MISS VAN SIEVER MAKES HER CHOICE.
Clara Van Siever did stay all that night with Mrs. Broughton. In the
course of the evening she received a note from her mother, in which
she was told to come home to breakfast. "You can go back to her
afterwards," said Mrs. Van Siever; "and I will see her myself in the
course of the day, if she will let me." The note was written on a
scrap of paper, and had neither beginning nor end; but this was after
the manner of Mrs. Van Siever, and Clara was not in the least hurt
or surprised. "My mother will come to see you after breakfast," said
Clara, as she was taking her leave.
"Oh, goodness! And what shall I say to her?"
"You will have to say very little. She will speak to you."
"I suppose everything belongs to her now," said Mrs. Broughton.
"I know nothing about that. I never do know anything of mamma's money
matters."
"Of course she'll turn me out. I do not mind a bit about that,--only
I hope she'll let me have some mourning." Then she made Clara promise
that she would return as soon as possible, having in Clara's presence
overcome all that feeling of dislike which she had expressed to
Conway Dalrymple. Mrs. Broughton was generally affectionate to
those who were near to her. Had Musselboro forced himself into her
presence, she would have become quite confidential with him before he
left her.
"Mr. Musselboro will be here directly," said Mrs. Van Siever, as she
was starting for Mrs. Broughton's house. "You had better tell him to
come to me there; or, stop,--perhaps you had better keep him here
till I come back. Tell him to be sure and wait for me."
"Very well, mamma. I suppose he can wait below?"
"Why should he wait below?" said Mrs. Van Siever, very angrily.
Clara had made the uncourteous proposition to her mother with the
express intention of making it understood that she would have nothing
to say to him. "He can come upstairs if he likes it," said Clara;
"and I will go up to my room."
"If you fight shy of him, miss, you may remember this,--that you will
fight shy of me at the same time."
"I am sorry for that, mamma, for I shall certainly fight shy of Mr.
Musselboro."
"You can do as you please. I can't force you, and I shan't try. But
I can make your life a burden to you,--and I will. What's the matter
with the man that he isn't good enough for you? He's as good as any
of your own people ever was. I hate your new-fangled airs,--with
pictures painted on the sly, and all the rest of it. I hate such
ways. See what they have brought that wretched man to, and the poor
fool his wife. If you go and marry that painter, some of these days
you'll be very much like what she is. Only I doubt whether he has got
courage enough to blow his brains out." With these comfortable words,
the old woman took herself off, leaving Clara to entertain her lover
as best she might choose.
Mr. Musselboro was not long in coming, and, in accordance with Mrs.
Van Siever's implied directions to her daughter, was shown up into
the drawing-room. Clara gave him her mother's message in a very few
words. "I was expressly told, sir, to ask you to stop, if it is not
inconvenient, as she very much wants to see you." Mr. Musselboro
declared that of course he would stop. He was only too happy to have
an opportunity of remaining in such delightful society. As Clara
answered nothing to this, he went on to say that he hoped that the
melancholy occasion of Mrs. Van Siever's visit to Mrs. Broughton
might make a long absence necessary,--he did not, indeed, care how
long it might be. He had recovered now from that paleness, and that
want of gloves and jewellery which had befallen him on the previous
day immediately after the sight he had seen in the City. Clara made
no answer to the last speech, but, putting some things together in
her work-basket, prepared to leave the room. "I hope you are not
going to leave me?" he said, in a voice that was intended to convey
much of love, and something of melancholy.
"I am so shocked by what has happened, Mr. Musselboro, that I am
altogether unfit for conversation. I was with poor Mrs. Broughton
last night, and I shall return to her when mamma comes home."
"It is sad, certainly; but what was there to be expected? If you'd
only seen how he used to go on." To this Clara made no answer. "Don't
go yet," said he; "there is something that I want to say to you.
There is, indeed."
Clara Van Siever was a young woman whose presence of mind rarely
deserted her. It occurred to her now that she must undergo on some
occasion the nuisance of a direct offer from this man, and that she
could have no better opportunity of answering him after her own
fashion than the present. Her mother was absent, and the field was
her own. And, moreover, it was a point in her favour that the tragedy
which had so lately occurred, and to which she had just now alluded,
would give her a fair excuse for additional severity. At such a
moment no man could, she told herself, be justified in making an
offer of his love, and therefore she might rebuke him with the less
remorse. I wonder whether the last words which Conway Dalrymple had
spoken to her stung her conscience as she thought of this! She had
now reached the door, and was standing close to it. As Mr. Musselboro
did not at once begin, she encouraged him. "If you have anything
special to tell me, of course I will hear you," she said.
"Miss Clara," he began, rising from his chair, and coming into the
middle of the room, "I think you know what my wishes are." Then he
put his hand upon his heart. "And your respected mother is the same
way of thinking. It's that that emboldens me to be so sudden. Not but
what my heart has been yours and yours only all along, before the old
lady so much as mentioned it." Clara would give him no assistance,
not even the aid of a negative, but stood there quite passive, with
her hand on the door. "Since I first had the pleasure of seeing you
I have always said to myself, 'Augustus Musselboro, that is the woman
for you, if you can only win her.' But then there was so much against
me,--wasn't there?" She would not even take advantage of this by
assuring him that there certainly always had been much against him,
but allowed him to go on till he should run out all the length of
his tether. "I mean, of course, in the way of money," he continued.
"I hadn't much that I could call my own when your respected mamma
first allowed me to become acquainted with you. But it's different
now; and I think I may say that I'm all right in that respect. Poor
Broughton's going in this way will make it a deal smoother to me; and
I may say that I and your mamma will be all in all to each other now
about money." Then he stopped.
"I don't quite understand what you mean by all this," said Clara.
"I mean that there isn't a more devoted fellow in all London than
what I am to you." Then he was about to go down on one knee, but it
occurred to him that it would not be convenient to kneel to a lady
who would stand quite close to the door. "One and one, if they're put
together well, will often make more than two, and so they shall with
us," said Musselboro, who began to feel that it might be expedient to
throw a little spirit into his words.
"If you have done," said Clara, "you may as well hear me for a
minute. And I hope you will have sense to understand that I really
mean what I say."
"I hope you will remember what are your mamma's wishes."
"Mamma's wishes have no influence whatsoever with me in such matters
as this. Mamma's arrangements with you are for her own convenience,
and I am not a party to them. I do not know anything about mamma's
money, and I do not want to know. But under no possible circumstances
will I consent to become your wife. Nothing that mamma could say or
do would induce me even to think of it. I hope you will be man enough
to take this for an answer, and say nothing more about it."
"But, Miss Clara--"
"It's no good your Miss Claraing me, sir. What I have said you may be
sure I mean. Good-morning, sir." Then she opened the door, and left
him.
"By Jove, she is a Tartar," said Musselboro to himself, when he was
alone. "They're both Tartars, but the younger is the worse." Then he
began to speculate whether Fortune was not doing the best for him in
so arranging that he might have the use of the Tartar-mother's money
without binding himself to endure for life the Tartar qualities of
the daughter.
It had been understood that Clara was to wait at home till her mother
should return before she again went across to Mrs. Broughton. At
about eleven Mrs. Van Siever came in, and her daughter intercepted
her at the dining-room door before she had made her way upstairs to
Mr. Musselboro. "How is she, mamma?" said Clara with something of
hypocrisy in her assumed interest for Mrs. Broughton.
"She is an idiot," said Mrs. Van Siever.
"She has had a terrible misfortune!"
"That is no reason why she should be an idiot; and she is heartless
too. She never cared a bit for him;--not a bit."
"He was a man whom it was impossible to care for much. I will go to
her now, mamma."
"Where is Musselboro?"
"He is upstairs."
"Well?"
"Mamma, that is quite out of the question. Quite. I would not marry
him to save myself from starving."
"You do not know what starving is yet, my dear. Tell me the truth at
once. Are you engaged to that painter?" Clara paused a moment before
she answered, not hesitating as to the expediency of telling her
mother any truth on the matter in question, but doubting what the
truth might really be. Could she say that she was engaged to Mr.
Dalrymple, or could she say that she was not? "If you tell me a lie,
miss, I'll have you put out of the house."
[Illustration: "You do not know what starving is, my dear."]
"I certainly shall not tell you a lie. Mr. Dalrymple has asked me to
be his wife, and I have made him no answer. If he asks me again I
shall accept him."
"Then I order you not to leave this house," said Mrs. Van Siever.
"Surely I may go to Mrs. Broughton?"
"I order you not to leave this house," said Mrs. Van Siever
again,--and thereupon she stalked out of the dining-room and went
upstairs. Clara had been standing with her bonnet on, ready dressed
to go out, and the mother made no attempt to send the daughter up to
her room. That she did not expect to be obeyed in her order may be
inferred from the first words which she spoke to Mr. Musselboro. "She
has gone off to that man now. You are no good, Musselboro, at this
kind of work."
"You see, Mrs. Van, he had the start of me so much. And then being at
the West End, and all that, gives a man such a standing with a girl!"
"Bother!" said Mrs. Van Siever, as her quick ear caught the sound of
the closing hall-door. Clara had stood a minute or two to consider,
and then had resolved that she would disobey her mother. She tried to
excuse her own conduct to her own satisfaction as she went. "There
are some things," she said, "which even a daughter cannot hear from
her mother. If she chooses to close the door against me, she must do
so."
She found Mrs. Broughton still in bed, and could not but agree with
her mother that the woman was both silly and heartless.
"Your mother says that everything must be sold up," said Mrs.
Broughton.
"At any rate you would hardly choose to remain here," said Clara.
"But I hope she'll let me have my own things. A great many of them
are altogether my own. I know there's a law that a woman may have her
own things, even though her husband has,--done what poor Dobbs did.
And I think she was hard upon me about the mourning. They never do
mind giving credit for such things as that, and though there is a
bill due to Mrs. Morell now, she has had a deal of Dobbs's money."
Clara promised her that she should have mourning to her heart's
content. "I will see to that myself," she said.
Presently there was a knock at the door, and the discreet
head-servant beckoned Clara out of the room. "You are not going
away," said Mrs. Broughton. Clara promised her that she would not
go without coming back again. "He will be here soon, I suppose, and
perhaps you had better see him; though, for the matter of that,
perhaps you had better not, because he is so much cut up about poor
Dobbs." The servant had come up to tell Clara that the "he" in
question was at the present moment waiting for her below stairs.
The first words which passed between Dalrymple and Clara had
reference to the widow. He told her what he had learned in the
City,--that Broughton's property had never been great, and that
his personal liabilities at the time of his death were supposed to
be small. But he had fallen lately altogether into the hands of
Musselboro, who, though penniless himself in the way of capital,
was backed by the money of Mrs. Van Siever. There was no doubt that
Broughton had destroyed himself in the manner told by Musselboro,
but the opinion in the City was that he had done so rather through
the effects of drink than because of his losses. As to the widow,
Dalrymple thought that Mrs. Van Siever, or nominally, perhaps,
Musselboro, might be induced to settle an annuity on her, if she
would give up everything quietly. "I doubt whether your mother is
not responsible for everything Broughton owed when he died,--for
everything, that is, in the way of business; and if so, Mrs.
Broughton will certainly have a claim upon the estate." It occurred
to Dalrymple once or twice that he was talking to Clara about Mrs.
Van Siever as though he and Clara were more closely bound together
than were Clara and her mother; but Clara seemed to take this in good
part, and was as solicitous as was he himself in the matter of Mrs.
Broughton's interest.
Then the discreet head-servant knocked and told them that Mrs.
Broughton was very anxious to see Mr. Dalrymple, but that Miss
Van Siever was on no account to go away. She was up, and in her
dressing-gown, and had gone into the sitting-room. "I will come
directly," said Dalrymple, and the discreet head-servant retired.
"Clara," said Conway, "I do not know when I may have another chance
of asking for an answer to my question. You heard my question?"
"Yes, I heard it."
"And will you answer it?"
"If you wish it, I will."
"Of course I wish it. You understood what I said upon the doorstep
yesterday?"
"I don't think much of that; men say those things so often. What you
said before was serious, I suppose?"
"Serious! Heavens! do you think that I am joking?"
"Mamma wants me to marry Mr. Musselboro."
"He is a vulgar brute. It would be impossible."
"It is impossible; but mamma is very obstinate. I have no fortune of
my own,--not a shilling. She told me to-day that she would turn me
into the street. She forbade me to come here, thinking I should meet
you; but I came, because I had promised Mrs. Broughton. I am sure
that she will never give me one shilling."
Dalrymple paused for a moment. It was certainly true that he had
regarded Clara Van Siever as an heiress, and had at first been
attracted to her because he thought it expedient to marry an heiress.
But there had since come something beyond that, and there was perhaps
less of regret than most men would have felt as he gave up his golden
hopes. He took her into his arms and kissed her, and called her his
own. "Now we understand each other," he said.
"If you wish it to be so."
"I do wish it."
"And I shall tell my mother to-day that I am engaged to you,--unless
she refuses to see me. Go to Mrs. Broughton now. I feel that we are
almost cruel to be thinking of ourselves in this house at such a
time." Upon this Dalrymple went, and Clara Van Siever was left to
her reflections. She had never before had a lover. She had never had
even a friend whom she loved and trusted. Her life had been passed at
school till she was nearly twenty, and since then she had been vainly
endeavouring to accommodate herself and her feelings to her mother.
Now she was about to throw herself into the absolute power of a man
who was nearly a stranger to her! But she did love him, as she had
never loved any one else;--and then, on the other side, there was Mr.
Musselboro!
Dalrymple was upstairs for an hour, and Clara did not see him again
before he left the house. It was clear to her, from Mrs. Broughton's
first words, that Conway had told her what had passed. "Of course
I shall never see anything more of either of you now?" said Mrs.
Broughton.
"I should say that probably you will see a great deal of us both."
"There are some people," said Mrs. Broughton, "who can do well for
their friends, but can never do well for themselves. I am one of
them. I saw at once how great a thing it would be for both of you to
bring you two together,--especially for you, Clara; and therefore I
did it. I may say that I never had it out of my mind for months past.
Poor Dobbs misunderstood what I was doing. God knows how far that may
have brought about what has happened."
"Oh, Mrs. Broughton!"
"Of course he could not be blind to one thing;--nor was I. I mention
it now because it is right, but I shall never, never allude to it
again. Of course he saw, and I saw, that Conway--was attached to
me. Poor Conway meant no harm. I was aware of that. But there was
the terrible fact. I knew at once that the only cure for him was a
marriage with some girl that he could respect. Admiring you as I do,
I immediately resolved on bringing you two together. My dear, I have
been successful, and I heartily trust that you may be happier than
Maria Broughton."
Miss Van Siever knew the woman, understood all the facts, and pitying
the condition of the wretched creature, bore all this without a word
of rebuke. She scorned to put out her strength against one who was in
truth so weak.