HOW LUCY'S AFFAIRS ARRANGED THEMSELVES.
We must go again to Merle Park, where the Tringle family was still
living,--and from which Gertrude had not as yet been violently
abducted at the period to which the reader has been brought in the
relation which has been given of the affairs at Stalham. Jonathan
Stubbs's little note to Lady Albury was received on Sunday, 23rd
March, and Gertrude was not abducted till the 29th. On Sunday, the
30th, she was brought back,--not in great triumph. At that time the
house was considerably perturbed. Sir Thomas was very angry with
his daughter Augusta, having been led to believe that she had been
privy to Gertrude's escapade,--so angry that very violent words had
been spoken as to her expulsion from the house. Tom also was ill,
absolutely ill in bed, with a doctor to see him,--and all from love,
declaring that he would throw himself over the ship's side and drown
himself while there was yet a chance left to him for Ayala. And in
the midst of this Lady Tringle herself was by no means exempt from
the paternal wrath. She was told that she must have known what was
going on between her daughter and that idiot Captain,--that she
encouraged the Trafficks to remain,--that she coddled up her son
till he was sick from sheer lackadaisical idleness. The only one
in the house who seemed to be exempt from the wrath of Sir Thomas
was Lucy,--and therefore it was upon Lucy's head that fell the
concentrated energy of Aunt Emmeline's revenge. When Captain Batsby
was spoken of with contumely in the light of a husband,--this being
always done by Sir Thomas,--Lady Tringle would make her rejoinder to
this, when Sir Thomas had turned his back, by saying that a captain
in Her Majesty's army, with good blood in his veins and a competent
fortune, was at any rate better than a poor artist, who had, so to
say, no blood, and was unable to earn his bread; and when Tom was
ridiculed for his love for Ayala she would go on to explain,--always
after Sir Thomas's back had been turned,--that poor Tom had been
encouraged by his father, whereas Lucy had taken upon herself to
engage herself in opposition to her pastors and masters. And then
came the climax. It was all very well to say that Augusta was
intruding,--but there were people who intruded much worse than
Augusta, without half so much right. When this was said the poor
sore-hearted woman felt her own cruelty, and endeavoured to withdraw
the harsh words; but the wound had been given, and the venom rankled
so bitterly that Lucy could no longer bear her existence among the
Tringles. "I ought not to remain after that," she wrote to her lover.
"Though I went into the poor-house I ought not to remain."
"I wrote to Mr. Hamel," she said to her aunt, "and told him that as
you did not like my being here I had better,--better go away."
"But where are you to go? And I didn't say that I didn't like you
being here. You oughtn't to take me up in that way."
"I do feel that I am in the way, aunt, and I think that I had better
go."
"But where are you to go? I declare that everybody says everything to
break my heart. Of course you are to remain here till he has got a
house to keep you in." But the letter had gone and a reply had come
telling Lucy that whatever might be the poor-house to which she would
be destined he would be there to share it with her.
Hamel wrote this with high heart. He had already resolved, previous
to this, that he would at once prepare a home for his coming bride,
though he was sore distressed by the emergency of his position. His
father had become more and more bitter with him as he learned that
his son would in no respect be guided by him. There was a sum of
money which he now declared to be due to him, and which Isadore
acknowledged to have been lent to him. Of this the father demanded
repayment. "If," said he, "you acknowledge anything of the obedience
of a son, that money is at your disposal,--and any other that you may
want. But, if you determine to be as free from my control and as deaf
to my advice as might be any other young man, then you must be to me
as might be any other young man." He had written to his father saying
that the money should be repaid as soon as possible. The misfortune
had come to him at a trying time. It was, however, before he had
received Lucy's last account of her own misery at Merle Park, so that
when that was received he was in part prepared.
Our Colonel, in writing to Lady Albury, had declared Aldershot to be
a most exigeant place,--by which he had intended to imply that his
professional cares were too heavy to allow his frequent absence; but
nevertheless he would contrive occasionally to fly up to London for
a little relief. Once when doing so he had found himself sitting
in the sculptor's studio, and there listening to Hamel's account
of Lucy's troubles at Merle Park. Hamel said nothing as to his own
difficulties, but was very eager in explaining the necessity of
removing Lucy from the tyranny to which she was subjected. It will
perhaps be remembered that Hamel down in Scotland had declared to his
friend his purpose of asking Lucy Dormer to be his wife, and also
the success of his enterprise after he had gone across the lake to
Glenbogie. It will be borne in mind also that should the Colonel
succeed in winning Ayala to his way of thinking the two men would
become the husbands of the two sisters. Each fully sympathised with
the other, and in this way they had become sincere and intimate
friends.
"Is she like her sister?" asked the Colonel, who was not as yet
acquainted with Lucy.
"Hardly like her, although in truth there is a family likeness. Lucy
is taller, with perhaps more regular features, and certainly more
quiet in her manner."
"Ayala can be very quiet too," said the lover.
"Oh, yes,--because she varies in her moods. I remember her almost as
a child, when she would remain perfectly still for a quarter of an
hour, and then would be up and about the house everywhere, glancing
about like a ray of the sun reflected from a mirror as you move it in
your hand."
"She has grown steadier since that," said the Colonel.
"I cannot imagine her to be steady,--not as Lucy is steady. Lucy, if
it be necessary, can sit and fill herself with her own thoughts for
the hour together."
"Which of them was most like their father?"
"They were both of them like him in their thorough love for things
beautiful;--but they are both of them unlike him in this, that he
was self-indulgent, while they, like women in general, are always
devoting themselves to others." She will not devote herself to me,
thought Jonathan Stubbs to himself, but that may be because, like her
father, she loves things beautiful. "My poor Lucy," continued Hamel,
"would fain devote herself to those around her if they would only
permit it."
"She would probably prefer devoting herself to you," said the
Colonel.
"No doubt she would,--if it were expedient. If I may presume that she
loves me, I may presume also that she would wish to live with me."
"Is it not expedient?" asked the other.
"It will be so, I trust, before long."
"But it seems to be so necessary just at present." To this the
sculptor at the moment made no reply. "If," continued Stubbs, "they
treat her among them as you say, she ought at any rate to be relieved
from her misery."
"She ought to be relieved certainly. She shall be relieved."
"But you say that it is not expedient."
"I only meant that there were difficulties;--difficulties which will
have to be got over. I think that all difficulties are got over when
a man looks at them steadily."
"This, I suppose, is an affair of money."
"Well, yes. All difficulties seem to me to be an affair of money.
A man, of course, would wish to earn enough before he marries to
make his wife comfortable. I would struggle on as I am, and not be
impatient, were it not that I fear she is more uncomfortable as she
is now than she would be here in the midst of my poverty."
"After all, Hamel, what is the extent of the poverty? What are the
real circumstances? As you have gone so far you might as well tell
me everything." Then after considerable pressure the sculptor did
tell him everything. There was an income of less than three hundred
a year,--which would probably become about four within the next
twelvemonth. There were no funds prepared with which to buy the
necessary furniture for the incoming of a wife, and there was that
debt demanded by his father.
"Must that be paid?" asked the Colonel.
"I would starve rather than not pay it," said Hamel, "if I alone were
to be considered. It would certainly be paid within the next six
months if I were alone, even though I should starve."
Then his friend told him that the debt should be paid at once. It
amounted to but little more than a hundred pounds. And then, of
course, the conversation was carried further. When a friend inquires
as to the pecuniary distresses of a friend he feels himself as a
matter of course bound to relieve him. He would supply also the means
necessary for the incoming of the young wife. With much energy, and
for a long time, Hamel refused to accept the assistance offered
to him; but the Colonel insisted in the first place on what he
considered to be due from himself to Ayala's sister, and then on
the fact that he doubted not in the least the ultimate success
which would attend the professional industry of his friend. And so
before the day was over it was settled among them. The money was
to be forthcoming at once, so that the debt might be paid and the
preparations made, and Hamel was to write to Lucy and declare that he
should be ready to receive her as soon as arrangements should be made
for their immediate marriage. Then came the further outrage,--that
cruel speech as to intruders, and Lucy wrote to her lover, owning
that it would be well for her that she should be relieved.
The news was, of course, declared to the family at Merle Park. "I
never knew anything so hard," said Aunt Emmeline. "Of course you have
told him that it was all my fault." When Lucy made no answer to this,
she went on with her complaint. "I know that you have told him that I
have turned you out,--which is not true."
"I told him it was better I should go, as you did not like my being
here."
"I suppose Lucy was in a little hurry to have the marriage come off,"
said Augusta,--who would surely have spared her cousin if at the
moment she had remembered the haste which had been displayed by her
sister.
"I thought it best," said Lucy.
"I'm sure I don't know how it is to be done," said Aunt Emmeline.
"You must tell your uncle yourself. I don't know how you are to be
married from here, seeing the trouble we are in."
"We shall be up in London before that," said Gertrude.
"Or from Queen's Gate either," continued Aunt Emmeline.
"I don't suppose that will much signify. I shall just go to the
church."
"Like a servant-maid?" asked Gertrude.
"Yes;--like a servant-maid," said Lucy. "That is to say, a
servant-maid would, I suppose, simply walk in and be married; and I
shall do the same."
"I think you had better tell your uncle," said Aunt Emmeline. "But I
am sure I did not mean that you were to go away like this. It will be
your own doing, and I cannot help it if you will do it."
Then Lucy did tell her uncle. "And you mean to live upon three
hundred a year!" exclaimed Sir Thomas. "You don't know what you are
talking about."
"I think Mr. Hamel knows."
"He is as ignorant as a babe unborn;--I mean about that kind of
thing. I don't doubt he can make things in stone as well as anybody."
"In marble, Uncle Tom."
"Marble is stone, I suppose;--or in iron."
"Bronze, Uncle Tom."
"Very well. There is iron in bronze, I suppose. But he doesn't know
what a wife will cost. Has he bought any furniture?"
"He is going to buy it,--just a little;--what will do?"
"Why should you want to bring him into this?" Lucy looked wistfully
up into his face. He himself had been personally kind to her, and she
found it to be impossible to complain to him of her aunt. "You are
not happy here?"
"My aunt and cousins think that I am wrong; but I must be married to
him now, Uncle Tom."
"Why did he kick up his heels when I wanted to help him?"
Nevertheless, he gave his orders on the subject very much in Lucy's
favour. She was to be married from Queen's Gate, and Gertrude must
be her bridesmaid. Ayala no doubt would be the other. When his wife
expostulated, he consented that the marriage should be very quiet,
but still he would have it as he had said. Then he bestowed a cheque
upon Lucy,--larger in amount than Stubbs's loan,--saying that after
what had passed in Lombard Street he would not venture to send money
to so independent a person as Mr. Isadore Hamel; but adding that
Lucy, perhaps, would condescend to accept it. There was a smile in
his eye as he said the otherwise ill-natured word, so that Lucy,
without any wound to her feelings, could kiss him and accept his
bounty.
"I suppose I am to have nothing to do in settling the day," said Aunt
Emmeline. It was, however, settled between them that the marriage
should take place on a certain day in May. Upon this Lucy was of
course overjoyed, and wrote to her lover in a full flow of spirits.
And she sent him the cheque, having written her name with great pride
on the back of it. There was a little trouble about this as a part of
it had to come back as her trousseau, but still the arrangement was
pleasantly made. Then Sir Thomas again became more kind to her, in
his rough manner,--even when his troubles were at the worst after
the return of Gertrude. "If it will not be altogether oppressive to
his pride you may tell him that I shall make you an allowance of a
hundred a year as my niece,--just for your personal expenses."
"I don't know that he is so proud, Uncle Tom."
"He seemed so to me. But if you say nothing to him about it, and just
buy a few gowns now and again, he will perhaps be so wrapt up in the
higher affairs of his art as not to take any notice."
"I am sure he will notice what I wear," said Lucy. However she
communicated her uncle's intentions to her lover, and he sent back
his grateful thanks to Sir Thomas. As one effect of all this the
Colonel's money was sent back to him, with an assurance that as
things were now settling themselves such pecuniary assistance was not
needed. But this was not done till Ayala had heard what the Angel of
Light had done on her sister's behalf. But as to Ayala's feelings
in that respect we must be silent here, as otherwise we should make
premature allusion to the condition in which Ayala found herself
before she had at last managed to escape from Stalham Park.
"Papa," said Gertrude, to her father one evening, "don't you think
you could do something for me too now?" Just at this time Sir Thomas,
greatly to his own annoyance, was coming down to Merle Park every
evening. According to their plans as at present arranged, they were
to stay in the country till after Easter, and then they were to go up
to town in time to despatch poor Tom upon his long journey round the
world. But poor Tom was now in bed, apparently ill, and there seemed
to be great doubt whether he could be made to go on the appointed
day in spite of the taking of his berth and the preparation of his
outfit. Tom, if well enough, was to sail on the nineteenth of April,
and there now wanted not above ten days to that time. "Don't you
think you could do something for me now?" asked Gertrude. Hitherto
Sir Thomas had extended no sign of pardon to his youngest daughter,
and never failed to allude to her and to Captain Batsby as "those two
idiots" whenever their names were mentioned before him.
"Yes, my dear; I will endeavour to do a good deal for you if you will
behave yourself."
"What do you call behaving myself, papa?"
"In the first place telling me that you are very sorry for your
misbehaviour with that idiot."
"Of course I am sorry if I have offended you."
"Well, that shall go for something. But how about the idiot?"
"Papa!" she exclaimed.
"Was he not an idiot? Would any one but an idiot have gone on such an
errand as that?"
"Gentlemen and ladies have done it before, papa."
"I doubt it," he said. "Gentlemen have run away with young ladies
before, and generally have behaved very badly when they have done so.
He behaved very badly indeed, because he had come to my house, with
my sanction, with the express purpose of expressing his affection
for another young lady. But I think that his folly in this special
running away was worse even than his conduct. How did he come
to think that he could get himself married merely by crossing
over the sea to Ostend? I should be utterly ashamed of him as a
son-in-law,--chiefly because he has shown himself to be an idiot."
"But, papa, you will accept him, won't you?"
"No, my dear, I will not."
"Not though I love him?"
"If I were to give you a choice which you would take, him or Mr.
Houston?"
"Houston is a scoundrel."
"Very likely; but then he is not an idiot. My choice would be
altogether in favour of Mr. Houston. Shall I tell you what I will do,
my dear? I will consent to accept Captain Batsby as my son-in-law if
he will consent to become your husband without having a shilling with
you."
"Would that be kind, papa?"
"I do not think that I can show you any greater kindness than to
protect you from a man who I am quite sure does not care a farthing
about you. He has, you tell me, an ample income of his own."
"Oh yes, papa."
"Then he can afford to marry you without a fortune. Poor Mr. Houston
could not have done so, because he had nothing of his own. I declare,
as I think of it all, I am becoming very tender-hearted towards Mr.
Houston. Don't you think we had better have Mr. Houston back again?
I suppose he would come if you were to send for him." Then she burst
into tears and went away and hid herself.