SHEWING HOW COLONEL OSBORNE WENT TO COCKCHAFFINGTON.
Together with Miss Stanbury's first letter to her sister-in-law a
letter had also been delivered to Mrs. Trevelyan. Nora Rowley, as her
sister had left the room with this in her hand, had expressed her
opinion that it had come from Trevelyan; but it had in truth been
written by Colonel Osborne. And when that second letter from Miss
Stanbury had been received at the Clock House,--that in which she in
plain terms begged pardon for the accusation conveyed in her first
letter,--Colonel Osborne had started on his deceitful little journey
to Cockchaffington, and Mr. Bozzle, the ex-policeman who had him in
hand, had already asked his way to Nuncombe Putney.
When Colonel Osborne learned that Louis Trevelyan had broken up his
establishment in Curzon Street, and had sent his wife away into a
barbarous retirement in Dartmoor,--for such was the nature of the
information on the subject which was spread among Trevelyan's friends
in London;--and when he was made aware also that all this was done
on his account,--because he was so closely intimate with Trevelyan's
wife, and because Trevelyan's wife was, and persisted in continuing
to be, so closely intimate with him,--his vanity was gratified.
Although it might be true,--and no doubt was true,--that he said much
to his friends and to himself of the deep sorrow which he felt that
such a trouble should befall his old friend and his old friend's
daughter; nevertheless, as he curled his grey whiskers before the
glass, and made the most of such remnant of hair as was left on
the top of his head, as he looked to the padding of his coat, and
completed a study of the wrinkles beneath his eyes, so that in
conversation they might be as little apparent as possible, he felt
more of pleasure than of pain in regard to the whole affair. It was
very sad that it should be so, but it was human. Had it been in his
power to set the whole matter right by a word, he would probably have
spoken that word; but as this was not possible, as Trevelyan had in
his opinion made a gross fool of himself, as Emily Trevelyan was
very nice, and not the less nice in that she certainly was fond
of himself, as great tyranny had been used towards her, and as he
himself had still the plea of old family friendship to protect his
conscience,--to protect his conscience unless he went so far as to
make that plea an additional sting to his conscience,--he thought
that, as a man, he must follow up the matter. Here was a young, and
fashionable, and very pretty woman banished to the wilds of Dartmoor
for his sake. And, as far as he could understand, she would not have
been so banished had she consented to say that she would give up
her acquaintance with him. In such circumstances as these was it
possible that he should do nothing? Various ideas ran through his
head. He began to think that if Trevelyan were out of the way, he
might,--might perhaps be almost tempted to make this woman his wife.
She was so nice that he almost thought that he might be rash enough
for that, although he knew well the satisfaction of being a bachelor;
but as the thought suggested itself to him, he was well aware that
he was thinking of a thing quite distant from him. The reader is not
to suppose that Colonel Osborne meditated any making-away with the
husband. Our Colonel was certainly not the man for a murder. Nor did
he even think of running away with his friend's daughter. Though he
told himself that he could dispose of his wrinkles satisfactorily,
still he knew himself and his powers sufficiently to be aware that
he was no longer fit to be the hero of such a romance as that. He
acknowledged to himself that there was much labour to be gone through
in running away with another man's wife; and that the results, in
respect to personal comfort, are not always happy. But what if Mrs.
Trevelyan were to divorce herself from her husband on the score of
her husband's cruelty? Various horrors were related as to the man's
treatment of his wife. By some it was said that she was in the prison
on Dartmoor,--or, if not actually in the prison, an arrangement which
the prison discipline might perhaps make difficult,--that she was in
the custody of one of the prison warders who possessed a prim cottage
and a grim wife, just outside the prison walls. Colonel Osborne did
not himself believe even so much as this, but he did believe that
Mrs. Trevelyan had been banished to some inhospitable region, to some
dreary comfortless abode, of which, as the wife of a man of fortune,
she would have great ground to complain. So thinking, he did not
probably declare to himself that a divorce should be obtained,
and that, in such event, he would marry the lady,--but ideas came
across his mind in that direction. Trevelyan was a cruel Bluebeard;
Emily,--as he was studious to call Mrs. Trevelyan,--was a dear
injured saint. And as for himself, though he acknowledged to himself
that the lumbago pinched him now and again, so that he could not rise
from his chair with all the alacrity of youth, yet, when he walked
along Pall Mall with his coat properly buttoned, he could not but
observe that a great many young women looked at him with admiring
eyes.
It was thus with no settled scheme that the Colonel went to work,
and made inquiries, and ascertained Mrs. Trevelyan's address in
Devonshire. When he learned it, he thought that he had done much;
though, in truth, there had been no secrecy in the matter. Scores
of people knew Mrs. Trevelyan's address besides the newsvendor who
supplied her paper, from whose boy Colonel Osborne's servant obtained
the information. But when the information had been obtained, it was
expedient that it should be used; and therefore Colonel Osborne wrote
the following letter:--
Acrobats Club, July 31, 186--.
DEAR EMILY,
Twice the Colonel wrote Dearest Emily, and twice he tore the sheet on
which the words were written. He longed to be ardent, but still it
was so necessary to be prudent! He was not quite sure of the lady.
Women sometimes tell their husbands, even when they have quarrelled
with them. And, although ardent expressions in writing to pretty
women are pleasant to male writers, it is not pleasant for a
gentleman to be asked what on earth he means by that sort of thing at
his time of life. The Colonel gave half an hour to the consideration,
and then began the letter, Dear Emily. If prudence be the soul
of valour, may it not be considered also the very mainspring, or,
perhaps, the pivot of love?
DEAR EMILY,
I need hardly tell you with what dismay I have heard of
all that has taken place in Curzon Street. I fear that you
must have suffered much, and that you are suffering now.
It is an inexpressible relief to me to hear that you have
your child with you, and Nora. But, nevertheless, to
have your home taken away from you, to be sent out of
London, to be banished from all society! And for what?
The manner in which the minds of some men work is quite
incomprehensible.
As for myself, I feel that I have lost the company of
a friend, whom indeed I can very ill spare. I have a
thousand things to say to you, and among them one or
two which I feel that I must say,--that I ought to say.
As it happens, an old schoolfellow of mine is Vicar of
Cockchaffington, a village which I find by the map is
very near to Nuncombe Putney. I saw him in town last
spring, and he then asked me to pay him a visit. There is
something in his church which people go to see, and though
I don't understand churches much, I shall go and see it.
I shall run down on Wednesday, and shall sleep at the inn
at Lessboro'. I see that Lessboro' is a market town, and
I suppose there is an inn. I shall go over to my friend on
the Thursday, but shall return to Lessboro'. Though a man
be ever so eager to see a church door-way, he need not
sleep at the parsonage. On the following day, I will get
over to Nuncombe Putney, and I hope that you will see me.
Considering my long friendship with you, and my great
attachment to your father and mother, I do not think
that the strictest martinet would tell you that you need
hesitate in the matter.
I have seen Mr. Trevelyan twice at the club, but he has
not spoken to me. Under such circumstances I could not of
course speak to him. Indeed, I may say that my feelings
towards him just at present are of such a nature as
to preclude me from doing so with any appearance of
cordiality.
Dear Emily,
Believe me now, as always, your affectionate friend,
FREDERIC OSBORNE.
When he read that letter over to himself a second time he felt quite
sure that he had not committed himself. Even if his friend were to
send the letter to her husband, it could not do him any harm. He was
aware that he might have dilated more on the old friendship between
himself and Sir Marmaduke, but he experienced a certain distaste to
the mention of things appertaining to years long past. It did not
quite suit him in his present frame of mind to speak of his regard in
those quasi-paternal terms which he would have used had it satisfied
him to represent himself simply as her father's friend. His language
therefore had been a little doubtful, so that the lady might, if
she were so minded, look upon him in that tender light in which her
husband had certainly chosen to regard him.
When the letter was handed to Mrs. Trevelyan, she at once took it
with her up to her own room, so that she might be alone when she read
it. The handwriting was quite familiar to her, and she did not choose
that even her sister should see it. She had told herself twenty times
over that, while living at Nuncombe Putney, she was not living under
the guardianship of Mrs. Stanbury. She would consent to live under
the guardianship of no one, as her husband did not choose to remain
with her and protect her. She had done no wrong, and she would submit
to no other authority, than that of her legal lord and master. Nor,
according to her views of her own position, was it in his power to
depute that authority to others. He had caused the separation, and
now she must be the sole judge of her own actions. In itself, a
correspondence between her and her father's old friend was in no
degree criminal or even faulty. There was no reason, moral, social,
or religious, why an old man, over fifty, who had known her all her
life, should not write to her. But yet she could not say aloud before
Mrs. Stanbury, and Priscilla, and her sister, that she had received a
letter from Colonel Osborne. She felt that the colour had come to her
cheek, and that she could not even walk out of the room as though the
letter had been a matter of indifference to her.
And would it have been a matter of indifference had there been nobody
there to see her? Mrs. Trevelyan was certainly not in love with
Colonel Osborne. She was not more so now than she had been when her
father's friend, purposely dressed for the occasion, had kissed her
in the vestry of the church in which she was married, and had given
her a blessing, which was then intended to be semi-paternal,--as from
an old man to a young woman. She was not in love with him,--never
would be, never could be in love with him. Reader, you may believe
in her so far as that. But where is the woman, who, when she is
neglected, thrown over, and suspected by the man that she loves, will
not feel the desire of some sympathy, some solicitude, some show of
regard from another man? This woman's life, too, had not hitherto
been of such a nature that the tranquillity of the Clock House at
Nuncombe Putney afforded to her all that she desired. She had been
there now a month, and was almost sick from the want of excitement.
And she was full of wrath against her husband. Why had he sent her
there to break her heart in a disgraceful retirement, when she had
never wronged him? From morning to night she had no employment, no
amusement, nothing to satisfy her cravings. Why was she to be doomed
to such an existence? She had declared that as long as she could
have her boy with her, she would be happy. She was allowed to have
her boy; but she was anything but happy. When she received Colonel
Osborne's letter,--while she held it in her hand still unopened, she
never for a moment thought that that could make her happy. But there
was in it something of excitement. And she painted the man to herself
in brighter colours now than she had ever given to him in her former
portraits. He cared for her. He was gracious to her. He appreciated
her talents, her beauty, and her conduct. He knew that she deserved
a treatment very different from that accorded to her by her husband.
Why should she reject the sympathy of her father's oldest friend,
because her husband was madly jealous about an old man? Her husband
had chosen to send her away, and to leave her, so that she must act
on her own judgment. Acting on her own judgment, she read Colonel
Osborne's letter from first to last. She knew that he was wrong to
speak of coming to Nuncombe Putney; but yet she thought that she
would see him. She had a dim perception that she was standing on the
edge of a precipice, on broken ground which might fall under her
without a moment's warning, and yet she would not retreat from the
danger. Though Colonel Osborne was wrong, very wrong in coming to see
her, yet she liked him for coming. Though she would be half afraid
to tell her news to Mrs. Stanbury, and more than half afraid to tell
Priscilla, yet she liked the excitement of the fear. Nora would scold
her; but Nora's scolding she thought she could answer. And then it
was not the fact that Colonel Osborne was coming down to Devonshire
to see her. He was coming as far as Lessboro' to see his friend at
Cockchaffington. And when at Lessboro', was it likely that he should
leave the neighbourhood without seeing the daughter of his old ally?
And why should he do so? Was he to be unnatural in his conduct,
uncivil and unfriendly, because Mr. Trevelyan had been foolish,
suspicious, and insane?
So arguing with herself, she answered Colonel Osborne's letter before
she had spoken on the subject to any one in the house,--and this was
her answer:--
MY DEAR COLONEL OSBORNE,
I must leave it to your own judgment to decide whether you
will come to Nuncombe Putney or not. There are reasons
which would seem to make it expedient that you should stay
away,--even though circumstances are bringing you into
the immediate neighbourhood. But of these reasons I will
leave you to be the judge. I will never let it be said
that I myself have had cause to dread the visit of any old
friend. Nevertheless, if you stay away, I shall understand
why you do so.
Personally, I shall be glad to see you,--as I have always
been. It seems odd to me that I cannot write in warmer
tones to my father's and mother's oldest friend. Of
course, you will understand that though I shall readily
see you if you call, I cannot ask you to stay. In the
first place, I am not now living in my own house. I am
staying with Mrs. Stanbury, and the place is called the
Clock House.
Yours very sincerely,
EMILY TREVELYAN.
The Clock House, Nuncombe Putney, Monday.
Soon after she had written it, Nora came into her room, and at once
asked concerning the letter which she had seen delivered to her
sister that morning.
"It was from Colonel Osborne," said Mrs. Trevelyan.
"From Colonel Osborne! How very wrong!"
"I don't see that it is wrong at all. Because Louis is foolish and
mad, that cannot make another man wrong for doing the most ordinary
thing in the world."
"I had hoped it had been from Louis," said Nora.
"Oh dear, no. He is by no means so considerate. I do not suppose I
shall hear from him, till he chooses to give some fresh order about
myself or my child. He will hardly trouble himself to write to me,
unless he takes up some new freak to show me that he is my master."
"And what does Colonel Osborne say?"
"He is coming here."
"Coming here?" almost shouted Nora.
"Yes; absolutely here. Does it sound to you as if Lucifer himself
were about to show his face? The fact is, he happens to have a friend
in the neighbourhood whom he has long promised to visit; and as he
must be at Lessboro', he does not choose to go away without the
compliment of a call. It will be as much to you as to me."
"I don't want to see him in the least," said Nora.
"There is his letter. As you seem to be so suspicious, you had better
read it."
Then Nora read it.
"And there is a copy of my answer," said Mrs. Trevelyan. "I shall
keep both, because I know so well what ill-natured things people will
say."
"Dear Emily, do not send it," said Nora.
"Indeed I shall. I will not be frightened by bugbears. And I will
not be driven to confess to any man on earth that I am afraid to see
him. Why should I be afraid of Colonel Osborne? I will not submit to
acknowledge that there can be any danger in Colonel Osborne. Were
I to do so I should be repeating the insult against myself. If my
husband wished to guide me in such matters, why did he not stay with
me?"
Then she went out into the village and posted the letter. Nora
meanwhile was thinking whether she would call in the assistance of
Priscilla Stanbury; but she did not like to take any such a step in
opposition to her sister.