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

club was shut up. “What the deuce is Vossner about?” said he, pulling out his watch. It was nearly five o’clock. He rang the bell, and knocked at the door, feeling that this was an occasion for courage. One of the servants, in what we may call private clothes, after some delay, drew back the bolts, and told him the astounding news;⁠—The club was shut up! “Do you mean to say I can’t come in?” said Sir Felix. The man certainly did mean to tell him so, for he opened the door no more than a foot, and stood in that narrow aperture. Mr. Vossner had gone away. There had been a meeting of the Committee, and the club was shut up. Whatever further information rested in the waiter’s bosom he declined to communicate to Sir Felix Carbury.

“By George!” The wrong that was done him filled the young baronet’s bosom with indignation. He had intended, he assured himself, to dine at his club, to spend the evening there sportively, to be pleasant among his chosen companions. And now the club was shut up, and Vossner had gone away! What business had the club to be shut up? What right had Vossner to go away? Had he not paid his subscription in advance? Throughout the world, the more wrong a man does, the more indignant is he at wrong done to him. Sir Felix almost thought that he could recover damages from the whole Committee.

He went direct to Mrs. Pipkin’s house. When he made that half promise of marriage in Mrs. Pipkin’s hearing, he had said that he would come again on the morrow. This he had not done; but of that he thought nothing. Such breaches of faith, when committed by a young man in his position, require not even an apology. He was admitted by Ruby herself, who was of course delighted to see him. “Who do you think is in town?” she said. “John Crumb; but though he came here ever so smart, I wouldn’t so much as speak to him, except to tell him to go away.” Sir Felix, when he heard the name, felt an uncomfortable sensation creep over him. “I don’t know I’m sure what he should come after me for, and me telling him as plain as the nose on his face that I never want to see him again.”

“He’s not of much account,” said the baronet.

“He would marry me out and out immediately, if I’d have him,” continued Ruby, who perhaps thought that her honest old lover should not be spoken of as being altogether of no account. “And he has everything comfortable in the way of furniture, and all that. And they do say he’s ever so much money in the bank. But I detest him,” said Ruby, shaking her pretty head, and inclining herself towards her aristocratic lover’s shoulder.

This took place in the back parlour, before Mrs. Pipkin had ascended from the kitchen prepared to disturb so much romantic bliss with wretched references to the cold outer world. “Well, now, Sir Felix,” she began, “if things is square, of course you’re welcome to see my niece.”

“And what if they’re round, Mrs. Pipkin?” said the gallant, careless, sparkling Lothario.

“Well, or round either, so long as they’re honest.”

“Ruby and I are both honest;⁠—ain’t we, Ruby? I want to take her out to dinner, Mrs. Pipkin. She shall be back before late;⁠—before ten; she shall indeed.” Ruby inclined herself still more closely towards his shoulder. “Come, Ruby, get your hat and change your dress, and we’ll be off. I’ve ever so many things to tell you.”

Ever so many things to tell her! They must be to fix a day for the marriage, and to let her know where they were to live, and to settle what dress she should wear⁠—and perhaps to give her the money to go and buy it! Ever so many things to tell her! She looked up into Mrs. Pipkin’s face with imploring eyes. Surely on such an occasion as this an aunt would not expect that her niece should be a prisoner and a slave. “Have it been put in writing, Sir Felix Carbury?” demanded Mrs. Pipkin with cruel gravity. Mrs. Hurtle had given it as her decided opinion that Sir Felix would not really mean to marry Ruby Ruggles unless he showed himself willing to do so with all the formality of a written contract.

“Writing be bothered,” said Sir Felix.

“That’s all very well, Sir Felix. Writing do bother, very often. But when a gentleman has intentions, a bit of writing shows it plainer nor words. Ruby don’t go nowhere to dine unless you puts it into writing.”

“Aunt Pipkin!” exclaimed the wretched Ruby. “What do you think I’m going to do with her?” asked Sir Felix.

“If you want to make her your wife, put it in writing. And if it be as you don’t, just say so, and walk away⁠—free.”

“I shall go,” said Ruby. “I’m not going to be kept here a prisoner for anyone. I can go when I please. You wait, Felix, and I’ll be down in a minute.” The girl, with a nimble spring, ran upstairs, and began to change her dress without giving herself a moment for thought.

“She don’t come back no more here, Sir Felix,” said Mrs. Pipkin, in her most solemn tones. “She ain’t nothing to me, no more than she was my poor dear husband’s sister’s child. There ain’t no blood between us, and won’t be no disgrace. But I’d be loth to see her on the streets.”

“Then why won’t you let me bring her back again?”

“ ’Cause that’d be the way to send her there. You don’t mean to marry her.” To this Sir Felix said nothing. “You’re not thinking of that. It’s just a bit of sport⁠—and then there she is, an old shoe to be chucked away, just a rag to be swept into the dustbin. I’ve seen scores of ’em, and I’d sooner a child of mine should die in a workus’, or be starved to death. But it’s