THE DAY OF THE FUNERAL.
[Illustration.]
Harry Clavering, when he walked away from Bolton Street after the
scene in which he had been interrupted by Sophie Gordeloup, was
not in a happy frame of mind, nor did he make his journey down to
Clavering with much comfort to himself. Whether or no he was now to
be regarded as a villain, at any rate he was not a villain capable of
doing his villany without extreme remorse and agony of mind. It did
not seem to him to be even yet possible that he should be altogether
untrue to Florence. It hardly occurred to him to think that he could
free himself from the contract by which he was bound to her. No; it
was towards Lady Ongar that his treachery must be exhibited;--towards
the woman whom he had sworn to befriend, and whom he now, in his
distress, imagined to be the dearer to him of the two. He should,
according to his custom, have written to Florence a day or two before
he left London, and, as he went to Bolton Street, had determined to
do so that evening on his return home; but when he reached his rooms
he found it impossible to write such a letter. What could he say to
her that would not be false? How could he tell her that he loved her,
and speak as he was wont to do of his impatience, after that which
had just occurred in Bolton Street?
But what was he to do in regard to Julia? He was bound to let her
know at once what was his position, and to tell her that in treating
her as he had treated her, he had simply insulted her. That look
of gratified contentment with which she had greeted him as he
was leaving her, clung to his memory and tormented him. Of that
contentment he must now rob her, and he was bound to do so with as
little delay as was possible. Early in the morning before he started
on his journey he did make an attempt, a vain attempt, to write, not
to Florence but to Julia. The letter would not get itself written. He
had not the hardihood to inform her that he had amused himself with
her sorrows, and that he had injured her by the exhibition of his
love. And then that horrid Franco-Pole, whose prying eyes Julia had
dared to disregard, because she had been proud of his love! If she
had not been there, the case might have been easier. Harry, as he
thought of this, forgot to remind himself that if Sophie had not
interrupted him he would have floundered on from one danger to
another till he would have committed himself more thoroughly even
than he had done, and have made promises which it would have been as
shameful to break as it would be to keep them. But even as it was,
had he not made such promises? Was there not such a promise in that
embrace, in the half-forgotten word or two which he had spoken while
she was in his arms, and in the parting grasp of his hand? He could
not write that letter then, on that morning, hurried as he was with
the necessity of his journey; and he started for Clavering resolving
that it should be written from his father's house.
It was a tedious, sad journey to him, and he was silent and out
of spirits when he reached his home; but he had gone there for the
purpose of his cousin's funeral, and his mood was not at first
noticed, as it might have been had the occasion been different. His
father's countenance wore that well-known look of customary solemnity
which is found to be necessary on such occasions, and his mother was
still thinking of the sorrows of Lady Clavering, who had been at the
rectory for the last day or two.
"Have you seen Lady Ongar since she heard of the poor child's death?"
his mother asked.
"Yes, I was with her yesterday evening."
"Do you see her often?" Fanny inquired.
"What do you call often? No; not often. I went to her last night
because she had given me a commission. I have seen her three or four
times altogether."
"Is she as handsome as she used to be?" said Fanny.
"I cannot tell; I do not know."
"You used to think her very handsome, Harry."
"Of course she is handsome. There has never been a doubt about that;
but when a woman is in deep mourning one hardly thinks about her
beauty." Oh, Harry, Harry, how could you be so false?
"I thought young widows were always particularly charming," said
Fanny; "and when one remembers about Lord Ongar one does not think of
her being a widow so much as one would do if he had been different."
"I don't know anything about that," said he. He felt that he was
stupid, and that he blundered in every word, but he could not help
himself. It was impossible that he should talk about Lady Ongar with
proper composure. Fanny saw that the subject annoyed him and that
it made him cross, and she therefore ceased. "She wrote a very nice
letter to your mother about the poor child, and about her sister,"
said the rector. "I wish with all my heart that Hermione could go to
her for a time."
"I fear that he will not let her," said Mrs. Clavering. "I do not
understand it all, but Hermione says that the rancour between Hugh
and her sister is stronger now than ever."
"And Hugh will not be the first to put rancour out of his heart,"
said the rector.
On the following day was the funeral and Harry went with his father
and cousins to the child's grave. When he met Sir Hugh in the
dining-room in the Great House the baronet hardly spoke to him. "A
sad occasion; is it not?" said Archie; "very sad; very sad." Then
Harry could see that Hugh scowled at his brother angrily, hating his
humbug, and hating it the more because in Archie's case it was doubly
humbug. Archie was now heir to the property and to the title.
After the funeral Harry went to see Lady Clavering, and again had to
endure a conversation about Lady Ongar. Indeed, he had been specially
commissioned by Julia to press upon her sister the expediency of
leaving Clavering for a while. This had been early on that last
evening in Bolton Street, long before Madame Gordeloup had made her
appearance. "Tell her from me," Lady Ongar had said, "that I will go
anywhere that she may wish if she will go with me,--she and I alone;
and, Harry, tell her this as though I meant it. I do mean it. She
will understand why I do not write myself. I know that he sees all
her letters when he is with her." This task Harry was now to perform,
and the result he was bound to communicate to Lady Ongar. The message
he might give; but delivering the answer to Lady Ongar would be
another thing.
Lady Clavering listened to what he said, but when he pressed her for
a reply she shook her head. "And why not, Lady Clavering?"
"People can't always leave their houses and go away, Harry."
"But I should have thought that you could have done so now;--that is,
before long. Will Sir Hugh remain here at Clavering?"
"He has not told me that he means to go."
"If he stays, I suppose you will stay; but if he goes up to London
again, I cannot see why you and your sister should not go away
together. She mentioned Tenby as being very quiet, but she would be
guided by you in that altogether."
"I do not think it will be possible, Harry. Tell her with my love,
that I am truly obliged to her, but that I do not think it will be
possible. She is free, you know, to do what she pleases."
"Yes, she is free. But do you mean--?"
"I mean, Harry, that I had better stay where I am. What is the use of
a scene, and of being refused at last? Do not say more about it, but
tell her that it cannot be so." This Harry promised to do, and after
a while was rising to go, when she suddenly asked him a question. "Do
you remember what I was saying about Julia and Archie when you were
here last?"
"Yes; I remember."
"Well, would he have a chance? It seems that you see more of her now
than any one else."
"No chance at all, I should say." And Harry, as he answered, could
not repress a feeling of most unreasonable jealousy.
"Ah, you have always thought little of Archie. Archie's position is
changed now, Harry, since my darling was taken from me. Of course he
will marry, and Hugh, I think, would like him to marry Julia. It was
he proposed it. He never likes anything unless he has proposed it
himself."
"It was he proposed the marriage with Lord Ongar. Does he like that?"
"Well; you know, Julia has got her money." Harry, as he heard this,
turned away, sick at heart. The poor baby whose mother was now
speaking to him had only been buried that morning, and she was
already making fresh schemes for family wealth. Julia has got her
money! That had seemed to her, even in her sorrow, to be sufficient
compensation for all that her sister had endured and was enduring.
Poor soul! Harry did not reflect as he should have done, that in all
her schemes she was only scheming for that peace which might perhaps
come to her if her husband were satisfied. "And why should not Julia
take him?" she asked.
"I cannot tell why, but she never will," said Harry, almost in anger.
At that moment the door was opened, and Sir Hugh came into the room.
"I did not know that you were here," Sir Hugh said, turning to the
visitor.
"I could not be down here without saying a few words to Lady
Clavering."
"The less said the better, I suppose, just at present," said Sir
Hugh. But there was no offence in the tone of his voice, or in his
countenance, and Harry took the words as meaning none.
"I was telling Lady Clavering that as soon as she can, she would be
better if she left home for awhile."
"And why should you tell Lady Clavering that?"
"I have told him that I would not go," said the poor woman.
"Why should she go, and where; and why have you proposed it? And how
does it come to pass that her going or not going should be a matter
of solicitude to you?" Now, as Sir Hugh asked these questions of
his cousin, there was much of offence in his tone,--of intended
offence,--and in his eye, and in all his bearing. He had turned his
back upon his wife, and was looking full into Harry's face. "Lady
Clavering, no doubt, is much obliged to you," he said, "but why is it
that you specially have interfered to recommend her to leave her home
at such a time as this?"
Harry had not spoken as he did to Sir Hugh without having made some
calculation in his own mind as to the result of what he was about
to say. He did not, as regarded himself, care for his cousin or his
cousin's anger. His object at present was simply that of carrying out
Lady Ongar's wish, and he had thought that perhaps Sir Hugh might not
object to the proposal which his wife was too timid to make to him.
"It was a message from her sister," said Harry, "sent by me."
"Upon my word she is very kind. And what was the message,--unless it
be a secret between you three?"
"I have had no secret, Hugh," said his wife.
"Let me hear what he has to say," said Sir Hugh.
"Lady Ongar thought that it might be well that her sister should
leave Clavering for a short time, and has offered to go anywhere with
her for a few weeks. That is all."
"And why the devil should Hermione leave her own house? And if
she were to leave it, why should she go with a woman that has
misconducted herself?"
"Oh, Hugh!" exclaimed Lady Clavering.
"Lady Ongar has never misconducted herself," said Harry.
"Are you her champion?" asked Sir Hugh.
"As far as that, I am. She has never misconducted herself; and what
is more, she has been cruelly used since she came home."
"By whom; by whom?" said Sir Hugh, stepping close up to his cousin
and looking with angry eyes into his face.
But Harry Clavering was not a man to be intimidated by the angry eyes
of any man. "By you," he said, "her brother-in-law;--by you, who made
up her wretched marriage, and who, of all others, were the most bound
to protect her."
"Oh, Harry, don't, don't!" shrieked Lady Clavering.
"Hermione, hold your tongue," said the imperious husband; "or,
rather, go away and leave us. I have a word or two to say to Harry
Clavering, which had better be said in private."
"I will not go if you are going to quarrel."
"Harry," said Sir Hugh, "I will trouble you to go downstairs before
me. If you will step into the breakfast-room I will come to you."
Harry Clavering did as he was bid, and in a few minutes was joined by
his cousin in the breakfast-room.
"No doubt you intended to insult me by what you said upstairs." The
baronet began in this way after he had carefully shut the door, and
had slowly walked up to the rug before the fire, and had there taken
his position.
"Not at all; I intended to take the part of an ill-used woman whom
you had calumniated."
"Now look here, Harry, I will have no interference on your part in
my affairs, either here or elsewhere. You are a very fine fellow, no
doubt, but it is not part of your business to set me or my house in
order. After what you have just said before Lady Clavering you will
do well not to come here in my absence."
"Neither in your absence nor in your presence."
"As to the latter you may do as you please. And now touching my
sister-in-law, I will simply recommend you to look after your own
affairs."
"I shall look after what affairs I please."
"Of Lady Ongar and her life since her marriage I daresay you know as
little as anybody in the world, and I do not suppose it likely that
you will learn much from her. She made a fool of you once, and it is
on the cards that she may do so again."
"You said just now that you would brook no interference in your
affairs. Neither will I."
"I don't know that you have any affairs in which any one can
interfere. I have been given to understand that you are engaged
to marry that young lady whom your mother brought here one day to
dinner. If that be so, I do not see how you can reconcile it to
yourself to become the champion, as you called it, of Lady Ongar."
"I never said anything of the kind."
"Yes, you did."
"No; it was you who asked me whether I was her champion."
"And you said you were."
"So far as to defend her name when I heard it traduced by you."
"By heavens, your impudence is beautiful. Who knows her best, do you
think,--you or I? Whose sister-in-law is she? You have told me I was
cruel to her. Now to that I will not submit, and I require you to
apologize to me."
"I have no apology to make, and nothing to retract."
"Then I shall tell your father of your gross misconduct, and shall
warn him that you have made it necessary for me to turn his son
out of my house. You are an impertinent, overbearing puppy, and if
your name were not the same as my own, I would tell the grooms to
horsewhip you off the place."
"Which order, you know, the grooms would not obey. They would a deal
sooner horsewhip you. Sometimes I think they will, when I hear you
speak to them."
"Now go!"
"Of course I shall go. What would keep me here?"
Sir Hugh then opened the door, and Harry passed through it, not
without a cautious look over his shoulder, so that he might be on his
guard if any violence were contemplated. But Hugh knew better than
that, and allowed his cousin to walk out of the room, and out of the
house, unmolested.
And this had happened on the day of the funeral! Harry Clavering had
quarrelled thus with the father within a few hours of the moment in
which they two had stood together over the grave of that father's
only child! As he thought of this while he walked across the park he
became sick at heart. How vile, wretched and miserable was the world
around him! How terribly vicious were the people with whom he was
dealing! And what could he think of himself,--of himself, who was
engaged to Florence Burton, and engaged also, as he certainly was,
to Lady Ongar? Even his cousin had rebuked him for his treachery to
Florence; but what would his cousin have said had he known all? And
then what good had he done;--or rather what evil had he not done?
In his attempt on behalf of Lady Clavering had he not, in truth,
interfered without proper excuse, and fairly laid himself open to
anger from his cousin? And he felt that he had been an ass, a fool,
a conceited ass, thinking that he could produce good, when his
interference could be efficacious only for evil. Why could he not
have held his tongue when Sir Hugh came in, instead of making that
vain suggestion as to Lady Clavering? But even this trouble was but
an addition to the great trouble that overwhelmed him. How was he to
escape the position which he had made for himself in reference to
Lady Ongar? As he had left London he had promised to himself that
he would write to her that same night and tell her everything as to
Florence; but the night had passed, and the next day was nearly gone,
and no such letter had been written.
As he sat with his father that evening, he told the story of his
quarrel with his cousin. His father shrugged his shoulders and raised
his eyebrows. "You are a bolder man than I am," he said. "I certainly
should not have dared to advise Hugh as to what he should do with his
wife."
"But I did not advise him. I only said that I had been talking to her
about it. If he were to say to you that he had been recommending my
mother to do this or that, you would not take it amiss?"
"But Hugh is a peculiar man."
"No man has a right to be peculiar. Every man is bound to accept such
usage as is customary in the world."
"I don't suppose that it will signify much," said the rector. "To
have your cousin's doors barred against you, either here or in
London, will not injure you."
"Oh, no; it will not injure me; but I do not wish you to think that
I have been unreasonable."
The night went by and so did the next day, and still the letter did
not get itself written. On the third morning after the funeral he
heard that Sir Hugh had gone away; but he, of course, did not go up
to the house, remembering well that he had been warned by the master
not to do so in the master's absence. His mother, however, went
to Lady Clavering, and some intercourse between the families was
renewed. He had intended to stay but one day after the funeral, but
at the end of a week he was still at the rectory. It was Whitsuntide
he said, and he might as well take his holiday as he was down there.
Of course they were glad that he should remain with them, but they
did not fail to perceive that things with him were not altogether
right; nor had Fanny failed to perceive that he had not once
mentioned Florence's name since he had been at the rectory.
"Harry," she said, "there is nothing wrong between you and Florence?"
[Illustration: "Harry," she said, "there is nothing wrong between
you and Florence?"]
"Wrong! what should there be wrong? What do you mean by wrong?"
"I had a letter from her to-day and she asks where you are."
"Women expect such a lot of letter-writing! But I have been remiss I
know. I got out of my business way of doing things when I came down
here and have neglected it. Do you write to her to-morrow, and tell
her that she shall hear from me directly I get back to town."
"But why should you not write to her from here?"
"Because I can get you to do it for me."
Fanny felt that this was not at all like a lover, and not at all like
such a lover as her brother had been. While Florence had been at
Clavering he had been most constant with his letters, and Fanny had
often heard Florence boast of them as being perfect in their way. She
did not say anything further at the present moment, but she knew that
things were not altogether right. Things were by no means right. He
had written neither to Lady Ongar nor to Florence, and the longer
he put off the task the more burdensome did it become. He was now
telling himself that he would write to neither till he got back to
London.
On the day before he went, there came to him a letter from Stratton.
Fanny was with him when he received it, and observed that he put
it into his pocket without opening it. In his pocket he carried it
unopened half the day, till he was ashamed of his own weakness. At
last, almost in despair with himself, he broke the seal and forced
himself to read it. There was nothing in it that need have alarmed
him. It contained hardly a word that was intended for a rebuke.
"I wonder why you should have been two whole weeks without writing,"
she said. "It seems so odd to me, because you have spoiled me by your
customary goodness. I know that other men when they are engaged do
not trouble themselves with constant letter-writing. Even Theodore,
who according to Cecilia is perfect, would not write to her then very
often; and now, when he is away, his letters are only three lines.
I suppose you are teaching me not to be exacting. If so, I will kiss
the rod like a good child; but I feel it the more because the lesson
has not come soon enough."
Then she went on in her usual strain, telling him of what she had
done, what she had read, and what she had thought. There was no
suspicion in her letter, no fear, no hint at jealousy. And she
should have no further cause for jealousy! One of the two must
be sacrificed, and it was most fitting that Julia should be the
sacrifice. Julia should be sacrificed,--Julia and himself! But still
he could not write to Florence till he had written to Julia. He could
not bring himself to send soft, pretty, loving words to one woman
while the other was still regarding him as her affianced lover.
"Was your letter from Florence this morning?" Fanny asked him.
"Yes; it was."
"Had she received mine?"
"I don't know. Of course she had. If you sent it by post of course
she got it."
"She might have mentioned it, perhaps."
"I daresay she did. I don't remember."
"Well, Harry; you need not be cross with me because I love the girl
who is going to be your wife. You would not like it if I did not care
about her."
"I hate being called cross."
"Suppose I were to say that I hated your being cross. I'm sure I
do;--and you are going away to-morrow, too. You have hardly said a
nice word to me since you have been home."
Harry threw himself back into a chair almost in despair. He was not
enough a hypocrite to say nice words when his heart within him was
not at ease. He could not bring himself to pretend that things were
pleasant.
"If you are in trouble, Harry, I will not go on teasing you."
"I am in trouble," he said.
"And cannot I help you?"
"No; you cannot help me. No one can help me. But do not ask any
questions."
"Oh, Harry! is it about money?"
"No, no; it has nothing to do with money."
"You have not really quarrelled with Florence?"
"No; I have not quarrelled with her at all. But I will not answer
more questions. And, Fanny, do not speak of this to my father or
mother. It will be over before long, and then, if possible, I will
tell you."
"Harry, you are not going to fight with Hugh?"
"Fight with Hugh! no. Not that I should mind it; but he is not fool
enough for that. If he wanted fighting done, he would do it by
deputy. But there is nothing of that kind."
She asked him no more questions, and on the next morning he returned
to London. On his table he found a note which he at once knew to be
from Lady Ongar, and which had come only that afternoon.
"Come to me at once;--at once." That was all that the note contained.