The Way We Live Now, Anthony Trollope [good story books to read .txt] 📗

longer with Julia, who doesn’t make herself nice, and I do not at all want to go back to the Melmottes. I fancy that there is something wrong between papa and Mr. Melmotte.

Send the carriage to meet me by the 2:30 train from London⁠—and pray, mamma, don’t scold when you see me, or have hysterics, or anything of that sort. Of course it isn’t all nice, but things have got so that they never will be nice again. I shall tell Mr. Brehgert to go to papa on Wednesday.

Your affectionate daughter,

G.

When the morning came she desired the servant to take the letter away and have it posted, so that the temptation to stop it might no longer be in her way.

About one o’clock on that day Mr. Longestaffe called at Lady Monogram’s. The two ladies had breakfasted upstairs, and had only just met in the drawing-room when he came in. Georgiana trembled at first, but soon perceived that her father had as yet heard nothing of Mr. Brehgert. She immediately told him that she proposed returning home on the following day. “I am sick of the Melmottes,” she said.

“And so am I,” said Mr. Longestaffe, with a serious countenance.

“We should have been delighted to have had Georgiana to stay with us a little longer,” said Lady Monogram; “but we have but the one spare bedroom, and another friend is coming.” Georgiana, who knew both these statements to be false, declared that she wouldn’t think of such a thing. “We have a few friends coming tonight, Mr. Longestaffe, and I hope you’ll come in and see Georgiana.” Mr. Longestaffe hummed and hawed and muttered something, as old gentlemen always do when they are asked to go out to parties after dinner. “Mr. Brehgert will be here,” continued Lady Monogram with a peculiar smile.

“Mr. who?” The name was not at first familiar to Mr. Longestaffe.

“Mr. Brehgert.” Lady Monogram looked at her friend. “I hope I’m not revealing any secret.”

“I don’t understand anything about it,” said Mr. Longestaffe. “Georgiana, who is Mr. Brehgert?” He had understood very much. He had been quite certain from Lady Monogram’s manner and words, and also from his daughter’s face, that Mr. Brehgert was mentioned as an accepted lover. Lady Monogram had meant that it should be so, and any father would have understood her tone. As she said afterwards to Sir Damask, she was not going to have that Jew there at her house as Georgiana Longestaffe’s accepted lover without Mr. Longestaffe’s knowledge.

“My dear Georgiana,” she said, “I supposed your father knew all about it.”

“I know nothing. Georgiana, I hate a mystery. I insist upon knowing. Who is Mr. Brehgert, Lady Monogram?”

“Mr. Brehgert is a⁠—very wealthy gentleman. That is all I know of him. Perhaps, Georgiana, you will be glad to be alone with your father.” And Lady Monogram left the room.

Was there ever cruelty equal to this! But now the poor girl was forced to speak⁠—though she could not speak as boldly as she had written. “Papa, I wrote to mamma this morning, and Mr. Brehgert was to come to you tomorrow.”

“Do you mean that you are engaged to marry him?”

“Yes, papa.”

“What Mr. Brehgert is he?”

“He is a merchant.”

“You can’t mean the fat Jew whom I’ve met with Mr. Melmotte;⁠—a man old enough to be your father!” The poor girl’s condition now was certainly lamentable. The fat Jew, old enough to be her father, was the very man she did mean. She thought that she would try to brazen it out with her father. But at the present moment she had been so cowed by the manner in which the subject had been introduced that she did not know how to begin to be bold. She only looked at him as though imploring him to spare her. “Is the man a Jew?” demanded Mr. Longestaffe, with as much thunder as he knew how to throw into his voice.

“Yes, papa,” she said.

“He is that fat man?”

“Yes, papa.”

“And nearly as old as I am?”

“No, papa⁠—not nearly as old as you are. He is fifty.”

“And a Jew?” He again asked the horrid question, and again threw in the thunder. On this occasion she condescended to make no further reply. “If you do, you shall do it as an alien from my house. I certainly will never see him. Tell him not to come to me, for I certainly will not speak to him. You are degraded and disgraced; but you shall not degrade and disgrace me and your mother and sister.”

“It was you, papa, who told me to go to the Melmottes.”

“That is not true. I wanted you to stay at Caversham. A Jew! an old fat Jew! Heavens and earth! that it should be possible that you should think of it! You;⁠—my daughter⁠—that used to take such pride in yourself! Have you written to your mother?”

“I have.”

“It will kill her. It will simply kill her. And you are going home tomorrow?”

“I wrote to say so.”

“And there you must remain. I suppose I had better see the man and explain to him that it is utterly impossible. Heavens on earth;⁠—a Jew! An old fat Jew! My daughter! I will take you down home myself tomorrow. What have I done that I should be punished by my children in this way?” The poor man had had rather a stormy interview with Dolly that morning. “You had better leave this house today, and come to my hotel in Jermyn Street.”

“Oh, papa, I can’t do that.”

“Why can’t you do it? You can do it, and you shall do it. I will not have you see him again. I will see him. If you do not promise me to come, I will send for Lady Monogram and tell her that I will not permit you to meet Mr. Brehgert at her house. I do wonder at her. A Jew! An old fat Jew!” Mr. Longestaffe, putting up both his hands, walked about the room in despair.

She did consent, knowing that her father and Lady Monogram between them would be too strong for her. She had her things packed up, and in