SAID I, one night, when I had conquered myself, ‘Mr. Granville,’—Mr.
Granville Wharton his name was,—‘I doubt if you have ever yet so much as
seen Miss Fareway.’
‘Well, sir,’ returned he, laughing, ‘you see her so much yourself, that
you hardly leave another fellow a chance of seeing her.’
‘I am her tutor, you know,’ said I.
And there the subject dropped for that time. But I so contrived as that
they should come together shortly afterwards. I had previously so
contrived as to keep them asunder; for while I loved her,—I mean before I
had determined on my sacrifice,—a lurking jealousy of Mr. Granville lay
within my unworthy breast.
It was quite an ordinary interview in the Fareway Park but they talked
easily together for some time: like takes to like, and they had many
points of resemblance. Said Mr. Granville to me, when he and I sat at
our supper that night, ‘Miss Fareway is remarkably beautiful, sir,
remarkably engaging. Don’t you think so?’ ‘I think so,’ said I. And I
stole a glance at him, and saw that he had reddened and was thoughtful.
I remember it most vividly, because the mixed feeling of grave pleasure
and acute pain that the slight circumstance caused me was the first of a
long, long series of such mixed impressions under which my hair turned
slowly gray.
I had not much need to feign to be subdued; but I counterfeited to be
older than I was in all respects (Heaven knows! my heart being all too
young the while), and feigned to be more of a recluse and bookworm than I
had really become, and gradually set up more and more of a fatherly
manner towards Adelina. Likewise I made my tuition less imaginative than
before; separated myself from my poets and philosophers; was careful to
present them in their own light, and me, their lowly servant, in my own
shade. Moreover, in the matter of apparel I was equally mindful; not
that I had ever been dapper that way; but that I was slovenly now.
As I depressed myself with one hand, so did I labour to raise Mr.
Granville with the other; directing his attention to such subjects as I
too well knew interested her, and fashioning him (do not deride or
misconstrue the expression, unknown reader of this writing; for I have
suffered!) into a greater resemblance to myself in my solitary one strong
aspect. And gradually, gradually, as I saw him take more and more to
these thrown-out lures of mine, then did I come to know better and better
that love was drawing him on, and was drawing her from me.
So passed more than another year; every day a year in its number of my
mixed impressions of grave pleasure and acute pain; and then these two,
being of age and free to act legally for themselves, came before me hand
in hand (my hair being now quite white), and entreated me that I would
unite them together. ‘And indeed, dear tutor,’ said Adelina, ‘it is but
consistent in you that you should do this thing for us, seeing that we
should never have spoken together that first time but for you, and that
but for you we could never have met so often afterwards.’ The whole of
which was literally true; for I had availed myself of my many business
attendances on, and conferences with, my lady, to take Mr. Granville to
the house, and leave him in the outer room with Adelina.
[Picture: And then these two came before me, hand in hand, and entreated
me that I would unite them]
I knew that my lady would object to such a marriage for her daughter, or
to any marriage that was other than an exchange of her for stipulated
lands, goods, and moneys. But looking on the two, and seeing with full
eyes that they were both young and beautiful; and knowing that they were
alike in the tastes and acquirements that will outlive youth and beauty;
and considering that Adelina had a fortune now, in her own keeping; and
considering further that Mr. Granville, though for the present poor, was
of a good family that had never lived in a cellar in Preston; and
believing that their love would endure, neither having any great
discrepancy to find out in the other,—I told them of my readiness to do
this thing which Adelina asked of her dear tutor, and to send them forth,
husband and wife, into the shining world with golden gates that awaited
them.
It was on a summer morning that I rose before the sun to compose myself
for the crowning of my work with this end; and my dwelling being near to
the sea, I walked down to the rocks on the shore, in order that I might
behold the sun in his majesty.
The tranquillity upon the deep, and on the firmament, the orderly
withdrawal of the stars, the calm promise of coming day, the rosy
suffusion of the sky and waters, the ineffable splendour that then burst
forth, attuned my mind afresh after the discords of the night. Methought
that all I looked on said to me, and that all I heard in the sea and in
the air said to me, ‘Be comforted, mortal, that thy life is so short.
Our preparation for what is to follow has endured, and shall endure, for
unimaginable ages.’
I married them. I knew that my hand was cold when I placed it on their
hands clasped together; but the words with which I had to accompany the
action I could say without faltering, and I was at peace.
They being well away from my house and from the place after our simple
breakfast, the time was come when I must do what I had pledged myself to
them that I would do,—break the intelligence to my lady.
I went up to the house, and found my lady in her ordinary business-room.
She happened to have an unusual amount of commissions to intrust to me
that day; and she had filled my hands with papers before I could
originate a word.
‘My lady,’ I then began, as I stood beside her table.
‘Why, what’s the matter?’ she said quickly, looking up.
‘Not much, I would fain hope, after you shall have prepared yourself, and
considered a little.’
‘Prepared myself; and considered a little! You appear to have prepared
_yourself_ but indifferently, anyhow, Mr. Silverman.’ This mighty
scornfully, as I experienced my usual embarrassment under her stare.
Said I, in self-extenuation once for all, ‘Lady Fareway, I have but to
say for myself that I have tried to do my duty.’
‘For yourself?’ repeated my lady. ‘Then there are others concerned, I
see. Who are they?’
I was about to answer, when she made towards the bell with a dart that
stopped me, and said, ‘Why, where is Adelina?’
‘Forbear! be calm, my lady. I married her this morning to Mr. Granville
Wharton.’
She set her lips, looked more intently at me than ever, raised her right
hand, and smote me hard upon the cheek.
‘Give me back those papers! give me back those papers!’ She tore them
out of my hands, and tossed them on her table. Then seating herself
defiantly in her great chair, and folding her arms, she stabbed me to the
heart with the unlooked-for reproach, ‘You worldly wretch!’
‘Worldly?’ I cried. ‘Worldly?’
‘This, if you please,’—she went on with supreme scorn, pointing me out as
if there were some one there to see,—‘this, if you please, is the
disinterested scholar, with not a design beyond his books! This, if you
please, is the simple creature whom any one could overreach in a bargain!
This, if you please, is Mr. Silverman! Not of this world; not he! He
has too much simplicity for this world’s cunning. He has too much
singleness of purpose to be a match for this world’s double-dealing.
What did he give you for it?’
‘For what? And who?’
‘How much,’ she asked, bending forward in her great chair, and
insultingly tapping the fingers of her right hand on the palm of her
left,—‘how much does Mr. Granville Wharton pay you for getting him
Adelina’s money? What is the amount of your percentage upon Adelina’s
fortune? What were the terms of the agreement that you proposed to this
boy when you, the Rev. George Silverman, licensed to marry, engaged to
put him in possession of this girl? You made good terms for yourself,
whatever they were. He would stand a poor chance against your keenness.’
Bewildered, horrified, stunned by this cruel perversion, I could not
speak. But I trust that I looked innocent, being so.
‘Listen to me, shrewd hypocrite,’ said my lady, whose anger increased as
she gave it utterance; ‘attend to my words, you cunning schemer, who have
carried this plot through with such a practised double face that I have
never suspected you. I had my projects for my daughter; projects for
family connection; projects for fortune. You have thwarted them, and
overreached me; but I am not one to be thwarted and overreached without
retaliation. Do you mean to hold this living another month?’
‘Do you deem it possible, Lady Fareway, that I can hold it another hour,
under your injurious words?’
‘Is it resigned, then?’
‘It was mentally resigned, my lady, some minutes ago.’
Don’t equivocate, sir. _Is_ it resigned?’
‘Unconditionally and entirely; and I would that I had never, never come
near it!’
‘A cordial response from me to _that_ wish, Mr. Silverman! But take this
with you, sir. If you had not resigned it, I would have had you deprived
of it. And though you have resigned it, you will not get quit of me as
easily as you think for. I will pursue you with this story. I will make
this nefarious conspiracy of yours, for money, known. You have made
money by it, but you have at the same time made an enemy by it. _You_
will take good care that the money sticks to you; I will take good care
that the enemy sticks to you.’
Then said I finally, ‘Lady Fareway, I think my heart is broken. Until I
came into this room just now, the possibility of such mean wickedness as
you have imputed to me never dawned upon my thoughts. Your suspicions—’
‘Suspicions! Pah!’ said she indignantly. ‘Certainties.’
‘Your certainties, my lady, as you call them, your suspicions as I call
them, are cruel, unjust, wholly devoid of foundation in fact. I can
declare no more; except that I have not acted for my own profit or my own
pleasure. I have not in this proceeding considered myself. Once again,
I think my heart is broken. If I have unwittingly done any wrong with a
righteous motive, that is some penalty to pay.’
She received this with another and more indignant ‘Pah!’ and I made my
way out of her room (I think I felt my way out with my hands, although my
eyes were open), almost suspecting that my voice had a repulsive sound,
and that I was a repulsive object.
There was a great stir made, the bishop was appealed to, I received a
severe reprimand, and narrowly escaped suspension. For years a cloud
hung over me, and my name was tarnished.
But my heart did not break, if a broken heart involves death; for I lived
through it.
They stood by me, Adelina and her husband, through it all. Those who had
known me at college, and even most of those who had only known me there
by reputation, stood by me too. Little by little, the belief widened
that I was not capable of what was laid to my charge. At length I was
presented to a college-living in a sequestered place, and there I now pen
my explanation. I pen it at my open window in the summer-time, before
me, lying in the churchyard, equal resting-place for sound hearts,
wounded hearts, and broken hearts. I pen it for the relief of my own
mind, not foreseeing whether or no it will ever have a reader.