Books: He Knew He Was Right

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She was a long time coming to her point. Before she could do so she was
forced to allude to times long past, and to subjects which she found it
very difficult to touch without saying that which would either belie
herself, or seem to be severe upon him. Though she had prepared
herself, she could hardly get the words spoken, and she was greatly
impeded by the obstinacy of his silence. But at last her proposition
was made to him. She told him that his nephew, Brooke, was about to be
married to her niece, Dorothy; and that it was her intention to make
Brooke her heir in the bulk of the property which she had received
under the will of the late Mr Brooke Burgess. 'Indeed,' she said, 'all
that I received at your brother's hands shall go back to your brother's
family unimpaired' He only bowed, and would not say a word. Then she
went on to say that it had at first been a mater to her of deep regret
that Brooke should have set his affections upon her niece, as there had
been in her mind a strong desire that none of her own people should
enjoy the reversion of the wealth, which she had always regarded as
being hers only for the term of her life; but that she had found that
the young people had been so much in earnest, and that her own feeling
had been so near akin to a prejudice, that she had yielded. When this
was said Barty smiled instead of bowing, and Miss Stanbury felt that
there might be something worse even than his silence. His smile told
her that he believed her to be lying. Nevertheless she went on. She was
not fool, enough to suppose that the whole nature of the man was to be
changed by a few words from her. So she went on. The marriage was a
thing fixed, and she was thinking of settlements, and had been talking
to lawyers about a new will.

'I do not know that I can help you,' said Barty, finding that a longer
pause than usual made some word from him absolutely necessary.

'I am going on to that, and I regret that my story should detain you so
long, Mr Burgess' And she did go on. She had, she said, made some
saving out of her income. She was not going to trouble Mr Burgess with
this matter only that she might explain to him that what she would at
once give to the young couple, and what she would settle on Dorothy
after her own death, would all come from such savings, and that such
gifts and bequests would not diminish the family property. Barty again
smiled as he heard. this, and Miss Stanbury in her heart likened him to
the devil in person. But still she went on. She was very desirous that
Brooke Burgess should come and live at Exeter. His property would be in
the town and the neighbourhood. It would be a seemly thing such was her
word that he should occupy the house that had belonged to his
grandfather and his great-grandfather; and then, moreover she
acknowledged that she spoke selfishly she dreaded the idea of being
left alone for the remainder of her own years. Her proposition at last
was uttered. It was simply this, that Barty Burgess should give to his
nephew, Brooke, his share in the bank.

'I am damned, if I do!' said Barty Burgess, rising up from his chair.

But before he had left the room he had agreed to consider the
proposition. Miss Stanbury had of course known that any such suggestion
coming from her without an adequate reason assigned, would have been
mere idle wind. She was prepared with such adequate reason. If Mr
Burgess could see his way to make the proposed transfer of his share of
the bank business, she, Miss Stanbury, would hand over to him, for his
life, a certain proportion of the Burgess property which lay in the
city, the income of which would exceed that drawn by him from the
business. Would he, at his time of life, take that for doing nothing
which he now got for working hard? That was the meaning of it. And
then, too, as far as the portion of the property went and it extended
to the houses owned by Miss Stanbury on the bank side of the Close it
would belong altogether to Barty Burgess for his life. 'It will simply
be this, Mr Burgess that Brooke will be your heir as would be natural.

'I don't know that it would be at all natural,' said he. 'I should
prefer to choose my own heir.

'No doubt, Mr Burgess in respect to your own property,' said Miss
Stanbury.

At last he said that he would think of it, and consult his partner; and
then he got up to take his leave. 'For myself,' said Miss Stanbury, 'I
would wish that all animosities might be buried.'

'We can say that they are buried,' said the grim old man 'but nobody
will believe us.'

'What matters if we could believe it ourselves?'

'But suppose we didn't. I don't believe that much good can come from
talking of such things, Miss Stanbury. You and I have grown too old to
swear a friendship. I will think of this thing, and if I find that it
can be made to suit without much difficulty, I will perhaps entertain
it.' Then the interview was over, and old Barty made his way
downstairs, and out of the house. He looked over to the tenements in
the Close which were offered to him, every circumstance of each one of
which he knew, and felt that he might do worse. Were he to leave the
bank, he could not take his entire income with him, and it had been
long said of him that he ought to leave it. The Croppers, who were his
partners and whom he had never loved would be glad to welcome in his
place one of the old family who would have money; and then the name
would be perpetuated in Exeter, which, even to Barty Burgess, was
something.

On that night the scheme was divulged to Dorothy, and she was in
ecstasies. London had always sounded bleak and distant and terrible to
her; and her heart had misgiven her at the idea of leaving her aunt. If
only this thing might be arranged! When Brooke spoke the next morning
of returning at once to his office, he was rebuked by both the ladies.
What was the Ecclesiastical Commission Office to any of them, when
matters of such importance were concerned? But Brooke would not be
talked out of his prudence. He was very willing to be made a banker at
Exeter, and to go to school again and learn banking business; but he
would not throw up his occupation in London till he knew that there was
another ready for him in the country. One day longer he spent in
Exeter, and During that day he was more than once with his uncle. He
saw also the Messrs Cropper, and was considerably chilled by the manner
in which they at first seemed to entertain the proposition. Indeed, for
a couple of hours he thought that the scheme must be abandoned. It was
pointed out to him that Mr Barty Burgess's life would probably be
short, and that he Barty had but a small part of the business at his
disposal. But gradually a way to terms was seen not quite so simple as
that which Miss Stanbury had suggested; and Brooke, when he left
Exeter, did believe it possible that he, after all, might become the
family representative in the old banking-house of the Burgesses.

'And how long will it take, Aunt Stanbury?' Dorothy asked.

'Don't you be impatient, my dear.'

'I am not the least impatient; but of course I want to tell mamma and
Priscilla. It will be so nice to live here and not go up to London. Are
we to stay here in this very house?'

'Have you not found out yet that Brooke will be likely to have an
opinion of his own on such things?'

'But would you wish us to live here, aunt?'

'I hardly know, dear. I am a foolish old woman, and cannot say what I
would wish. I cannot bear to be alone.'

'Of course we will stay with you.'

'And yet I should be jealous if I were not mistress of my own house.'

'Of course you will be mistress.'

'I believe, Dolly, that it would be better that I should die. I have
come to feel that I can do more good by going out of the world than by
remaining in it.' Dorothy hardly answered this in words, but sat close
by her aunt, holding the old woman's hand and caressing it, and
administering that love of which Miss Stanbury had enjoyed so little
during her life and which had become so necessary to her.

The news about the bank arrangements, though kept of course as a great
secret, soon became common in Exeter. It was known to be a good thing
for the firm in general that Barty Burgess should be removed from his
share of the management. He was old-fashioned, unpopular, and very
stubborn; and he and a certain Mr Julius Cropper, who was the leading
man among the Croppers, had not always been comfortable together. It
was at first hinted that old Miss Stanbury had been softened by sudden
twinges of conscience, and that she had confessed to some terrible
crime in the way of forgery, perjury, or perhaps worse, and had
relieved herself at last by making full restitution. But such a rumour
as this did not last long or receive wide credence. When it was hinted
to such old friends as Sir Peter Mancrudy and Mrs MacHugh, they laughed
it to scorn and it did not exist even in the vague form of an
undivulged mystery for above three days. Then it was asserted that old
Barty had been found to have no real claim to any share in the bank,
and that he was to be turned out at Miss Stanbury's instance that he
was to be turned out, and that Brooke had been acknowledged to be the
owner of the Burgess share of her business. Then came the fact that old
Barty had been bought out, and that the future husband of Miss
Stanbury's niece was to be the junior partner. A general feeling
prevailed at last that there had been another great battle between Miss
Stanbury and old Barty, and that the old maid had prevailed now as she
had done in former days. Before the end of July the papers were in the
lawyer's hands, and all the terms had been fixed. Brooke came down
again and again, to Dorothy's great delight, and displayed considerable
firmness in the management of his own interest. If Fate intended to
make him a banker in Exeter instead of a clerk in the Ecclesiastical
Commission Office, he would be a banker after a respectable fashion.
There was more than one little struggle between him and Mr Julius
Cropper, which ended in accession of respect on the part of Mr Cropper
for his new partner. Mr Cropper had thought that the establishment
might best be known to the commercial world of the West of England as
"Croppers' Bank"; but Broke had been very firm in asserting that if he
was to have anything to do with it the old name should be maintained.

'It's to be "Cropper and Burgess," he said to Dorothy one afternoon.
'They fought hard for "Cropper, Cropper, and Burgess" but I wouldn't
stand more than one Cropper.'

'Of course not,' said Dorothy, with something almost of scorn in her
voice. By this time Dorothy had gone very deeply into banking business.

CHAPTER LXXXIX - 'I WOULDN'T DO IT, IF I WAS YOU'

Miss Stanbury at this time was known all through Exeter to be very much
altered from the Miss Stanbury of old or even from the Miss Stanbury of
two years since. The Miss Stanbury of old was a stalwart lady who would
play her rubber of whist five nights a week, and could hold her own in
conversation against the best woman in Exeter not to speak of her
acknowledged superiority over every man in that city. Now she cared
little for the glories of debate; and though she still liked her
rubber, and could wake herself up to the old fire in the detection of a
revoke or the claim for a second trick, her rubbers were few and far
between, and she would leave her own house on an evening only when all
circumstances were favourable, and with many precautions against wind
and water. Some said that she was becoming old, and that she was going
out like the snuff of a candle. But Sir Peter Mancrudy declared that
she might live for the next fifteen years, if she would only think so
herself. 'It was true,' Sir Peter said, 'that in the winter she had
been ill, and that there had been danger as to her throat during the
east winds of the spring but those dangers had passed away, and, if she
would only exert herself, she might be almost as good a woman as ever
she had been.' Sir Peter was not a man of many words, or given to talk
frequently of his patients; but it was clearly Sir Peter's opinion that
Miss Stanbury's mind was ill at ease. She had become discontented with
life, and therefore it was that she cared no longer for the combat of
tongues, and had become cold even towards the card-table. It was so in
truth; and yet perhaps the lives of few men or women had been more
innocent, and few had struggled harder to be just in their dealings and
generous in their thoughts.

There was ever present to her mind an idea of failure and a fear lest
she had been mistaken in her views throughout her life. No one had ever
been more devoted to peculiar opinions, or more strong in the use of
language for their expression; and she was so far true to herself, that
she would never seem to retreat from the position she had taken. She
would still scorn the new fangles of the world around her, and speak of
the changes which she saw as all tending to evil. But, through it all,
there was an idea present to herself that it could not be God's
intention that things should really change for the worse, and that the
fault must be in her, because she had been unable to move as others had
moved. She would sit thinking of the circumstances of her own life and
tell herself that with her everything had failed. She had loved, but
had quarrelled with her lover; and her love had come to nothing but
barren wealth. She had fought for her wealth and had conquered and had
become hard in the fight, and was conscious of her own hardness. In the
early days of her riches and power she had taken her nephew by the
hand, and had thrown him away from her because he would not dress
himself in her mirror. She had believed herself to be right, and would
not, even now, tell herself that she had been wrong; but there were
doubts, and qualms of conscience, and an uneasiness because her life
had been a failure. Now she was seeking to appease her self-accusations
by sacrificing everything for the happiness of her niece and her chosen
hero; but as she went on with the work she felt that all would be in
vain, unless she could sweep herself altogether from off the scene. She
had told herself that if she could bring Brooke to Exeter, his
prospects would be made infinitely brighter than they would be in
London, and that she in her last days would not be left utterly alone.
But as the prospect of her future life came nearer to her, she saw, or
thought that she saw, that there was still failure before her. Young
people would not want an old woman in the house with them even though
the old woman would declare that she would be no more in the house than
a tame cat. And she knew herself also too well to believe that she
could make herself a tame cat in the home that had so long been subject
to her dominion. Would it not be better that she should go away
somewhere and die?

'If Mr Brooke is to come here,' Martha said to her one day, 'we ought
to begin and make the changes, ma'am'.

'What changes? You are always wanting to make changes'.

'If they was never made till I wanted them they'd never be made, ma'am.
But if there is to be a married couple there should be things proper.
Anyways, ma'am, we ought to know oughtn't we?'

The truth of this statement was so evident that Miss Stanbury could not
contradict it. But she had not even yet made up her mind. Ideas were
running through her head which she knew to be very wild, but of which
she could not divest herself. 'Martha,' she said after a while, 'I
think I shall go away from this myself.'

'Leave the house, ma'am?' said Martha, awestruck.

'There are other houses in the world, I suppose, in which an old woman
can live and die.'

'There is houses, ma'am, of course,'

'And what is the difference between one and another?'

'I wouldn't do it, ma'am, if I was you. I wouldn't do it if it was ever
so. Sure the house is big enough for Mr Brooke and Miss Dorothy along
with you. I wouldn't go and make such change as that I wouldn't indeed,
ma'am.' Martha spoke out almost with eloquence, so much expression was
there in her face. Miss Stanbury said nothing more at the moment,
beyond signifying her indisposition to make up her mind to anything at
the present moment. Yes the house was big enough as far as rooms were
concerned; but how often had she heard that an old woman must always be
in the way, if attempting to live with a newly-married couple? If a
mother-in-law be unendurable, how much more so one whose connection
would be less near? She could keep her own house no doubt, and let them
go elsewhere; but what then would come of her old dream, that Burgess,
the new banker in the city, should live in the very house that had been
inhabited by the Burgesses, the bankers of old? There was certainly
only one way out of all these troubles, and that way would be that she
should go from them and be at rest.

Her will had now been drawn out and completed for the third or fourth
time, and she had made no secret of is contents either with Brooke or
Dorothy. The whole estate she left to Brooke, including the houses
which were to become his after his uncle's death; and in regard to the
property she had made no further stipulation. 'I might have settled, it
on your children,' she said to him, 'but in doing so I should have
settled it on hers. I don't know why an old woman should try to
interfere with things after she has gone. I hope you won't squander it,
Brooke.'

'I shall be a steady old man by that time,' he said.

'I hope you'll be steady at any rate. But there it is, and God must
direct you in the use of it, if He will. It has been a burthen to me;
but then I have been a solitary old woman.' Half of what she had saved
she proposed to give Dorothy on her marriage, and for doing this
arrangements had already been made. There were various other legacies,
and the last she announced was one to her nephew, Hugh. 'I have left
him a thousand pounds,' she said to Dorothy 'so that he may remember me
kindly at last' As to this, however, she exacted a pledge that no
intimation of the legacy was to be made to Hugh. Then it was that
Dorothy told her aunt that Hugh intended to marry Nora Rowley, one of
the ladies who had been at the Clock House during the days in which her
mother had lived in grandeur; and then it was also that Dorothy
obtained leave to invite Hugh to her own wedding. 'I hope she will be
happier than her sister,' Miss Stanbury said, when she heard of the
intended marriage.

'It wasn't Mrs Trevelyan's fault, you know, aunt.'

'I say nothing about anybody's fault; but this I do say, that it was a
very great misfortune. I fought all that battle with your sister
Priscilla, and I don't mean to fight it again, my dear. If Hugh marries
the young lady, I hope she will be more happy than her sister. There
can be no harm in saying that.'

Dorothy's letter to her brother shall be given, because it will inform
the reader of all the arrangements as they were made up to that time,
and will convey the Exeter news respecting various persons with whom
our story is concerned.

'The Close, July 20, 186-

DEAR HUGH,

The day for my marriage is now fixed, and I wish with all my heart that
it was the same with you. Pray give my love to Nora. It seems so odd
that, though she was living for a while with mamma at Nuncombe Putney,
I never should have seen her yet. I am very glad that Brooke has seen
her, and he declares that she is quite magnificently beautiful. Those
are his own words.

We are to be married on the 10th of August, a Wednesday, and now comes
my great news. Aunt Stanbury says that you are to come and stay in the
house. She bids me tell you so with her love; and that you can have a
room as long as you like. Of course, you must come. In the first place,
you must because you are to give me away, and Brooke wouldn't have me
if I wasn't given away properly; and then it will make me so happy that
you and Aunt Stanbury should be friends again. You can stay as long as
you like, but, of course, you must come the day before the wedding. We
are to be married in the Cathedral, and there are to be two clergymen,
but I don't yet know who they will be not Mr Gibson, certainly, as you
were good enough to suggest.

Mr Gibson is married to Arabella French, and they have gone away
somewhere into Cornwall. Camilla has come back, and I have seen her
once. She looked ever so fierce, as though she intended to declare that
she didn't mind what anybody may think. They say that she still
protests that she never will speak to her sister again.

I was introduced to Mr Barty Burgess the other day. Brooke was here,
and we met him in the Close. I hardly knew what he said to me, I was so
frightened; but Brooke said that he meant to be civil, and that he is
going to send me a present. I have got a quantity of things already,
and yesterday Mrs MacHugh sent me such a beautiful cream-jug. If you'll
come in time on the 9th, you shall see them all before they are put
away.

'Mamma and Priscilla are to be here, and they will come on the 9th
also. Poor, dear mamma is, I know, terribly flurried about it, and so
is Aunt Stanbury. It is so long since they have seen each other. I
don't think Priscilla feels it the same way, because she is so brave.
Do you remember when it was first proposed that I should come here? I
am so glad I came because of Brooke. He will come on the 9th, quite
early, and I do so hope you will come with him.

Yours most affectionately,

DOROTHY STANBURY.

Give my best, best love to Nora'

CHAPTER LIX - LADY ROWLEY CONQUERED

When the Rowleys were back in London, and began to employ themselves on
the terrible work of making ready for their journey to the Islands,
Lady Rowley gradually gave way about Hugh Stanbury. She had become
aware that Nora would not go back with them unless under an amount of
pressure which she would find it impossible to use. And if Nora did not
go out to the Islands, what was to become of her unless she married
this man? Sir Marmaduke, when all was explained to him, declared that a
girl must do what her parents ordered her to do. 'Other girls live with
their fathers and mothers, and so must she.' Lady Rowley endeavoured to
explain that other girls lived with their fathers and mothers, because
they found themselves in established homes from which they are not
disposed to run away; but Nora's position was, as she alleged, very
different. Nora's home had latterly been with her sister, and it was
hardly to be expected that the parental authority should not find
itself impaired by the interregnum which had taken place. Sir Marmaduke
would not see the thing in the same light, and was disposed to treat
his daughter with a high hand. If she would not do as she was bidden,
she should no longer be daughter of his. In answer to this Lady Rowley
could only repeat her conviction that Nora would not go out to the
Mandarins; and that as for disinheriting her, casting her out, cursing
her, and the rest she had no belief in such doings at all. 'On the
stage they do such things as that' she said; 'and, perhaps, they used
to do it once in reality. But you know that it's out of the question
now. Fancy your standing up and cursing at the dear girl, just as we
are all starting from Southampton!' Sir Marmaduke knew as well as his
wife that it would be impossible, and only muttered something about the
'dear girl' behaving herself with great impropriety.

They were all aware that Nora was not going to leave England, because
no berth had been taken for her on board the ship, and because, while
the other girls were preparing for their long voyage, no preparations
were made for her. Of course she was not going. Sir Marmaduke would
probably have given way altogether immediately on his return to London,
had he not discussed the matter with his friend Colonel Osborne. It
became, of course, his duty to make some inquiry as to the Stanbury
family, and he knew that Osborne had visited Mrs Stanbury when he made
his unfortunate pilgrimage to the porch of Cockchaffington Church. He
told Osborne the whole story of Nora's engagement, telling also that
other most heart-breaking tale of her conduct in regard to Mr Glascock,
and asked the Colonel what he thought about the Stanburys. Now the
Colonel did not hold the Stanburys in high esteem. He had met Hugh, as
the reader may perhaps remember, and had had some intercourse with the
young man, which had not been quite agreeable to him, on the platform
of the railway station at Exeter. And he had also heard something of
the ladies at Nuncombe Putney during his short sojourn at the house of
Mrs Crocket. 'My belief is, they are beggars,' said Colonel Osborne.

'I suppose so,' said Sir Marmaduke, shaking his head.

'When I went over to call on Emily that time I was at Cockchaffington,
you know, when Trevelyan made himself such a d fool I found. the mother
and sister living in a decentish house enough; but it wasn't their
house.'

'Not their own, you mean?'