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Read books online » Fiction » He Knew He Was Right by Anthony Trollope (ebook reader with internet browser txt) 📖

Book online «He Knew He Was Right by Anthony Trollope (ebook reader with internet browser txt) 📖». Author Anthony Trollope



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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 bedrooms. 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.’

 

When the morning came, she was taken to the fly and driven to the

station without any further serious outbreak. She had even condescended

to select certain articles, leaving the rest of the hymeneal wealth

behind her. Bella, early on that morning of departure, with great

humility, implored her sister to forgive her; but no entreaties could

induce Camilla to address one gracious word to the proposed bride.

‘You’ve been cheating me all along!’ she said; and that was the last

word she spoke to poor Bella.

 

She went, and the field was once more open to the amorous Vicar of St.

Peter’s-cum-Pumpkin. It is astonishing how the greatest difficulties

will sink away, and become as it were nothing,

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