CONCLUSION.
Clarissa had found it hard to change the object of her love, so hard,
that for a time she had been unwilling even to make the effort;--and
she had been ashamed that those around her should think that she
would make it; but when the thing was done, her second hero was
dearer to her than ever had been the first. He at least was true.
With him there was no need of doubt. His assurances were not conveyed
in words so light that they might mean much or little. This second
lover was a lover, indeed, who thought no pains too great to show her
that she was ever growing in his heart of hearts. For a while,--for
a week or two,--she restrained her tongue; but when once she had
accustomed herself to the coaxing kindness of her sister and her
cousin, then her eloquence was loosened, and Gregory Newton was a
god indeed. In the course of time she got a very pretty note from
Ralph, congratulating her, as he also had congratulated Polly, and
expressing a fear that he might not be home in time to be present
at the wedding. Augusta was so fond of Rome that they did not mean
to leave it till the late spring. Then, after a while, there came
to her, also, a watch and chain, twice as costly as those given to
Polly,--which, however, no persuasion from Gregory would ever induce
Clarissa to wear. In after time Ralph never noticed that the trinkets
were not worn.
The winter at Popham Villa went on very much as other winters had
gone, except that two of the girls living there were full of future
hopes, and preparing for future cares, while the third occupied her
heart and mind with the cares and hopes of the other two. Patience,
however, had one other task in hand, a task upon the performance of
which her future happiness much depended, and in respect to which she
now ventured to hope for success. Wherever her future home might be,
it would be terrible to her if her father would not consent to occupy
it with her. It had been settled that both the marriages should take
place early in April,--both on the same day, and, as a matter of
course, the weddings would be celebrated at Fulham. Christmas had
come and gone, and winter was going, before Sir Thomas had absolutely
promised to renew that order for the making of the packing-cases for
his books. "You won't go back, papa, after they are married,"
Patience said to her father, early in March.
"If I do it shall not be for long."
"Not for a day, papa! Surely you will not leave me alone? There will
be plenty of room now. The air of Fulham will be better for your work
than those stuffy, dark, dingy lawyers' chambers."
"My dear, all the work of my life that was worth doing was done in
those stuffy, dingy rooms." That was all that Sir Thomas said, but
the accusation conveyed to him by his daughter's words was very
heavy. For years past he had sat intending to work, purposing to
achieve a great task which he set for himself, and had done--almost
nothing. Might it be yet possible that that purer air of which
Patty spoke should produce new energy, and lead to better results?
The promise of it did at least produce new resolutions. It was
impossible, as Patience had said, that his child should be left to
dwell alone, while yet she had a father living.
"Stemm," he said, "I told you to get some packing-cases made."
"Packing-cases, Sir Thomas?"
"Yes;--packing-cases for the books. It was months ago. Are they
ready?"
"No, Sir Thomas. They ain't ready."
"Why not?"
"Well, Sir Thomas;--they ain't; that's all." Then the order was
repeated in a manner so formal, as to make Stemm understand that it
was intended for a fact. "You are going away from this; are you, Sir
Thomas?"
"I believe that I shall give the chambers up altogether at midsummer.
At any rate, I mean to have the books packed at once."
"Very well, Sir Thomas." Then there was a pause, during which Stemm
did not leave the room. Nor did Sir Thomas dismiss him, feeling that
there might well be other things which would require discussion. "And
about me, Sir Thomas?" said Stemm.
"I have been thinking about that, Stemm."
"So have I, Sir Thomas,--more nor once."
"You can come to Fulham if you like,--only you must not scold the
maids."
"Very well, Sir Thomas," said Stemm, with hardly any variation in his
voice, but still with less of care upon his brow.
"Mind, I will not have you scolding them at the villa."
"Not unless they deserve it, Sir Thomas," said Stemm. Sir Thomas
could say nothing further. For our own part we fear that the maidens
at the villa will not be the better in conduct, as they certainly
will not be more comfortable in their lives, in consequence of this
change.
And the books were moved in large packing-cases, not one of which had
yet been opened when the two brides returned to Popham Villa after
their wedding tours, to see Patience just for a day before they were
taken to their new homes. Nevertheless, let us hope that the change
of air and of scene may tend to future diligence, and that the magnus
opus may yet be achieved. We have heard of editions of Aristophanes,
of Polybius, of the Iliad, of Ovid, and what not, which have ever
been forthcoming under the hands of notable scholars, who have grown
grey amidst the renewed promises which have been given. And some of
these works have come forth, belying the prophecies of incredulous
friends. Let us hope that the great Life of Bacon may yet be written.
* * * * * *
Transcriber's note:
Trollope was sometimes inconsistent with names of people or places.
In the early pages of this novel the name of Mr. Neefit's home was
Alexandrina Cottage. In the middle of the book it became Alexandria
Cottage, and in later pages it was Alexandra Cottage. The names have
been transcribed as they were in the original.