LADY ROWLEY MAKES AN ATTEMPT.
[Illustration]
Nothing could be more uncomfortable than the state of Sir Marmaduke
Rowley's family for the first ten days after the arrival in London of
the Governor of the Mandarin Islands. Lady Rowley had brought with
her two of her girls,--the third and fourth,--and, as we know, had
been joined by the two eldest, so that there was a large family
of ladies gathered together. A house had been taken in Manchester
Street, to which they had intended to transfer themselves after a
single night passed at Gregg's Hotel. But the trouble and sorrow
inflicted upon them by the abduction of Mrs. Trevelyan's child, and
the consequent labours thrust upon Sir Marmaduke's shoulders had been
so heavy, that they had slept six nights at the hotel, before they
were able to move themselves into the house prepared for them. By
that time all idea had been abandoned of recovering the child by any
legal means to be taken as a consequence of the illegality of the
abduction. The boy was with his father, and the lawyers seemed to
think that the father's rights were paramount,--as he had offered a
home to his wife without any conditions which a court of law would
adjudge to be cruel. If she could shew that he had driven her to live
apart from him by his own bad conduct, then probably the custody of
her boy might be awarded to her, until the child should be seven
years old. But when the circumstances of the case were explained to
Sir Marmaduke's lawyer by Lady Rowley, that gentleman shook his head.
Mrs. Trevelyan had, he said, no case with which she could go into
court. Then by degrees there were words whispered as to the husband's
madness. The lawyer said that that was a matter for the doctors. If
a certain amount of medical evidence could be obtained to shew that
the husband was in truth mad, the wife could, no doubt, obtain the
custody of the child. When this was reported to Mrs. Trevelyan, she
declared that conduct such as her husband's must suffice to prove any
man to be mad; but at this Sir Marmaduke shook his head, and Lady
Rowley sat, sadly silent, with her daughter's hand within her own.
They would not dare to tell her that she could regain her child by
that plea.
During those ten days they did not learn whither the boy had been
carried, nor did they know even where the father might be found. Sir
Marmaduke followed up the address as given in the letter, and learned
from the porter at "The Acrobats" that the gentleman's letters
were sent to No. 55, Stony Walk, Union Street, Borough. To this
uncomfortable locality Sir Marmaduke travelled more than once. Thrice
he went thither, intent on finding his son-in-law's residence. On the
two first occasions he saw no one but Mrs. Bozzle; and the discretion
of that lady in declining to give any information was most admirable.
"Trewillian!" Yes, she had heard the name certainly. It might be that
her husband had business engagements with a gent of that name. She
would not say even that for certain, as it was not her custom ever
to make any inquiries as to her husband's business engagements. Her
husband's business engagements were, she said, much too important
for the "likes of she" to know anything about them. When was
Bozzle likely to be at home? Bozzle was never likely to be at home.
According to her showing, Bozzle was of all husbands the most
erratic. He might perhaps come in for an hour or two in the middle of
the day on a Wednesday, or perhaps would take a cup of tea at home on
Friday evening. But anything so fitful and uncertain as were Bozzle's
appearances in the bosom of his family was not to be conceived in the
mind of woman. Sir Marmaduke then called in the middle of the day on
Wednesday, but Bozzle was reported to be away in the provinces. His
wife had no idea in which of the provinces he was at that moment
engaged. The persevering governor from the islands called again on
the Friday evening, and then, by chance, Bozzle was found at home.
But Sir Marmaduke succeeded in gaining very little information
even from Bozzle. The man acknowledged that he was employed by Mr.
Trevelyan. Any letter or parcel left with him for Mr. Trevelyan
should be duly sent to that gentleman. If Sir Marmaduke wanted Mr.
Trevelyan's address, he could write to Mr. Trevelyan and ask for it.
If Mr. Trevelyan declined to give it, was it likely that he, Bozzle,
should betray it? Sir Marmaduke explained who he was at some length.
Bozzle with a smile assured the governor that he knew very well
who he was. He let drop a few words to show that he was intimately
acquainted with the whole course of Sir Marmaduke's family affairs.
He knew all about the Mandarins, and Colonel Osborne, and Gregg's
Hotel,--not that he said anything about Parker's Hotel,--and the
Colonial Office. He spoke of Miss Nora, and even knew the names of
the other two young ladies, Miss Sophia and Miss Lucy. It was a
weakness with Bozzle,--that of displaying his information. He would
have much liked to be able to startle Sir Marmaduke by describing
the Government House in the island, or by telling him something of
his old carriage-horses. But of such information as Sir Marmaduke
desired, Sir Marmaduke got none.
And there were other troubles which fell very heavily upon the poor
governor, who had come home as it were for a holiday, and who was a
man hating work naturally, and who, from the circumstances of his
life, had never been called on to do much work. A man may govern the
Mandarins and yet live in comparative idleness. To do such governing
work well a man should have a good presence, a flow of words which
should mean nothing, an excellent temper, and a love of hospitality.
With these attributes Sir Rowley was endowed; for, though his
disposition was by nature hot, for governing purposes it had been
brought by practice under good control. He had now been summoned
home through the machinations of his dangerous old friend Colonel
Osborne, in order that he might give the results of his experience in
governing before a committee of the House of Commons. In coming to
England on this business he had thought much more of his holiday, of
his wife and children, of his daughters at home, of his allowance per
day while he was to be away from his government, and of his salary to
be paid to him entire during his absence, instead of being halved as
it would be if he were away on leave,--he had thought much more in
coming home on these easy and pleasant matters, than he did on the
work that was to be required from him when he arrived. And then it
came to pass that he felt himself almost injured when the Colonial
Office demanded his presence from day to day, and when clerks
bothered him with questions as to which they expected ready replies,
but in replying to which Sir Marmaduke was by no means ready. The
working men at the Colonial Office had not quite thought that Sir
Marmaduke was the most fitting man for the job in hand. There was a
certain Mr. Thomas Smith at another set of islands in quite another
part of the world, who was supposed by these working men at home to
be a very paragon of a governor. If he had been had home,--so said
the working men,--no Committee of the House would have been able to
make anything of him. They might have asked him questions week after
week, and he would have answered them all fluently and would have
committed nobody. He knew all the ins and outs of governing,--did
Mr. Thomas Smith,--and was a match for the sharpest Committee that
ever sat at Westminster. Poor Sir Marmaduke was a man of a very
different sort; all of which was known by the working men; but
the Parliamentary interest had been too strong, and here was Sir
Marmaduke at home. But the working men were not disposed to make
matters so pleasant for Sir Marmaduke, as Sir Marmaduke had expected.
The Committee would not examine Sir Marmaduke till after Easter, in
the middle of April; but it was expected of him that he should read
blue-books without number, and he was so catechised by the working
men that he almost began to wish himself back at the Mandarins. In
this way the new establishment in Manchester Street was not at first
in a happy or even in a contented condition.
At last, after about ten days, Lady Rowley did succeed in obtaining
an interview with Trevelyan. A meeting was arranged through Bozzle,
and took place in a very dark and gloomy room at an inn in the City.
Why Bozzle should have selected the Bremen Coffee House, in Poulter's
Alley, for this meeting no fit reason can surely be given, unless
it was that he conceived himself bound to select the most dreary
locality within his knowledge on so melancholy an occasion. Poulter's
Alley is a narrow dark passage somewhere behind the Mansion House;
and the Bremen Coffee House,--why so called no one can now tell,--is
one of those strange houses of public resort in the City at which
the guests seem never to eat, never to drink, never to sleep, but to
come in and out after a mysterious and almost ghostly fashion, seeing
their friends,--or perhaps their enemies, in nooks and corners, and
carrying on their conferences in low, melancholy whispers. There is
an aged waiter at the Bremen Coffee House; and there is certainly
one private sitting-room up-stairs. It was a dingy, ill-furnished
room, with an old large mahogany table, an old horse-hair sofa, six
horse-hair chairs, two old round mirrors, and an old mahogany press
in a corner. It was a chamber so sad in its appearance that no
wholesome useful work could have been done within it; nor could men
have eaten there with any appetite, or have drained the flowing bowl
with any touch of joviality. It was generally used for such purposes
as that to which it was now appropriated, and no doubt had been
taken by Bozzle on more than one previous occasion. Here Lady Rowley
arrived precisely at the hour fixed, and was told that the gentleman
was waiting up-stairs for her.
There had, of course, been many family consultations as to the manner
in which this meeting should be arranged. Should Sir Marmaduke
accompany his wife;--or, perhaps, should Sir Marmaduke go alone? Lady
Rowley had been very much in favour of meeting Mr. Trevelyan without
any one to assist her in the conference. As for Sir Marmaduke, no
meeting could be concluded between him and his son-in-law without a
personal, and probably a violent quarrel. Of that Lady Rowley had
been quite sure. Sir Marmaduke, since he had been home, had, in the
midst of his various troubles, been driven into so vehement a state
of indignation against his son-in-law as to be unable to speak of
the wretched man without strongest terms of opprobrium. Nothing was
too bad to be said by him of one who had ill-treated his dearest
daughter. It must be admitted that Sir Marmaduke had heard only
one side of the question. He had questioned his daughter, and had
constantly seen his old friend Osborne. The Colonel's journey down
to Devonshire had been made to appear the most natural proceeding
in the world. The correspondence of which Trevelyan thought so much
had been shown to consist of such notes as might pass between any
old gentleman and any young woman. The promise which Trevelyan had
endeavoured to exact, and which Mrs. Trevelyan had declined to give,
appeared to the angry father to be a monstrous insult. He knew that
the Colonel was an older man than himself, and his Emily was still to
him only a young girl. It was incredible to him that anybody should
have regarded his old comrade as his daughter's lover. He did not
believe that anybody had, in truth, so regarded the man. The tale had
been a monstrous invention on the part of the husband, got up because
he had become tired of his young wife. According to Sir Marmaduke's
way of thinking, Trevelyan should either be thrashed within an inch
of his life, or else locked up in a mad-house. Colonel Osborne shook
his head, and expressed a conviction that the poor man was mad.
But Lady Rowley was more hopeful. Though she was as confident about
her daughter as was the father, she was less confident about the old
friend. She, probably, was alive to the fact that a man of fifty
might put on the airs and assume the character of a young lover;
and acting on that suspicion, entertaining also some hope that bad
as matters now were they might be mended, she had taken care that
Colonel Osborne and Mrs. Trevelyan should not be brought together.
Sir Marmaduke had fumed, but Lady Rowley had been firm. "If you think
so, mamma," Mrs. Trevelyan had said, with something of scorn in her
tone,--"of course let it be so." Lady Rowley had said that it would
be better so; and the two had not seen each other since the memorable
visit to Nuncombe Putney. And now Lady Rowley was about to meet her
son-in-law with some slight hope that she might arrange affairs.
She was quite aware that present indignation, though certainly a
gratification, might be indulged in at much too great a cost. It
would be better for all reasons that Emily should go back to her
husband and her home, and that Trevelyan should be forgiven for his
iniquities.
Bozzle was at the tavern during the interview, but he was not seen
by Lady Rowley. He remained seated down-stairs, in one of the dingy
corners, ready to give assistance to his patron should assistance be
needed. When Lady Rowley was shown into the gloomy sitting-room by
the old waiter, she found Trevelyan alone, standing in the middle of
the room, and waiting for her. "This is a sad occasion," he said, as
he advanced to give her his hand.
"A very sad occasion, Louis."
"I do not know what you may have heard of what has occurred, Lady
Rowley. It is natural, however, to suppose that you must have heard
me spoken of with censure."
"I think my child has been ill used, Louis," she replied.
"Of course you do. I could not expect that it should be otherwise.
When it was arranged that I should meet you here, I was quite aware
that you would have taken the side against me before you had heard
my story. It is I that have been ill used,--cruelly misused; but I
do not expect that you should believe me. I do not wish you to do.
I would not for worlds separate the mother from her daughter."
"But why have you separated your own wife from her child?"
"Because it was my duty. What! Is a father not to have the charge
of his own son? I have done nothing, Lady Rowley, to justify a
separation which is contrary to the laws of nature."
"Where is the boy, Louis?"
"Ah;--that is just what I am not prepared to tell any one who has
taken my wife's side till I know that my wife has consented to pay to
me that obedience which I, as her husband, have a right to demand. If
Emily will do as I request of her, as I command her,"--as Trevelyan
said this, he spoke in a tone which was intended to give the highest
possible idea of his own authority and dignity,--"then she may see
her child without delay."
"What is it you request of my daughter?"
"Obedience;--simply that. Submission to my will, which is surely a
wife's duty. Let her beg my pardon for what has occurred,--"
"She cannot do that, Louis."
"And solemnly promise me," continued Trevelyan, not deigning to
notice Lady Rowley's interruption, "that she will hold no further
intercourse with that snake in the grass who wormed his way into my
house,--let her be humble, and penitent, and affectionate, and then
she shall be restored to her husband and to her child." He said this
walking up and down the room, and waving his hand, as though he were
making a speech that was intended to be eloquent,--as though he had
conceived that he was to overcome his mother-in-law by the weight
of his words and the magnificence of his demeanour. And yet his
demeanour was ridiculous, and his words would have had no weight had
they not tended to show Lady Rowley how little prospect there was
that she should be able to heal this breach. He himself, too, was so
altered in appearance since she had last seen him, bright with the
hopes of his young married happiness, that she would hardly have
recognised him had she met him in the street. He was thin, and pale,
and haggard, and mean. And as he stalked up and down the room, it
seemed to her that the very character of the man was changed. She
had not previously known him to be pompous, unreasonable, and absurd.
She did not answer him at once, as she perceived that he had not
finished his address;--and, after a moment's pause, he continued.
"Lady Rowley, there is nothing I would not have done for your
daughter,--for my wife. All that I had was hers. I did not dictate to
her any mode of life; I required from her no sacrifices; I subjected
her to no caprices; but I was determined to be master in my own
house."
"I do not think, Louis, that she has ever denied your right to be
master."
"To be master in my own house, and to be paramount in my influence
over her. So much I had a right to demand."
"Who has denied your right?"
"She has submitted herself to the counsels and to the influences of a
man who has endeavoured to undermine me in her affection. In saying
that I make my accusation as light against her as is possible. I
might make it much heavier, and yet not sin against the truth."
"This is an illusion, Louis."
"Ah;--well. No doubt it becomes you to defend your child. Was it
an illusion when he went to Devonshire? Was it an illusion when he
corresponded with her,--contrary to my express orders,--both before
and after that unhallowed journey? Lady Rowley, there must be no more
such illusions. If my wife means to come back to me, and to have her
child in her own hands, she must be penitent as regards the past, and
obedient as regards the future."
There was a wicked bitterness in that word penitent which almost
maddened Lady Rowley. She had come to this meeting believing that
Trevelyan would be rejoiced to take back his wife, if details could
be arranged for his doing so which should not subject him to the
necessity of crying, peccavi; but she found him speaking of his wife
as though he would be doing her the greatest possible favour in
allowing her to come back to him dressed in sackcloth, and with ashes
on her head. She could understand from what she had heard that his
tone and manner were much changed since he obtained possession of
the child, and that he now conceived that he had his wife within his
power. That he should become a tyrant because he had the power to
tyrannise was not in accordance with her former conception of the
man's character;--but then he was so changed, that she felt that
she knew nothing of the man who now stood before her. "I cannot
acknowledge that my daughter has done anything that requires
penitence," said Lady Rowley.
"I dare say not; but my view is different."
"She cannot admit herself to be wrong when she knows herself to be
right. You would not have her confess to a fault, the very idea of
which has always been abhorrent to her?"
"She must be crushed in spirit, Lady Rowley, before she can again
become a pure and happy woman."
"This is more than I can bear," said Lady Rowley, now, at last,
worked up to a fever of indignation. "My daughter, sir, is as pure a
woman as you have ever known, or are likely to know. You, who should
have protected her against the world, will some day take blame to
yourself as you remember that you have so cruelly maligned her." Then
she walked away to the door, and would not listen to the words which
he was hurling after her. She went down the stairs, and out of the
house, and at the end of Poulter's Alley found the cab which was
waiting for her.
Trevelyan, as soon as he was alone, rang the bell, and sent for
Bozzle. And while the waiter was coming to him, and until his
myrmidon had appeared, he continued to stalk up and down the room,
waving his hand in the air as though he were continuing his speech.
"Bozzle," said he, as soon as the man had closed the door, "I have
changed my mind."
"As how, Mr. Trewillian?"
"I shall make no further attempt. I have done all that man can do,
and have done it in vain. Her father and mother uphold her in her
conduct, and she is lost to me,--for ever."
"But the boy, Mr. T.?"
"I have my child. Yes,--I have my child. Poor infant. Bozzle, I look
to you to see that none of them learn our retreat."
"As for that, Mr. Trewillian,--why facts is to be come at by one
party pretty well as much as by another. Now, suppose the things
was changed, wicey warsey,--and as I was hacting for the Colonel's
party."
"D---- the Colonel!" exclaimed Trevelyan.
"Just so, Mr. Trewillian; but if I was hacting for the other party,
and they said to me, 'Bozzle,--where's the boy?' why, in three days
I'd be down on the facts. Facts is open, Mr. Trewillian, if you knows
where to look for them."
"I shall take him abroad,--at once."
"Think twice of it, Mr. T. The boy is so young, you see, and a
mother's 'art is softer and lovinger than anything. I'd think twice
of it, Mr. T., before I kept 'em apart." This was a line of thought
which Mr. Bozzle's conscience had not forced him to entertain to the
prejudice of his professional arrangements; but now, as he conversed
with his employer, and became by degrees aware of the failure of
Trevelyan's mind, some shade of remorse came upon him, and made him
say a word on behalf of the "other party."
"Am I not always thinking of it? What else have they left me to think
of? That will do for to-day. You had better come down to me to-morrow
afternoon." Bozzle promised obedience to these instructions, and as
soon as his patron had started he paid the bill, and took himself
home.
Lady Rowley, as she travelled back to her house in Manchester Street,
almost made up her mind that the separation between her daughter and
her son-in-law had better be continued. It was a very sad conclusion
to which to come, but she could not believe that any high-spirited
woman could long continue to submit herself to the caprices of a
man so unreasonable and dictatorial as he to whom she had just been
listening. Were it not for the boy, there would, she felt, be no
doubt upon the matter. And now, as matters stood, she thought that
it should be their great object to regain possession of the child.
Then she endeavoured to calculate what would be the result to her
daughter, if in very truth it should be found that the wretched
man was mad. To hope for such a result seemed to her to be very
wicked;--and yet she hardly knew how not to hope for it.
"Well, mamma," said Emily Trevelyan, with a faint attempt at a smile,
"you saw him?"
"Yes, dearest, I saw him. I can only say that he is a most
unreasonable man."
"And he would tell you nothing of Louey?"
"No dear,--not a word."