WHAT THEY SAID ABOUT IT IN THE CLOSE.
When Miss Stanbury, in the Close at Exeter, was first told of the
arrangement that had been made at Nuncombe Putney, she said some very
hard words as to the thing that had been done. She was quite sure
that Mrs. Trevelyan was no better than she should be. Ladies who were
separated from their husbands never were any better than they should
be. And what was to be thought of any woman, who, when separated from
her husband, would put herself under the protection of such a Paladin
as Hugh Stanbury? She heard the tidings of course from Dorothy, and
spoke her mind even to Dorothy plainly enough; but it was to Martha
that she expressed herself with her fullest vehemence.
"We always knew," she said, "that my brother had married an
addle-pated, silly woman, one of the most unsuited to be the mistress
of a clergyman's house that ever a man set eyes on; but I didn't
think she'd allow herself to be led into such a stupid thing as
this."
"I don't suppose the lady has done anything amiss,--any more than
combing her husband's hair, and the like of that," said Martha.
"Don't tell me! Why, by their own story, she has got a lover."
"But he ain't to come after her down here, I suppose. And as for
lovers, ma'am, I'm told that the most of 'em have 'em up in London.
But it don't mean much, only just idle talking and gallivanting."
"When women can't keep themselves from idle talking with strange
gentlemen, they are very far gone on the road to the devil. That's
my notion. And that was everybody's notion a few years ago. But now,
what with divorce bills, and women's rights, and penny papers, and
false hair, and married women being just like giggling girls, and
giggling girls knowing just as much as married women, when a woman
has been married a year or two she begins to think whether she mayn't
have more fun for her money by living apart from her husband."
"Miss Dorothy says--"
"Oh, bother what Miss Dorothy says! Miss Dorothy only knows what
it has suited that scamp, her brother, to tell her. I understand
this woman has come away because of a lover; and if that's so, my
sister-in-law is very wrong to receive her. The temptation of the
Clock House has been too much for her. It's not my doing; that's
all."
That evening Miss Stanbury and Dorothy went out to tea at the house
of Mrs. MacHugh, and there the matter was very much discussed. The
family of the Trevelyans was known by name in these parts, and the
fact of Mrs. Trevelyan having been sent to live in a Devonshire
village, with Devonshire ladies who had a relation in Exeter so
well esteemed as Miss Stanbury of the Close, were circumstances of
themselves sufficient to ensure a considerable amount of prestige
at the city tea-table for the tidings of this unfortunate family
quarrel. Some reticence was of course necessary because of the
presence of Miss Stanbury and of Dorothy. To Miss Stanbury herself
Mrs. MacHugh and Mrs. Crumbie, of Cronstadt House, did not scruple
to express themselves very plainly, and to whisper a question as to
what was to be done should the lover make his appearance at Nuncombe
Putney; but they who spoke of the matter before Dorothy, were at
first more charitable, or, at least, more forbearing. Mr. Gibson,
who was one of the minor canons, and the two Miss Frenches from
Heavitree, who had the reputation of hunting unmarried clergymen in
couples, seemed to have heard all about it. When Mrs. MacHugh and
Miss Stanbury, with Mr. and Mrs. Crumbie, had seated themselves at
their whist-table, the younger people were able to express their
opinions without danger of interruption or of rebuke. It was known
to all Exeter by this time, that Dorothy Stanbury's mother had gone
to the Clock House, and that she had done so in order that Mrs.
Trevelyan might have a home. But it was not yet known whether anybody
had called upon them. There was Mrs. Merton, the wife of the present
parson of Nuncombe, who had known the Stanburys for the last twenty
years; and there was Mrs. Ellison of Lessboro', who lived only four
miles from Nuncombe, and who kept a pony-carriage. It would be a
great thing to know how these ladies had behaved in so difficult and
embarrassing a position. Mrs. Trevelyan and her sister had now been
at Nuncombe Putney for more than a fortnight, and something in that
matter of calling must have been done,--or have been left undone. In
answer to an ingeniously-framed question asked by Camilla French,
Dorothy at once set the matter at rest. "Mrs. Merton," said Camilla
French, "must find it a great thing to have two new ladies come to
the village, especially now that she has lost you, Miss Stanbury?"
"Mamma tells me," said Dorothy, "that Mrs. Trevelyan and Miss Rowley
do not mean to know anybody. They have given it out quite plainly, so
that there should be no mistake."
"Dear, dear," said Camilla French.
"I dare say it's for the best," said Arabella French, who was the
elder, and who looked very meek and soft. Miss French almost always
looked meek and soft.
"I'm afraid it will make it very dull for your mother,--not seeing
her old friends," said Mr. Gibson.
"Mamma won't feel that at all," said Dorothy.
"Mrs. Stanbury, I suppose, will see her own friends at her own house
just the same," said Camilla.
"There would be great difficulty in that, when there is a lady who is
to remain unknown," said Arabella. "Don't you think so, Mr. Gibson?"
Mr. Gibson replied that perhaps there might be a difficulty, but he
wasn't sure. The difficulty, he thought, might be got over if the
ladies did not always occupy the same room.
"You have never seen Mrs. Trevelyan, have you, Miss Stanbury?" asked
Camilla.
"Never."
"She is not an old family friend, then,--or anything of that sort?"
"Oh, dear, no."
"Because," said Arabella, "it is so odd how different people get
together sometimes." Then Dorothy explained that Mr. Trevelyan and
her brother Hugh had long been friends.
"Oh!--of Mr. Trevelyan," said Camilla. "Then it is he that has sent
his wife to Nuncombe, not she that has come there?"
"I suppose there has been some agreement," said Dorothy.
"Just so; just so," said Arabella, the meek. "I should like to see
her. They say that she is very beautiful; don't they?"
"My brother says that she is handsome."
"Exceedingly lovely, I'm told," said Camilla. "I should like to see
her,--shouldn't you, Mr. Gibson?"
"I always like to see a pretty woman," said Mr. Gibson, with a polite
bow, which the sisters shared between them.
"I suppose she'll go to church," said Camilla.
"Very likely not," said Arabella. "Ladies of that sort very often
don't go to church. I dare say you'll find that she'll never stir
out of the place at all, and that not a soul in Nuncombe will ever
see her except the gardener. It is such a thing for a woman to be
separated from her husband! Don't you think so, Mr. Gibson?"
"Of course it is," said he, with a shake of his head, which was
intended to imply that the censure of the church must of course
attend any sundering of those whom the church had bound together; but
which implied also by the absence from it of any intense clerical
severity, that as the separated wife was allowed to live with so very
respectable a lady as Mrs. Stanbury, there must probably be some
mitigating circumstances attending this special separation.
"I wonder what he is like?" said Camilla, after a pause.
"Who?" asked Arabella.
"The gentleman," said Camilla.
"What gentleman?" demanded Arabella.
"I don't mean Mr. Trevelyan," said Camilla.
"I don't believe there really is,--eh,--is there?" said Mr. Gibson,
very timidly.
"Oh, dear, yes," said Arabella.
"I'm afraid there's something of the kind," said Camilla. "I've heard
that there is, and I've heard his name." Then she whispered very
closely into the ear of Mr. Gibson the words, "Colonel Osborne," as
though her lips were by far too pure to mention aloud any sound so
full of iniquity.
"Indeed!" said Mr. Gibson.
"But he's quite an old man," said Dorothy, "and knew her father
intimately before she was born. And, as far as I can understand, her
husband does not suspect her in the least. And it's only because
there's a misunderstanding between them, and not at all because of
the gentleman."
"Oh!" exclaimed Camilla.
"Ah!" exclaimed Arabella.
"That would make a difference," said Mr. Gibson.
"But for a married woman to have her name mentioned at all with a
gentleman,--it is so bad; is it not, Mr. Gibson?" And then Arabella
also had her whisper into the clergyman's ear,--very closely. "I'm
afraid there's not a doubt about the Colonel. I'm afraid not. I am
indeed."
"Two by honours and the odd, and it's my deal," said Miss Stanbury,
briskly, and the sharp click with which she put the markers down
upon the table was heard all through the room. "I don't want anybody
to tell me," she said, "that when a young woman is parted from her
husband, the chances are ten to one that she has been very foolish."
"But what's a woman to do, if her husband beats her?" said Mrs.
Crumbie.
"Beat him again," said Mrs. MacHugh.
"And the husband will be sure to have the worst of it," said Mr.
Crumbie. "Well, I declare, if you haven't turned up an honour again,
Miss Stanbury!"
"It was your wife that cut it to me, Mr. Crumbie." Then they were
again at once immersed in the play, and the name neither of Trevelyan
nor Osborne was heard till Miss Stanbury was marking her double under
the candlestick; but during all pauses in the game the conversation
went back to the same topic, and when the rubber was over they
who had been playing it lost themselves for ten minutes in the
allurements of the interesting subject. It was so singular a
coincidence that the lady should have gone to Nuncombe Putney of
all villages in England, and to the house of Mrs. Stanbury of all
ladies in England. And then was she innocent, or was she guilty; and
if guilty, in what degree? That she had been allowed to bring her
baby with her was considered to be a great point in her favour. Mr.
Crumbie's opinion was that it was "only a few words." Mrs. Crumbie
was afraid that she had been a little light. Mrs. MacHugh said that
there was never fire without smoke. And Miss Stanbury, as she took
her departure, declared that the young women of the present day
didn't know what they were after. "They think that the world should
be all frolic and dancing, and they have no more idea of doing their
duty and earning their bread than a boy home for the holidays has of
doing lessons."
Then, as she went home with Dorothy across the Close, she spoke a
word which she intended to be very serious. "I don't mean to say
anything against your mother for what she has done as yet. Somebody
must take the woman in, and perhaps it was natural. But if that
Colonel What's-his-name makes his way down to Nuncombe Putney, your
mother must send her packing, if she has any respect either for
herself or for Priscilla."