MR. GLASCOCK'S MARRIAGE COMPLETED.
[Illustration]
The Glascock marriage was a great affair in Florence;--so much
so, that there were not a few who regarded it as a strengthening
of peaceful relations between the United States and the United
Kingdom, and who thought that the Alabama claims and the question
of naturalisation might now be settled with comparative ease. An
English lord was about to marry the niece of an American Minister
to a foreign court. The bridegroom was not, indeed, quite a lord as
yet, but it was known to all men that he must be a lord in a very
short time, and the bride was treated with more than usual bridal
honours because she belonged to a legation. She was not, indeed, an
ambassador's daughter, but the niece of a daughterless ambassador,
and therefore almost as good as a daughter. The wives and daughters
of other ambassadors, and the other ambassadors themselves, of
course, came to the wedding; and as the palace in which Mr. Spalding
had apartments stood alone, in a garden, with a separate carriage
entrance, it seemed for all wedding purposes as though the
whole palace were his own. The English Minister came, and his
wife,--although she had never quite given over turning up her nose at
the American bride whom Mr. Glascock had chosen for himself. It was
such a pity, she said, that such a man as Mr. Glascock should marry
a young woman from Providence, Rhode Island. Who in England would
know anything of Providence, Rhode Island? And it was so expedient,
in her estimation, that a man of family should strengthen himself
by marrying a woman of family. It was so necessary, she declared,
that a man when marrying should remember that his child would have
two grandfathers, and would be called upon to account for four
great-grandfathers. Nevertheless Mr. Glascock was--Mr. Glascock;
and, let him marry whom he would, his wife would be the future Lady
Peterborough. Remembering this, the English Minister's wife gave up
the point when the thing was really settled, and benignly promised to
come to the breakfast with all the secretaries and attaches belonging
to the legation, and all the wives and daughters thereof. What may
a man not do, and do with eclat, if he be heir to a peer and have
plenty of money in his pocket?
Mr. and Mrs. Spalding were covered with glory on the occasion; and
perhaps they did not bear their glory as meekly as they should have
done. Mrs. Spalding laid herself open to some ridicule from the
British Minister's wife because of her inability to understand with
absolute clearness the condition of her niece's husband in respect to
his late and future seat in Parliament, to the fact of his being a
commoner and a nobleman at the same time, and to certain information
which was conveyed to her, surely in a most unnecessary manner, that
if Mr. Glascock were to die before his father her niece would never
become Lady Peterborough, although her niece's son, if she had
one, would be the future lord. No doubt she blundered, as was most
natural; and then the British Minister's wife made the most of the
blunders; and when once Mrs. Spalding ventured to speak of Caroline
as her ladyship, not to the British Minister's wife, but to the
sister of one of the secretaries, a story was made out of it which
was almost as false as it was ill-natured. Poor Caroline was spoken
of as her ladyship backward and forwards among the ladies of the
legation in a manner which might have vexed her had she known
anything about it; but, nevertheless, all the ladies prepared their
best flounces to go to the wedding. The time would soon come when she
would in truth be a "ladyship," and she might be of social use to any
one of the ladies in question.
But Mr. Spalding was, for the time, the most disturbed of any of
the party concerned. He was a tall, thin, clever Republican of the
North,--very fond of hearing himself talk, and somewhat apt to take
advantage of the courtesies of conversation for the purpose of making
unpardonable speeches. As long as there was any give and take going
on in the melee of words he would speak quickly and with energy,
seizing his chances among others; but the moment he had established
his right to the floor,--as soon as he had won for himself the
position of having his turn at the argument, he would dole out his
words with considerable slowness, raise his hand for oratorial
effect, and proceed as though Time were annihilated. And he would go
further even than this, for,--fearing by experience the escape of his
victims,--he would catch a man by the button-hole of his coat, or
back him ruthlessly into the corner of a room, and then lay on to him
without quarter. Since the affair with Mr. Glascock had been settled,
he had talked an immensity about England,--not absolutely taking
honour to himself because of his intended connection with a lord, but
making so many references to the aristocratic side of the British
constitution as to leave no doubt on the minds of his hearers as
to the source of his arguments. In old days, before all this was
happening, Mr. Spalding, though a courteous man in his personal
relations, had constantly spoken of England with the bitter
indignation of the ordinary American politician. England must be made
to disgorge. England must be made to do justice. England must be
taught her place in the world. England must give up her claims. In
hot moments he had gone further, and had declared that England must
be--whipped. He had been specially loud against that aristocracy of
England which, according to a figure of speech often used by him,
was always feeding on the vitals of the people. But now all this was
very much changed. He did not go the length of expressing an opinion
that the House of Lords was a valuable institution; but he discussed
questions of primogeniture and hereditary legislation, in reference
to their fitness for countries which were gradually emerging
from feudal systems, with an equanimity, an impartiality, and a
perseverance which soon convinced those who listened to him where he
had learned his present lessons, and why. "The conservative nature of
your institutions, sir," he said to poor Sir Marmaduke at the Baths
of Lucca a very few days before the marriage, "has to be studied
with great care before its effects can be appreciated in reference
to a people who, perhaps, I may be allowed to say, have more in
their composition of constitutional reverence than of educated
intelligence." Sir Marmaduke, having suffered before, had endeavoured
to bolt; but the American had caught him and pinned him, and the
Governor of the Mandarins was impotent in his hands. "The position
of the great peer of Parliament is doubtless very splendid, and
may be very useful," continued Mr. Spalding, who was intending to
bring round his argument to the evil doings of certain scandalously
extravagant young lords, and to offer a suggestion that in such
cases a committee of aged and respected peers should sit and decide
whether a second son, or some other heir should not be called to the
inheritance both of the title and the property. But Mrs. Spalding
had seen the sufferings of Sir Marmaduke, and had rescued him. "Mr.
Spalding," she had said, "it is too late for politics, and Sir
Marmaduke has come out here for a holiday." Then she took her husband
by the arm, and led him away helpless.
In spite of these drawbacks to the success,--if ought can be
said to be a drawback on success of which the successful one is
unconscious,--the marriage was prepared with great splendour, and
everybody who was anybody in Florence was to be present. There
were only to be four bridesmaids, Caroline herself having strongly
objected to a greater number. As Wallachia Petrie had fled at
the first note of preparation for these trivial and unpalatable
festivities, another American young lady was found; and the sister of
the English secretary of legation, who had so maliciously spread that
report about her "ladyship," gladly agreed to be the fourth.
As the reader will remember, the whole party from the Baths of Lucca
reached Florence only the day before the marriage, and Nora at
the station promised to go up to Caroline that same evening. "Mr.
Glascock will tell me about the little boy," said Caroline; "but I
shall be so anxious to hear about your sister." So Nora crossed the
bridge after dinner, and went up to the American Minister's palatial
residence. Caroline was then in the loggia, and Mr. Glascock was
with her; and for a while they talked about Emily Trevelyan and her
misfortunes. Mr. Glascock was clearly of opinion that Trevelyan would
soon be either in an asylum or in his grave. "I could not bring
myself to tell your sister so," he said; "but I think your father
should be told,--or your mother. Something should be done to put an
end to that fearful residence at Casalunga." Then by degrees the
conversation changed itself to Nora's prospects; and Caroline, with
her friend's hand in hers, asked after Hugh Stanbury.
"You will not mind speaking before him,--will you?" said Caroline,
putting her hand on her own lover's arm.
"Not unless he should mind it," said Nora, smiling. She had meant
nothing beyond a simple reply to her friend's question, but he took
her words in a different sense, and blushed as he remembered his
visit to Nuncombe Putney.
"He thinks almost more of your happiness than he does of mine," said
Caroline; "which isn't fair, as I am sure that Mr. Stanbury will not
reciprocate the attention. And now, dear, when are we to see you?"
"Who on earth can say?"
"I suppose Mr. Stanbury would say something,--only he is not here."
"And papa won't send my letter," said Nora.
"You are sure that you will not go out to the Islands with him?"
"Quite sure," said Nora. "I have made up my mind so far as that."
"And what will your sister do?"
"I think she will stay. I think she will say good-bye to papa and
mamma here in Florence."
"I am quite of opinion that she should not leave her husband alone in
Italy," said Mr. Glascock.
"She has not told us with certainty," said Nora; "but I feel sure
that she will stay. Papa thinks she ought to go with them to London."
"Your papa seems to have two very intractable daughters," said
Caroline.
"As for me," declared Nora, solemnly, "nothing shall make me go back
to the Islands,--unless Mr. Stanbury should tell me to do so."
"And they start at the end of July?"
"On the last Saturday."
"And what will you do then, Nora?"
"I believe there are casual wards that people go to."
"Casual wards!" said Caroline.
"Miss Rowley is condescending to poke her fun at you," said Mr.
Glascock.
"She is quite welcome, and shall poke as much as she likes; only we
must be serious now. If it be necessary, we will get back by the end
of July;--won't we, Charles?"
"You will do nothing of the kind," said Nora. "What!--give up your
honeymoon to provide me with board and lodgings! How can you suppose
that I am so selfish or so helpless? I would go to my aunt, Mrs.
Outhouse."
"We know that that wouldn't do," said Caroline. "You might as well be
in Italy as far as Mr. Stanbury is concerned."
"If Miss Rowley would go to Monkhams, she might wait for us,"
suggested Mr. Glascock. "Old Mrs. Richards is there; and though of
course she would be dull--"
"It is quite unnecessary," said Nora. "I shall take a two-pair back
in a respectable feminine quarter, like any other young woman who
wants such accommodation, and shall wait there till my young man can
come and give me his arm to church. That is about the way we shall do
it. I am not going to give myself any airs, Mr. Glascock, or make any
difficulties. Papa is always talking to me about chairs and tables
and frying-pans, and I shall practise to do with as few of them as
possible. As I am headstrong about having my young man,--and I own
that I am headstrong about that,--I guess I've got to fit myself for
that sort of life." And Nora, as she said this, pronounced her words
with something of a nasal twang, imitating certain countrywomen of
her friend's.
"I like to hear you joking about it, Nora; because your voice is so
cheery and you are so bright when you joke. But, nevertheless, one
has to be reasonable, and to look the facts in the face. I don't see
how you are to be left in London alone, and you know that your aunt
Mrs. Outhouse,--or at any rate your uncle,--would not receive you
except on receiving some strong anti-Stanbury pledge."
"I certainly shall not give an anti-Stanbury pledge."
"And, therefore, that is out of the question. You will have a
fortnight or three weeks in London, in all the bustle of their
departure, and I declare I think that at the last moment you will go
with them."
"Never!--unless he says so."
"I don't see how you are even to meet--'him,' and talk it over."
"I'll manage that. My promise not to write lasts only while we are in
Italy."
"I think we had better get back to England, Charles, and take pity on
this poor destitute one."
"If you talk of such a thing I will swear that I will never go to
Monkhams. You will find that I shall manage it. It may be that I
shall do something very shocking,--so that all your patronage will
hardly be able to bring me round afterwards; but I will do something
that will serve my purpose. I have not gone so far as this to be
turned back now." Nora, as she spoke of having "gone so far," was
looking at Mr. Glascock, who was seated in an easy arm-chair close
to the girl whom he was to make his wife on the morrow, and she
was thinking, no doubt, of the visit which he had made to Nuncombe
Putney, and of the first irretrievable step which she had taken when
she told him that her love was given to another. That had been her
Rubicon. And though there had been periods with her since the passing
of it, in which she had felt that she had crossed it in vain, that
she had thrown away the splendid security of the other bank without
obtaining the perilous object of her ambition,--though there had been
moments in which she had almost regretted her own courage and noble
action, still, having passed the river, there was nothing for her
but to go on to Rome. She was not going to be stopped now by the
want of a house in which to hide herself for a few weeks. She was
without money, except so much as her mother might be able, almost
surreptitiously, to give her. She was without friends to help
her,--except these who were now with her, whose friendship had come
to her in so singular a manner, and whose power to aid her at the
present moment was cruelly curtailed by their own circumstances.
Nothing was settled as to her own marriage. In consequence of
the promise that had been extorted from her that she should not
correspond with Stanbury, she knew nothing of his present wishes or
intention. Her father was so offended by her firmness that he would
hardly speak to her. And it was evident to her that her mother,
though disposed to yield, was still in hopes that her daughter, in
the press and difficulty of the moment, would allow herself to be
carried away with the rest of the family to the other side of the
world. She knew all this,--but she had made up her mind that she
would not be carried away. It was not very pleasant, the thought that
she would be obliged at last to ask her young man, as she called
him, to provide for her; but she would do that and trust herself
altogether in his hands sooner than be taken to the Antipodes. "I
can be very resolute if I please, my dear," she said, looking at
Caroline. Mr. Glascock almost thought that she must have intended to
address him.
They sat there discussing the matter for some time through the long,
cool, evening hours, but nothing could be settled further,--except
that Nora would write to her friend as soon as her affairs had begun
to shape themselves after her return to England. At last Caroline
went into the house, and for a few minutes Mr. Glascock was alone
with Nora. He had remained, determining that the moment should come,
but now that it was there he was for awhile unable to say the words
that he wished to utter. At last he spoke. "Miss Rowley, Caroline is
so eager to be your friend."
"I know she is, and I do love her so dearly. But, without joke, Mr.
Glascock, there will be as it were a great gulf between us."
"I do not know that there need be any gulf, great or little. But
I did not mean to allude to that. What I want to say is this. My
feelings are not a bit less warm or sincere than hers. You know of
old that I am not very good at expressing myself."
"I know nothing of the kind."
"There is no such gulf as what you speak of. All that is mostly
gone by, and a nobleman in England, though he has advantages as a
gentleman, is no more than a gentleman. But that has nothing to
do with what I am saying now. I shall never forget my journey to
Devonshire. I won't pretend to say now that I regret its result."
"I am quite sure you don't."
"No; I do not;--though I thought then that I should regret it always.
But remember this, Miss Rowley,--that you can never ask me to do
anything that I will not, if possible, do for you. You are in some
little difficulty now."
"It will disappear, Mr. Glascock. Difficulties always do."
"But we will do anything that we are wanted to do; and should a
certain event take place--"
"It will take place some day."
"Then I hope that we may be able to make Mr. Stanbury and his wife
quite at home at Monkhams." After that he took Nora's hand and kissed
it, and at that moment Caroline came back to them.
"To-morrow, Mr. Glascock," she said, "you will, I believe, be at
liberty to kiss everybody; but to-day you should be more discreet."
It was generally admitted among the various legations in Florence
that there had not been such a wedding in the City of Flowers since
it had become the capital of Italia. Mr. Glascock and Miss Spalding
were married in the chapel of the legation,--a legation chapel on the
ground floor having been extemporised for the occasion. This greatly
enhanced the pleasantness of the thing, and saved the necessity of
matrons and bridesmaids packing themselves and their finery into
close fusty carriages. A portion of the guests attended in the
chapel, and the remainder, when the ceremony was over, were found
strolling about the shady garden. The whole affair of the breakfast
was very splendid and lasted some hours. In the midst of this the
bride and bridegroom were whisked away with a pair of grey horses to
the railway station, and before the last toast of the day had been
proposed by the Belgian Councillor of Legation, they were half way up
the Apennines on their road to Bologna. Mr. Spalding behaved himself
like a man on the occasion. Nothing was spared in the way of expense,
and when he made that celebrated speech, in which he declared that
the republican virtue of the New World had linked itself in a happy
alliance with the aristocratic splendour of the Old, and went on with
a simile about the lion and the lamb, everybody accepted it with good
humour in spite of its being a little too long for the occasion.
"It has gone off very well, mamma; has it not?" said Nora, as she
returned home with her mother to her lodgings.
"Yes, my dear; much, I fancy, as these things generally do."
"I thought it was so nice. And she looked so very well. And he was so
pleasant, and so much like a gentleman;--not noisy, you know,--and
yet not too serious."
"I dare say, my love."
"It is easy enough, mamma, for a girl to be married, for she has
nothing to do but to wear her clothes and look as pretty as she can.
And if she cries and has a red nose it is forgiven her. But a man has
so difficult a part to play. If he tries to carry himself as though
it were not a special occasion, he looks like a fool that way; and if
he is very special, he looks like a fool the other way. I thought Mr.
Glascock did it very well."
"To tell you the truth, my dear, I did not observe him."
"I did,--narrowly. He hadn't tied his cravat at all nicely."
"How you could think of his cravat, Nora, with such memories as you
must have, and such regrets, I cannot understand."
"Mamma, my memories of Mr. Glascock are pleasant memories, and as for
regrets,--I have not one. Can I regret, mamma, that I did not marry a
man whom I did not love,--and that I rejected him when I knew that I
loved another? You cannot mean that, mamma."
"I know this;--that I was thinking all the time how proud I should
have been, and how much more fortunate he would have been, had you
been standing there instead of that American young woman." As she
said this Lady Rowley burst into tears, and Nora could only answer
her mother by embracing her. They were alone together, their party
having been too large for one carriage, and Sir Marmaduke having
taken his two younger daughters. "Of course I feel it," said Lady
Rowley, through her tears. "It would have been such a position for
my child! And that young man,--without a shilling in the world; and
writing in that way, just for bare bread!" Nora had nothing more
to say. A feeling that in herself would have been base, was simply
affectionate and maternal in her mother. It was impossible that she
should make her mother see it as she saw it.
There was but one intervening day and then the Rowleys returned to
England. There had been, as it were, a tacit agreement among them
that, in spite of all their troubles, their holiday should be a
holiday up to the time of the Glascock marriage. Then must commence
at once the stern necessity of their return home,--home, not only
to England, but to those antipodean islands from which it was
too probable that some of them might never come back. And the
difficulties in their way seemed to be almost insuperable. First
of all there was to be the parting from Emily Trevelyan. She had
determined to remain in Florence, and had written to her husband
saying that she would do so, and declaring her willingness to go out
to him, or to receive him in Florence at any time and in any manner
that he might appoint. She had taken this as a first step, intending
to go to Casalunga very shortly, even though she should receive
no answer from him. The parting between her and her mother and
father and sisters was very bitter. Sir Marmaduke, as he had become
estranged from Nora, had grown to be more and more gentle and loving
with his elder daughter, and was nearly overcome at the idea of
leaving her in a strange land, with a husband near her, mad, and yet
not within her custody. But he could do nothing,--could hardly say a
word,--toward opposing her. Though her husband was mad, he supplied
her with the means of living; and when she said that it was her duty
to be near him, her father could not deny it. The parting came. "I
will return to you the moment you send to me," were Nora's last words
to her sister. "I don't suppose I shall send," said Emily. "I shall
try to bear it without assistance."
Then the journey from Italy to England was made without much
gratification or excitement, and the Rowley family again found
themselves at Gregg's Hotel.