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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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severe food in the

mornings were sins against the plainest rules of life. And the three

Rowley girls went, Nora officiating as one of the bridesmaids. But Mrs

Trevelyan was left with her boy, and during the day she was forced to

resolve what should be the immediate course of her life. Two days after

the wedding her family would return to England. It was open to her to

go with them, and to take her boy with her. But a few days since how

happy she would have been could she have been made to believe that such

a mode of returning would be within her power! But now she felt that

she might not return and leave that poor, suffering wretch behind her.

As she thought of him she tried to interrogate herself in regard to her

feelings. Was it love, or duty, or compassion which stirred her? She

had loved him as fondly as any bright young woman loves the man who is

to take her away from everything else, and make her a part of his house

and of himself. She had loved him as Nora now loved the man whom she

worshipped and thought to be a god, doing godlike work in the dingy

recesses of the D. R. office. Emily Trevelyan was forced to tell

herself that all that was over with her. Her husband had shown himself

to be weak, suspicious, unmanly—by no means like a god. She had learned

to feel that she could not trust her comfort in his hands, that she

could never know what his thoughts of her might be. But still he was

her husband, and the father of her child; and though she could not dare

to look forward to happiness in living with him, she could understand

that no comfort would be possible to her, were she to return to England

and to leave him to perish alone at Casalunga. Fate seemed to have

intended that her life should be one of misery, and she must bear it as

best she might.

 

The more she thought of it, however, the greater seemed to be her

difficulties. What was she to do when her father and mother should have

left her? She could not go to Casalunga if her husband would not give

her entrance; and if she did go, would it be safe for her to take her

boy with her? Were she to remain in Florence she would be hardly nearer

to him for any useful purpose than in England; and even should she

pitch her tent at Siena, occupying there some desolate set of huge

apartments in a deserted palace, of what use could she be to him? Could

she stay there if he desired her to go; and was it probable that he

would be willing that she should be at Siena while he was living at

Casalunga, no more than two leagues distant? How should she begin her

work; and if he repulsed her, how should she then continue it?

 

But during these wedding hours she did make up her mind as to what she

would do for the present. She would certainly not leave Italy while her

husband remained there. She would for a while keep her rooms in

Florence, and there should her boy abide. But from time to time, twice a

week perhaps, she would go down to Siena and Casalunga, and there form

her plans in accordance with her husband’s conduct. She was his wife,

and nothing should entirely separate her from him, now that he so

sorely wanted her aid.

CHAPTER LXXXVII

MR GLASCOCK’S MARRIAGE COMPLETED

 

The Glascock marriage was a great affair in Florence so much so, that

there were not a few who regarded it as a strengthening of peaceful

relations between the United States and the United Kingdom, and who

thought that the Alabama claims and the question of naturalisation

might now be settled with comparative ease. An English lord was about

to marry the niece of an American Minister to a foreign court. The

bridegroom was not, indeed, quite a lord as yet, but it was known to

all men that he must be a lord in a very short time, and the bride was

treated with more than usual bridal honours because she belonged to a

legation. She was not, indeed, an ambassador’s daughter, but the niece

of a daughterless ambassador, and therefore almost as good as a

daughter. The wives and daughters of other ambassadors, and the

ambassadors themselves, of course, came to the wedding; and as the

palace in which Mr Spalding had apartments stood alone, in a garden,

with a separate carriage entrance, it seemed for all wedding purposes

as though the whole palace were his own. The English Minister came, and

his wife, although she had never quite given over turning up her nose at

the American bride whom Mr Glascock had chosen for himself. It was such

a pity, she said, that such a man as Mr Glascock should marry a young

woman from Providence, Rhode Island. Who in England would know anything

of Providence, Rhode Island? And it was so expedient, in her

estimation, that a man of family should strengthen himself by marrying

a woman of family. It was so necessary, she declared, that a man when

marrying should remember that his child would have two grandfathers,

and would be called upon to account for four great-grandfathers.

Nevertheless Mr Glascock was Mr Glascock; and, let him marry whom he

would, his wife would be the future Lady Peterborough. Remembering

this, the English Minister’s wife gave up the point when the thing was

really settled, and benignly promised to come to the breakfast with all

the secretaries and attaches belonging to the legation, and all the

wives and daughters thereof. What may a man not do, and do with eclat,

if he be heir to a peer and have plenty of money in his pocket?

 

Mr and Mrs Spalding were covered with glory on the occasion; and

perhaps they did not bear their glory as meekly as they should have

done. Mrs Spalding laid herself open to some ridicule from the British

Minister’s wife because of her inability to understand with absolute

clearness the condition of her niece’s husband in respect to his late

and future seat in Parliament, to the fact of his being a commoner and

a nobleman at the same time, and to certain information which was

conveyed to her, surely in a most unnecessary manner, that if Mr

Glascock were to die before his father, her niece would never become

Lady Peterborough, although her niece’s son, if she had one, would be

the future lord. No doubt she blundered, as was most natural; and then

the British Minister’s wife made the most of the blunders; and when

once Mrs Spalding ventured to speak of Caroline as her ladyship, not to

the British Minister’s wife, but to the sister of one of the

secretaries, a story was made out of it which was almost as false as it

was ill-natured. Poor Caroline was spoken of as her ladyship backward

and forwards among the ladies of the legation in a manner which might

have vexed her had she known anything about it; but nevertheless, all

the ladies prepared their best flounces to go to the wedding. The time

would soon come when she would in truth be a ‘ladyship,’ and she might

be of social use to any one of the ladies in question.

 

But Mr Spalding was, for the time, the most disturbed of any of the

party concerned. He was a tall, thin, clever Republican of the North,

very fond of hearing himself talk, and somewhat apt to take advantage

of the courtesies of conversation for the purpose of making

unpardonable speeches. As long as there was any give and take going on

in the melee of words he would speak quickly and with energy, seizing

his chances among others; but the moment he had established his right

to the floor, as soon as he had won for himself the position of having

his turn at the argument, he would dole out his words with considerable

slowness, raise his hand for oratorical effect, and proceed as though

Time were annihilated. And he would go further even than this, for

fearing by experience the escape of his victims, he would catch a man by

the button-hole of his coat, or back him ruthlessly into the corner of

a room, and then lay on to him without quarter. Since the affair with

Mr Glascock had been settled, he had talked an immensity about England,

not absolutely taking honour to himself because of his intended

connection with a lord, but making so many references to the

aristocratic side of the British constitution as to leave no doubt on

the minds of his hearers as to the source of his arguments. In old

days, before all this was happening, Mr Spalding, though a courteous

man in his personal relations, had constantly spoken of England with

the bitter indignation of the ordinary American politician. England

must be made to disgorge. England must be made to do justice. England

must be taught her place in the world. England must give up her claims.

In hot moments he had gone further, and had declared that England must

be whipped. He had been specially loud against that aristocracy of

England which, according to a figure of speech often used by him, was

always feeding on the vitals of the people. But now all this was very

much changed. He did not go the length of expressing an opinion that

the House of Lords was a valuable institution; but he discussed

questions of primogeniture and hereditary legislation, in reference to

their fitness for countries which were gradually emerging from feudal

systems, with an equanimity, an impartiality, and a perseverance which

soon convinced those who listened to him where he had learned his

present lessons, and why. ‘The conservative nature of your

institutions, sir,’ he said to poor Sir Marmaduke at the Baths of Lucca

a very few days before the marriage, ‘has to be studied with great care

before its effects can be appreciated in reference to a people who,

perhaps, I may be allowed to say, have more in their composition of

constitutional reverence than of educated intelligence.’ Sir Marmaduke,

having suffered before, had endeavoured to bolt; but the American had

caught him and pinned him, and the Governor of the Mandarins was

impotent in his hands. ‘The position of the great peer of Parliament is

doubtless very splendid, and may be very useful,’ continued Mr

Spalding, who was intending to bring round his argument to the evil

doings of certain scandalously extravagant young lords, and to offer a

suggestion that in such cases a committee of aged and respected peers

should sit and decide whether a second son, or some other heir should

not be called to the inheritance, both of the title and the property.

But Mrs Spalding had seen the sufferings of Sir Marmaduke, and had

rescued him. ‘Mr Spalding,’ she had said, ‘it is too late for politics,

and Sir Marmaduke has come out here for a holiday.’ Then she took her

husband by the arm, and led him away helpless.

 

In spite of these drawbacks to the success, if ought can be said to be a

drawback on success of which the successful one is unconscious, the

marriage was prepared with great splendour, and everybody who was

anybody in Florence was to be present. There were only to be four

bridesmaids, Caroline herself having strongly objected to a greater

number. As Wallachia Petrie had fled at the first note of preparation

for these trivial and unpalatable festivities, another American young

lady was found; and the sister of the English secretary of legation,

who had so maliciously

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