He Knew He Was Right, Anthony Trollope [children's ebooks free online .TXT] 📗
- Author: Anthony Trollope
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nice, and comfortable, nobody has a right to scold me. And I won’t be
scolded.’
‘But, my child, who is scolding you?’
‘You mean to scold me. But it is of no use. The man has gone, and there
is an end of it. Nothing that you can say or I can think will bring him
back again. I don’t want anybody to tell me that it would be better to
be Lady Peterborough, with everything that the world has to give, than
to live here without a soul to speak to, and to have to go back to
those horrible islands next year. You can’t think that I am very
comfortable.’
‘But what did you say to him, Nora?’
‘What did I say to him? What could I say to him? Why didn’t he ask me
to be his wife without saying anything about love? He asked me if I
loved him. Of course I don’t love him. I would have said I did, but it
stuck in my throat. I am willing enough, I believe, to sell myself to
the devil, but I don’t know how to do it. Never mind. It’s done, and
now I’ll go to bed.’
She did go to bed, and Mrs Trevelyan explained to the two ladies as
much as was necessary of what had occurred. When Mrs Stanbury came to
understand that the gentleman who had been closeted with her would,
probably, in a few months be a lord himself, that he was a very rich
man, a member of Parliament, and one of those who are decidedly born
with gold spoons in their mouths, and understood also that Nora Rowley
had refused him, she was lost in amazement. Mr Glascock was about forty
years of age, and appeared to Nora Rowley, who was nearly twenty years
his junior, to be almost an old man. But to Mrs Stanbury, who was over
sixty, Mr Glascock seemed to be quite in the flower of his age. The
bald place at the top of his head simply showed that he had passed his
boyhood, and the grey hairs at the back of his whiskers were no more
than outward signs of manly discretion. She could not understand why
any girl should refuse such an offer, unless the man were himself bad
in morals, or in temper. But Mrs Trevelyan had told her while Nora and
Mr Glascock were closeted together, that he was believed by them all to
be good and gentle. Nevertheless she felt a considerable increase of
respect for a young lady who had refused the eldest son of a lord.
Priscilla, when she heard what had occurred, expressed to her mother a
moderated approval. According to her views a girl would much more often
be right to refuse an offer of marriage than to accept it, let him who
made the offer be who he might. And the fact of the man having been
sent away with a refusal somewhat softened Priscilla’s anger at his
coming there at all.
‘I suppose he is a goose,’ said she to her mother, ‘and I hope there
won’t be any more of this kind running after them while they are with
us.’
Nora, when she was alone, wept till her heart was almost broken. It was
done, and the man was gone, and the thing was over. She had quite
sufficient knowledge of the world to realise perfectly the difference
between such a position as that which had been offered to her, and the
position which in all probability she would now be called upon to fill.
She had had her chance, and Fortune had placed great things at her
disposal. It must said of her also that the great things which Fortune
had offered to her were treasures very valuable in her eyes. Whether it
be right and wise to covet or to desire wealth and rank, there was no
doubt but that she coveted them. She had been instructed to believe in
them, and she did believe in them. In some mysterious manner of which
she herself knew nothing, taught by some preceptor the nobility of
whose lessons she had not recognised though she had accepted them, she
had learned other things also: to revere truth and love, and to be
ambitious as regarded herself of conferring the gift of her whole heart
upon some one whom she could worship as a hero. She had spoken the
simple truth when she had told her sister that she had been willing to
sell herself to the devil, but that she had failed in her attempt to
execute the contract. But now as she lay weeping on her bed, tearing
herself with remorse, picturing to herself in the most vivid colours
all that she had thrown away, telling herself of all that she might
have done and all she might have been, had she not allowed the insane
folly of a moment to get the better of her, she received little or no
comfort from the reflection that she had been true to her better
instincts. She had told the man that she had refused him because she
loved Hugh Stanbury at least, as far as she could remember what had
passed, she had so told him. And how mean it was of her to allow
herself to be actuated by an insane passion for a man who had never
spoken to her of love, and how silly of her afterwards to confess it!
Of what service could such a passion be to her life? Even were it
returned, she could not marry such a one as Hugh Stanbury. She knew
enough of herself to be quite sure that were he to ask her to do so
tomorrow, she would refuse him. Better go and be scorched, and bored to
death, and buried at the Mandarins, than attempt to regulate a poor
household which, as soon as she made one of its number, would be on the
sure road to ruin! For a moment there came upon her, not a thought,
hardly an idea, something of a waking dream that she would write to Mr
Glascock and withdraw all that she had said. Were she to do so he would
probably despise her, and tell her that he despised her but there might
be a chance. It was possible that such a declaration would bring him
back to her and did it not bring him back to her she would only be
where she was, a poor lost, shipwrecked creature, who had flung herself
upon the rocks and thrown away her only chance of a prosperous voyage
across the ocean of life; her only chance, for she was not like other
girls, who at any rate remain on the scene of action, and may refit
their spars and still win their way. For there were to be no more
seasons in London, no more living in Curzon Street, no renewed power of
entering the ball-rooms and crowded staircases in which high-born
wealthy lovers can be conquered. A great prospect had been given to
her, and she had flung it aside! That letter of retractation was,
however, quite out of the question. The reader must not suppose that
she had ever thought that she could write it. She thought of nothing
but of coming misery and remorse. In her wretchedness she fancied that
she had absolutely disclosed to the man who loved her the name of him
whom she had been mad enough to say that she loved. But what did it
matter? Let it be as it might, she was destroyed.
The next morning she came down to breakfast pale as a ghost; and they
who saw her knew at once that she had done that which had made her a
wretched woman.
THE STANBURY CORRESPONDENCE
Half an hour after the proper time, when the others had finished their
tea and bread and butter, Nora Rowley came down among them pale as a
ghost. Her sister had gone to her while she was dressing, but she had
declared that she would prefer to be alone. She would be down directly,
she had said, and had completed her toilet without even the assistance
of her maid. She drank her cup of tea and pretended to eat her toast;
and then sat herself down, very wretchedly, to think of it all again.
It had been all within her grasp all of which she had ever dreamed! And
now it was gone! Each of her three companions strove from time to time
to draw her into conversation, but she seemed to be resolute in her
refusal. At first, till her utter prostration had become a fact plainly
recognised by them all, she made some little attempt at an answer when
a direct question was asked of her; but after a while she only shook
her head, and was silent, giving way to absolute despair.
Late in the evening she went out into the garden, and Priscilla
followed her. It was now the end of July, and the summer was in its
glory. The ladies, during the day, would remain in the drawing-room
with the windows open and the blinds down, and would sit in the evening
reading and working, or perhaps pretending to read and work, under the
shade of a cedar which stood upon the lawn. No retirement could
possibly be more secluded than was that of the garden of the Clock
House. No stranger could see into it, or hear sounds from out of it.
Though it was not extensive, it was so well furnished with those
charming garden shrubs which, in congenial soils, become large trees,
that one party of wanderers might seem to be lost from another amidst
its walls. On this evening Mrs Stanbury and Mrs Trevelyan had gone out
as usual, but Priscilla had remained with Nora Rowley. After a while
Nora also got up and went through the window all alone. Priscilla,
having waited for a few minutes, followed her; and caught her in a long
green walk that led round the bottom of the orchard.
‘What makes you so wretched?’ she said.
‘Why do you say I am wretched?’
‘Because it’s so visible. How is one to go on living with you all day
and not notice it?’
‘I wish you wouldn’t notice it. I don’t think it kind of you to notice
it. If I wanted to talk of it, I would say so.’
‘It is better generally to speak of a trouble than to keep it to
oneself,’ said Priscilla.
‘All the same, I would prefer not to speak of mine,’ said Nora.
Then they parted, one going one way and one the other, and Priscilla
was certainly angry at the reception which had been given to the
sympathy which she had proffered. The next day passed almost without a
word spoken between the two. Mrs Stanbury had not ventured as yet to
mention to her guest the subject of the rejected lover, and had not
even said much on the subject to Mrs Trevelyan. Between the two sisters
there had been, of course, some discussion on the matter. It was
impossible that it should be allowed to pass without it; but such
discussions always resulted in an assertion on the part of Nora that
she would not be scolded. Mrs Trevelyan was very tender with her, and
made no attempt to scold her—tried, at last, simply to console her; but
Nora was so continually at work scolding herself, that every word
spoken to her on the subject of Mr Glascock’s visit seemed to her to
carry with it a rebuke.
But on the second day she herself accosted Priscilla Stanbury. ‘Come
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