The Claverings

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER XXI.

  YES; WRONG;--CERTAINLY WRONG.

  Harry Clavering had heard the news of his little cousin's deathbefore he went to Bolton Street to report the result of hisnegotiation with the count. His mother's letter with the news hadcome to him in the morning, and on the same evening he called on LadyOngar. She also had then received Mrs. Clavering's letter, and knewwhat had occurred at the park. Harry found her alone, having askedthe servant whether Madame Gordeloup was with his mistress. Had suchbeen the case he would have gone away, and left his message untold.

  As he entered the room his mind was naturally full of the tidingsfrom Clavering. Count Pateroff and his message had lost some oftheir importance through this other event, and the emptiness of thechildless house was the first subject of conversation between himand Lady Ongar. "I pity my sister greatly," said she. "I feel forher as deeply as I should have done had nothing occurred to separateus;--but I cannot feel for him."

  "I do," said Harry.

  "He is your cousin, and perhaps has been your friend?"

  "No, not especially. He and I have never pulled well together; butstill I pity him deeply."

  "He is not my cousin, but I know him better than you do, Harry. Hewill not feel much himself, and his sorrow will be for his heir, notfor his son. He is a man whose happiness does not depend on the lifeor death of any one. He likes some people, as he once liked me; but Ido not think that he ever loved any human being. He will get over it,and he will simply wish that Hermy may die, that he may marry anotherwife. Harry, I know him so well!"

  "Archie will marry now," said Harry.

  "Yes; if he can get any one to have him. There are very few men whocan't get wives, but I can fancy Archie Clavering to be one of them.He has not humility enough to ask the sort of girl who would be gladto take him. Now, with his improved prospects, he will want a royalprincess or something not much short of it. Money, rank, and bloodmight have done before, but he'll expect youth, beauty, and wit now,as well as the other things. He may marry after all, for he is justthe man to walk out of a church some day with the cookmaid under hisarm as his wife."

  "Perhaps he may find something between a princess and a cookmaid."

  "I hope, for your sake, he may not;--neither a princess nor acookmaid, nor anything between."

  "He has my leave to marry to-morrow, Lady Ongar. If I had my wish,Hugh should have his house full of children."

  "Of course that is the proper thing to say, Harry."

  "I won't stand that from you, Lady Ongar. What I say, I mean; and noone knows that better than you."

  "Won't you, Harry? From whom, then, if not from me? But come, I willdo you justice, and believe you to be simple enough to wish anythingof the kind. The sort of castle in the air which you build, is notone to be had by inheritance, but to be taken by storm. You mustfight for it."

  "Or work for it."

  "Or win it in some way off your own bat; and no lord ever sat prouderin his castle than you sit in those that you build from day today in your imagination. And you sally forth and do all mannerof magnificent deeds. You help distressed damsels,--poor me, forinstance; and you attack enormous dragons;--shall I say that SophieGordeloup is the latest dragon?--and you wish well to your enemies,such as Hugh and Archie; and you cut down enormous forests, whichmeans your coming miracles as an engineer;--and then you fallgloriously in love. When is that last to be, Harry?"

  "I suppose, according to all precedent, that must be done with thedistressed damsel," he said,--fool that he was.

  "No, Harry, no; you shall take your young fresh generous heart to abetter market than that; not but that the distressed damsel will everremember what might once have been."

  He knew that he was playing on the edge of a precipice,--that he wasfluttering as a moth round a candle. He knew that it behoved himnow at once to tell her all his tale as to Stratton and FlorenceBurton;--that if he could tell it now, the pang would be over and thedanger gone. But he did not tell it. Instead of telling it he thoughtof Lady Ongar's beauty, of his own early love, of what might havebeen his had he not gone to Stratton. I think he thought, if not ofher wealth, yet of the power and place which would have been his wereit now open to him to ask her for her hand. When he had declared thathe did not want his cousin's inheritance, he had spoken the simpletruth. He was not covetous of another's money. Were Archie to marryas many wives as Henry, and have as many children as Priam, it wouldbe no offence to him. His desires did not lie in that line. But inthis other case, the woman before him who would so willingly haveendowed him with all that she possessed, had been loved by him beforehe had ever seen Florence Burton. In all his love for Florence,--sohe now told himself, but so told himself falsely,--he had everremembered that Julia Brabazon had been his first love, the love whomhe had loved with all his heart. But things had gone with him mostunfortunately,--with a misfortune that had never been paralleled. Itwas thus he was thinking instead of remembering that now was the timein which his tale should be told.

  Lady Ongar, however, soon carried him away from the actual brink ofthe precipice. "But how about the dragon," said she, "or rather aboutthe dragon's brother, at whom you were bound to go and tilt on mybehalf? Have you tilted, or are you a recreant knight?"

  "I have tilted," said he, "but the he-dragon professes that he willnot regard himself as killed. In other words he declares that he willsee you."

  "That he will see me?" said Lady Ongar, and as she spoke there camean angry spot on each cheek. "Does he send me that message as athreat?"

  "He does not send it as a threat, but I think he partly means it so."

  "He will find, Harry, that I will not see him; and that should heforce himself into my presence, I shall know how to punish such anoutrage. If he sent me any message, let me know it."

  "To tell the truth he was most unwilling to speak to me at all,though he was anxious to be civil to me. When I had inquired for himsome time in vain, he came to me with another man, and asked me todinner. So I went, and as there were four of us, of course I couldnot speak to him then. He still had the other man, a foreigner--"

  "Colonel Schmoff, perhaps?"

  "Yes; Colonel Schmoff. He kept Colonel Schmoff by him, so as to guardhim from being questioned."

  "That is so like him. Everything he does he does with somedesign,--with some little plan. Well, Harry, you might have ignoredColonel Schmoff for what I should have cared."

  "I got the count to come out into another room at last, and then hewas very angry,--with me, you know,--and talked of what he would doto men who interfered with him."

  "You will not quarrel with him, Harry? Promise me that there shall beno nonsense of that sort,--no fighting."

  "Oh, no; we were friends again very soon. But he bade me tell youthat there was something important for him to say and for you tohear, which was no concern of mine, and which required an interview."

  "I do not believe him, Harry."

  "And he said that he had once been very courteous to you--"

  "Yes; once insolent,--and once courteous. I have forgiven the one forthe other."

  "He then went on to say that you made him a poor return for hiscivility by shutting your door in his face, but that he did notdoubt you would think better of it when you had heard his message.Therefore, he said, he should call again. That, Lady Ongar, was thewhole of it."

  "Shall I tell you what his intention was, Harry?" Again her facebecame red as she asked this question; but the colour which now cameto her cheeks was rather that of shame than of anger.

  "What was his intention?"

  "To make you believe that I am in his power; to make you think thathe has been my lover; to lower me in your eyes, so that you mightbelieve all that others have believed,--all that Hugh Clavering haspretended to believe. That has been his object, Harry, and perhapsyou will tell me what success he has had."

  "Lady Ongar!"

  "You know the old story, that the drop which is ever dropping willwear the stone. And after all why shou
ld your faith in me be as hardeven as a stone?"

  "Do you believe that what he said had any such effect?"

  "It is very hard to look into another person's heart; and the dearerand nearer that heart is to your own, the greater, I think, is thedifficulty. I know that man's heart,--what he calls his heart; but Idon't know yours."

  For a moment or two Clavering made no answer, and then, when he didspeak, he went back from himself to the count.

  "If what you surmise of him be true, he must be a very devil. Hecannot be a man--"

  "Man or devil, what matters which he be? Which is the worst,Harry, and what is the difference? The Fausts of this day want noMephistopheles to teach them guile or to harden their hearts."

  "I do not believe that there are such men. There may be one."

  "One, Harry! What was Lord Ongar? What is your cousin Hugh? What isthis Count Pateroff? Are they not all of the same nature; hard asstone, desirous simply of indulging their own appetites, utterlywithout one generous feeling, incapable even of the idea of caringfor any one? Is it not so? In truth this count is the best of thethree I have named. With him a woman would stand a better chance thanwith either of the others."

  "Nevertheless, if that was his motive, he is a devil."

  "He shall be a devil if you say so. He shall be anything you please,so long as he has not made you think evil of me."

  "No; he has not done that."

  "Then I don't care what he has done, or what he may do. You wouldnot have me see him, would you?" This she asked with a sudden energy,throwing herself forward from her seat with her elbows on the table,and resting her face on her hands, as she had already done more thanonce when he had been there; so that the attitude, which became herwell, was now customary in his eyes.

  "You will hardly be guided by my opinion in such a matter."

  "By whose, then, will I be guided? Nay, Harry, since you put me to apromise, I will make the promise. I will be guided by your opinion.If you bid me see him, I will do it,--though, I own, it would bedistressing to me."

  "Why should you see him, if you do not wish it?"

  "I know no reason. In truth there is no reason. What he says aboutLord Ongar is simply some part of his scheme. You see what his schemeis, Harry?"

  "What is his scheme?"

  "Simply this--that I should be frightened into becoming his wife. Mydarling bosom friend Sophie, who, as I take it, has not quite managedto come to satisfactory terms with her brother,--and I have no doubther price for assistance has been high,--has informed me more thanonce that her brother desires to do me so much honour. The count,perhaps, thinks that he can manage such a bagatelle without any aidfrom his sister; and my dearest Sophie seems to feel that she can dobetter with me herself in my widowed state, than if I were to takeanother husband. They are so kind and so affectionate; are they not?"

  At this moment tea was brought in, and Clavering sat for a timesilent with his cup in his hand. She, the meanwhile, had resumed theold position with her face upon her hands, which she had abandonedwhen the servant entered the room, and was now sitting looking athim as he sipped his tea with his eyes averted from her. "I cannotunderstand," at last he said, "why you should persist in yourintimacy with such a woman."

  "You have not thought about it, Harry, or you would understand it. Itis, I think, very easily understood."

  "You know her to be treacherous, false, vulgar, covetous,unprincipled. You cannot like her. You say she is a dragon."

  "A dragon to you, I said."

  "You cannot pretend that she is a lady, and yet you put up with hersociety."

  "Exactly. And now tell me what you would have me do."

  "I would have you part from her."

  "But how? It is so easy to say, part. Am I to bar my door againsther when she has given me no offence? Am I to forget that she did megreat service, when I sorely needed such services? Can I tell her toher face that she is all these things that you say of her, and thattherefore I will for the future dispense with her company? Or do youbelieve that people in this world associate only with those they loveand esteem?"

  "I would not have one for my intimate friend whom I did not love andesteem."

  "But, Harry, suppose that no one loved and esteemed you; that you hadno home down at Clavering with a father that admires you and a motherthat worships you; no sisters that think you to be almost perfect,no comrades with whom you can work with mutual regard and emulation,no self-confidence, no high hopes of your own, no power of choosingcompanions whom you can esteem and love;--suppose with you it wasSophie Gordeloup or none,--how would it be with you then?"

  His heart must have been made of stone if this had not melted it. Hegot up and coming round to her stood over her. "Julia," he said, "itis not so with you."

  "But it is so with Julia," she said. "That is the truth. How am Ibetter than her, and why should I not associate with her?"

  "Better than her! As women you are poles asunder."

  "But as dragons," she said, smiling, "we come together."

  "Do you mean that you have no one to love you?"

  "Yes, Harry; that is just what I do mean. I have none to love me. Inplaying my cards I have won my stakes in money and rank, but havelost the amount ten times told in affection, friendship, and thatgeneral unpronounced esteem which creates the fellowship of men andwomen in the world. I have a carriage and horses, and am driven aboutwith grand servants; and people, as they see me, whisper and say thatis Lady Ongar, whom nobody knows. I can see it in their eyes till Ifancy that I can hear their words."

  "But it is all false."

  "What is false? It is not false that I have deserved this. I havedone that which has made me a fitting companion for such a one asSophie Gordeloup, though I have not done that which perhaps thesepeople think."

  He paused again before he spoke, still standing near her on the rug."Lady Ongar--" he said.

  "Nay, Harry; not Lady Ongar when we are together thus. Let me feelthat I have one friend who can dare to call me by my name,--fromwhose mouth I shall be pleased to hear my name. You need not fearthat I shall think that it means too much. I will not take it asmeaning what it used to mean."

  He did not know how to go on with his speech, or in truth what tosay to her. Florence Burton was still present to his mind, and fromminute to minute he told himself that he would not become a villain.But now it had come to that with him, that he would have given allthat he had in the world that he had never gone to Stratton. Hesat down by her in silence, looking away from her at the fire,swearing to himself that he would not become a villain, and yetwishing, almost wishing, that he had the courage to throw his honouroverboard. At last, half turning round towards her he took her hand,or rather took her first by the wrist till he could possess himselfof her hand. As he did so he touched her hair and her cheek, and shelet her hand drop till it rested in his. "Julia," he said, "what canI do to comfort you?" She did not answer him, but looked away fromhim as she sat, across the table into vacancy. "Julia," he saidagain, "is there anything that will comfort you?" But still she didnot answer him.

  He understood it all as well as the reader will understand it. Heknew how it was with her, and was aware that he was at this instantfalse almost equally to her and to Florence. He knew that thequestion he had asked was one to which there could be made a true andsatisfactory answer, but that his safety lay in the fact that thatanswer was all but impossible for her to give. Could she say, "Yes,you can comfort me. Tell me that you yet love me, and I will becomforted?" But he had not designed to bring her into such difficultyas this. He had not intended to be cruel. He had drifted intotreachery unawares, and was torturing her, not because he was wicked,but because he was weak. He had held her hand now for some minuteor two, but still she did not speak to him. Then he raised it andpressed it warmly to his lips.

  "No, Harry," she said, jumping from her seat and drawing herhand rapidly from him; "no; it shall not be like that. Let it beLady Ongar again if the sound of the other name brings back tooclos
ely the memory of other days. Let it be Lady Ongar again. I canunderstand that it will be better." As she spoke she walked away fromhim across the room, and he followed her.

  "Are you angry?" he asked her.

  "No, Harry; not angry. How should I be angry with you who alone areleft to me of my old friends? But, Harry, you must think for me, andspare me in my difficulty."

  "Spare you, Julia?"

  "Yes, Harry, spare me; you must be good to me and considerate, andmake yourself like a brother to me. But people will know you are nota brother, and you must remember all that, for my sake. But you mustnot leave me or desert me. Anything that people might say would bebetter than that."

  "Was I wrong to kiss your hand?"

  "Yes, wrong, certainly wrong;--that is, not wrong, but unmindful."

  "I did it," he said, "because I love you." And as he spoke the tearsstood in both his eyes.

  "Yes; you love me, and I you; but not with love that may show itselfin that form. That was the old love, which I threw away, and whichhas been lost. That was at an end when I--jilted you. I am not angry;but you will remember that that love exists no longer? You willremember that, Harry?"

  He sat himself down in a chair in a far part of the room, and twotears coursed their way down his cheeks. She stood over him andwatched him as he wept. "I did not mean to make you sad," she said."Come, we will be sad no longer. I understand it all. I know howit is with you. The old love is lost, but we will not the less befriends." Then he rose suddenly from his chair, and taking her in hisarms, and holding her closely to his bosom, pressed his lips to hers.

  He was so quick in this that she had not the power, even if she hadthe wish, to restrain him. But she struggled in his arms, and heldher face aloof from him as she gently rebuked his passion. "No,Harry, no; not so," she said, "it must not be so."

  "Yes, Julia, yes; it shall be so; ever so,--always so." And hewas still holding her in his arms, when the door opened, and withstealthy, cat-like steps Sophie Gordeloup entered the room. Harryimmediately retreated from his position, and Lady Ongar turned uponher friend, and glared upon her with angry eyes.

  "Ah," said the little Franco-Pole, with an expression of infinitedelight on her detestable visage, "ah, my dears, is it not well thatI thus announce myself?"

  "No," said Lady Ongar, "it is not well. It is anything but well."

  "And why not well, Julie? Come, do not be foolish. Mr. Clavering isonly a cousin, and a very handsome cousin, too. What does it signifybefore me?"

  "It signifies nothing before you," said Lady Ongar.

  "But before the servant, Julie--?"

  "It would signify nothing before anybody."

  "Come, come, Julie, dear; that is nonsense."

  "Nonsense or no nonsense, I would wish to be private when I please.Will you tell me, Madame Gordeloup, what is your pleasure at thepresent moment?"

  "My pleasure is to beg your pardon and to say you must forgive yourpoor friend. Your fine man-servant is out, and Bessy let me in. Itold Bessy I would go up by myself, and that is all. If I have cometoo late I beg pardon."

  "Not too late, certainly,--as I am still up."

  "And I wanted to ask you about the pictures to-morrow? You said,perhaps you would go to-morrow,--perhaps not."

  Clavering had found himself to be somewhat awkwardly situatedwhile Madame Gordeloup was thus explaining the causes of her havingcome unannounced into the room; as soon, therefore, as he foundit practicable, he took his leave. "Julia," he said, "as MadameGordeloup is with you, I will now go."

  "But you will let me see you soon?"

  "Yes, very soon; that is, as soon as I return from Clavering. I leavetown early to-morrow morning."

  "Good-by, then," and she put out her hand to him frankly, smilingsweetly on him. As he felt the warm pressure of her hand he hardlyknew whether to return it or to reject it. But he had gone too farnow for retreat, and he held it firmly for a moment in his own. Shesmiled again upon him, oh! so passionately, and nodded her head athim. He had never, he thought, seen a woman look so lovely, or morelight of heart. How different was her countenance now from that shehad worn when she told him, earlier on that fatal evening, of all thesorrows that made her wretched! That nod of hers said so much. "Weunderstand each other now,--do we not? Yes; although this spitefulwoman has for the moment come between us, we understand each other.And is it not sweet? Ah! the troubles of which I told you;--you,you have cured them all." All that had been said plainly in herfarewell salutation, and Harry had not dared to contradict it by anyexpression of his countenance.

  "By, by, Mr. Clavering," said Sophie.

  "Good evening, Madame Gordeloup," said Harry, turning upon her a lookof bitter anger. Then he went, leaving the two women together, andwalked home to Bloomsbury Square,--not with the heart of a joyousthriving lover.