He Knew He Was Right by Anthony Trollope (ebook reader with internet browser txt) 📖

told her lover that there was to be no further

communication between them till her father and mother should be in

England; but in telling him so, had so frankly confessed her own

affection for him and had so sturdily promised to be true to him, that

no lover could have been reasonably aggrieved by such an interdiction.

Nora was quite conscious of this, and was aware that Hugh Stanbury had

received such encouragement as ought, at any rate to, bring him to the

new Rowley establishment, as soon as he should learn where it had fixed

itself. But when at the end of ten days he had not shown himself, she

began to feel doubts. Could it be that he had changed his mind, that he

was unwilling to encounter refusal from her father, or that he had

found, on looking into his own affairs more closely, that it would be

absurd for him to propose to take a wife to himself while his means

were so poor and so precarious? Sir Marmaduke during this time had been

so unhappy, so fretful, so indignant, and so much worried, that Nora

herself had become almost afraid of him; and, without much reasoning on

the matter, had taught herself to believe that Hugh might be actuated

by similar fears. She had intended to tell her mother of what had

occurred between her and Stanbury the first moment that she and Lady

Rowley were together; but then there had fallen upon them that terrible

incident of the loss of the child, and the whole family had become at

once so wrapped up in the agony of the bereaved mother, and so full of

rage against the unreasonable father, that there seemed to Nora to be

no possible opportunity for the telling of her own love-story. Emily

herself appeared to have forgotten it in the midst of her own misery,

and had not mentioned Hugh Stanbury’s name since they had been in

Manchester Street. We have all felt how on occasions our own hopes and

fears, nay, almost our own individuality, become absorbed in and

obliterated by the more pressing cares and louder voices of those

around us. Nora hardly dared to allude to herself while her sister’s

grief was still so prominent, and while her father was daily

complaining of his own personal annoyances at the Colonial Office. It

seemed to her that at such a moment she could not introduce a new

matter for dispute, and perhaps a new subject of dismay.

 

Nevertheless, as the days passed by, and as she saw nothing of Hugh

Stanbury, her heart became sore and her spirit vexed. It seemed to her

that if she were now deserted by him, all the world would be over for

her. The Glascock episode in her life had passed by, that episode which

might have been her history, which might have been a history so

prosperous, so magnificent, and probably so happy. As she thought of

herself and of circumstances as they had happened to her, of the

resolutions which she had made as to her own career when she first came

to London, and of the way in which she had thrown all those resolutions

away in spite of the wonderful success which had come in her path, she

could not refrain from thinking that she had brought herself to

shipwreck by her own indecision. It must not be imagined that she

regretted what she had done. She knew very well that to have acted

otherwise than she did when Mr Glascock came to her at Nuncombe Putney

would have proved her to be heartless, selfish, and unwomanly. Long

before that time she had determined that it was her duty to marry a

rich man and, if possible, a man in high position. Such a one had come

to her, one endowed with all the good things of the world beyond her

most sanguine expectation, and she had rejected him! She knew that she

had been right because she had allowed herself to love the other man.

She did not repent what she had done, the circumstances being as they

were, but she almost regretted that she had been so soft in heart, so

susceptible of the weakness of love, so little able to do as she

pleased with herself. Of what use to her was it that she loved this man

with all her strength of affection when he never came to her, although

the time at which he had been told that he might come was now ten days

past?

 

She was sitting one afternoon in the drawing-room listlessly reading,

or pretending to read, a novel, when, on a sudden, Hugh Stanbury was

announced. The circumstances of the moment were most unfortunate for

such a visit. Sir Marmaduke, who had been down at Whitehall in the

morning, and from thence had made a journey to St. Diddulph’s-in-the-East

and back, was exceedingly cross and out of temper. They had told him at

his office that they feared he would not suffice to carry through the

purpose for which he had been brought home. And his brother-in-law, the

parson, had expressed to him an opinion that he was in great part

responsible for the misfortune of his daughter, by the encouragement

which he had given to such a man as Colonel Osborne. Sir Marmaduke had

in consequence quarrelled both with the chief clerk and with Mr

Outhouse, and had come home surly and discontented. Lady Rowley and her

eldest daughter were away, closeted at the moment with Lady Milborough,

with whom they were endeavouring to arrange some plan by which the boy

might at any rate be given back. Poor Emily Trevelyan was humble enough

now to Lady Milborough, was prepared to be humble to any one, and in any

circumstances, so that she should not be required to acknowledge that

she had entertained Colonel Osborne as her lover. The two younger

girls, Sophy and Lucy, were in the room when Stanbury was announced, as

was also Sir Marmaduke, who at that very moment was uttering angry

growls at the obstinacy and want of reason with which he had been

treated by Mr Outhouse. Now Sir Marmaduke had not so much as heard the

name of Hugh Stanbury as yet; and Nora, though her listlessness was all

at an end, at once felt how impossible it would be to explain any of

the circumstances of her case in such an interview as this. While,

however, Hugh’s dear steps were heard upon the stairs, her feminine

mind at once went to work to ascertain in what best mode, with what

most attractive reason for his presence, she might introduce the young

man to her father. Had not the girls been then present, she thought

that it might have been expedient to leave Hugh to tell his own story

to Sir Marmaduke. But she had no opportunity of sending her sisters

away; and, unless chance should remove them, this could not be done.

 

‘He is son of the lady we were with at Nuncombe Putney,’ she whispered

to her father as she got up to move across the room to welcome her

lover. Now Sir Marmaduke had expressed great disapproval of that

retreat to Dartmoor, and had only understood respecting it that it had

been arranged between Trevelyan and the family in whose custody his two

daughters had been sent away into banishment. He was not therefore

specially disposed to welcome Hugh Stanbury in consequence of this mode

of introduction.

 

Hugh, who had asked for Lady Rowley and Mrs Trevelyan and had learned

that they were out before he had mentioned Miss Rowley’s name, was

almost prepared to take his sweetheart into his arms. In that

half-minute he had taught himself to expect that he would meet her

alone, and had altogether forgotten Sir Marmaduke. Young men when they

call at four o’clock in the day never expect to find papas at home. And

of Sophia and Lucy he had either heard nothing or had forgotten what he

had heard. He repressed himself however in time, and did not commit

either Nora or himself by any very vehement demonstration of affection.

But he did hold her hand longer than he should have done, and Sir

Marmaduke saw that he did so.

 

‘This is papa,’ said Nora. ‘Papa, this is our friend, Mr Hugh

Stanbury.’ The introduction was made in a manner almost absurdly

formal, but poor Nora’s difficulties lay heavy upon her. Sir Marmaduke

muttered something but it was little more than a grunt. ‘Mamma and

Emily are out,’ continued Nora. ‘I dare say they will be in soon.’ Sir

Marmaduke looked round sharply at the man. Why was he to be encouraged

to stay till Lady Rowley should return? Lady Rowley did not want to see

him. It seemed to Sir Marmaduke, in the midst of his troubles, that

this was no time to be making new acquaintances. ‘These are my sisters,

Mr Stanbury,’ continued Nora. ‘This is Sophia, and this is Lucy.’

Sophia and Lucy would have been thoroughly willing to receive their

sister’s lover with genial kindness if they had been properly

instructed, and if the time had been opportune; but, as it was, they

had nothing to say. They, also, could only mutter some little sound

intended to be more courteous than their father’s grunt. Poor Nora!

 

‘I hope you are comfortable here,’ said Hugh.

 

‘The house is all very well,’ said Nora, ‘but we don’t like the

neighbourhood.’

 

Hugh also felt that conversation was difficult. He had soon come to

perceive before he had been in the room half a minute that the

atmosphere was not favourable to his mission. There was to be no

embracing or permission for embracing on the present occasion. Had he

been left alone with Sir Marmaduke he would probably have told his

business plainly, let Sir Marmaduke’s manner to him have been what it

might; but it was impossible for him to do this with three young ladies

in the room with him. Seeing that Nora was embarrassed by her

difficulties, and that Nora’s father was cross and silent, he

endeavoured to talk to the other girls, and asked them concerning their

journey and the ship in which they had come. But it was very up-hill

work. Lucy and Sophy could talk as glibly as any young ladies home from

any colony, and no higher degree of fluency can be expressed, but now

they were cowed. Their elder sister was shamefully and most

undeservedly disgraced, and this man had had something—they knew not

what—to do with it. ‘Is Priscilla quite well?’ Nora asked at last.

 

‘Quite well. I heard from her yesterday. You know they have left the

Clock House.’

 

‘I had not heard it.’

 

‘Oh yes and they are living in a small cottage just outside the

village. And what else do you think has happened?’

 

‘Nothing bad, I hope, Mr Stanbury.’

 

‘My sister Dorothy has left her aunt, and is living with them again at

Nuncombe.’

 

‘Has there been a quarrel, Mr Stanbury?’

 

‘Well, yes after a fashion there has, I suppose. But it is a long story

and would not interest Sir Marmaduke. The wonder is that Dorothy should

have been able to stay so long with my aunt. I will tell it you all

some day.’ Sir Marmaduke could not understand why a long story about

this man’s aunt and sister should be told to his daughter. He forgot, as

men always do in such circumstances forget that, while he was living in

the Mandarins, his daughter, living in England, would of course pick up

new interest and become intimate with new histories. But he did not

forget that pressure of the hand which he had seen, and he determined

that his daughter Nora could not have any worse