Books: He Knew He Was Right

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'You were not so weak when he came to you.'

'That was altogether another thing. It was not arranged in heaven that
I was to become his captive.'

After that Wallachia Petrie never again tried her influence on her
former friend, but admitted to herself that the evil was done, and that
it could not be remedied. According to her theory of life, Caroline
Spalding had been wrong, and weak had shewn herself to be
comfort-loving and luxuriously-minded, had looked to get her happiness
from soft effeminate pleasures rather than from rational work and the
useful, independent exercise of her own intelligence. In the privacy of
her little chamber Wallachia Petrie shed not absolute tears but many
tearful thoughts over her friend. It was to her a thing very terrible
that the chosen one of her heart should prefer the career of an English
lord's wife to that of an American citizeness, with all manner of
capability for female voting, female speechmaking, female poetising,
and, perhaps, female political action before her. It was a thousand
pities! 'You may take a horse to water,' said Wallachia to herself,
thinking of the ever-freshly springing fountain of her own mind, at
which Caroline Spalding would always have been made welcome freely to
quench her thirst 'but you cannot make him drink if he be not athirst.'
In the future she would have no friend. Never again would she subject
herself to the disgrace of such a failure. But the sacrifice was to be
made, and she knew that it was bootless to waste her words further on
Caroline Spalding. She left Florence before the wedding, and returned
alone to the land of liberty. She wrote a letter to Caroline explaining
her conduct, and Caroline Spalding shewed the letter to her husband as
one that was both loving and eloquent.

'Very loving and eloquent,' he said. 'But, nevertheless, one does think
of sour grapes.'

'There I am sure you wrong her,' said Caroline.

CHAPTER LXXXII - MRS FRENCH'S CARVING KNIFE

During these days there were terrible doings at Exeter. Camilla had
sworn that if Mr Gibson did not come to, there should be a tragedy, and
it appeared that she was inclined to keep her word. Immediately after
the receipt of her letter from Mr Gibson she had had an interview with
that gentleman in his lodgings, and had asked him his intentions. He
had taken measures to fortify himself against such an attack; but,
whatever those measures were, Camilla had broken through them. She had
stood before him as he sat in his armchair, and he had been dumb in her
presence. It had perhaps been well for him that the eloquence of her
indignation had been so great that she had hardly been able to pause a
moment for a reply. 'Will you take your letter back again?' she had
said. 'I should be wrong to do that,' he had lisped out in reply,
'because it is true. As a Christian minister I could not stand with you
at the altar with a lie in my mouth.' In no other way did he attempt to
excuse himself but that, twice repeated, filled up all the pause which
she made for him.

There never had been such a case before so impudent, so cruel, so
gross, so uncalled for, so unmanly, so unnecessary, so unjustifiable,
so damnable so sure of eternal condemnation! All this she said to him
with loud voice, and clenched fist, and starting eyes regardless
utterly of any listeners on the stairs, or of outside passers in the
street. In very truth she was moved to a sublimity of indignation. Her
low nature became nearly poetic under the wrong inflicted upon her. She
was almost tempted to tear him with her hands, and inflict upon him at
the moment some terrible vengeance which should be told of for ever in
the annals of Exeter. A man so mean as he, so weak, so cowardly, one so
little of a hero that he should dare to do it, and dare to sit there
before her, and to say that he would do it! 'Your gown shall be torn
off your back, Sir, and the very boys of Exeter shall drag you through
the gutters!' To this threat he said nothing, but sat mute, hiding his
face in his hands. 'And now tell me this, sir is there anything between
you and Bella?' But there was no voice in reply. 'Answer my question,
sir. I have a right to ask it.' Still he said not a word. 'Listen to
me. Sooner than that you and she should be man and wife, I would stab
her! Yes, I would you poor, paltry, lying, cowardly creature!' She
remained with him for more than half an hour, and then banged out of
the room flashing back a look of scorn at him as she went. Martha,
before that day was over, had learned the whole story from Mr Gibson's
cook, and had told her mistress.

'I did not think he had so much spirit in him,' was Miss Stanbury's
answer. Throughout Exeter the great wonder arising from the crisis was
the amount of spirit which had been displayed by Mr Gibson.

When he was left alone he shook himself, and began to think that if
there were danger that such interviews might occur frequently he had
better leave Exeter for good. As he put his hand over his forehead, he
declared to himself that a very little more of that kind of thing would
kill him. When a couple of hours had passed over his head he shook
himself again, and sat down and wrote a letter to his intended
mother-in-law.

'I do not mean to complain,' he said, 'God knows I have no right; but I
cannot stand a repetition of what has occurred just now. If your
younger daughter comes to see me again I must refuse to see her, and
shall leave the town. I am ready to make what reparation may be
possible for the mistake into which I have fallen.

'T. G.'

Mrs French was no doubt much afraid of her younger daughter, but she
was less afraid of her than were other people. Familiarity, they say,
breeds contempt; and who can be so familiar with a child as its parent?
She did not in her heart believe that Camilla would murder anybody, and
she fully realised the conviction that, even after all that was come
and gone, it would be better that one of her daughters should have a
husband than that neither should be so blessed. If only Camilla could
be got out of Exeter for a few months how good a thing it would be for
them all! She had a brother in Gloucester if only he could be got to
take Camilla for a few months! And then, too, she knew that if the true
rights of her two daughters were strictly and impartially examined,
Arabella's claim was much stronger than any that Camilla could put
forward to the hand of Mr Gibson.

'You must not go there again, Camilla,' the mother said.

'I shall go whenever I please,' replied the fury.

'Now, Camilla, we may as well understand each other. I will not have it
done. If I am provoked, I will send to your uncle at Gloucester.' Now
the uncle at Gloucester was a timber merchant, a man with protuberant
eyes and a great square chin known to be a very stern man indeed, and
not at all afraid of young women.

'What do I care for my uncle? My uncle would take my part.'

'No, he would not. The truth is, Camilla, you interfered with Bella
first.'

'Mamma, how dare you say so!'

'You did, my dear. And these are the consequences.'

'And you mean to say that she is to be Mrs Gibson?'

'I say nothing about that. But I do not see why they shouldn't be
married if their hearts are inclined to each other.'

'I will die first!'

'Your dying has nothing to do with it, Camilla.'

'And I will kill her!'

'If you speak to me again in that way I will write to your uncle at
Gloucester. I have done the best I could for you both, and I will not
bear such treatment.'

'And how am I treated?'

'You should not have interfered with your sister.'

'You are all in a conspiracy together,' shouted Camilla, 'you are!
There never was anybody so badly treated never never never! What will
everybody say of me?'

'They will pity you, if you will be quiet.'

'I don't want to be pitied I won't be pitied. I wish I could die and I
will die! Anybody else would, at any rate, have had their mother and
sister with them!' Then she burst into a flood of real, true, womanly
tears.

After this there was a lull at Heavitree for a few days. Camilla did
not speak to her sister, but she condescended to hold some intercourse
with her mother, and to take her meals at the family table. She did not
go out of the house, but she employed herself in her own room, doing no
one knew what, with all that new clothing and household gear which was
to have been transferred in her train to Mr Gibson's house. Mrs French
was somewhat uneasy about the new clothing and household gear, feeling
that, in the event of Bella's marriage, at least a considerable portion
of it must be transferred to the new bride. But it was impossible at
the present moment to open such a subject to Camilla it would have been
as a proposition to a lioness respecting the taking away of her whelps.
Nevertheless, the day must soon come in which something must be said
about the clothing and household gear. All the property that had been
sent into the house at Camilla's orders could not be allowed to remain
as Camilla's perquisites, now that Camilla was not to be married. 'Do
you know what she is doing, my dear?' said Mrs French to her elder
daughter.

'Perhaps she is picking out the marks,' said Bella.

'I don't think she would do that as yet,' said Mrs French.

'She might just as well leave it alone,' said Bella, feeling that one
of the two letters would do for her. But neither of them dared to speak
to her of her occupation in these first days of her despair.

Mr Gibson in the meantime remained at home, or only left his house to
go to the Cathedral or to visit the narrow confines of his little
parish. When he was out he felt that everybody looked at him, and it
seemed to him that people whispered about him when they saw him at his
usual desk in the choir. His friends passed him merely bowing to him,
and he was aware that he had done that which would be regarded by every
one around him as unpardonable. And yet what ought he to have done? He
acknowledged to himself that he had been very foolish, mad quite
demented at the moment when he allowed himself to think it possible
that he should marry Camilla French. But having found out how mad he
had been at that moment, having satisfied himself that to live with her
as his wife would be impossible, was he not right to break the
engagement? Could anything be so wicked as marrying a woman whom he
hated? Thus he tried to excuse himself; but yet he knew that all the
world would condemn him. Life in Exeter would be impossible, if no way
to social pardon could be opened for him. He was willing to do anything
within bounds in mitigation of his offence. He would give up fifty
pounds a year to Camilla for his life or he would marry Bella. Yes; he
would marry Bella at once if Camilla would only consent, and give up
that idea of stabbing some one. Bella French was not very nice in his
eyes; but she was quiet, he thought, and it might be possible to live
with her. Nevertheless, he told himself over and over again that the
manner in which unmarried men with incomes were set upon by ladies in
want of husbands was very disgraceful to the country at large. That
mission to Natal which had once been offered to him would have had
charms for him now, of which he had not recognised the force when he
rejected it.

'Do you think that he ever was really engaged to her?' Dorothy said to
her aunt. Dorothy was now living in a seventh heaven of happiness,
writing love-letters to Brooke Burgess every other day, and devoting to
this occupation a number of hours of which she ought to have been
ashamed; making her purchases for her wedding with nothing, however, of
the magnificence of a Camilla but discussing everything with her aunt,
who urged her on to extravagances which seemed beyond the scope of her
own economical ideas; settling, or trying to settle, little
difficulties which perplexed her somewhat, and wondering at her own
career. She could not of course be married without the presence of her
mother and sister, and her aunt with something of a grim courtesy had
intimated that they should be made welcome to the house in the Close
for the special occasion. But nothing had been said about Hugh. The
wedding was to be in the Cathedral, and Dorothy had a little scheme in
her head for meeting her brother among the aisles. He would no doubt
come down with Brooke, and nothing perhaps need be said about it to
Aunt Stanbury. But still it was a trouble. Her aunt had been so good
that Dorothy felt that no step should be taken which would vex the old
woman. It was evident enough that when permission had been given for
the visit of Mrs Stanbury and Priscilla, Hugh's name had been purposely
kept back. There had been no accidental omission. Dorothy, therefore,
did not dare to mention it and yet it was essential for her happiness
that he should be there. At the present moment Miss Stanbury's intense
interest in the Stanbury wedding was somewhat mitigated by the
excitement occasioned by Mr Gibson's refusal to be married. Dorothy was
so shocked that she could not bring herself to believe the statement
that had reached them through Martha.

'Of course he was engaged to her. We all knew that,' said Miss
Stanbury.

'I think there must have been some mistake,' said Dorothy. 'I don't see
how he could do it.'

'There is no knowing what people can do, my dear, when they're hard
driven. I suppose we shall have a lawsuit now, and he'll have to pay
ever so much money. Well, well, well! see what a deal of trouble you
might have saved!'

'But, he'd have done the same to me, aunt only, you know, I never could
have taken him, Isn't it better as it is, aunt? Tell me.'

'I suppose young women always think it best when they can get their own
ways. An old woman like me has only got to do what she is bid.'

'But this was best, aunt was it not?'

'My dear, you've had your way, and let that be enough. Poor Camilla
French is not allowed to have hers at all. Dear, dear, dear! I didn't
think the man would ever have been such a fool to begin with or that he
would ever have had the heart to get out of it afterwards.' It
astonished Dorothy to find that her aunt was not loud in reprobation of
Mr Gibson's very dreadful conduct.

In the meantime Mrs French had written to her brother at Gloucester.
The maid-servant, in making Miss Camilla's bed, and in 'putting the
room to rights,' as she called it which description probably was
intended to cover the circumstances of an accurate search had
discovered, hidden among some linen a carving knife! such a knife as is
used for the cutting up of fowls; and, after two days' interval, had
imparted the discovery to Mrs French. Instant visit was made to the
pantry, and it was found that a very aged but unbroken and
sharply-pointed weapon was missing. Mrs French at once accused Camilla,
and Camilla, after some hesitation, admitted that it might be there.
Molly, she said, was a nasty, sly, wicked thing, to go looking in her
drawers, and she would never leave anything unlocked again. The knife,
she declared, had been taken upstairs, because she had wanted something
very sharp to cut the bones of her stays. The knife was given up, but
Mrs French thought it best to write to her brother, Mr Crump. She was
in great doubt about sundry matters. Had the carving knife really
pointed to a domestic tragedy and if so, what steps ought a poor widow
to take with such a daughter? And what ought to be done about Mr.,
Gibson? It ran through Mrs French's mind that unless something were
done at once, Mr Gibson would escape scot-free. It was her wish that he
should yet become her son-in-law. Poor Bella was entitled to her
chance. But if Bella was to be disappointed from fear of carving
knives, or for other reasons then there came the question whether Mr
Gibson should not be made to pay in purse for the mischief he had done.
With all these thoughts and doubts running through her head, Mrs French
wrote to her brother at Gloucester.

There came back an answer from Mr Crump, in which that gentleman
expressed a very strong idea that Mr Gibson should be prosecuted for
damages with the utmost virulence, and with the least possible delay.
No compromise should be accepted. Mr Crump would himself come to Exeter
and see the lawyer as soon as he should be told that there was a lawyer
to be seen. As to the carving knife, Mr Crump was of opinion that it
did not mean anything. Mr Crump was a gentleman who did not believe in
strong romance, but who had great trust in all pecuniary claims. The
Frenches had always been genteel. The late Captain French had been an
officer in the army, and at ordinary times and seasons the Frenches
were rather ashamed of the Crump connection. But now the timber
merchant might prove himself to be a useful friend.

Mrs French shewed her brother's letter to Bella and poor Bella was
again sore-hearted, seeing that nothing was said in it of her claims.
'It will be dreadful scandal to have it all in the papers!' said Bella.

'But what can we do?'

'Anything would be better than that,' said Bella. 'And you don't want
to punish Mr Gibson, mamma.'

'But my dear, you see what your uncle says. What can I do, except go to
him for advice?'

'Why don't you go to Mr Gibson yourself, mamma?'

But nothing was said to Camilla about Mr Crump nothing as yet. Camilla
did not love Mr Crump, but there was no other house except that of Mr
Crump's at Gloucester to which she might be sent, if it could be
arranged that Mr Gibson and Bella should be made one. Mrs French took
her eldest daughter's advice, and went to Mr Gibson taking Mr Crump's
letter in her pocket. For herself she wanted nothing but was it not the
duty of her whole life to fight for her daughters? Poor woman! If
somebody would only have taught her how that duty might best be done,
she would have endeavoured to obey the teaching. 'You know I do not
want to threaten you,' she said to Mr Gibson; 'but you see what my
brother says. Of course I wrote to my brother. What could a poor woman
do in such circumstances except write to her brother?'

'If you choose to set the bloodhounds of the law at me, of course you
can,' said Mr Gibson.

'I do not want to go to law at all God knows I do not!' said Mrs
French. Then there was a pause. 'Poor dear Bella!' ejaculated Mrs
French.

'Dear Bella!' echoed Mr Gibson.

'What do you mean to do about Bella?' asked Mrs French.

'I sometimes think that I had better take poison and have done with
it!' said Mr Gibson, feeling himself to be very hard pressed.

CHAPTER LXXXIII - BELLA VICTRIX

Mr Crump arrived at Exeter. Camilla was not told of his coming till the
morning of the day on which he arrived; and then the tidings were
communicated, because it was necessary that a change should be made in
the bed-rooms. She and her sister had separate rooms when there was no
visitor with them, but now Mr Crump must be accommodated. There was a
long consultation between Bella and Mrs French, but at last it was
decided that Bella should sleep with her mother. There would still be
too much of the lioness about Camilla to allow of her being regarded as
a safe companion through the watches of the night. 'Why is Uncle Jonas
coming now?' she asked.

'I thought it better to ask him,' said Mrs French.

After a long pause, Camilla asked another question. 'Does Uncle Jonas
mean to see Mr Gibson?'

'I suppose he will,' said Mrs French.

'Then he will see a low, mean fellow: the lowest, meanest fellow that
ever was heard of! But that won't make much difference to Uncle Jonas.
I wouldn't have him now, if he was to ask me ever so that I wouldn't!'

Mr Crump came, and kissed his sister and two nieces. The embrace with
Camilla was not very affectionate.'so your Joe has been and jilted
you?' said Uncle Jonas 'it's like one of them clergymen. They say so
many prayers, they think they may do almost anything afterwards.
Another man would have had his head punched.'

'The less talk there is about it the better,' said Camilla. On the
following day Mr Crump called by appointment on Mr Gibson, and remained
closeted with that gentleman for the greater portion of the morning.
Camilla knew well that he was going, and went about the house like a
perturbed spirit during his absence. There was a look about her that
made them all doubt whether she was not, in truth, losing her mind. Her
mother more than once went to the pantry to see that the knives were
right; and, as regarded that sharp-pointed weapon, was careful to lock
it up carefully out of her daughter's way. Mr Crump had declared
himself willing to take Camilla back to Gloucester, and had laughed at
the obstacles which his niece might, perhaps, throw in the way of such
an arrangement.'she mustn't have much luggage that is all,' said Mr
Crump. For Mr Crump had been made aware of the circumstances of the
trousseau. About three o'clock Mr Crump came back from Mr Gibson's, and
expressed a desire to be left alone with Camilla. Mrs French was
prepared for everything; and Mr Crump soon found himself with his
younger niece.

'Camilla, my dear,' said he, 'this has been a bad business.'

'I don't know what business you mean, Uncle Jonas.'

'Yes, you do, my dear you know. And I hope it won't come too late to
prove to you that young women shouldn't be too keen in setting their
caps at the gentlemen. It's better for them to be hunted, than to
hunt.'

'Uncle Jonas, I will not be insulted.'

'Stick to that, my dear, and you won't get into a scrape again. Now,
look here. This man can never be made to marry you, anyhow.'

'I wouldn't touch him with a pair of tongs, if he were kneeling at my
feet!'

'That's right; stick to that. Of course, you wouldn't now, after all
that has come and gone. No girl with any spirit would.'

'He's a coward and a thief, and he'll be damned for what he has done,
some of these days!'

'T-ch, t-ch, t-ch! That isn't a proper way for a young lady to talk.
That's cursing and swearing.'

'It isn't cursing and swearing it's what the Bible says.'

'Then we'll leave him to the Bible. In the meantime, Mr Gibson wants to
marry some one else, and that can't hurt you.'

'He may marry whom he likes but he shan't marry Bella that's all!'

'It is Bella that he means to marry.'

'Then he won't. I'll forbid the banns. I'll write to the bishop. I'll
go to the church and prevent its being done. I'll make such a noise in
the town that it can't be done. It's no use your looking at me like
that, Uncle Jonas. I've got my own feelings, and he shall never marry
Bella. It's what they have been intending all through, and it shan't be
done!'

'It will be done.'

'Uncle Jonas, I'll stab her to the heart, and him too, before I'll see
it done! Though I were to be killed the next day, I would. Could you
bear it?'

'I'm not a young woman. Now, I'll tell you what I want you to do.'

'I'll not do anything.'

'Just pack up your things, and start with me to Gloucester tomorrow.'

'I won't!'

'Then you'll be carried, my dear. I'll write to your aunt, to say that
you're coming; and we'll be as jolly as possible when we get you home.'

'I won't go to Gloucester, Uncle Jonas. I won't go away from Exeter. I
won't let it be done. She shall never, never, never be that man's
wife!'

Nevertheless, on the day but one after this, Camilla French did go to
Gloucester. Before she went, however, things had to be done in that
house which almost made Mrs French repent that she had sent for so
stern an assistant. Camilla was at last told, in so many words, that
the things which she had prepared for her own wedding must be given up
for the wedding of her sister; and it seemed that this item in the list
of her sorrows troubled her almost more than any other. She swore that
whither she went there should go the dresses, and the handkerchiefs,
and the hats, the bonnets, and the boots. 'Let her have them,' Bella
had pleaded. But Mr Crump was inexorable. He had looked into his
sister's affairs, and found that she was already in debt. To his
practical mind, it was an absurdity that the unmarried sister should
keep things that were wholly unnecessary, and that the sister that was
to be married should be without things that were needed. There was a
big trunk, of which Camilla had the key, but which, unfortunately for
her, had been deposited in her mother's room. Upon this she sat, and
swore that nothing should move her but a promise that her plunder
should remain untouched. But there came this advantage from the
terrible question of the wedding raiments that in her energy to keep
possession of them, she gradually abandoned her opposition to her
sister's marriage. She had been driven from one point to another till
she was compelled at last to stand solely upon her possessions.
'Perhaps we had better let her keep them,' said Mrs French. 'Trash and
nonsense!' said Mr Crump. 'If she wants a new frock, let her have it;
as for the sheets and tablecloths, you'd better keep them yourself. But
Bella must have the rest.'

It was found on the eve of the day on which she was told that she was
to depart that she had in truth armed herself with a dagger or clasp
knife. She actually displayed it when her uncle told her to come away
from the chest on which she was sitting. She declared that she would
defend herself there to the last gasp of her life; but of course the
knife fell from her hand the first moment that she was touched. 'I did
think once that she was going to make a poke at me,' Mr Crump said
afterwards; 'but she had screamed herself so weak that she couldn't do
it.'