Marion Fay: A Novel

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER XV.

  MARION FAY AND HER FATHER.

  "I saw him go in a full quarter of an hour since, and Marion Fay wentin before. I feel quite sure that she knew that he was expected."Thus spoke Clara Demijohn to her mother.

  "How could she have known it," asked Mrs. Duffer, who was present inMrs. Demijohn's parlour, where the two younger women were standingwith their faces close to the window, with their gloves on and bestbonnets, ready for church.

  "I am sure she did, because she had made herself smarter than everwith her new brown silk, and her new brown gloves, and her new brownhat,--sly little Quaker that she is. I can see when a girl has madeherself up for some special occasion. She wouldn't have put on newgloves surely to go to church with Mrs. Roden."

  "If you stay staring there any longer you'll both be late," said Mrs.Demijohn.

  "Mrs. Roden hasn't gone yet," said Clara, lingering. It was Sundaymorning, and the ladies at No. 10 were preparing for their devotions.Mrs. Demijohn herself never went to church, having some years sincehad a temporary attack of sciatica, which had provided her with aperpetual excuse for not leaving the house on a Sunday morning. Shewas always left at home with a volume of Blair's Sermons; but Clara,who was a clever girl, was well aware that more than half a page wasnever read. She was aware also that great progress was then made withthe novel which happened to have last come into the house from thelittle circulating library round the corner. The ringing of theneighbouring church bell had come to its final tinkling, and Mrs.Duffer knew that she must start, or disgrace herself in the eyes ofthe pew-opener. "Come, my dear," she said; and away they went. As thedoor of No. 10 opened so did that of No. 11 opposite, and the fourladies, including Marion Fay, met in the road. "You have a visitorthis morning," said Clara.

  "Yes;--a friend of my son's."

  "We know all about it," said Clara. "Don't you think he's a veryfine-looking young man, Miss Fay?"

  "Yes, I do," said Marion. "He is certainly a handsome young man."

  "Beauty is but skin deep," said Mrs. Duffer.

  "But still it goes a long way," said Clara, "particularly with highbirth and noble rank."

  "He is an excellent young man, as far as I know him," said Mrs.Roden, thinking that she was called upon to defend her son's friend.

  Hampstead had returned home on the Saturday, and had taken theearliest opportunity on the following Sunday morning to go over tohis friend at Holloway. The distance was about six miles, and he haddriven over, sending the vehicle back with the intention of walkinghome. He would get his friend to walk with him, and then should takeplace that conversation which he feared would become excessivelyunpleasant before it was finished. He was shown up to thedrawing-room of No. 11, and there he found all alone a young womanwhom he had never seen before. This was Marion Fay, the daughter ofZachary Fay, a Quaker, who lived at No. 17, Paradise Row. "I hadthought Mrs. Roden was here," he said.

  "Mrs. Roden will be down directly. She is putting her bonnet on to goto church."

  "And Mr. Roden?" he asked. "He I suppose is not going to church withher?"

  "Ah, no; I wish he were. George Roden never goes to church."

  "Is he a friend of yours?"

  "For his mother's sake I was speaking;--but why not for his also? Heis not specially my friend, but I wish well to all men. He is not athome at present, but I understood that he will be here shortly."

  "Do you always go to church?" he asked, grounding his question noton any impertinent curiosity as to her observance of her religiousduties, but because he had thought from her dress she must certainlybe a Quaker.

  "I do usually go to your church on a Sunday."

  "Nay," said he, "I have no right to claim it as my church. I fear youmust regard me also as a heathen,--as you do George Roden."

  "I am sorry for that, sir. It cannot be good that any man should bea heathen when so much Christian teaching is abroad. But men I thinkallow themselves a freedom of thought from which women in theirtimidity are apt to shrink. If so it is surely good that we should becowards?" Then the door opened, and Mrs. Roden came into the room.

  "George is gone," she said, "to call on a sick friend, but he will beback immediately. He got your letter yesterday evening, and he leftword that I was to tell you that he would be back by eleven. Have youintroduced yourself to my friend Miss Fay?"

  "I had not heard her name," he said smiling, "but we had introducedourselves."

  "Marion Fay is my name," said the girl, "and yours, I supposeis--Lord Hampstead."

  "So now we may be supposed to know each other for ever after," hereplied, laughing; "--only I fear, Mrs. Roden, that your friend willrepudiate the acquaintance because I do not go to church."

  "I said not so, Lord Hampstead. The nearer we were to beingfriends,--if that were possible,--the more I should regret it." Thenthe two ladies started on their morning duty.

  Lord Hampstead when he was alone immediately decided that he wouldlike to have Marion Fay for a friend, and not the less so becauseshe went to church. He felt that she had been right in saying thataudacity in speculation on religious subjects was not becoming ayoung woman. As it was unfitting that his sister Lady Frances shouldmarry a Post Office clerk, so would it have been unbecoming thatMarion Fay should have been what she herself called a heathen. Surelyof all the women on whom his eyes had ever rested she was,--he wouldnot say to himself the most lovely,--but certainly the best worthlooking at. The close brown bonnet and the little cap, and thewell-made brown silk dress, and the brown gloves on her little hands,together made, to his eyes, as pleasing a female attire as a girlcould well wear. Could it have been by accident that the graces ofher form were so excellently shown? It had to be supposed that she,as a Quaker, was indifferent to outside feminine garniture. It isthe theory of a Quaker that she should be so, and in every articleshe had adhered closely to Quaker rule. As far as he could see therewas not a ribbon about her. There was no variety of colour. Herhead-dress was as simple and close as any that could have been wornby her grandmother. Hardly a margin of smooth hair appeared betweenher cap and her forehead. Her dress fitted close to her neck, andon her shoulders she wore a tight-fitting shawl. The purpose in herraiment had been Quaker all through. The exquisite grace must havecome altogether by accident,--just because it had pleased nature tomake her gracious! As to all this there might perhaps be room fordoubt. Whether there had been design or not might possibly affordscope for consideration. But that the grace was there was a matterwhich required no consideration, and admitted of no doubt.

  As Marion Fay will have much to do with our story, it will be wellthat some further description should be given here of herself and ofher condition in life. Zachary Fay, her father, with whom she lived,was a widower with no other living child. There had been many others,who had all died, as had also their mother. She had been a preyto consumption, but had lived long enough to know that she hadbequeathed the fatal legacy to her offspring,--to all of them exceptto Marion, who, when her mother died, had seemed to be exempted fromthe terrible curse of the family. She had then been old enough toreceive her mother's last instructions as to her father, who was thena broken-hearted man struggling with difficulty against the crueltyof Providence. Why should it have been that God should thus afflicthim,--him who had no other pleasure in the world, no delights,but those which were afforded to him by the love of his wife andchildren? It was to be her duty to comfort him, to make up as bestshe might by her tenderness for all that he had lost and was losing.It was to be especially her duty to soften his heart in all worldlymatters, and to turn him as far as possible to the love of heavenlythings. It was now two years since her mother's death, and in allthings she had endeavoured to perform the duties which her mother hadexacted from her.

  But Zachary Fay was not a man whom it was easy to turn hither andthither. He was a stern, hard, just man, of whom it may probably besaid that if a world were altogether composed of such, the conditionof such a world would be much better than that of the world weknow;--
for generosity is less efficacious towards permanent good thanjustice, and tender speaking less enduring in its beneficial resultsthan truth. His enemies, for he had enemies, said of him that heloved money. It was no doubt true; for he that does not love moneymust be an idiot. He was certainly a man who liked to have what washis own, who would have been irate with any one who had endeavouredto rob him of his own, or had hindered him in his just endeavourto increase his own. That which belonged to another he did notcovet,--unless it might be in the way of earning it. Things hadprospered with him, and he was--for his condition in life--a richman. But his worldly prosperity had not for a moment succeeded inlessening the asperity of the blow which had fallen upon him. Withall his sternness he was essentially a loving man. To earn moneyhe would say--or perhaps more probably would only think--was thenecessity imposed upon man by the Fall of Adam; but to have somethingwarm at his heart, something that should be infinitely dearer to himthan himself and all his possessions,--that was what had been leftof Divine Essence in a man even after the Fall of Adam. Now the oneliving thing left for him to love was his daughter Marion.

  He was not a man whose wealth was of high order, or his employment ofgreat moment, or he would not probably have been living at Hollowayin Paradise Row. He was and had now been for many years senior clerkto Messrs. Pogson and Littlebird, Commission Agents, at the top ofKing's Court, Old Broad Street. By Messrs. Pogson and Littlebird hewas trusted with everything, and had become so amalgamated with thefirm as to have achieved in the City almost the credit of a merchanthimself. There were some who thought that Zachary Fay must surely bea partner in the house, or he would not have been so well known orso much respected among merchants themselves. But in truth he wasno more than senior clerk, with a salary amounting to four hundreda year. Nor, though he was anxious about his money, would he havedreamed of asking for any increase of his stipend. It was for Messrs.Pogson and Littlebird to say what his services were worth. He wouldnot on any account have lessened his authority with them by becominga suppliant for increased payment. But for many years he had spentmuch less than his income, and had known how to use his Cityexperiences in turning his savings to the best account. Thus, asregarded Paradise Row and its neighbourhood, Zachary Fay was a richman.

  He was now old, turned seventy, tall and thin, with long grey hair,with a slight stoop in his shoulders,--but otherwise hale as wellas healthy. He went every day to his office, leaving his house withstrict punctuality at half-past eight, and entering the door of thecounting-house just as the clock struck nine. With equal accuracy hereturned home at six, having dined in the middle of the day at aneating-house in the City. All this time was devoted to the interestsof the firm, except for three hours on Thursday, during which heattended a meeting in a Quaker house of worship. On these occasionsMarion always joined him, making a journey into the City for thepurpose. She would fain have induced him also to accompany her onSundays to the English Church. But to this he never would consentat her instance,--as he had refused to do so at the instance of hiswife. He was he said a Quaker, and did not mean to be aught elsethan a Quaker. In truth, though he was very punctual at those Quakermeetings, he was not at heart a religious man. To go through certainformularies, Quaker though he was, was as sufficient to him as tomany other votaries of Church ordinances. He had been brought up toattend Quaker meetings, and no doubt would continue to attend themas long as his strength might suffice; but it may be presumed of himwithout harsh judgment that the price of stocks was often presentto his mind during those tedious hours in the meeting-house. Inhis language he always complied with the strict tenets of his sect,"thou-ing" and "thee-ing" all those whom he addressed; but he hadassented to an omission in this matter on the part of his daughter,recognizing the fact that there could be no falsehood in using a modeof language common to all the world. "If a plural pronoun of ignoblesound," so he said, "were used commonly for the singular because thesingular was too grand and authoritative for ordinary use, it was nodoubt a pity that the language should be so injured; but there couldbe no untruth in such usage; and it was better that at any rate theyoung should adhere to the manner of speech which was common amongthose with whom they lived." Thus Marion was saved from the "thees"and the "thous," and escaped that touch of hypocrisy which seems topermeate the now antiquated speeches of Quakers. Zachary Fay in theselatter years of his life was never known to laugh or to joke; but, ifcircumstances were favourable, he would sometimes fall into a quaintmode of conversation in which there was something of drollery andsomething also of sarcasm; but this was unfrequent, as Zachary wasslow in making new friends, and never conversed after this fashionwith the mere acquaintance of the hour.

  Of Marion Fay's appearance something has already been said; enough,perhaps,--not to impress any clear idea of her figure on the mind'seye of a reader, for that I regard as a feat beyond the power of anywriter,--but to enable the reader to form a conception of his own.She was small of stature, it should be said, with limbs exquisitelymade. It was not the brilliance of her eyes or the chiselledcorrectness of her features which had struck Hampstead so forcibly asa certain expression of earnest eloquence which pervaded her wholeform. And there was a fleeting brightness of colour which went abouther cheeks and forehead, and ran around her mouth, which gave to herwhen she was speaking a brilliance which was hardly to be expectedfrom the ordinary lines of her countenance. Had you been asked, youwould have said that she was a brunette,--till she had been workedto some excitement in talking. Then, I think, you would have hardlyventured to describe her complexion by any single word. LordHampstead, had he been asked what he thought about her, as he satwaiting for his friend, would have declared that some divinity ofgrace had been the peculiar gift which had attracted him. And yetthat rapid change of colour had not passed unobserved, as she toldhim that she was sorry that he did not go to church.

  Marion Fay's life in Paradise Row would have been very lonely had shenot become acquainted with Mrs. Roden before her mother's death. Nowhardly a day passed but what she spent an hour with that lady. Theywere, indeed, fast friends,--so much so that Mrs. Vincent had alsocome to know Marion, and approving of the girl's religious tendencieshad invited her to spend two or three days at Wimbledon. This wasimpossible, because Marion would never leave her father;--but she hadonce or twice gone over with Mrs. Roden, when she made her weeklycall, and had certainly ingratiated herself with the austere lady.Other society she had none, nor did she seem to desire it. ClaraDemijohn, seeing the intimacy which had been struck up between Marionand Mrs. Roden,--as to which she had her own little jealousies toendure,--was quite sure that Marion was setting her cap at the PostOffice clerk, and had declared in confidence to Mrs. Duffer that thegirl was doing it in the most brazen-faced manner. Clara had herselfon more than one occasion contrived to throw herself in the clerk'sway on his return homewards on dusky evenings,--perhaps intent onlyon knowing what might be the young man's intentions as to Marion Fay.The young man had been courteous to her, but she had declared to Mrs.Duffer that he was one of those stiff young men who don't care forladies' society. "These are they," said Mrs. Duffer, "who marry thereadiest and make the best husbands." "Oh;--she'll go on stickingto him till she don't leave a stone unturned," said Clara,--therebyimplying that, as far as she was concerned, she did not think itworth her while to continue her attacks unless a young man would giveway to her at once. George had been asked more than once to drink teaat No. 10, but had been asked in vain. Clara, therefore, had declaredquite loudly that Marion had made an absolute prisoner of him,--hadbound him hand and foot,--would not let him call his life his own."She interrupts him constantly as he comes from the office," she saidto Mrs. Duffer; "I call that downright unfeminine audacity." Yet sheknew that Mrs. Duffer knew that she had intercepted the young man.Mrs. Duffer took it all in good part, knowing very well how necessaryit is that a young woman should fight her own battle strenuously.

  In the mean time Marion Fay and George Roden were good friends. "Heis engaged;--I must not say to whom," Mrs
. Roden had said to heryoung friend. "It will, I fear, be a long, long, tedious affair. Youmust not speak of it."

  "If she be true to him, I hope he will be true to her," said Marion,with true feminine excitement.

  "I only fear that he will be too true."

  "No, no;--that cannot be. Even though he suffer let him be true. Youmay be sure I will not mention it,--to him, or to any one. I likehim so well that I do hope he may not suffer much." From that timeshe found herself able to regard George Roden as a real friend,and to talk to him as though there need be no cause for dreadingan intimacy. With an engaged man a girl may suffer herself to beintimate.