"FOR BETTER, FOR WORSE."
When Churchill returned to Bissett, he found that a considerable
change had taken place in the aspect of affairs there. Beresford and
Lyster had departed, and old Miss Lexden was on the point of starting
that very afternoon, her natty boxes in their leather cases lining the
hall; for the old lady was calmly implacable, and never altered one
jot of her original determination. After his talk with Frank
Churchill, Sir Marmaduke had determined on using his best efforts
towards restoring peace, and setting affairs on an amicable footing;
so the next morning, when he was closeted with Major Stone discussing
various points of business, the old gentleman gradually wore round to
the matter perplexing him, took Stone into his confidence, and
finished by commanding the major immediately to seek a conference with
Miss Lexden, to inform her of Sir Marmaduke's views, and use his best
efforts to bring her at least to a compromise. The gallant warrior
received the commission with a very ill grace. He hinted that to look
after his friend's rents and tenants, farm and live-stock, servants
and money-matters, was all well enough; but to have to collogue with a
parcel of old cats who--however, since it was to be done, he supposed
he must do it; and he would "tackle" the old lady at once. But the old
lady carried far too many guns for this blundering half-pay Major, and
before he had been in her company five minutes made him feel
exceedingly sorry that he had asked for the interview. Miss Lexden
received him in the pleasantest manner, talked lightly of the weather,
praised in the highest terms Major Stone's admirable management of Sir
Marmaduke's estate, could not imagine how Sir Marmaduke would get on
without his "other self;" and then, when Stone's flattered vanity led
him to disclose the real object of his visit, Miss Lexden pulled up
short, and in her most dignified and icy manner declared that "these
were family matters, which allowed of no intervention by a third
person, especially one entirely unconnected with either side, and
therefore incapable of appreciating the delicacies of the position;
what, for instance, would Sir Marmaduke have thought of her if she had
sent Withers to enter into negotiations!" and thus having completely
upset the Major, Miss Lexden summarily dismissed him.
When he returned to his principal, and gave him a full account of his
treatment, the old gentleman was very wrath, and took a speedy
opportunity of waiting personally upon Miss Lexden.
After exchanging ordinary civilities, their conversation was short and
sharp.
"Susan! you're behaving sillily, worse than sillily, in this matter of
Barbara and Frank Churchill; and I've come to tell you of it!"
"It's not the first time, Marmaduke, that you have come to me on a
fool's errand."
First blood to Miss Lexden the old man thought of the days of his
courtship, when he owed but little to Susan Lexden's assistance, and
winced.
"Thank you! You're kind and generous as ever! But it was not to talk
of bygone times that I came here. Take my word, Susan, you're wrong in
your treatment of this business."
"As how, pray?"
"You've played for a big stake with Barbara, and she won't have it!
She's fallen in love, in real desperate love; no make-believe humbug,
but regular love!"
Miss Lexden shrugged her shoulders, raised her eyebrows, and tattooed
impatiently with her foot.
"God knows she's to be envied," said the old gentleman; "how many
girls are there, do you think, who are booked for marriage before next
spring, who would give their ears to feel to their future husbands as
Barbara does to hers? It's not about her I'm come to preach, it's
about you. You're behaving like an idiot, Susan,--worse than an
idiot,--in thus refusing your countenance to the match."
"You're growing horribly coarse in your language, Marmaduke, and unfit
for me to listen to. But since you've broached the topic, hear me: I
shall leave Bissett at once; and once gone, I shall never see Barbara
again. I shall not give her one sixpence for her _trousseau_, or make
one addition to her wardrobe. I will not allow her a penny, and I will
strive to forget that I ever knew there was such a person on earth.
She has grievously disappointed me, and been selfish and ungrateful;
but I shall not cast her off, or do any thing melodramatic or
nonsensical; I shall simply ignore her existence, and live on as
though she had never been."
Sir Marmaduke retired, boiling over with rage. An hour afterwards he
sent for Barbara to the library and placing a cheque for 100_l_. in
her hands, told her he had arranged with Mrs. Vincent to accompany her
to town and get the requisite articles for her _trousseau_ at once.
Her aunt was about to leave, he said; but Mrs. Vincent had promised to
stop and act _chaperon_, and Miss Townshend would be bridesmaid. Let
the wedding take place at once, since both the young people wished it,
and let it be from Bissett. There would be no fuss, no tomfoolery; but
no one should be able to say in future that there was any thing
underhand or secret about her marriage, or that it was not properly
countenanced by some of the family. If her aunt chose to be an old
fool, that was her look-out, not his. And then the old gentleman
kissed her on the forehead, and told her that while he lived she and
Frank should never want a friend.
Miss Lexden left on the evening of the day on which Churchill
returned, without seeing him or taking farewell of any of the
household. Mr. Townshend would have liked to go too, but his daughter
strongly objected, determining to remain with Barbara; a determination
in which she was well supported by Mr. Schröder, who had taken great
interest in Barbara's "love-affair" ever since it had been made
public--as apparently seeing therein an excess of romance which might
cast a halo over his own somewhat meagre and prosaic wooing. Mrs.
Vincent, too, entered into the affair with great spirit, principally
incited thereto by her hatred of old Miss Lexden, who had been
particularly rude about Mr. Vincent's little gastronomical tastes; and
Sir Marmaduke seemed for a time to have eschewed his eccentricity, and
to have become perfectly humanised. Of course Major Stone was in great
force, rallying the lovers with much subtle humour, and looking after
all the preparations for the wedding with as much interest as though
he were a person principally concerned.
The day arrived, and the weather did its very noblest for the young
people. The sky was cloudless, and the sun brilliant, if not warm.
Barbara was in the finest health and spirits, and never looked more
lovely than in her plain white silk dress and Brussels lace--the
latter an old family relic. The wedding took place at the little
parish-church, where three bells rang a somewhat abbreviated but merry
peal, while the villagers thronged the churchyard and did proper
obeisance and gratulation to a party coming from "the Grange."
Afterwards there was a breakfast, at which no one save the clergyman
and the house-inmates were present, where there was only one speech of
four words,--"God bless them both!" from Sir Marmaduke; and then,
kisses and hand-shakings done, they departed. As Churchill shook hands
with the old gentleman, the latter left an envelope in his godson's
hands, which, on opening, he found to contain a banknote for fifty
pounds, with the words "For the honeymoon" in the envelope. Nor had
Barbara been without her presents. On the previous evening she had
received a packet containing a necklace of ivy-leaves in dead
deep-coloured gold, with earrings to match, and in the case Captain
Lyster's card, with "With all good wishes" written on it; while a
splendid enamel and diamond bracelet came to her as the joint gift of
Mr. Schröder and Alice Townshend.
While the happy couple were honeymooning it in the north of Devon,
unconsciously standing as capital models of posed figures to several
artists who had lingered beyond most of their fraternity in those
pleasant quarters, old Mrs. Churchill, having engaged a tolerably neat
lodging not far from her old abode, devoted herself and some of her
savings to the embellishment of the house in Great Adullam Street,
which was newly painted outside, and revived within to the extent of
new carpeting and a general polishing of the furniture. Intelligence
of these triumphs had been duly conveyed in letters to Frank, who in
return, thanked his mother, and sent a postscript by Barbara, who,
addressing her as "her dear mother," begged her not to over-fatigue
herself in their service; which little message, signed "Your
affectionate daughter, B. C.," brought tears of delight into the old
lady's eyes, and had the effect of causing her to redouble her
exertions. At last the day for their return arrived, and the rain,
which had been threatening for nearly a week past, broke through the
yellow canopy of fog hanging over London, and came down heroically. It
was not favourable weather in which to make one's first acquaintance
with Great Adullam Street, which required a good deal of sunlight to
do away with its normal ghastliness; and as the evening twilight,
drear and dim, came rolling up, Eleanor Churchill, sitting at the
window of her lodgings on the look-out for the cab, which must pass
her door, felt her heart sink within her with a strange, indefinable
sensation of dread. Her delicacy had prevented her being present on
her new daughter's first arrival at her home; but she now almost
regretted that she had not gone round to welcome her among her new and
strange surroundings. Great Adullam Street very seldom had a cab
rattling over its ill-set stones; there was a large gate at one end
(as is frequently the case in the neighbourhood), where every public
vehicle was stopped, and sent by a different route, at the mandate of
a very sullen gate-keeper, unless it happened to be bound to some
house in the street. So that when Mrs. Churchill heard the creaking
gates open, followed by the noise of wheels, she knew that her
children had arrived, and looking out, saw by the lamplight Barbara's
handsome face at the cab-window. "Handsome, very handsome and
patrician-looking," thought the ow lady; "but what a strange look of
bewilderment on it!"
The cab stopped, and Churchill jumped out and handed Barbara into the
house. Lucy, old Mrs. Churchill's servant, stood within the door, and
gave a very grim bow as Barbara passed; the two newly-hired servants
were smirking in the passage. Frank hurried past them, and led Barbara
into the little dining-room. She was very tired with her journey, and
at once sat down.
"Who was that horrid person, Frank, at the door,--with the strange
sour look, I mean?"
"Oh, my mother's servant, old Lucy; been with her since her girlhood.
She has not prepossessing manners, but she's a faithful creature.
You'll make much of her, dearest."
"Nothing, I should hope; she's too horrible! What a disagreeable
colour this paper is, and what a horribly prim carpet! I'll take off
my things, Frank, at once, and come down to dinner; I'm rather faint."
Churchill lit a candle, and preceded her up the stairs--at the carpet
on which Barbara made a despairing shrug--to the best bedroom, erst
his mother's, where stood the heavy four-post bed, the old-fashioned
mahogany wardrobe, the dingy pictures of sacred subjects--all the
furniture just as he recollected it for years. It was rather a ghastly
room, certainly; and when Frank had left her, to go down and pay the
cabman and see about the luggage, she glanced nervously round, and
burying her face in her hands, burst into a flood of tears.
Thus her husband found her when he returned. He a once rushed up to
her, and asked her what was the matter; but she replied that she was a
little over-fatigued, and would be better after the dinner and rest.
"That's well," said Frank cheerfully; "you must not give way now,
darling; recollect you're _at home_."
At which words, strange though it may appear, Barbara's sobs were
redoubled.