SHEWING HOW THE QUARREL PROGRESSED AGAIN.
On one Sunday morning, when the month of May was nearly over, Hugh
Stanbury met Colonel Osborne in Curzon Street, not many yards from
Trevelyan's door. Colonel Osborne had just come from the house, and
Stanbury was going to it. Hugh had not spoken to Osborne since the
day, now a fortnight since, on which both of them had witnessed
the scene in the park; but on that occasion they had been left
together, and it had been impossible for them not to say a few words
about their mutual friends. Osborne had expressed his sorrow that
there should be any misunderstanding, and had called Trevelyan a
"confounded fool." Stanbury had suggested that there was something in
it which they two probably did not understand, and that matters would
be sure to come all right. "The truth is Trevelyan bullies her," said
Osborne; "and if he goes on with that he'll be sure to get the worst
of it." Now,--on this present occasion,--Stanbury asked whether he
would find the ladies at home. "Yes, they are both there," said
Osborne. "Trevelyan has just gone out in a huff. She'll never be able
to go on living with him. Anybody can see that with half an eye."
Then he had passed on, and Hugh Stanbury knocked at the door.
He was shown up into the drawing-room, and found both the sisters
there; but he could see that Mrs. Trevelyan had been in tears. The
avowed purpose of his visit,--that is, the purpose which he had
avowed to himself,--was to talk about his sister Dorothy. He had told
Miss Rowley, while walking in the park with her, how Dorothy had been
invited over to Exeter by her aunt, and how he had counselled his
sister to accept the invitation. Nora had expressed herself very
interested as to Dorothy's fate, and had said how much she wished
that she knew Dorothy. We all understand how sweet it is, when two
such persons as Hugh Stanbury and Nora Rowley cannot speak of their
love for each other, to say these tender things in regard to some
one else. Nora had been quite anxious to know how Dorothy had been
received by that old conservative warrior, as Hugh Stanbury had
called his aunt, and Hugh had now come to Curzon Street with a letter
from Dorothy in his pocket. But when he saw that there had been some
cause for trouble, he hardly knew how to introduce his subject.
"Trevelyan is not at home?" he asked.
"No," said Emily, with her face turned away. "He went out and left us
a quarter of an hour since. Did you meet Colonel Osborne?"
"I was speaking to him in the street not a moment since." As he
answered he could see that Nora was making some sign to her sister.
Nora was most anxious that Emily should not speak of what had just
occurred, but her signs were all thrown away. "Somebody must tell
him," said Mrs. Trevelyan, "and I don't know who can do so better
than so old a friend as Mr. Stanbury."
"Tell what, and to whom?" he asked.
"No, no, no," said Nora.
"Then I must tell him myself," said she, "that is all. As for
standing this kind of life, it is out of the question. I should
either destroy myself or go mad."
"If I could do any good I should be so happy," said Stanbury.
"Nobody can do any good between a man and his wife," said Nora.
Then Mrs. Trevelyan began to tell her story, putting aside, with an
impatient motion of her hands, the efforts which her sister made to
stop her. She was very angry, and as she told it, standing up, all
trace of sobbing soon disappeared from her voice. "The fact is," she
said, "he does not know his own mind, or what to fear or what not to
fear. He told me that I was never to see Colonel Osborne again."
"What is the use, Emily, of your repeating that to Mr. Stanbury?"
"Why should I not repeat it? Colonel Osborne is papa's oldest friend,
and mine too. He is a man I like very much,--who is a real friend to
me. As he is old enough to be my father, one would have thought that
my husband could have found no objection."
"I don't know much about his age," said Stanbury.
"It does make a difference. It must make a difference. I should not
think of becoming so intimate with a younger man. But, however, when
my husband told me that I was to see him no more,--though the insult
nearly killed me, I determined to obey him. An order was given that
Colonel Osborne should not be admitted. You may imagine how painful
it was; but it was given, and I was prepared to bear it."
"But he had been lunching with you on that Sunday."
"Yes; that is just it. As soon as it was given Louis would rescind
it, because he was ashamed of what he had done. He was so jealous
that he did not want me to see the man; and yet he was so afraid that
it should be known that he ordered me to see him. He ordered him into
the house at last, and I,--I went away up-stairs."
"That was on the Sunday that we met you in the park?" asked Stanbury.
"What is the use of going back to all that?" said Nora.
"Then I met him by chance in the park," continued Mrs. Trevelyan,
"and because he said a word which I knew would anger my husband, I
left him abruptly. Since that my husband has begged that things might
go on as they were before. He could not bear that Colonel Osborne
himself should think that he was jealous. Well; I gave way, and the
man has been here as before. And now there has been a scene which has
been disgraceful to us all. I cannot stand it, and I won't. If he
does not behave himself with more manliness,--I will leave him."
"But what can I do?"
"Nothing, Mr. Stanbury," said Nora.
"Yes; you can do this. You can go to him from me, and can tell him
that I have chosen you as a messenger because you are his friend.
You can tell him that I am willing to obey him in anything. If he
chooses, I will consent that Colonel Osborne shall be asked never
to come into my presence again. It will be very absurd; but if he
chooses, I will consent. Or I will let things go on as they are, and
continue to receive my father's old friend when he comes. But if I
do, I will not put up with an imputation on my conduct because he
does not like the way in which the gentleman thinks fit to address
me. I take upon myself to say that if any man alive spoke to me as
he ought not to speak, I should know how to resent it myself. But I
cannot fly into a passion with an old gentleman for calling me by my
Christian name, when he has done so habitually for years."
From all this it will appear that the great godsend of a rich
marriage, with all manner of attendant comforts, which had come in
the way of the Rowley family as they were living at the Mandarins,
had not turned out to be an unmixed blessing. In the matter of the
quarrel, as it had hitherto progressed, the husband had perhaps been
more in the wrong than his wife; but the wife, in spite of all her
promises of perfect obedience, had proved herself to be a woman very
hard to manage. Had she been earnest in her desire to please her lord
and master in this matter of Colonel Osborne's visits,--to please
him even after he had so vacillated in his own behests,--she might
probably have so received the man as to have quelled all feeling of
jealousy in her husband's bosom. But instead of doing so she had
told herself that as she was innocent, and as her innocence had been
acknowledged, and as she had been specially instructed to receive
this man whom she had before been specially instructed not to
receive, she would now fall back exactly into her old manner with
him. She had told Colonel Osborne never to allude to that meeting
in the park, and to ask no creature as to what had occasioned her
conduct on that Sunday; thus having a mystery with him, which of
course he understood as well as she did. And then she had again taken
to writing notes to him and receiving notes from him,--none of which
she showed to her husband. She was more intimate with him than ever,
and yet she hardly ever mentioned his name to her husband. Trevelyan,
acknowledging to himself that he had done no good by his former
interference, feeling that he had put himself in the wrong on that
occasion, and that his wife had got the better of him, had borne with
all this, with soreness and a moody savageness of general conduct,
but still without further words of anger with reference to the man
himself. But now, on this Sunday, when his wife had been closeted
with Colonel Osborne in the back drawing-room, leaving him with his
sister-in-law, his temper had become too hot for him, and he had
suddenly left the house, declaring that he would not walk with the
two women on that day. "Why not, Louis?" his wife had said, coming up
to him. "Never mind why not, but I shall not," he had answered; and
then he left the room.
"What is the matter with him?" Colonel Osborne had asked.
"It is impossible to say what is the matter with him," Mrs. Trevelyan
had replied. After that she had at once gone up-stairs to her child,
telling herself that she was doing all that the strictest propriety
could require in leaving the man's society as soon as her husband
was gone. Then there was an awkward minute or two between Nora and
Colonel Osborne, and he took his leave.
Stanbury at last promised that he would see Trevelyan, repeating,
however, very frequently that often-used assertion, that no task
is so hopeless as that of interfering between a man and his wife.
Nevertheless he promised, and undertook to look for Trevelyan at
the Acrobats on that afternoon. At last he got a moment in which
to produce the letter from his sister, and was able to turn the
conversation for a few minutes to his own affairs. Dorothy's letter
was read and discussed by both the ladies with much zeal. "It is
quite a strange world to me," said Dorothy, "but I am beginning to
find myself more at my ease than I was at first. Aunt Stanbury is
very good-natured, and when I know what she wants, I think I shall be
able to please her. What you said of her disposition is not so bad to
me, as of course a girl in my position does not expect to have her
own way."
"Why shouldn't she have her share of her own way as well as anybody
else?" said Mrs. Trevelyan.
"Poor Dorothy would never want to have her own way," said Hugh.
"She ought to want it," said Mrs. Trevelyan.
"She has spirit enough to turn if she's trodden on," said Hugh.
"That's more than what most women have," said Mrs. Trevelyan.
Then he went on with the letter. "She is very generous, and has given
me L6 5_s._ in advance of my allowance. When I said I would send part
of it home to mamma, she seemed to be angry, and said that she wanted
me always to look nice about my clothes. She told me afterwards to do
as I pleased, and that I might try my own way for the first quarter.
So I was frightened, and only sent thirty shillings. We went out
the other evening to drink tea with Mrs. MacHugh, an old lady whose
husband was once dean. I had to go, and it was all very nice. There
were a great many clergymen there, but many of them were young men."
"Poor Dorothy," exclaimed Nora. "One of them was the minor canon who
chants the service every morning. He is a bachelor--" "Then there is
a hope for her," said Nora--"and he always talks a little as though
he were singing the Litany." "That's very bad," said Nora; "fancy
having a husband to sing the Litany to you always." "Better that,
perhaps, than having him always singing something else," said Mrs.
Trevelyan.
It was decided between them that Dorothy's state might on the whole
be considered as flourishing, but that Hugh was bound as a brother
to go down to Exeter and look after her. He explained, however, that
he was expressly debarred from calling on his sister, even between
the hours of half-past nine and half-past twelve on Wednesday
mornings, and that he could not see her at all unless he did so
surreptitiously.
"If I were you I would see my sister in spite of all the old viragos
in Exeter," said Mrs. Trevelyan. "I have no idea of anybody taking so
much upon themselves."
"You must remember, Mrs. Trevelyan, that she has taken upon herself
much also in the way of kindness, in doing what perhaps I ought to
call charity. I wonder what I should have been doing now if it were
not for my Aunt Stanbury."
He took his leave, and went at once from Curzon Street to Trevelyan's
club, and found that Trevelyan had not been there as yet. In another
hour he called again, and was about to give it up, when he met the
man whom he was seeking on the steps.
"I was looking for you," he said.
"Well, here I am."
It was impossible not to see in the look of Trevelyan's face, and not
to hear in the tone of his voice, that he was, at the moment, in an
angry and unhappy frame of mind. He did not move as though he were
willing to accompany his friend, and seemed almost to know beforehand
that the approaching interview was to be an unpleasant one.
"I want to speak to you, and perhaps you wouldn't mind taking a turn
with me," said Stanbury.
But Trevelyan objected to this, and led the way into the club
waiting-room. A club waiting-room is always a gloomy, unpromising
place for a confidential conversation, and so Stanbury felt it to be
on the present occasion. But he had no alternative. There they were
together, and he must do as he had promised. Trevelyan kept on his
hat and did not sit down, and looked very gloomy. Stanbury having
to commence without any assistance from outward auxiliaries, almost
forgot what it was that he had promised to do.
"I have just come from Curzon Street," he said.
"Well!"
"At least I was there about two hours ago."
"It doesn't matter, I suppose, whether it was two hours or two
minutes," said Trevelyan.
"Not in the least. The fact is this; I happened to come upon the two
girls there, when they were very unhappy, and your wife asked me to
come and say a word or two to you."
"Was Colonel Osborne there?"
"No; I had met him in the street a minute or two before."
"Well, now; look here, Stanbury. If you'll take my advice, you'll
keep your hands out of this. It is not but that I regard you as being
as good a friend as I have in the world; but, to own the truth, I
cannot put up with interference between myself and my wife."
"Of course you understand that I only come as a messenger."
[Illustration: "I only come as a messenger."]
"You had better not be a messenger in such a cause. If she has
anything to say she can say it to myself."
"Am I to understand that you will not listen to me?"
"I had rather not."
"I think you are wrong," said Stanbury.
"In that matter you must allow me to judge for myself. I can easily
understand that a young woman like her, especially with her sister to
back her, should induce such a one as you to take her part."
"I am taking nobody's part. You wrong your wife, and you especially
wrong Miss Rowley."
"If you please, Stanbury, we will say nothing more about it." This
Trevelyan said holding the door of the room half open in his hand, so
that the other was obliged to pass out through it.
"Good evening," said Stanbury, with much anger.
"Good evening," said Trevelyan, with an assumption of indifference.
Stanbury went away in absolute wrath, though the trouble which he had
had in the interview was much less than he had anticipated, and the
result quite as favourable. He had known that no good would come of
his visit. And yet he was now full of anger against Trevelyan, and
had become a partisan in the matter,--which was exactly that which he
had resolutely determined that he would not become. "I believe that
no woman on earth could live with him," he said to himself as he
walked away. "It was always the same with him,--a desire for mastery,
which he did not know how to use when he had obtained it. If it were
Nora, instead of the other sister, he would break her sweet heart
within a month."
Trevelyan dined at his club, and hardly spoke a word to any one
during the evening. At about eleven he started to walk home, but
went by no means straight thither, taking a long turn through St.
James's Park, and by Pimlico. It was necessary that he should make
up his mind as to what he would do. He had sternly refused the
interference of a friend, and he must be prepared to act on his own
responsibility. He knew well that he could not begin again with his
wife on the next day as though nothing had happened. Stanbury's visit
to him, if it had done nothing else, had made this impossible. He
determined that he would not go to her room to-night, but would see
her as early as possible in the morning;--and would then talk to her
with all the wisdom of which he was master.
How many husbands have come to the same resolution; and how few of
them have found the words of wisdom to be efficacious!