'is it likely?' The ears of all
the French family were keenly alive to rumours, and to rumours of
rumours. Reports of these opinions respecting Mr Gibson reached
Heavitree, and had their effect. As long as Mr Gibson was behaving well
as a suitor, they were inoperative there. What did it matter to them
how the prize might have been struggled for might still be struggled
for elsewhere, while they enjoyed the consciousness of possession? But
when the consciousness of possession became marred by a cankerous
doubt, such rumours were very important. Camilla heard of the visit in
the Close, and swore that she would have justice done her. She gave her
mother to understand that, if any trick were played upon her, the
diocese should be made to ring of it, in a fashion that would astonish
them all, from the bishop downwards. Whereupon Mrs French, putting much
faith in her daughter's threats, sent for Mr Gibson.

'The truth is, Mr Gibson,' said Mrs French, when the civilities of
their first greeting had been completed, 'my poor child is pining.'

'Pining, Mrs French!'

'Yes pining, Mr Gibson. I am afraid that you little understand how
sensitive is that young heart. Of course, she is your own now. To her
thinking, it would be treason to you for her to indulge in conversation
with any other gentleman; but, then, she expects that you should spend
your evenings with her of course!'

'But, Mrs French think of my engagements, as a clergyman.'

'We know all about that, Mr Gibson. We know what a clergyman's calls
are. It isn't like a doctor's, Mr Gibson.'

'It's very often worse, Mrs French.'

'Why should you go calling in the Close, Mr Gibson?' Here was the gist
of the accusation.

'Wouldn't you have me make my peace with a poor dying sister?' pleaded
Mr Gibson.

'After what has occurred,' said Mrs French, shaking her head at him,
'and while things are just as they are now, it would be more like an
honest man of you to stay away. And, of course, Camilla feels it. She
feels it very much and she won't put up with it neither.'

'I think this is the cruellest, cruellest thing I ever heard,' said Mr
Gibson.

'It is you that are cruel, sir.'

Then the wretched man turned at bay. 'I tell you what it is, Mrs French
if I am treated in this way, I won't stand it. I won't, indeed. I'll go
away. I'm not going to be suspected, nor yet blown up. I think I've
behaved handsomely, at any rate to Camilla.'

'Quite so, Mr Gibson, if you would come and see her on evenings,' said
Mrs French, who was falling back into her usual state of timidity.

'But, if I'm to be treated in this way, I will go away. I've thoughts
of it as it is. I've been already invited to go to Natal, and if I hear
anything more of these accusations, I shall certainly make up my mind
to go.' Then he left the house, before Camilla could be down upon him
from her perch on the landing-place.

CHAPTER LV - THE REPUBLICAN BROWNING

Mr Glascock had returned to Naples after his sufferings in the
dining-room of the American Minister, and by the middle of February was
back again in Florence. His father was still alive, and it was said
that the old lord would now probably live through the winter. And it
was understood that Mr Glascock would remain in Italy. He had declared
that he would pass his time between Naples, Rome, and Florence; but it
seemed to his friends that Florence was, of the three, the most to his
taste. He liked his room, he said; at the York Hotel, and he liked
being in the capital. That was his own statement. His friends said that
he liked being with Carry Spalding, the daughter of the American
Minister; but none of them, then in Italy, were sufficiently intimate
with him to express that opinion to himself.

It had been expressed more than once to Carry Spalding. The world in
general says such things to ladies more openly than it does to men, and
the probability of a girl's success in matrimony is canvassed in her
hearing by those who are nearest to her with a freedom which can seldom
be used in regard to a man. A man's most intimate friend hardly speaks
to him of the prospect of his marriage till he himself has told that
the engagement exists. The lips of no living person had suggested to Mr
Glascock that the American girl was to become his wife; but a great
deal had been said to Carry Spalding about the conquest she had made.
Her uncle, her aunt, her sister, and her great friend Miss Petrie, the
poetess the Republican Browning as she was called had all spoken to her
about it frequently. Olivia had declared her conviction that the thing
was to be. Miss Petrie had, with considerable eloquence, explained to
her friend that that English title, which was but the clatter of a
sounding brass, should be regarded as a drawback rather than as an
advantage. Mrs Spalding, who was no poetess, would undoubtedly have
welcomed Mr Glascock as her niece's husband with all an aunt's energy.
When told by Miss Petrie that old Lord Peterborough was a tinkling
cymbal she snapped angrily at her gifted countrywoman. But she was too
honest a woman, and too conscious also of her niece's strength, to say
a word to urge her on. Mr Spalding as an American minister, with full
powers at the court of a European sovereign, felt that he had full as
much to give as to receive; but he was well inclined to do both. He
would have been much pleased to talk about his nephew Lord
Peterborough, and he loved his niece dearly. But by the middle of
February he was beginning to think that the matter had been long enough
in training. If the Honourable Glascock meant anything, why did he not
speak out his mind plainly? The American Minister in such matters was
accustomed to fewer ambages than were common in the circles among which
Mr Glascock had lived.

In the meantime Caroline Spalding was suffering. She had allowed
herself to think that Mr Glascock intended to propose to her, and had
acknowledged to herself that were he to do so she would certainly
accept him. All that she had seen of him, since the day on which he had
been courteous to her about the seat in the diligence, had been
pleasant to her. She had felt the charm of his manner, his education,
and his gentleness; and had told herself that with all her love for her
own country, she would willingly become an Englishwoman for the sake of
being that man's wife. But nevertheless the warnings of her great
friend, the poetess, had not been thrown away upon her. She would put
away from herself as far as she could any desire to become Lady
Peterborough. There should be no bias in the man's favour on that
score. The tinkling cymbal and the sounding brass should be nothing to
her. But yet--yet what a chance was there here for her? 'They are
dishonest, and rotten at the core,' said Miss Petrie, trying to make
her friend understand that a free American should under no
circumstances place trust in an English aristocrat. 'Their country,
Carry, is a game played out, while we are still breasting the hill with
our young lungs full of air.' Carry Spalding was proud of her intimacy
with the Republican Browning; but nevertheless she liked Mr Glascock;
and when Mr Glascock had been ten days in Florence, on his third visit
to the city, and had been four or five times at the embassy without
expressing his intentions in the proper form, Carry Spalding began to
think that she had better save herself from a heartbreak while
salvation might be within her reach. She perceived that her uncle was
gloomy and almost angry when he spoke of Mr Glascock, and that her aunt
was fretful with disappointment. The Republican Browning had uttered
almost a note of triumph; and had it not been that Olivia persisted,
Carry Spalding would have consented to go away with Miss Petrie to
Rome. 'The old stones are rotten too,' said the poetess; 'but their
dust tells no lies.' That well known piece of hers 'Ancient Marbles,
while ye crumble,' was written at this time, and contained an occult
reference to Mr Glascock and her friend.

But Livy Spalding clung to the alliance. She probably knew her sister's
heart better than did the others; and perhaps also had a clearer
insight into Mr Glascock's character. She was at any rate clearly of
opinion that there should be no running away. 'Either you do like him,
or you don't. If you do, what are you to get by going to Rome?' said
Livy.

'I shall get quit of doubt and trouble.'

'I call that cowardice. I would never run away from a man, Carry. Aunt
Sophie forgets that they don't manage these things in England just as
we do.'

'I don't know why there should be a difference.'

'Nor do I only that there is. You haven't read so many of their novels
as I have.'

'Who would ever think of learning to live out of an English novel?'
said Carry.

'I am not saying that. You may teach him to live how you like
afterwards. But if you have anything to do with people it must be well
to know what their manners are. I think the richer sort of people in
England slide into these things more gradually than we do. You stand
your ground, Carry, and hold your own, and take the goods the gods
provide you.' Though Caroline Spalding opposed her sister's arguments,
and was particularly hard upon that allusion to 'the richer sort of
people,' which, as she knew, Miss Petrie would have regarded as
evidence of reverence for sounding brasses and tinkling cymbals
nevertheless she loved Livy dearly for what she said, and kissed the
sweet counsellor, and resolved that she would for the present decline
the invitation of the poetess. Then was Miss Petrie somewhat indignant
with her friend, and threw out her scorn in those lines which have been
mentioned.

But the American Minister hardly knew how to behave himself when he met
Mr Glascock, or even when he was called upon to speak of him. Florence
no doubt is a large city, and is now the capital of a great kingdom;
but still people meet in Florence much more frequently than they do in
Paris or in London. It may almost be said that they whose habit it is
to go into society, and whose circumstances bring them into the same
circles, will see each other every day. Now the American Minister
delighted to see and to be seen in all places frequented by persons of
a certain rank and position in Florence. Having considered the matter
much, he had convinced himself that he could thus best do his duty as
minister from the great Republic of Free States to the newest and as he
called it 'the free-est of the European kingdoms.' The minister from
France was a marquis; he from England was an earl; from Spain had come
a count and so on. In the domestic privacy of his embassy Mr Spalding
would be severe enough upon the sounding brasses and the tinkling
cymbals, and was quite content himself to be the Honourable Jonas G.
Spalding Honourable because selected by his country for a post of
honour; but he liked to be heard among the cymbals and seen among the
brasses, and to feel that his position was as high as theirs. Mr
Glascock also was frequently in the same circles, and thus it came to
pass that the two gentlemen saw each other almost daily. That Mr
Spalding knew well how to bear himself in his high place no one could
doubt; but he did not quite know how to carry himself before Mr
Glascock. At home at Boston he would have been more completely master
of the situation.

He thought too that he began to perceive that Mr Glascock avoided him,
though he would hear on his return home that that gentleman had been at
the embassy, or had been walking in the Cascine with his nieces. That
their young ladies should walk in public places with unmarried
gentlemen is nothing to American fathers and guardians. American young
ladies are accustomed to choose their own companions. But the minister
was tormented by his doubts as to the ways of Englishmen, and as to the
phase in which English habits might most properly exhibit themselves in
Italy. He knew that people were talking about Mr Glascock and his
niece. Why then did Mr Glascock avoid him? It was perhaps natural that
Mr Spalding should have omitted to observe that Mr Glascock was not
delighted by those lectures on the American constitution which formed
so large a part of his ordinary conversation with Englishmen.

It happened one afternoon that they were thrown together so closely for
nearly an hour that neither could avoid the other. They were both at
the old palace in which the Italian parliament is held, and were kept
waiting during some long delay in the ceremonies of the place. They
were seated next to each other, and during such delay there was nothing
for them but to talk. On the other side of each of them was a stranger,
and not to talk in such circumstances would be to quarrel. Mr Glascock
began by asking after the ladies.

'They are quite well, sir, thank you,' said the minister. 'I hope that
Lord Peterborough was pretty well when last you heard from Naples, Mr
Glascock.' Mr Glascock explained that his father's condition was not
much altered, and then there was silence for a moment.

'Your nieces will remain with you through the spring I suppose?' said
Mr Glascock.

'Such is their intention, sir.'

'They seem to like Florence, I think.'

'Yes yes; I think they do like Florence. They see this capital, sir,
perhaps under more favourable circumstances than are accorded to most
of my countrywomen. Our republican simplicity, Mr Glascock, has this
drawback, that away from home it subjects us somewhat to the cold shade
of unobserved obscurity. That it possesses merits which much more than
compensate for this trifling evil I should be the last man in Europe to
deny.' It is to be observed that American citizens are always prone to
talk of Europe. It affords the best counterpoise they know to that
other term, America and America and the United States are of course the
same. To speak of France or of England as weighing equally against
their own country seems to an American to be an absurdity and almost an
insult to himself. With Europe he can compare himself, but even this is
done generally in the style of the Republican Browning when she
addressed the Ancient Marbles.

'Undoubtedly,' said Mr Glascock, 'the family of a minister abroad has
great advantages in seeing the country to which he is accredited.'

'That is my meaning, sir. But, as I was remarking, we carry with us as
a people no external symbols of our standing at home. The wives and
daughters, sir, of the most honoured of our citizens have no
nomenclature different than that which belongs to the least noted among
us. It is perhaps a consequence of this that Europeans who are
accustomed in their social intercourse to the assistance of titles,
will not always trouble themselves to inquire who and what are the
American citizens who may sit opposite to them at table. I have known,
Mr Glascock, the wife and daughter of a gentleman who has been thrice
sent as senator from his native State to Washington, to remain as
disregarded in the intercourse of a European city, as though they had
formed part of the family of some grocer from your Russell Square!'

'Let the Miss Spaldings go where they will,' said Mr Glascock, 'they
will not fare in that way.'

'The Miss Spaldings, sir, are very much obliged to you,' said the
minister with a bow.

'I regard it as one of the luckiest chances of my life that I was
thrown in with them at St Michael as I was,' said Mr Glascock with
something like warmth.

'I am sure, sir, they will never forget the courtesy displayed by you
on that occasion,' said the minister bowing again.

'That was a matter of course. I and my friend would have done the same
for the grocer's wife and daughter of whom you spoke. Little services
such as that do not come from appreciation of merit, but are simply the
payment of the debt due by all men to all women.'

'Such is certainly the rule of living in our country, sir,' said Mr
Spalding.

'The chances are,' continued the Englishman, 'that no further
observation follows the payment of such a debt. It has been a thing of
course.'

'We delight to think it so, Mr Glascock, in our own cities.'

'But in this instance it has given rise to one of the pleasantest, and
as I hope most enduring friendships that I have ever formed,' said Mr
Glascock with enthusiasm. What could the American Minister do but bow
again three times? And what other meaning could he attach to such words
than that which so many of his friends had been attributing to Mr
Glascock for some weeks past? It had occurred to Mr Spalding, even
since he had been sitting in his present close proximity to Mr
Glascock, that it might possibly be his duty as an uncle having to deal
with an Englishman, to ask that gentleman what were his intentions. He
would do his duty let it be what it might; but the asking of such a
question would be very disagreeable to him. For the present he
satisfied himself with inviting his neighbour to come and drink tea
with Mrs Spalding on the next evening but one. 'The girls will be
delighted, I am sure,' said he, thinking himself to be justified in
this friendly familiarity by Mr Glascock's enthusiasm. For Mr Spalding
was clearly of opinion that, let the value of republican simplicity be
what it might, an alliance with the crumbling marbles of Europe would
in his niece's circumstances be not inexpedient. Mr Glascock accepted
the invitation with alacrity, and the minister when he was closeted
with his wife that evening declared his opinion that after all the
Britisher meant fighting. The aunt told the girls that Mr Glascock was
coming, and in order that it might not seem that a net was being
specially spread for him, others were invited to join the party. Miss
Petrie consented to be there, and the Italian, Count Buonarosci, to
whose presence, though she could not speak to him, Mrs Spalding was
becoming accustomed. It was painful to her to feel that she could not
communicate with those around her, and for that reason she would have
avoided Italians. But she had an idea that she could not thoroughly
realise the advantages of foreign travel unless she lived with
foreigners; and, therefore, she was glad to become intimate at any rate
with the outside of Count Buonarosci.