Recognition.
The meditations of Mrs. Bloxam as she returned to Hardriggs were not
agreeable. She was exceedingly puzzled as to what her best line of
action would be, in consideration of her own interests, and, indeed,
to do her justice, those of Gertrude. Justice is the more easily done
in this respect, as the two were identical, and not to be separated by
any of the ingenuity which Mrs. Bloxam would no doubt have found for
the occasion, had there been any profit in its employment. The position
was a difficult one, and she was glad of the solitary drive, which
enabled her to lay it all out, like a map, before her mind, and study
it at comparative leisure. The temporary illness of Gertrude was, she
felt, in the present conjuncture of affairs, a point in her favour.
She could not go to Lord Sandilands, and, daring the continuance of
his attack of gout, Lord Sandilands could not go to her. That
they should not meet until a decisive line of action had been
arranged--first by Mrs. Bloxam in her own mind, and then imparted to
and acceded to by Gertrude--was of the last importance; and that was
safe. The revelation of her parentage to Gertrude by Lord Sandilands
would so immediately and radically alter the relations between her and
her noble friend, that it could hardly be practicable to keep the fact
of her marriage concealed from Lord Sandilands. That revealed, the
sequel to the marriage must also be made known; and what view would
the old nobleman be likely to take of the remarkably original
arrangement into which Gilbert Lloyd and Gertrude had entered? Would
he be excessively shocked, and insist at once on its reversal? or
would he regard it as on the whole the best and most sensible
proceeding for two persons, who had discovered their marriage to be an
immeasurable mistake and an incalculable evil, to have given
themselves such redress and relief as the law would have afforded them
only at the cost of much expense and publicity? Mrs. Bloxam
entertained a conviction that the latter view was much the more
probable one to be taken by Lord Sandilands; but, in any case, how
should she stand with him? Not only should she be convicted of having
deceived him, and of gross negligence and breach of trust as regarded
the young girl placed under her care, but she should be proved guilty
of having received money for Gertrude's maintenance and education for
two years after they had ceased to be any concern of hers--after the
girl's husband had undertaken the one, and the world had become the
vehicle of the other. There was a double awkwardness and difficulty in
this part of Mrs. Bloxam's puzzle. It was almost as unpleasant to
admit the fact to Gertrude as to have it stated to herself by Lord
Sandilands. Under no circumstances would it do for her to quarrel with
Gertrude, that was clear. If she ran the risk of contracting another
marriage, the secret of the first would remain in Mrs. Bloxam's
possession, and she would always be in Mrs. Bloxam's power. It must
not be supposed that the woman was altogether heartless and
cold-blooded in making these calculations: she had real affection for
Gertrude at the bottom of them all; but she was of a cool temperament
and businesslike habits, and she thoroughly understood the useful art
of classifying her sentiments, and not permitting one order of them to
interfere with another out of time and place. The position was a
difficult one; and it was the business aspect of it she had to
consider just now. A comfortable home for the remainder of her life, a
reasonable amount of the kind of pleasure and society which she liked,
and a necessity for only the most trifling inroads upon her savings:
such were the blessings to the attainment of which Mrs. Bloxam looked
forward as the legitimate value of her lien upon Gertrude. In the
event of her declining to run the risk of marriage, and remaining on
the stage, Mrs. Bloxam's material interests would be almost as secure;
so that she could afford to consider the matter with tolerable
impartiality. She did not like to face the discussion which must take
place between her and Gertrude, because of the money-transaction
involved in it. Could she avoid acknowledging it, she thought, and
trust to Lord Sandilands, though he must find it out, being too
careless and indifferent to think about it? _That_ would be very nice,
only she had no reason to suppose that Lord Sandilands was by any
means careless or indifferent in money-matters. It was very
unpleasant; but it must be left to right itself somehow; and as for
the other, and greater breach of trust? After all, the girl eloped
from the Vale House; she did not assist or connive at the affair; and
she might excuse herself to Lord Sandilands on the plea of the
readiness and kindness with which she acceded to Gertrude's request
when she proposed to return to her house. What would Gertrude think,
how would she act, when the revelation and the offer should be made to
her? Mrs. Bloxam had not answered any of these questions to her
satisfaction, or dispelled any of these anxieties, when she reached
Hardriggs.
Miss Lambert was better, Lady Belwether was happy to say; she had had
some refreshing sleep, and would no doubt get on nicely now. Mrs.
Bloxam went to the invalid's room, and found Grace awake and looking
very much better. Her face bore traces of mental strife and suffering,
but they had passed over, and she was now quite composed. Mrs. Bloxam
was a judicious woman in everything, and she took care not to agitate
Gertrude.
"Lord Sandilands is very ill," she said, "but not dangerously so; and
he is comfortable enough there, and not badly looked after. But he has
sent for his own housekeeper, which is a good move. It is nothing but
gout; but he is not strong, and he will probably be laid up for some
time."
Gertrude asked some general questions, and Mrs. Bloxam answered them;
and then, settling herself in a comfortable attitude, and keeping
Gertrude's face well in view, she told her that in requesting her to
visit him Lord Sandilands had a particular object in view. The colour
deepened a little on Gertrude's cheek as she inquired its nature.
"I mean to tell you all about it, my dear," said.
Mrs. Bloxam; "but if I am to do so, I must break through the reserve
which I have always maintained--as I think it was best for both of us
I should--and refer not only to your marriage"--Gertrude started--"but
to later circumstances, which render your position difficult. I
suppose I have your permission to speak plainly?"
"Certainly," replied Gertrude. "I am sure you would not, unnecessarily
or without due consideration, say anything to wound my feelings; and I
am prepared to listen to anything you think it right to say."
This was not a cordial speech, but Mrs. Bloxam did not mind that. She
wanted permission to speak, and she had gotten it; the manner of it
was of no consequence. Things had changed since Gertrude had written
the letter which procured her readmittance to the Vale House, but the
natures of the two women had not undergone much alteration, and they
felt only as much more warmly towards each other as prosperity and
success predispose towards general kindliness and complacency.
"You are right," said Mrs. Bloxam; "I would not. You have not told me
any particulars concerning your quarrel with your husband, and I don't
wish to know--I really do not. I am not more free from curiosity, no
doubt, than other people; but I would rather not gratify it in this
instance. There is only one thing that I must know, if you will tell
it to me." She paused, and Gertrude said, looking steadily at her,
"What is it? I may use my discretion about answering your question at
all when I hear it; but if I decide on answering it, be quite sure
that I will tell you the exact truth."
"No, you won't, my dear," said Mrs. Bloxam; "I don't require it. I
want only the vague truth; tell me that. Is the secret of your quarrel
with your husband one which puts him in your power--which secures your
liberty, your right of action, to you under all circumstances--which
makes the carrying out of this daring scheme of yours, this
self-divorce, a matter distinctly of your choice, in which he cannot
thwart or foil you?"
Gertrude's gaze at the speaker did not relax, her eyelids did not
droop, but she took a little time before she answered.
"I will tell you what you ask. The secret of my quarrel with Gilbert
Lloyd is one which puts him in my power. He _must_ do as I choose in
every matter in which I am concerned. I am perfectly free; he is
hopelessly bound. But the agreement between us is mutual I have no
right over him, as he has none over me. I shall never recognise his
existence in any way."
"That you have the power of carrying out that resolution is the only
thing I need to know," said Mrs. Bloxam. "It makes me clear about the
advice I am going to give you. Having this perfect guarantee for his
not venturing to interfere with you, you consider yourself of course
entitled to act as if no such person as your husband were in
existence. Have you any objection to tell me whether you are disposed
to push this right of action to the extent of marrying again--of
marrying Miles Challoner, for instance?"
Mrs. Bloxam shifted her position as she asked this question, laid her
head well back against the cushion of her chair, and did not look a
Gertrude, who took longer to reply than before. When she spoke, the
words came with difficulty.
"You must have some very strong reason for asking me such a question."
"I have, my dear. Mere curiosity, or even anything short of the
necessity which exists for our understanding each other to a certain
extent, would never have induced me to ask it. Will you answer me?"
"Yes," said Gertrude, "I will. I acknowledge no limits to the extent
to which I am disposed to push my right of action. I should marry
without hesitation from motives of ambition; I should marry without
hesitation if the man were any but what he is--_if he were anyone but
Miles Challoner_."
Mrs. Bloxam sat bolt upright, and gazed at Gertrude in irrepressible,
unmixed amazement. "What do you say?" she asked. "Can it be possible
that we are all mistaken? Lord Sandilands and I, and Miles Challoner
himself, for he thinks you love him. I am as certain as I ever was of
any human being's sentiments. Have you been blind to his love, his
devotion to you? What _do_ you mean?"
"I mean this," said Gertrude: "I know that Miles Challoner loves me;
he has told me so; but I knew it before; I have not been blind to his
devotion; and I love him." She paused. The listener's attitude and
expression of uncomprehending astonishment remained unchanged. "I love
him; I know the difference now, and I know that what I once took for
love did not deserve the name. I would not deceive him; I would not
dishonour _him_; I would not involve _him_ in the degradation of my
life,--for the degradation of the past is still upon me--for any joy
the world could give me, not even for that of being his wife."
The passion and earnestness of her speech almost transformed Gertrude.
She surprised Mrs. Bloxam so much, that all her previously-arranged
line of argument escaped her memory, and she could say nothing but
"Gertrude, Gertrude, you _do_ astonish me!"
"Not more than I astonish myself, I assure you; not so much. Before I
knew him I don't think I could even have imagined what it was like to
care more for the peace and happiness of another than for my own. I
have learned what it is like now, and the lesson, in one word, means
love. Go on with what you have to say to me, Mrs. Bloxam, remembering
in it all that I love Miles Challoner, and will never involve him in
any way in my life."
"But this completely upsets what I was going to say to you," said Mrs.
Bloxam; "it changes the whole state of things, but it renders it no
less necessary that you should make up your mind how you will explain
matters to Lord Sandilands."
"To Lord Sandilands?" said Gertrude inquiringly. "What have I to
explain to him, and why?"
"Because he is Miles Challoner's friend and yours; and because he
knows that Miles wants to marry you, and most earnestly desires that
the marriage should take place."
"_He_ desires it! How can that be? How can a man of Lord Sandilands'
rank wish his friend to make so unequal a marriage--a marriage which
the world he lives in would so utterly condemn?"
"Probably because he has lived long enough in that world to know that
its opinion is of no great value, and to think that Miles Challoner
had better consult his own happiness than its prejudices. He is a
great friend and admirer of yours also; and, in short, I may as well
tell you plainly and abruptly, he sent for me to consult me on the
best means of overcoming what he considers misplaced pride and
overstrained delicacy on your part, and inducing you to consent to his
arranging the preliminaries to the marriage; I mean"--here Mrs. Bloxam
hesitated a little--"settling everything as your mutual friend."
"It is well for him it cannot be," said Gertrude bitterly, "or the
world would hardly praise his conduct in helping Miles Challoner to a
marriage with me. The interest Lord Sandilands takes in me deserves
all my gratitude and as much of my confidence as I can give, and he
shall have them. He may be displeased that his kind projects are not
to be carried out, but he will understand that it is impossible."
"I don't see that he will understand it," said Mrs. Bloxam, "unless
you tell him about your marriage; and how are you to do that?" She
forgot for the moment that she spoke with the knowledge of Gertrude's
parentage in her mind, but that Gertrude was quite ignorant of it.
"Tell Lord Sandilands of my marriage!" said Gertrude; "what can you be
thinking of? That must never be known to _anyone_; he is a kind friend
indeed, but nothing would induce me to tell him _that_."
"I beg your pardon; of course not," said Mrs. Bloxam, recovering
herself, and remembering that the communication Lord Sandilands
intended to make must not be forestalled. "Your resolution surprised
me so much, I grew confused. But how will you account for refusing Mr.
Challoner?"
"I shall account for it," said Gertrude, "on the best grounds--grounds
which would be adequate in my own judgment had I never made the fatal
mistake of my miserable marriage. If I were nothing more than the
world knows or believes me to be, I should still hold myself an
unsuitable wife for _him_, and should still refuse him for his own
sake."
"And this is what you will tell Lord Sandilands?" said Mrs. Bloxam.
"Gertrude, are you sure you can stand firm to your decision against
the pleading of your lover and the support and arguments of your
friend?"
"I am quite sure," said Gertrude, "for I shall stand firm for their
own sakes. To yield would be to injure, to hesitate would be to
torment them: I will neither yield nor hesitate."
"Lord Sandilands wishes to see you as soon as you can come with me to
see him," said Mrs. Mourn. "I know he intends to urge Mr. Challoner's
cause with all the argument and all the authority in his power."
"No argument and no authority can avail," said Gertrude.
"And you are determined to go on in this stage-life?"
"Yes; it is delightful to me in some respects, and it is independent
and free. I don't say I have not had a struggle in reaching the
determination I have arrived at; but I have reached it, and there is
nothing more to be said or done. Whenever you choose, after a day or
two, I will see Lord Sandilands; he will help me to impress on Miles
Challoner the uselessness, indeed the cruelty, of pressing a suit
which can only pain me and avail him nothing. I shall convince _him_
easily; he knows the world too well to be difficult of persuasion of
the justice of all that I shall say to him."
"It appears to me," thought Mrs. Bloxam, "that I shall get out of this
business safely whatever happens, if she only perseveres in hiding her
marriage; and I don't think there's much danger of her not
doing so."
"I am rather tired, dear," said Gertrude after a pause, during which
they had both kept silence, and turning towards Mrs. Bloxam with
perhaps the sweetest smile and the friendliest gesture she had ever
bestowed upon that lady; "and I think we will not talk any more just
now. Tell Lady Belwether I shall try to come down for a little this
evening. I am far from suspecting the kind old lady of wishing me to
tumble for the company; but I should like to oblige her and the Dean,
if possible."
Mrs. Bloxam took the hint. Gertrude was left alone, to endure all the
agony caused her by the resolution she had taken; but yet to feel that
she derived strength from having taken it, and that to get her
decision finally and authoritatively communicated to Miles Challoner
by Lord Sandilands, with the addition of an earnest request that he
would not remain in England at present, and subject her and himself to
the pain of meeting, was a very sensible relief. The bitterness of the
suffering through which she passed at this time never quite died out
of Gertrude's memory. There was something in it which wrung her soul
with a far keener and deadlier anguish than all the coarser, more
actual miseries which had beset her miserable married life. By the
measure of the increased strength and refinement of her feelings, of
the growth of her intellect, and the development of her tastes, the
power and the obligation to suffer in this instance were increased. Of
the man whom she had once fancied she loved, Gertrude never thought
with any distinctness either of abhorrence, fear, or regret. The few
words she had spoken to him in the midst of the fashionable crowd
where they had last met had, she felt, effectually freed her from his
pursuit henceforth; and in her present frame of mind, with her whole
nature softened by her love for Miles, she was accustomed to look back
rather on her own errors of judgment and perception as the fatal folly
of her own girlhood, as the origin of her misfortunes, and to allow
the sinister figure of her husband to slink in the backgrounds of her
memory, something to be shunned and left in obscurity. In the wildest
and deepest of her misery, and when her resolution was highest and
sternest, there was one steadfast feeling in Gertrude's heart, by
which she clung in all the tempest of emotion, while the clamour was
loudest in her storm-tossed heart. It was the indestructible happiness
of knowing herself beloved. Nothing could take that from her, whatever
befell; life might have many more trials, many more deprivations in
store for her, but it could not deprive her of that--not even change
on his own part: and she did not think he would change. Very early in
their acquaintance she had recognised, with the pleasure of a kindred
disposition, the tranquil stability of Miles Challoner's character;
but not even change could alter that truth, could efface that
blessedness, could deprive her of that priceless treasure. She even
asked herself, in the mood of mournful exultation in which she was,
whether she could have felt this secret, subtle joy so keenly if she
had not learned to distinguish the false from the true by such a
terrible experience? If this had been a first love, could it have been
so awfully dear and precious, a consolation so priceless, as to be
hugged and hidden in her utmost heart; a talisman against misery, a
talisman sufficiently powerful to subdue the anguish of its own
ineffectualness, its own hopelessness? Could any girl unversed in the
world's way, unskilled in the world's delusions, innocent and
ignorant, knowing no ill of herself or others, have loved Miles
Challoner as she loved him--this woman who had been brought in such
close contact with crime, meanness, degradation, who had passed from
girlhood to womanhood, on the border of respectability, with a
tolerably uninterrupted look-out, very little space intervening over
the debatable land of scheming, shifts, and general Bohemianism--this
woman, whose dearest hope was to keep the knowledge of the truth about
her--her life--her very name--from the man she loved?
The task of speaking with Lord Sandilands, of destroying the hopes the
kind old man cherished for his friend and for her, of defending the
position she had to take up, for the destruction of all the prospect
of happiness which life had to offer her, was not one to be
contemplated with anything but intense reluctance. But Gertrude forced
herself to the contemplation of it, and made up her mind to get the
interview over as soon as possible. She had not forgotten that she had
promised Miles to see him again, to speak with him again, on the
subject of the suit he had urged. She knew well how impatient he would
be; but while her illness and seclusion continued, he would know the
fulfilment of her promise was not possible. What if she made an effort
to go down to the drawing-room to-night, and found him there--was
forced to meet him in the presence of strangers? She could not endure
that; she felt that her nerves, in such a trial, would refuse to obey
her will. She would write a line to him, asking him to remain away
from Hardriggs until he should hear from her again. There could be no
harm in that; but suppose he should be intending to come there that
evening, the intimation of her wish would reach him too late. She rang
the bell, and sent her maid for Mrs. Bloxam, to whom she propounded
the difficulty.
"I know he will be here," Mrs. Bloxam said; "Lady Belwether has just
said so."
"Then I must write," said Gertrude; "and you must give him the note."
Mrs. Bloxam conveyed the few lines, in which Gertrude begged Miles to
abstain from appearing in the drawing-room after dinner, to the hands
of that anxious and almost-despairing lover, and he instantly obeyed
the behest which it contained. Lord Sandilands' illness and need of
his society furnished an excuse which was not only valid, but did him
credit with his hostess and Mr. Dean, who was pleased to remark that
his attention to his noble friend was a very gratifying spectacle,
very gratifying indeed. When Miles rejoined his noble friend he told
him most ruefully of the fresh rebuff he had received, and presented a
doleful aspect anything but exhilarating to an invalid in want of
cheerful companionship. Lord Sandilands did not seem to notice the
depressed state of his spirits, but listened to him with an air rather
of satisfaction than otherwise.
"Never mind, Miles," he said; "it's a good sign that she did not
choose to meet you in the presence of a lot of strangers. Have
patience, my dear boy and I promise you, on the faith of your old
friend, which never failed you yet, all will be well."
Miss Lambert made her appearance that evening in the drawing-room at
Hardriggs for a short time. She was warmly congratulated on her
recovery, and had many pretty things said to her about her temporary
eclipse. She even ventured to sing just one song; a simple but
beautiful one, which went to the hearts of the company in general, and
apparently to the nose of Mr. Dean in particular, as that dignitary
used his handkerchief with prolonged solemnity while the concluding
cadence was yet lingering in the air. It was agreed on all hands that
never had Miss Lambert been more completely charming.
On the day but one after,--a bright, balmy day, when the earth looked
its best, and the sky its bluest,--one of the Hardriggs equipages
conveyed Mrs. Bloxam and Miss Lambert to Lord Sandilands' seaside
abode. The visit had been duly notified by a message from Mrs. Bloxam,
and the ladies had the satisfaction of learning that his lordship was
much better, and quite able to receive them. They were ushered
upstairs, and into a sitting-room on the first-floor. The room was
empty, and the folding-doors which communicated with another room
were closed. In a few moments they opened, and gave admittance to a
middle-aged woman, plainly dressed, very respectable; the exact model
of all a housekeeper ought to be. On her steady arm Lord Sandilands
leaned; and as he limped slowly towards his visitors with extended
hand, expressing his pleasure at seeing them, Gertrude recognised in
the housekeeper Mrs. Bush, and Mrs. Bush recognised in the lady whom
she had heard announced as Miss Lambert the wife of her _ci-devant_
lodger, Gilbert Lloyd.