CHAPTER XX.
MR. GREENWOOD'S LAST BATTLE.
During the whole of that long summer nothing was absolutely arrangedas to Roden and Lady Frances, though it was known to all London, andto a great many persons outside of London, that they were certainlyto become man and wife. The summer was very long to Lord and LadyTrafford because of the necessity incumbent on them of remainingthrough the last dregs of the season on account of Lady Amaldina'smarriage. Had Lady Amaldina thrown herself away on another Roden theaunt would have no doubt gone to the country; but her niece had doneher duty in life with so much propriety and success that it wouldhave been indecent to desert her. Lady Kingsbury therefore remainedin Park Lane, and was driven to endure frequently the sight of thePost Office clerk.
For George Roden was admitted to the house even though it was at lastacknowledged that he must be George Roden, and nothing more. Andit was found also that he must be a Post Office clerk, and nothingmore. Lord Persiflage, on whom Lady Kingsbury chiefly depended forseeing that her own darlings should not be disgraced by being madebrothers-in-law to anything so low as a clerk in the Post Office,was angry at last, and declared that it was impossible to help a manwho would not help himself. "It is no use trying to pick a man upwho will lie in the gutter." It was thus he spoke of Roden in hisanger; and then the Marchioness would wring her hands and abuse herstepdaughter. Lord Persiflage did think that something might bedone for the young man if the young man would only allow himself tobe called a Duke. But the young man would not allow it, and LordPersiflage did not see what could be done. Nevertheless there was ageneral idea abroad in the world that something would be done. Eventhe mysterious savour of high rank which attached itself to the youngman would do something for him.
It may be remembered that the Marquis himself, when first the facthad come to his ears that his daughter loved the young man, had beenalmost as ferociously angry as his wife. He had assented to thecarrying of her away to the Saxon castle. He had frowned upon her.He had been a party to the expelling her from his own house. Butgradually his heart had become softened towards her; in his illnesshe had repented of his harshness; he had not borne her continuedabsence easily, and had of late looked about for an excuse foraccepting her lover. When the man was discovered to be a Duke, thoughit was only an Italian Duke, of course he accepted him. Now hiswife told him daily that Roden was not a Duke, because he would notaccept his Dukedom,--and ought therefore again to be rejected. LordPersiflage had declared that nothing could be done for him, andtherefore he ought to be rejected. But the Marquis clung to hisdaughter. As the man was absolutely a Duke, according to the laws ofall the Heralds, and all the Courts, and all the tables of precedencyand usages of peerage in Christendom, he could not de-grade himselfeven by any motion of his own. He was the eldest and the legitimateson of the last Duca di Crinola,--so the Marquis said,--and as suchwas a fitting aspirant for the hand of the daughter of an Englishpeer. "But he hasn't got a shilling," said Lady Kingsbury weeping.The Marquis felt that it was within his own power to produce someremedy for this evil, but he did not care to say as much to his wife,who was tender on that point in regard to the interest of her threedarlings. Roden continued his visits to Park Lane very frequentlyall through the summer, and had already arranged for an autumn visitto Castle Hautboy,--in spite of that angry word spoken by LordPersiflage. Everybody knew he was to marry Lady Frances. But when theseason was over, and all the world had flitted from London, nothingwas settled.
Lady Kingsbury was of course very unhappy during all this time; butthere was a source of misery deeper, more pressing, more crushingthan even the Post Office clerk. Mr. Greenwood, the late chaplain,had, during his last interview with the Marquis, expressed some noblesentiments. He would betray nothing that had been said to him inconfidence. He would do nothing that could annoy the Marchioness,because the Marchioness was a lady, and as such, entitled to allcourtesy from him as a gentleman. There were grounds no doubt onwhich he could found a claim, but he would not insist on them, ashis doing so would be distasteful to her ladyship. He felt that hewas being ill-treated, almost robbed; but he would put up with thatrather than say a word which would come against his own conscienceas a gentleman. With these high assurances he took his leave of theMarquis as though he intended to put up with the beggarly stipendof L200 a year which the Marquis had promised him. Perhaps that hadbeen his intention;--but before two days were over he had rememberedthat though it might be base to tell her ladyship's secrets, thepenny-post was still open to him.
It certainly was the case that Lady Kingsbury had spoken to him withstrong hopes of the death of the heir to the title. Mr. Greenwood, indiscussing the matter with himself, went beyond that, and declaredto himself that she had done so with expectation as well as hope.Fearful words had been said. So he assured himself. He thanked hisGod that nothing had come of it. Only for him something,--he assuredhimself,--would have come of it. The whisperings in that up-stairssitting-room at Trafford had been dreadful. He had divulged nothing.He had held his tongue,--like a gentleman. But ought he not to bepaid for holding his tongue? There are so many who act honestly fromnoble motives, and then feel that their honesty should be rewarded byall those gains which dishonesty might have procured for them! Abouta fortnight after the visit which Mr. Greenwood made to the Marquishe did write a letter to the Marchioness. "I am not anxious," hesaid, "to do more than remind your ladyship of those peculiarlyconfidential discussions which took place between yourself and me atTrafford during the last winter; but I think you will acknowledgethat they were of a nature to make me feel that I should not bediscarded like an old glove. If you would tell his lordship thatsomething should be done for me, something would be done." Herladyship when she received this was very much frightened. Sheremembered the expressions she had allowed herself to use, and didsay a hesitating, halting word to her husband, suggesting that Mr.Greenwood's pension should be increased. The Marquis turned upon herin anger. "Did you ever promise him anything?" he asked. No;--she hadpromised him nothing. "I am giving him more than he deserves, andwill do no more," said the Marquis. There was something in his voicewhich forbade her to speak another word.
Mr. Greenwood's letter having remained for ten days without ananswer, there came another. "I cannot but think that you willacknowledge my right to expect an answer," he said, "consideringthe many years through which I have enjoyed the privilege of yourladyship's friendship, and the _very confidential terms_ on whichwe have been used to discuss matters of the highest interest tous both." The "matters" had no doubt been the probability of theaccession to the title of her own son through the demise of his elderbrother! She understood now all her own folly, and something of herown wickedness. To this second appeal she wrote a short answer,having laid awake over it one entire night.
DEAR MR. GREENWOOD--I have spoken to the Marquis, and he will do nothing.
Yours truly,
C. KINGSBURY.
This she did without saying a word to her husband.
Then, after the interval of a few days, there came a third letter.
MY DEAR LADY KINGSBURY,--
I cannot allow myself to think that this should be the end of it all, after so many years of social intimacy and confidential intercourse. Can you yourself imagine the condition of a gentleman of my age reduced after a life of ease and comfort to exist on a miserable pension of L200 a year? It simply means death,--death! Have I not a right to expect something better after the devotion of a life?
Who has known as well as I the stumbling-blocks to your ladyship's ambition which have been found in the existences of Lord Hampstead and Lady Frances Trafford? I have sympathized with you no doubt,--partly because of their peculiarities, partly from sincere affection for your ladyship. It cannot surely be that your ladyship should now treat me as an enemy because I could do no more than sympathize!
Dig I cannot. To beg I am ashamed. You will hardly wish that I should perish from want. I have not as ye
t been driven to open out my sad case to any one but yourself. Do not force me to it,--for the sake of those darling children for whose welfare I have ever been so anxious.
Believe me to be, Your ladyship's most devoted and faithful friend,
THOMAS GREENWOOD.
This epistle so frightened her that she began to consider how shemight best collect together a sufficient sum of money to satisfythe man. She did succeed in sending him a note for L50. But thishe was too wary to take. He returned it, saying that he could not,though steeped in poverty, accept chance eleemosynary aid. What herequired.--and had he thought a right to ask,--was an increase to thefixed stipend allowed him. He must, he thought, again force himselfupon the presence of the Marquis, and explain the nature of thedemand more explicitly.
Upon this Lady Kingsbury showed all the letters to her husband. "Whatdoes he mean by stumbling-blocks?" asked the Marquis in his wrath.Then there was a scene which was sad enough. She had to confessthat she had spoken very freely to the chaplain respecting herstep-children. "Freely! What does freely mean? Do you want them outof the way?" What a question for a husband to have to ask his wife!But she had a door by which she could partly escape. It was notthat she had wanted them out of the way, but that she had been sohorrified by what she had thought to be their very improper ideas asto their own rank of life. Those marriages which they had intendedhad caused her to speak as she had done to the chaplain. When aloneat Trafford she had no doubt opened her mind to the clergyman. Sherested a great deal on the undoubted fact that Mr. Greenwood wasa clergyman. Hampstead and Fanny had been stumbling-blocks to herambition because she had desired to see them married properly intoproper families. She probably thought that she was telling the truthas she said all this. It was at any rate accepted as truth, andshe was condoned. As to Hampstead, it was known by this time thatthat marriage could never take place; and as to Lady Frances, theMarchioness was driven, in her present misery, to confess, that asthe Duca was in truth a Duca, his family must be held to be proper.
But the Marquis sent for Mr. Cumming, his London solicitor, and putall the letters into his hand,--with such explanation as he thoughtnecessary to give. Mr. Cumming at first recommended that the pensionshould be altogether stopped; but to this the Marquis did notconsent. "It would not suit me that he should starve," said theMarquis. "But if he continues to write to her ladyship something mustbe done."
"Threatening letters to extort money!" said the lawyer confidently."I can have him before a magistrate to-morrow, my lord, if it bethought well." It was, however, felt to be expedient that Mr. Cummingshould in the first case send for Mr. Greenwood, and explain to thatgentleman the nature of the law.
Mr. Cumming no doubt felt himself that it would be well that Mr.Greenwood should not starve, and well also that application shouldnot be made to the magistrate, unless as a last resort. He, too,asked himself what was meant by "stumbling-blocks." Mr. Greenwood wasa greedy rascal, descending to the lowest depth of villany with theview of making money out of the fears of a silly woman. But the sillywoman, the lawyer thought, must have been almost worse than silly.It seemed natural to Mr. Cumming that a stepmother should be anxiousfor the worldly welfare of her own children;--not unnatural, perhaps,that she should be so anxious as to have a feeling at her heartamounting almost to a wish that "chance" should remove the obstacle.Chance, as Mr. Cumming was aware, could in such a case meanonly--death. Mr. Cumming, when he put this in plain terms to himself,felt it to be very horrid; but there might be a doubt whether such afeeling would be criminal, if backed up by no deed and expressed byno word. But here it seemed that words had been spoken. Mr. Greenwoodhad probably invented that particular phrase, but would hardly haveinvented it unless something had been said to justify it. It was hisbusiness, however, to crush Mr. Greenwood, and not to expose herladyship. He wrote a very civil note to Mr. Greenwood. Would Mr.Greenwood do him the kindness to call in Bedford Row at such orsuch an hour,--or indeed at any other hour that might suit him. Mr.Greenwood thinking much of it, and resolving in his mind that anyincrease to his pension might probably be made through Mr. Cumming,did as he was bid, and waited upon the lawyer.
Mr. Cumming, when the clergyman was shown in, was seated with theletters before him,--the various letters which Mr. Greenwood hadwritten to Lady Kingsbury,--folded out one over another, so that thevisitor's eye might see them and feel their presence; but he did notintend to use them unless of necessity. "Mr. Greenwood," he said,"I learn that you are discontented with the amount of a retiringallowance which the Marquis of Kingsbury has made you on leaving hisservice."
"I am, Mr. Cumming; certainly I am.--L200 a year is not--"
"Let us call it L300, Mr. Greenwood."
"Well, yes; Lord Hampstead did say something--"
"And has paid something. Let us call it L300. Not that the amountmatters. The Marquis and Lord Hampstead are determined not toincrease it."
"Determined!"
"Quite determined that under no circumstances will they increase it.They may find it necessary to stop it."
"Is this a threat?"
"Certainly it is a threat,--as far as it goes. There is anotherthreat which I may have to make for the sake of coercing you; but Ido not wish to use it if I can do without it."
"Her ladyship knows that I am ill-treated in this matter. She sentme L50 and I returned it. It was not in that way that I wished to bepaid for my services."
"It was well for you that you did. But for that I could not certainlyhave asked you to come and see me here."
"You could not?"
"No;--I could not. You will probably understand what I mean." HereMr. Cumming laid his hands upon the letters, but made no otherallusion to them. "A very few words more will, I think, settle allthat there is to be arranged between us. The Marquis, from certainreasons of humanity,--with which I for one hardly sympathize inthis case,--is most unwilling to stop, or even to lessen, the amplepension which is paid to you."
"Ample;--after a whole lifetime!"
"But he will do so if you write any further letters to any member ofhis family."
"That is tyranny, Mr. Cumming."
"Very well. Then is the Marquis a tyrant. But he will go further thanthat in his tyranny. If it be necessary to defend either himself orany of his family from further annoyance, he will do so by criminalproceedings. You are probably aware that the doing this would be verydisagreeable to the Marquis. Undoubtedly it would. To such a man asLord Kingsbury it is a great trouble to have his own name, or worse,that of others of his family, brought into a Police Court. But, ifnecessary, it will be done. I do not ask you for any assurance, Mr.Greenwood, because it may be well that you should take a little timeto think of it. But unless you are willing to lose your income, andto be taken before a police magistrate for endeavouring to extortmoney by threatening letters, you had better hold your hand."
"I have never threatened."
"Good morning, Mr. Greenwood."
"Mr. Cumming, I have threatened no one."
"Good morning, Mr. Greenwood." Then the discarded chaplain took hisleave, failing to find the words with which he could satisfactorilyexpress his sense of the injury which had been done him.
Before that day was over he had made up his mind to take his L300 ayear and be silent. The Marquis, he now found, was not so infirm ashe had thought, nor the Marchioness quite so full of fears. He mustgive it up, and take his pittance. But in doing so he continued toassure himself that he was greatly injured, and did not cease toaccuse Lord Kingsbury of sordid parsimony in refusing to rewardadequately one whose services to the family had been so faithful andlong-enduring.
It may, however, be understood that in the midst of troubles such asthese Lady Kingsbury did not pass a pleasant summer.
CHAPTER XXI.
THE REGISTRAR OF STATE RECORDS.
Although Lord Persiflage had seemed to be very angry with therecusant Duke, and had made that uncivil speech about the gutter,still he was quite willing that George Ro
den should be asked down toCastle Hautboy. "Of course we must do something for him," he said tohis wife; "but I hate scrupulous men. I don't blame him at all formaking such a girl as Fanny fall in love with him. If I were a PostOffice clerk I'd do the same if I could."
"Not you. You wouldn't have given yourself the trouble."
"But when I had done it I wouldn't have given her friends moretrouble than was necessary. I should have known that they would havehad to drag me up somewhere. I should have looked for that. But Ishouldn't have made myself difficult when chance gave a helping hand.Why shouldn't he have taken his title?"
"Of course we all wish he would."
"Fanny is as bad as he is. She has caught some of Hampstead'slevelling ideas and encourages the young man. It was all Kingsbury'sfault from the first. He began the world wrong, and now he cannot gethimself right again. A radical aristocrat is a contradiction interms. It is very well that there should be Radicals. It would be astupid do-nothing world without them. But a man can't be oil andvinegar at the same time." This was the expression made by LordPersiflage of his general ideas on politics in reference to GeorgeRoden and his connection with the Trafford family; but not the lesswas George Roden asked down to Castle Hautboy. Lady Frances was notto be thrown over because she had made a fool of herself,--nor wasGeorge Roden to be left out in the cold, belonging as he did now toLady Frances. Lord Persiflage never approved very much ofanybody,--but he never threw anybody over.
It was soon after the funeral of Marion Fay that Roden went down toCumberland. During the last two months of Marion's illness Hampsteadand Roden had been very often together. Not that they had livedtogether, as Hampstead had declared himself unable to bear continuedsociety. His hours had been passed alone. But there had not been manydays in which the friends had not seen each other for a few minutes.It had become a habit with Hampstead to ride over to Paradise Rowwhen Roden had returned from the office. At first Mrs. Roden also hadbeen there;--but latterly she had spent her time altogether atPegwell Bay. Nevertheless Lord Hampstead would come, and would say afew words, and would then ride home again. When all was over atPegwell Bay, when the funeral was at hand, and during the few days ofabsolutely prostrating grief which followed it, nothing was seen ofhim;--but on the evening before his friend's journey down to CastleHautboy he again appeared in the Row. On this occasion he walkedover, and his friend returned with him a part of the way. "You mustdo something with yourself," Roden said to him.
"I see no need of doing anything special. How many men do nothingwith themselves!"
"Men either work or play."
"I do not think I shall play much."
"Not for a time certainly. You used to play; but I can imagine thatthe power of doing so will have deserted you."
"I shan't hunt, if you mean that."
"I do not mean that at all," said Roden;--"but that you should dosomething. There must be some occupation, or life will beinsupportable."
"It is insupportable," said the young man looking away, so that hiscountenance should not be seen.
"But it must be supported. Let the load be ever so heavy, it must becarried. You would not destroy yourself?"
"No;"--said the other slowly; "no. I would not do that. If any onewould do it for me!"
"No one will do it for you. Not to have some plan of active life,some defined labour by which the weariness of the time may beconquered, would be a weakness and a cowardice next door to that ofsuicide."
"Roden," said the lord, "your severity is brutal."
"The question is whether it be true. You shall call it what youlike,--or call me what you like; but can you contradict what I say?Do you not feel that it is your duty as a man to apply what intellectyou have, and what strength, to some purpose?"
Then, by degrees, Lord Hampstead did explain the purpose he hadbefore him. He intended to have a yacht built, and start alone, andcruise about the face of the world. He would take books with him, andstudy the peoples and the countries which he visited.
"Alone?" asked Roden.
"Yes, alone;--as far as a man may be alone with a crew and a captainaround him. I shall make acquaintances as I go, and shall be able tobear them as such. They will know nothing of my secret wound. Had Iyou with me,--you and my sister let us suppose,--or Vivian, or anyone from here who had known me, I could not even struggle to raise myhead."
"It would wear off."
"I will go alone; and if occasion offers I will make freshacquaintances. I will begin another life which shall have noconnection with the old one,--except that which will be continued bythe thread of my own memory. No one shall be near me who may eventhink of her name when my own ways and manners are called inquestion." He went on to explain that he would set himself to work atonce. The ship must be built, and the crew collected, and the storesprepared. He thought that in this way he might find employment forhimself till the spring. In the spring, if all was ready, he wouldstart. Till that time came he would live at Hendon Hall,--stillalone. He so far relented, however, as to say that if his sister wasmarried before he began his wanderings he would be present at hermarriage.
Early in the course of the evening he had explained to Roden that hisfather and he had conjointly arranged to give Lady Frances L40,000 onher wedding. "Can that be necessary?" asked Roden.
"You must live; and as you have gone into a nest with the drones, youmust live in some sort as the drones do."
"I hope I shall never be a drone."
"You cannot touch pitch and not be defiled. You'll be expected towear gloves and drink fine wine,--or, at any rate, to give it to yourfriends. Your wife will have to ride in a coach. If she don't peoplewill point at her, and think she's a pauper, because she has a handleto her name. They talk of the upper ten thousand. It is as hard toget out from among them as it is to get in among them. Though youhave been wonderfully stout about the Italian title, you'll find thatit will stick to you." Then it was explained that the money, whichwas to be given, would in no wise interfere with the "darlings."Whatever was to be added to the fortune which would naturally havebelonged to Lady Frances, would come not from her father but from herbrother.
When Roden arrived at Castle Hautboy Lord Persiflage was there,though he remained but for a day. He was due to be with the Queen fora month,--a duty which was evidently much to his taste, though heaffected to frown over it as a hardship. "I am sorry, Roden," hesaid, "that I should be obliged to leave you and everybody else;--buta Government hack, you know, has to be a Government hack." This wasrather strong from a Secretary of State to a Clerk in the PostOffice; but Roden had to let it pass lest he should give an openingto some remark on his own repudiated rank. "I shall be back beforeyou are gone, I hope, and then perhaps we may arrange something." Theonly thing that Roden wished to arrange was a day for his ownwedding, as to which, as far as he knew, Lord Persiflage could havenothing to say.
"I don't think you ought to be sorry," Lady Frances said to her loveras they were wandering about on the mountains. He had endeavoured toexplain to her that this large income which was now promised to himrather impeded than assisted the scheme of life which he hadsuggested to himself.
"Not sorry,--but disappointed, if you know the difference."
"Not exactly."
"I had wanted to feel that I should earn my wife's bread."
"So you shall. If a man works honestly for his living, I don't thinkhe need inquire too curiously what proportion of it may come from hisown labour or from some other source. If I had had nothing we shouldhave done very well without the coach,--as poor Hampstead calls it.But if the coach is there I don't see why we shouldn't ride in it."
"I should like to earn the coach too," said Roden.
"This, sir, will be a lesson serviceable in teaching you that you arenot to be allowed to have your own way in everything."
An additional leave of absence for a month had been accorded toRoden. He had already been absent during a considerable time in thespring of the year, and in the ordinary course of events would n
othave been entitled to this prolonged indulgence. But there werereasons deemed to be sufficient. He was going to meet a CabinetMinister. He was engaged to marry the daughter of a Marquis. And itwas known that he was not simply George Roden, but in truth the Ducadi Crinola. He had suffered some qualms of conscience as to thefavour to be thus shown him, but had quieted them by the idea thatwhen a man is in love something special ought to be done for him. Heremained, therefore, till the Foreign Secretary returned from hisroyal service, and had by that time fixed the period of his marriage.It was to take place in the cold comfortless month of March. It wouldbe a great thing, he had said, to have Hampstead present at it, andit was Hampstead's intention to start on his long travels early inApril. "I don't see why people shouldn't be married in cold weatheras well as in hot," said Vivian. "Brides need not go about always inmuslin."
When Lord Persiflage returned to Castle Hautboy, he had his planready arranged for relieving his future half-nephew-in-law,--if therebe such a relationship,--from the ignominy of the Post Office. "Ihave Her Majesty's permission," he said to Roden, "to offer you theposition of Registrar of State Records to the Foreign Office."
"Registrar of State Records to the Foreign Office!"
"Fifteen hundred a year," said his lordship, going off at once tothis one point of true vital importance. "I am bound to say that Ithink I could have done better for you had you consented to bear thetitle, which is as completely your own, as is that mine by which I amcalled."
"Don't let us go back to that, my lord."
"Oh no;--certainly not. Only this; if you could be brought to thinkbetter of it,--if Fanny could be induced to make you think better ofit,--the office now offered to you would, I think, be morecomfortable to you."
"How so?"
"I can hardly explain, but it would. There is no reason on earth whyit should not be held by an Italian. We had an Italian for many yearslibrarian at the Museum. And as an Italian you would of course beentitled to call yourself by your hereditary title."
"I shall never be other than an Englishman."
"Very well. One man may lead a horse to water, but a thousand cannotmake him drink. I only tell you what would be the case. The titlewould no doubt give a prestige to the new office. It is exactly thatkind of work which would fall readily into the hands of a foreignerof high rank. One cannot explain these things, but it is so. TheL1500 a year would more probably become L2000 if you submitted to becalled by your own proper name." Everybody knew that Lord Persiflageunderstood the Civil Service of his country perfectly. He was a manwho never worked very hard himself, or expected those under him to doso; but he liked common sense, and hated scruples, and he consideredit to be a man's duty to take care of himself,--of himself first ofall, and then, perhaps, afterwards, of the Service.
Neither did Roden nor did Lady Frances give way a bit the more forthis. They were persistent in clinging to their old comparativelyhumble English name. Lady Frances would be Lady Frances to the end,but she would be no more than Lady Frances Roden. And George Rodenwould be George Roden, whether a clerk in the Post Office orRegistrar of State Records to the Foreign Office. So much the nextnew bride declared with great energy to the last new bride who hadjust returned from her short wedding tour, having been hurried homeso that her husband might be able to lay the first stone of the newbridge to be built over the Menai Straits. Lady Llwddythlw, with allthe composed manners of a steady matron, was at Castle Hautboy, andused all her powers of persuasion. "Never mind, my dear, what hesays," Lady Llwddythlw urged. "What you should think of is what willbe good for him. He would be somebody,--almost as good as an UnderSecretary of State,--with a title. He would get to be consideredamong the big official swells. There is so much in a name! Of course,you've got your rank. But you ought to insist on it for his sake."
Lady Frances did not give way in the least, nor did any one ventureto call the Duca by his title, formally or openly. But, as LordHampstead had said, "it stuck to him." The women when they were alonewith him would call him Duca, joking with him; and it was out of thequestion that he should be angry with them for their jokes. He becameaware that behind his back he was always spoken of as The Duke, andthat this was not done with any idea of laughing at him. The peoplearound him believed that he was a Duke and ought to be called a Duke.Of course it was in joke that Lady Llwddythlw always called LadyFrances Duchessina when they were together, because Lady Frances hadcertainly not as yet acquired her right to the name; but it alltended to the same point. He became aware that the very servantsaround him understood it. They did not call him "your grace" or "myLord," or make spoken allusion to his rank; but they looked it. Allthat obsequiousness due to an hereditary nobleman, which is dear tothe domestic heart, was paid to him. He found himself called upon byLady Persiflage to go into the dining-room out of his proper place.There was a fair excuse for this while the party was small, andconfined to few beyond the family, as it was expected that the twodeclared lovers should sit together. But when this had been done witha larger party he expostulated with his hostess. "My dear Mr. Roden,"she said,--"I suppose I must call you so."
"It's my name at any rate."
"There are certain points on which, as far as I can see, a man may beallowed to have his way,--and certain points on which he may not."
"As to his own name--"
"Yes; on the matter of your name. I do not see my way how to get thebetter of you just at present, though on account of my nearconnection with Fanny I am very anxious to do so. But as to the factof your rank, there it is. Whenever I see you,--and I hope I shallsee you very often,--I shall always suppose that I see an Italiannobleman of the first class, and shall treat you so." He shrugged hisshoulders, feeling that he had nothing else to do. "If I were to findmyself in the society of some man calling himself by a title to whichI knew that he had no right,--I should probably call him by no name;but I should be very careful not to treat him as a nobleman, knowingthat he had no right to be so treated. What can I do in your case butjust reverse the position?"
He never went back to the Post Office,--of course. What should aRegistrar of State Records to the Foreign Office do in so humble anestablishment? He never went back for the purposes of work. He calledto bid farewell to Sir Boreas, Mr. Jerningham, Crocker, and otherswith whom he had served. "I did not think we should see much more ofyou," said Sir Boreas, laughing.
"I intended to live and die with you," said Roden.
"We don't have dukes; or at any rate we don't keep them. Like to likeis a motto which I always find true. When I heard that you wereliving with a young lord, and were going to marry the daughter of amarquis, and had a title of your own which you could use as soon asyou pleased, I knew that I should lose you." Then he added in alittle whisper, "You couldn't get Crocker made a duke, could you,--ora Registrar of Records?"
Mr. Jerningham was full of smiles and bows, pervaded thoroughly by afeeling that he was bidding farewell to an august nobleman, though,for negative reasons, he was not to be allowed to gratify his tongueby naming the august name. Crocker was a little shy;--but he pluckedup his courage at last. "I shall always know what I know, you know,"he said, as he shook hands with the friend to whom he had been somuch attached. Bobbin and Geraghty made no allusions to the title,but they, too, as they were severally greeted, were evidently underthe influence of the nobility of their late brother clerk.
The marriage was duly solemnized when March came in the parish churchof Trafford. There was nothing grand,--no even distant imitation ofLady Amaldina's glorious cavalcade. Hampstead did come down, andendeavoured for the occasion to fit himself for the joy of the day.His ship was ready for him, and he intended to start now in a week ortwo. As it happened that the House was not sitting, Lord Llwddythlw,at the instigation of his wife, was present. "One good turn deservesanother," Lady Llwddythlw had said to him. And the darlings werethere in all their glory, loud, beautiful, and unruly. Lady Kingsburywas of course present; but was too much in abeyance to be able toarouse even a sign of displeasure. Since
that reference to the"stumbling blocks" had reached her husband, and since those fearswith which Mr. Greenwood had filled her, she had been awed intoquiescence.
The bridegroom was of course married under the simple name of GeorgeRoden,--and we must part with him under that name; but it is thebelief of the present chronicler that the aristocratic element willprevail, and that the time will come soon in which the Registrar ofState Records to the Foreign Office will be known in the purlieus ofDowning Street as the Duca di Crinola.
* * * * * *
Transcriber's note:
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
Volume I, Chapter I, paragraph 9. Trollope refers here and elsewhere to Lord Hampstead as Lady Kingsbury's son-in-law, although he is actually her stepson. This is not a example of carelessness by the author but an archaic use of "son-in-law" which persisted into the mid-nineteenth century.
Volume I, Chapter XIX, paragraph 1. The astute reader might wonder how a two-day visit can last from Wednesday to the following Tuesday, as stated in the sentence: Lady Amaldina and he were both to arrive there on Wednesday, December 3rd, and remain till the Tuesday morning.
Specific changes in wording of the text are listed below.
Volume I, Chapter XII, paragraph 42. "On" was changed to "Oh" in the sentence: "OH, no doubt!
Volume I, Chapter III, paragraph 62. The word "began" was changed to "begun" in the sentence: In the horror of the first revelation he had yielded, but had since BEGUN to feel that too much was being done in withdrawing him from Parliament.
Volume II, Chapter III, paragraph 82. A comma was changed to a semi-colon in the sentence: This was on a Tuesday; on the Wednesday he did not speak to her on the subject.
Volume II, Chapter VI, paragraph 17. The word "live" was changed to "life" in the sentence: I have had to ask myself, and I have told myself that I do not dare to love above my station in LIFE.
Volume II, Chapter VI, paragraph 31. The word "to" was added to the sentence: It may be that you should drive me away from you, and TO beg you never to trouble me any further.
Volume II, Chapter XII, paragraph 6. The word "conviction" was changed to the plural form in the sentence: The CONVICTIONS of the world since the days of Cain have all gone in that direction.
Volume II, Chapter XIII, paragraph 47. "Roden" was changed to "Trafford" in the sentence: I have seen Lady Frances TRAFFORD.
Volume II, Chapter XV, paragraph 61. "10" was changed to "11" in the sentence: Marion Fay and her father live at No. 17, Paradise Row, Holloway, and Mrs. Roden and George Roden live at No. 11. The reader will recall that Mrs. Demijohn and her niece Clara resided at No. 10.
Volume II, Chapter XX, paragraph 19. "17" was changed to "15" in the sentence: I hope you'll let me introduce you to Mrs. Duffer of No. 15. The reader will recall that Mrs. Duffer lives at No. 15, while No. 17 is the home of Marion Fay and her father.
Volume III, Chapter III, paragraph 25. The Baron's name appears eight times in the text; this, the first, occurrence was spelled "d'Osse," and the other seven spelled "d'Ossi" or "D'Ossi." "d'Osse" was changed to "d'Ossi" in the sentence beginning: When Lord Persiflage spoke of the matter to Baron d'OSSI, the Italian Minister in London, . . .
Volume III, Chapter VI, paragraph 1. The word "fame" was changed to "name" in the sentence: As to his mother's NAME, he said, no one had doubted, and no one would doubt it for a moment.
Marion Fay: A Novel Page 65
