THE BATH ASSEMBLY
The maid-servant at the house round the corner opened the door in
response to a sharp ring and an imperious rap, though they came at an
unprecedented hour at night.
She saw before her, by the flicker of the oil lamp overhead, a woman
standing on the step.
On asking her business, she answered, 'I want to see Winefred Holwood.'
'_Miss_ Holwood,' said the maid, with emphasis. 'Miss Holwood is not at
home. She has gone with our ladies to the Assembly Ball.'
'Assembly Ball! Where is that?'
'In the Assembly Rooms, of course.'
'But where are they?'
'Near the Circus.'
'How am I to find them?'
'You must go along Gay Street till you reach the Circus, then you turn
to the right and see a building with pillars, between Bennett Street
and Alfred Street.'
'I am a stranger in the place.'
'Can't you put off seeing Miss Holwood till to-morrow?'
'I cannot. I must see her. It is important.'
'What do you want with her?'
'I have come from Axmouth.'
'If you positively must,' said the maid, 'then there's no help for it.
You will have to do one of two things, either wait till our ladies come
home after midnight. They will not be late as our mistress is gone,
and it is the first time for years――or else you can go with me to the
Rooms. Did you say you had come from a great distance?'
'Yes, from Axmouth. I have walked all day, and more than one day.'
'Are you not tired?'
'I am too anxious to see her to be tired.'
'Well, you may step inside and sit down. I shall be going to the
Assembly Rooms shortly myself with the shawls and clogs. Our ladies
drove there, but are going to walk home.'
'How long before you go?'
'In an hour. I have a mind to see what I can of the dancers in their
gay dresses and jewellery.'
'I would wish to go with you.'
'Come in, then, and be seated. Shall I give you a mouthful first? You
must be hungry. We are about to have our supper, and you shall join us.
That done, we will go.'
Jane Marley consented.
The girl was good-natured, simple, and fresh, but not devoid of
curiosity. In the kitchen she observed the stranger woman, how
dirt-soiled, weary, and dishevelled she was. Her clothes were of good
material, in cut above those of the class of the domestic, and there
was a distinction in the manner, and nobility in the face, that imposed
on the girl.
'You will do up your hair and be shaken down a bit before you go,'
said she, 'and slip off your shoes and I'll give them a brush up. You
see――unless tidied, they are not likely to admit you.'
The girl endeavoured to extract some particulars from the stranger
concerning herself and relative to her purpose in coming to Bath. But
Jane was reticent. Her impatience was so manifest that the maid hurried
over her work so as to be ready to start for the Assembly Rooms. And
when she was prepared, she made Mrs. Marley assist in carrying the
mantles and shawls.
'You see there are four of them,' she explained; 'the old lady I
thought never would have gone out into Society again, but with this
Miss Holwood she has made an exception. They say she's a regular
beauty, and Mr. Wardroper comes here a lot, but whether it be after
Miss Jesse or she――that's more than I can guess. Miss Holwood has a
power of fine dresses――O my! you should see them, and they set her off
beautiful. Her father, he's never tired of making her pretty presents,
and she has the beautifullest gold watch.'
Mrs. Marley listened eagerly, as the girl ran on. And it was thus
talking that they arrived at the Rooms, where they readily obtained
admission as servants of Mrs. Tomkin-Jones.
Jane was bewildered at the light, the sound of music, the buzz of
voices and tramp of feet, and the, to her, unwonted splendour of the
surroundings.
The Bath Assembly Rooms are, perhaps, the best constructed in England.
There is not a step or staircase throughout. Ballroom, octagon, card
and tea rooms, all are on one level; and the suite is so contrived
as to have four exits in the event of fire. A central cross with an
octagonal vestibule adorned with columns gives access to the ballroom,
great octagon, and tea-room. The whole was gilded, and sparkled with
wax lights. We have advanced vast strides in illumination, but no
amount of glare can compensate for the mellowness and beauty of the
light that came from innumerable wax candles.
Into the principal portions of the building, the servants were not
admitted; but they hung about the entrance to the vestibule, and were
even allowed to encroach somewhat further, to invade the vestibule
itself.
Jane penetrated to the pillars sustaining the entablature, and stood
there, seeing the gleam of dresses as they flashed by the open door of
the ballroom, and observing the dancers, who, heated or thirsty, came
forth to sit or become cool, or enter the tea-room for refreshment.
There were benches in the octagonal vestibule against the wall, and
near where Jane stood were a couple of elderly bucks, commenting on
those who swept by, or exchanging opinions on the difference in style
in the woman of the present from the past.
'By the way, Gorges,' said one of these in a blue coat with brass
buttons and white waistcoat, 'what is your opinion of the newcomer?'
'I should say that Audrey had slipped into Rosalind's cast clothes.'
'Ah! a case of female Christopher Sly.'
'For shame! That is not fair. There is nothing coarse about her――only
rustic and piquante.'
'Piquante she is, I hear――with her tongue.'
'Do you know her father?'
'Holwood,' replied Gorges. 'Can't say I do――he is or has been in the
Foreign Office. Eminently fitted for his post, I should say.'
'I hear he has come in for money, through the death of an aunt.'
'It is a deuced shame that some men have all the luck in this world and
some none. Why should he come in for money and a beautiful daughter? By
Gad! Look at my three rose-buds! Old and cankered every one. I can't
dispose of them, because I cannot, like the Pope, offer my roses of
gold.'
'I am like Henry IV. of Germany. Thank God I have none to dispose of. I
find it difficult enough to dispose of myself in an easy-chair.'
Jane but partially understood what was said. The allusions escaped her
altogether.
Turning to the girl who had accompanied her, she whispered: 'I shall
never know her――never in the dress she will be wearing.'
'I will point her out to you,' said the maid. 'Here come some. The
waltz is over. Stand back, they will pass this way.'
'Hang it, Gorges,' said the man in blue; 'we shall have to vacate our
seats. I'd go into the cardroom, but, dem it, I dare not touch cards――I
never win, never; and to lose eternally is not fun.'
The maid touched Jane. 'She is coming on her father's arm.'
Mrs. Marley drew back, a spike as of ice pierced her heart. For a
moment she said nothing. Before her rose a blue vapour, like wood
smoke, and the lights died away to mere sparks.
She was about to see him, after a lapse of many years, whom she had
once loved with her passionate heart, but now abhorred; the man who had
desolated her life and now proposed to render it absolutely desert by
bereaving her of her child.
It was as though a vast gulf opened before her, and she looked across
it at the man who had once been so near to her――the gulf of time that
had swallowed up her youth and all her happiness.
She could dimly perceive in the haze a middle-aged man, spruce, with
hair curled and shining, high white collars, and a spotless neckcloth,
a cream silk uncrumpled waistcoat, and a face bland, with a fine
complexion. Slowly, as from a swoon, she rallied. It was the pressure
on her arm of the maid's hand that recovered her and brought her back
from the region of dream.
'There, there!'
She saw before her a beautiful girl, with low dress and bare arms,
gloved hands, in white, with no other colour about her than a rose in
her hair and a coral and gold necklet――a girl, lovely, far surpassing
all that Jane could have imagined.
A cry of joy; and, in a moment――
'Mother! mother!'
She was clasped in the arms of this girl, her burning cheeks were
kissed, and she was enveloped in a cloud of white muslin, and in an
atmosphere of heliotrope.
Jane Marley hastily disengaged herself and thrust Winefred aside. She
looked about her with flashing eye, and had reared herself proudly.
A circle had formed around them, a second ring was behind, composed of
others looking over the shoulders of those in the first row, then again
others, packing in from behind――a circle, a mass, a rising wave of
faces and forms, beaux with eyeglasses lifted, ladies in ball dresses,
fans fluttering. The orchestra had ceased. The drift was through the
vestibule to the tea-room. There were curiosity, malice, surprise in
every face.
Jane looked from one to another.
'It is not true,' she said slowly, distinctly, deliberately. 'I am
_not_ her mother. I am her old nurse. I am nothing but the nurse. But
she has a good heart, a heart of gold, and she loves me. Look at me,
then look at her. It is her condescension to stoop to such as me. I
thank you, miss. I am obleeged for the flattering recognition.'
'For mercy's sake, not a scene!' exclaimed Jesse Jones, thrusting
herself through the ring. 'Here, quick. Into this little room; it
is empty. You obstruct the promenaders.' And with tact and energy,
the girl pressed Winefred, her father and Mrs. Marley into a small
apartment, shut the door, and planted herself without as a guard.
Then with a laugh Jesse said to those who looked and whispered and
wondered, 'The old goodie is delighted to see the child she nursed.
Give them leave a while. It will be a dream of delight for the woman's
after-life. Pray move on.'
The room into which the three had been thrust so unceremoniously was
poorly illumined by two wax candles on the table. It had been intended
as a place to which cronies might retreat to gossip or talk politics,
and perhaps also to which couples might retire for the making and
answering the eventful proposal.
There was stillness within, after the noise without. Jane looked
hastily around, and seeing that there was no one else present, said to
Winefred with vehemence, 'My child! my child! They shall not take you
from me that I never see you more.'
'Mother, no. They shall not.'
'And you did not write that it was with your consent?'
'With my consent!'
[Illustration: SHE WAS CLASPED IN THE ARMS OF THIS GIRL, HER BURNING
CHEEKS WERE KISSED.]
'That I should be pensioned off and moved away, so that we might never,
never meet again, that I might never, never see your face more.'
'Mother, I could not write that, you know it. Nothing would make me do
such a thing.'
'I felt here,' said the woman, surging up, as she pressed her hands to
her heart, 'I felt here that it could not be. But yet I was uneasy. I
could not say――among grand folk, what had been spoken and done to wean
you away. I thought that you might feel that I lowered you.'
'Never,' exclaimed Winefred, and turned sharply about to face her
father. 'Who wrote that?'
'It was he, then,' said Mrs. Marley, 'he who has been my woe from the
moment I came to know him.'
'I――I wrote nothing,' faltered Mr. Holwood; 'I am quite innocent in
this matter. I believe it was Mrs. Tomkin-Jones who wrote.'
'You did not write with your hand, but with hers,' said Jane
wrathfully. 'You admit, you know that she wrote. It was you. Cursed be
the tongue that proved my undoing, cursed be the heart that devised
this new cruelty.'
'Mother!' entreated Winefred, and she put her hand on Jane Marley's
mouth.
'Look, look!' cried the outraged woman, thrusting her aside, 'see him
sidle towards the door, instead of facing what is unpleasing. That has
ever been his way. He has thrust himself into situations that were
uncomfortable, into associations that proved irksome, has contracted
ties that galled him, and he has never had the courage to accept the
consequences of his own acts. As soon as all is not easy and troubles
begin, he sneaks away like a coward――a coward that he is. He will
never do that which is right, if right weighs over a couple of ounces.
Coward! you who took from me my young hopes will take from me now my
child. He contrived it; he is too mean to admit it. No!' She threw
herself between the man and the door. 'He now seeks only how he may
slip away. Coward, listen to what I have to say. Hide behind the window
curtains, will you! I rejoice there is so much shame left in you.
Listen. I ask of you one thing alone, and with that alone will I be
content. I do not say acknowledge me! Whether I be your wife or no, God
and the law alone can tell. Not that. That I do not desire. Nothing on
earth would bring me to acknowledge _you_. That is what it has arrived
at now, I scorn, hate you, so that no power could make me hold out
this right hand and say "husband!" to so despicable a wretch. See. I
have on the wedding-ring that you once gave me in the ruined church,
blessed by the unfrocked parson. I pluck it off and cast it from me.'
With trembling fingers she suited the action to the word, and the
little gold hoop rolled to his feet.
'I should despise myself to think that I were linked for the remainder
of my life to such as you. No, no, no! I desire nothing of you, not
your name, not your money, not your protection. I can elbow my way
along without aid from such a grasshopper as you. But there is one
thing I will not endure, that you should tear my child from me. I know
that she is a lady, and a lady let her remain. I will never do a thing
to lower her before the world. And it is because I will not be parted
from her that I humble myself to make one request of you. I do not ask
you to let her acknowledge me as her mother. I am undeserving of that.
But I do ask, let me see her, let me hear her talk, let me be near her,
and for that I will be a scullery-maid in your house.'
'Mother!'
'Let me speak. My heart is bursting. I shall die if you interrupt.
You say that I am a violent woman, unfit to be with other servants,
impossible in a house. Try me. Let me be near her, and you shall see.
You will find me docile and meek. I will give no offence. I will do
nothing, nothing to render myself unendurable. You say I am a raging
fire. I have been, I am now but a heap of grey ash with one spark in
it――my love for Winefred. Let me smoulder away where she can breathe on
the spark; it will only flame into more love for her. I ask no more.
I will be speechless in your house if you will――but see her I must. I
must look on her, as she moves, like a lady that she is――but I will not
approach her to soil her with my touch. Only now and then, when there
be none to see, let me kiss the tip of her fingers. I will go down on
my knees to ask for this――but I will take nothing less.' Her voice was
hoarse with emotion. 'Part from her I will not.'
'Mother,' interposed Winefred, 'I have a word to say. My father had not
the purpose that you attribute to him. He spoke no word about it. He
never hinted at any such thing. There has been a mistake somewhere. You
are hard upon him, too hard. He has been indulgent to me, he could not
have been more kind. Whenever he has spoken of you, it has been with a
tremble in his voice, and I know that his heart has been full. I do
not believe that he has ever forgotten you, ever ceased to love you.
Now, dear mother, set your mind at rest. Parted we shall not be, and in
token of that I will go home with you to-morrow.'
Mr. Holwood came hesitatingly forward and raised his hand in
deprecation.
'There is no occasion,' said Mrs. Marley. 'I have seen you. That
suffices. Stay on. You are learning much here.'
'Mother, I also have a longing to be with you――if for a few weeks only.
I have spent some little time with my father. It is right that now I
should be with you. If he loves me, and he finds that he also cannot do
without me, then he will come to Bindon Undercliff and fetch me thence,
to take me back to Bath.'
Then Winefred put her arms round her mother and kissed her.
'How you love me!' she said.
She disengaged herself, and putting her arms round the neck of her
father she said: 'And you, father, have come to love me.'
'Yes.'
'Surely, father, if you love me; and you, mother, if you also love me,
you cannot hate each other.'