BUTTERED BREAD
Mrs. Fanning let me cry for a moment or two without interrupting me. I
think in her way she had plenty of heart; for once when I raised my
head, feeling relieved from the bitter flow of those tears, I found
that she was looking at me with a quizzical, but by no means unkindly
glance.
"We'll say nothing about this at present," she exclaimed; "you shan't
be plagued, my dear. I'll talk to Albert, and say that you are not to
be worried; but whether you take him in the long run or not, you want
your tea now. Come, child, drink up this nice cup of hot tea."
As she spoke she squeezed herself on to the sofa by my side; and gave
me tea according to her taste, and insisted on my drinking it; and I
could not refuse her, although my sobs were still coming heavily.
"Ah, you're a proud young girl," she said, "you're one of those who do
not know which side their bread is buttered; but you will some day,
the knowledge will come to you, and soon, I'm thinking, soon."
Here she looked intensely mysterious, and nodded her head
emphatically.
"And there's not a better fellow in the length and breadth of England
than my son, Albert," she continued; "there's no one who would give
his wife a better time. Kind, he would be to her; firm, he would be no
doubt too. He would make her obey him, but he would make her love him
too. You will know all about it by-and-by, my dear, all about it
by-and-by. For the present we'll say nothing more. Albert shan't drive
with us back in the brougham, although I know he meant to do so. Poor
fellow! could love go further; his legs cramped up on that little seat
at the back, but love feels no pain, dear; no more than pride feels
pain. It's a bit of a shock to you, I know. Proposals always are; that
is, to modest girls. I felt terribly flustered when Albert's father
asked me to marry him. I assure you, my love, I could not bear the
sight of him for the next fortnight. I used to say, whenever he
entered a room, 'I'm going out, Albert, if you're coming in. Get right
away now, if you don't want me to hate you for ever,' but, in the end,
my dear love, I was head over ears in love with him. There never was a
better husband. He would be masterful as a good man should; but, dear,
I worshipped the ground he trod on, and it was he who made the
beginning of that fortune which Albert has turned into so big a thing.
Well, my love, you have seen the house, and you have gone over the
grounds, and you have done something else. You have looked into the
great good heart of my son, Albert; and after a time, I have no
doubt, you will creep into that heart, and take refuge; but mum's the
word at present, mum's the word."
The idea of my creeping into Albert's heart as a final cave of refuge
was so funny, that I could scarcely keep back my smiles; and I almost
became hysterical between laughing and crying, so much so, that Mrs.
Fanning had to put her arms round me and hug me, and call me her dear
little girl.
I was very glad she did not say, "dear little thing." By-and-by she
ordered the carriage, and we went back to town. She was most
affectionate to me. She assured me many times that she quite
understood; that she had gone through precisely the same phases with
regard to Albert Fanning the first but that it had all come right, and
that her passion for the godly man had been very strong by-and-by. I
should feel just the same with regard to Albert the second. It was the
way of girls; that is, nice girls.
"Don't talk to me about that Miss Marion Armstrong," she said. "The
ways of that girl turn me sick. It is the contrast you make to Marion
Armstrong which has done the business more than anything else, my dear
Miss Wickham. But there, dear, there we'll turn the conversation."
"I earnestly wish you would," I said
"Ah," she said, "how history repeats itself. I used to feel as if I
would like to box any one in the face who talked to me about my dear
Albert long ago. But oh, how I loved him before all was over, how I
loved him!"
She almost shed tears at the recollection. In short, I had a most
unpleasant drive home. At last it was over. I got out of the brougham,
with its red body and chocolate wheels, and staggered rather than
walked into the house. I did not dare to see mother until all traces
of emotion had left my face, but I made straight for Jane's sanctum.
"Jane," I said the moment I found myself there, "the Fannings must go
away; they must, Jane, they must."
"Why so?" asked Jane.
"I will tell you what has just happened. Mother must never know, but I
must tell some one. Mrs. Fanning took me into the country in their new
brougham. We went to Highgate; they have a house there. Mr. Fanning
was there to meet us. He called me a little thing, and he took me over
the house and over the grounds, and told me, on pain of his direst
displeasure, that I was never to give him salad without onions, and
then he asked me to _marry him_. O Jane! what is to be done?"
"But didn't you always know that he was going to ask you?" inquired
Jane in a low voice.
"Ask me to marry him! How could I suppose anything so preposterous?" I
exclaimed.
"Well, dear, I know it goes very sore with you, and I hope, with all
my heart and soul, that it may not be necessary."
"Necessary!" I said, "what do you mean? O Jane! don't talk in that
way, you'll drive me mad. I cannot stay in the house with the Fannings
any more."
"Let me think for a moment," answered Jane. She looked very careworn
and distressed, her face had grown thin and haggard. She looked years
older than before we had started the boarding-house. I was quite sorry
to see the change in her face.
"Our life does not suit you," I said.
"Oh, it suits me well enough," she replied, "and I never leave a
sinking ship."
"But why should this ship be sinking? I thought we were doing so well,
the house is almost always full."
"It is just this," said Jane: "we charged too little when we started.
If the house was choke-full, all the attics and the three different
floors let, we could not make the thing pay, that's the awful fact,
and you ought to know it, Westenra. We should have begun by charging
more."
"Then why didn't we?" I said. "I left all those matters to you, Jane.
I was very ignorant, and you came and----"
"I am not blaming you, my dear Westenra," said Jane; "only it is very,
very hard to go on toiling, toiling all day and almost all night, and
to feel at the same time that the thing cannot pay, that it can never
pay."
"But why didn't we begin by charging more, and why can't we charge
more now?"
"Because people who live in Bloomsbury never pay more," answered Miss
Mullins, "that is it, dear. If we meant this thing to succeed we
should have started our boarding-house in Mayfair, and then perhaps we
might have had a chance of managing. Perhaps with a connection like
yours we could have made it pay."
"Never," I said, "none of our friends would come to us, they would
have been scandalised. It would never have done, Jane."
"Well, well, we have got ourselves into a trap, and we must get out
the best way we can," was Jane's lugubrious answer.
"Oh, never mind about our being in money difficulties now," I cried,
"do think of me, Jane, just for a moment, do make things possible for
me. Remember that I am very young, and I was never accustomed to
people of the Fanning type. Do, I beseech of you, ask them to go. Mr.
Fanning's action to-day will make your request possible. Jane, if I
went on my knees and stayed there all my life, I could not marry him,
and the sooner he knows it the better."
"I will think things over," said Jane. I never saw anything like the
look of despair which was creeping over her face.
"Things are coming to a crisis," she continued, "and I must confide
in you fully, but not just now, we must get dinner over first. Your
mother was ill while you were away, she won't come to dinner
to-night."
"Mother ill! Anything serious?" I cried in alarm.
"Only a little faintness. I have got her comfortably to bed."
"Well, of course, I shan't dine to-night, I shall stay with mother."
"But you must, my love, it is absolutely necessary that you should
appear at dinner, and you must be quite cheerful too in her room. She
is quite herself now, and is looking over a new book, and when you go
to her you will see that she has had a nice dinner, nourishing and
suitable. Now go and change your dress, and make yourself look smart.
Now that Mr. Randolph is gone, and your mother is too ill to be often
in the drawing-room and dining-room, the affairs of the household rest
upon you. You must make yourself smart; you must make yourself
attractive. It must be done, Westenra, it must, and for your mother's
sake."
Jane spoke with such determination that she stimulated my courage, and
I went away to my own room determined to act on her advice.
At the other side of the wall I heard Mrs. Fanning's heavy steps as
she walked about. She did not seem to be at all depressed at my
refusal of her son Albert. On the contrary, she was in very good
spirits. She had been in excellent spirits all the way back, and had
kept on assuring me that I was only going on the usual tack of the
modest maiden, the maiden who was worthy of such a man as her godly
son Albert. Had not she herself hated Albert's father for a whole
fortnight after his proposal, and had she not been glad, very glad, in
the end to creep into his great heart for shelter? Did she suppose
that I also would be glad to creep into Albert the second's great
heart for shelter? Oh, it was all unbearable. But, nevertheless, there
was a spirit of defiance in me. I had tried my ugly dresses in vain, I
had tried being grave and distant in vain. I had tried everything, but
nothing had availed; Mr. Fanning was determined to have me for his
wife. I wondered if the man cared for me, perhaps he did after his
fashion, but as no self-denials on my part had the effect of repulsing
him, I would give way to my fancy and dress properly for dinner. I put
on a very pretty pink dress which I had not yet worn, and ran
downstairs.
At dinner I sat opposite Mr. Fanning. Mother's place was empty, and
Mrs. Fanning called across the table to know what was the matter with
her.
I said that she was tired and had gone to bed, whereupon Mrs.
Armstrong immediately remarked, that it was a very good thing we had
such an excellent housekeeper as Miss Mullins to look after things in
my mother's serious state of health, otherwise the house would go to
wreck and ruin, she said.
Mrs. Armstrong looked daggers at me for wearing my pink dress. She had
never seen anything so stylish as that soft, graceful robe before, and
between her jealousy at seeing me so attired, and her earnest wish to
copy it for Marion, she scarcely knew what to do with herself. She
darted angry glances at my face, and then tried to measure with her
eye the amount of ribbon on the bodice, and the quantity of chiffon
round the neck. But Mr. Fanning, to my great relief and delight, did
not appear to take the slightest interest in me. I do not think he
once glanced at my pretty evening frock. He absorbed himself
altogether with Marion Armstrong. He talked to her all during dinner,
and invited her in a loud voice to come and see him at his office on
the following day.
"I told you, Miss Armstrong," he said, "that as a rule I am brutal to
the people who come to me trying to sell their wares. Those silly
folks who bring their useless manuscripts and their poor little
amateur drawings to my office find that I make short work with them.
"'If you like to leave your manuscript or your drawings,' I say to
them, 'you can do so, but as to the chance of their being accepted,
well, look for yourselves. Do you see that pile? all that pile of
manuscripts has to be read before yours. If you leave your
manuscripts they go under the pile at the bottom; there will be nearly
a ton of stuff on top of them. You take your chance. You had best go
away at once with what you have brought, for I am not likely to
require it.' They mostly do go away, Miss Armstrong, for I am brutal
in my words and brutal in my tone. There is no use in buoying people
up with false hopes." Here he gave a loud guffaw, which reached my
ears at the further end of the table.
Captain Furlong bent across at that moment to say something to me, and
I saw that he was much displeased at Mr. Fanning's loud, aggressive
words. But Mr. Fanning, after all, was nothing to Mrs. Fanning. It was
quite pleasant to me to see that he should turn his attentions to Miss
Marion Armstrong, but Mrs. Fanning's winks were more than I could
endure. They were just as much as to say, "Listen to him now; he is
only doing that to draw you on." So plainly did her speaking eyes
announce this fact, that I dreaded each moment her saying the awful
words aloud, but fortunately she did not go quite so far as that.
When dinner was over Mrs. Armstrong came and sat near me.
"Have you seen any of Marion's drawings lately?" she asked.
"No," I replied; "is she getting on well?"
"Is she getting on well!" retorted Mrs. Armstrong. "The girl is a
genius. I told you before that her whole soul was devoted to h'Art.
Well, I may as well say now that she has sold a little set of drawings
to Mr. Fanning. He means to bring them out in his Christmas number of
the _Lady's Handbag_. Have you ever seen the _Lady's Handbag_, Miss
Wickham?"
"No," I answered; "I cannot say that I have."
"I am surprised to hear it. The _Lady's Handbag_ is one of the most
striking and widely read periodicals of the day. It contains
information on every single thing that a lady ought to know, and there
is nothing in it for those low-down common sort of people who want
wild excitement and sickening adventures. But you shall see it for
yourself. Marion! Come here, dear Marion."
Marion, behind whose chair Mr. Fanning was standing, rose reluctantly
and crossed the room with a frown between her brows.
"You will scarcely believe it, Marion, but Miss Wickham has not seen
the _Lady's Handbag_. I was just telling her that you are to
illustrate an article for the Christmas number. Perhaps you could
oblige me by bringing a number here. I know Miss Wickham would like to
see any of Mr. Fanning's publications."
Miss Armstrong left the room and returned with a copy of the _Lady's
Handbag_. It was handed to me and I turned the pages. It was exactly
the sort of fifth-rate production which I should expect a man of Mr.
Fanning's calibre to initiate.
I gave it back to Mrs. Armstrong.
"I am so glad that Miss Armstrong is having her first success," I said
then, and I thought what a suitable and admirable wife she would make
for Mr. Fanning, and hoped that he might by-and-by think so himself.
As I was entering my own room that night, Mrs. Fanning popped her head
out of her own door near by.
"One word, Miss Wickham," she said. She looked very funny. She had
divested herself of her gay dress and was wearing a night-cap. Her
night-cap had large frills which partly encircled her wide face.
"I know you're fretted by the way Albert has gone on this evening,"
she said, "but he's only doing it on purpose. I am sorry for that poor
girl, though. You had better be quick and make up your mind, or Marion
Armstrong will fall over head and ears in love with him, but if you
imagine for a single moment that he thinks sincerely of her you are
greatly mistaken. It's you he wants, and you he'll have. Go to bed
now, dear, and dream of him, but I understand your ways perfectly. I
felt just the same about Albert the first."