The Claverings

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER XXVII.

  FRESHWATER GATE.

  Count Pateroff, Sophie's brother, was a man who, when he had taken athing in hand, generally liked to carry it through. It may perhapsbe said that most men are of this turn of mind; but the count was,I think, especially eager in this respect. And as he was not one whohad many irons in the fire, who made either many little efforts, orany great efforts after things altogether beyond his reach, he wasjustified in expecting success. As to Archie's courtship, any onewho really knew the man and the woman, and who knew anything of thenature of women in general, would have predicted failure for him.Even with Doodle's aid he could not have a chance in the race. Butwhen Count Pateroff entered himself for the same prize, those whoknew him would not speak of his failure as a thing certain.

  The prize was too great not to be attempted by so very prudent agentleman. He was less impulsive in his nature than his sister, anddid not open his eyes and talk with watering mouth of the seventhousands of pounds a year; but in his quiet way he had weighed andcalculated all the advantages to be gained, had even ascertained atwhat rate he could insure the lady's life, and had made himselfcertain that nothing in the deed of Lord Ongar's marriage-settlemententailed any pecuniary penalty on his widow's second marriage. Thenhe had gone down, as we know, to Ongar Park, and as he had walkedfrom the lodge to the house and back again, he had looked around himcomplacently, and told himself that the place would do very well.For the English character, in spite of the pigheadedness of manyEnglishmen, he had,--as he would have said himself,--much admiration,and he thought that the life of a country gentleman, with a niceplace of his own,--with such a very nice place of his own as wasOngar Park,--and so very nice an income, would suit him well in hisdeclining years.

  And he had certain advantages, certain aids towards his object, whichhad come to him from circumstances;--as, indeed, he had also certaindisadvantages. He knew the lady, which was in itself much. He knewmuch of the lady's history, and had that cognisance of the saddestcircumstances of her life, which in itself creates an intimacy. It isnot necessary now to go back to those scenes which had disfigured thelast months of Lord Ongar's life, but the reader will understand thatwhat had then occurred gave the count a possible footing as a suitor.And the reader will also understand the disadvantages which had atthis time already shown themselves in the lady's refusal to see thecount.

  It may be thought that Sophie's standing with Lady Ongar would bea great advantage to her brother; but I doubt whether the brothertrusted either the honesty or the discretion of his sister. Hewould have been willing to purchase such assistance as she mightgive,--not in Archie's pleasant way, with bank-notes hidden under hisglove,--but by acknowledgments for services to be turned into solidremuneration when the marriage should have taken place, had he notfeared that Sophie might communicate the fact of such acknowledgmentsto the other lady,--making her own bargain in doing so. He hadcalculated all this, and had come to the conclusion that he hadbetter make no direct proposal to Sophie; and when Sophie made adirect proposal to him, pointing out to him in glowing language allthe fine things which such a marriage would give him, he had hardlyvouchsafed to her a word of answer. "Very well," said Sophie toherself;--"very well. Then we both know what we are about."

  Sophie herself would have kept Lady Ongar from marrying any one hadshe been able. Not even a brother's gratitude would be so serviceableto her as the generous kindness of a devoted friend. That she mightbe able both to sell her services to a lover, and also to keep Juliefrom marrying, was a lucky combination of circumstances which didnot occur to her till Archie came to her with the money in his glove.That complicated game she was now playing, and was aware that HarryClavering was the great stumbling-block in her way. A woman even lessclever than Sophie would have perceived that Lady Ongar was violentlyattached to Harry; and Sophie, when she did see it, thought thatthere was nothing left for her but to make her hay while the sun wasyet shining. Then she heard the story of Florence Burton; and againshe thought that Fortune was on her side. She told the story ofFlorence Burton,--with what result we know; and was quite sharpenough to perceive afterwards that the tale had had its intendedeffect,--even though her Julie had resolutely declined to speakeither of Harry Clavering or of Florence Burton.

  Count Pateroff had again called in Bolton Street, and had again beenrefused admittance. It was plain to him to see by the servant'smanner that it was intended that he should understand that he wasnot to be admitted. Under such circumstances, it was necessary thathe must either abandon his pursuit, or that he must operate uponLady Ongar through some other feeling than her personal regard forhimself. He might, perhaps, have trusted much to his own eloquence ifhe could have seen her; but how is a man to be eloquent in his wooingif he cannot see the lady whom he covets? There is, indeed, the pennypost, but in these days of legal restraints, there is no other methodof approaching an unwilling beauty. Forcible abduction is put an endto as regards Great Britain and Ireland. So the count had resort tothe post.

  His letter was very long, and shall not, therefore, be given to thereader. He began by telling Lady Ongar that she owed it to him forthe good services he had done her, to read what he might say, and toanswer him. He then gave her various reasons why she should see him,pleading, among other things, in language which she could understand,though the words were purposely as ambiguous as they could be made,that he had possessed and did possess the power of doing her agrievous injury, and that he had abstained, and--hoped that he mightbe able to abstain for the future. She knew that the words containedno threat,--that taken literally they were the reverse of a threat,and amounted to a promise,--but she understood also all that he hadintended to imply. Long as his own letter was, he said nothing in itas to his suit, confining himself to a request that she should seehim. But with his letter he sent her an enclosure longer than theletter itself, in which his wishes were clearly explained.

  This enclosure purported to be an expression of Lord Ongar's wisheson many subjects, as they had been communicated to Count Pateroffin the latter days of the lord's life; but as the manuscript wasaltogether in the count's writing, and did not even pretend tohave been subjected to Lord Ongar's eye, it simply amounted to thecount's own story of their alleged conversations. There might havebeen no such conversations, or their tenour might have been verydifferent from that which the count represented, or the statementsand opinions, if expressed at all by Lord Ongar, might have beenexpressed at times when no statements or opinions coming from himcould be of any value. But as to these conversations, if they couldhave been verified as having come from Lord Ongar's mouth when he wasin full possession of such faculties as he possessed,--all that wouldhave amounted to nothing with Lady Ongar. To Lord Ongar alive she hadowed obedience, and had been obedient. To Lord Ongar dead she owed noobedience, and would not be obedient.

  Such would have been her feelings as to any document which could havereached her, purporting to contain Lord Ongar's wishes; but thisdocument was of a nature which made her specially antagonistic to theexercise of any such marital authority from the grave. It was verylong, and went into small details,--details which were very small;but the upshot of it all was a tendering of great thanks to CountPateroff, and the expression of a strong wish that the count shouldmarry his widow. "O. said that this would be the only thing for J.'sname." "O. said that this would be the safest course for his ownhonour." "O. said, as he took my hand, that in promising to take thisstep I gave him great comfort." "O. commissioned me to speak to J. inhis name to this effect." The O. was of course Lord Ongar, and the J.was of course Julia. It was all in French, and went on in the samestrain for many pages. Lady Ongar answered the letter as follows:--

  Lady Ongar presents her compliments to Count Pateroff, and begs to return the enclosed manuscript, which is, to her, perfectly valueless. Lady Ongar must still decline, and now more strongly than before, to receive Count Pateroff.

  Bolton Street, May 186--.

  She was quite firm as she d
id this. She had no doubt at all on thematter. She did not feel that she wanted to ask for any advice. Butshe did feel that this count might still work her additional woe,that her cup of sorrow might not even yet be full, and that she wassadly,--sadly in want of love and protection. For aught she knew, thecount might publish the whole statement, and people might believethat those words came from her husband, and that her husband hadunderstood what would be best for her fame and for his honour. Thewhole thing was a threat, and not to save herself from any misery,would she have succumbed to a menace; but still it was possible thatthe threat might be carried out.

  She was sorely in want of love and protection. At this time, when thecount's letter reached her, Harry had been with her; and we know whathad passed between them. She had bid him go to Florence,--and loveFlorence,--and marry Florence,--and leave her in her desolation. Thathad been her last command to him. But we all know what such commandsmean. She had not been false in giving him these orders. She hadintended it at the moment. The glow of self-sacrifice had been warmin her bosom,--and she had resolved to do without that which shewanted in order that another might have it. But when she thoughtof it afterwards in her loneliness, she told herself that FlorenceBurton could not want Harry's love as she wanted it. There couldnot be such need to this girl, who possessed father and mother, andbrothers, and youth, as there was to her, who had no other arm onwhich she could lean, besides that of the one man for whom she hadacknowledged her love, and who had also declared his passion for her.She made no scheme to deprive Florence of her lover. In the longhours of her own solitude she never revoked, even within her ownbosom, the last words she had said to Harry Clavering. But not theless did she hope that he might come to her again, and that shemight learn from him that he had freed himself from that unfortunateengagement into which her falseness to him had driven him.

  It was after she had answered Count Pateroff's letter that sheresolved to go out of town for three or four days. For some shorttime she had been minded to go away altogether, and not to returntill after the autumn; but this scheme gradually diminished itselfand fell away, till she determined that she would come backafter three or four days. Then came to her Sophie,--her devotedSophie,--Sophie whom she despised and hated; Sophie of whom she wasso anxious to rid herself that in all her plans there was some littleunder-plot to that effect; Sophie whom she knew to be dishonest toher in any way that might make dishonesty profitable; and beforeSophie had left her, Sophie had engaged herself to go with her dearfriend to the Isle of Wight! As a matter of course, Sophie was tobe franked on this expedition. On such expeditions Sophies arealways franked as a matter of course. And Sophie would travel withall imaginable luxury,--a matter to which Sophie was by no meansindifferent, though her own private life was conducted with aneconomy that was not luxurious. But, although all these good thingscame in Sophie's way, she contrived to make it appear that she wasdevoting herself in a manner that was almost sacrificial to thefriend of her bosom. At the same time Lady Ongar sent a few words,as a message, to the count by his sister. Lady Ongar, having told toMadame Gordeloup the story of the document which had reached her, andhaving described her own answer, was much commended by her friend.

  "You are quite right, dear, quite. Of course I am fond of my brother.Edouard and I have always been the best of friends. But that does notmake me think you ought to give yourself to him. Bah! Why should awoman give away everything? Edouard is a fine fellow. But what isthat? Fine fellows like to have all the money themselves."

  "Will you tell him,--from me," said Lady Ongar, "that I will take itas a kindness on his part if he will abstain from coming to my house.I certainly shall not see him with my own consent."

  Sophie promised,--and probably gave the message; but when she alsoinformed Edouard of Lady Ongar's intended visit to the Isle of Wight,telling him the day on which they were going and the precise spot,with the name of the hotel at which they were to stay, she went alittle beyond the commission which her dearest friend had given her.

  At the western end of the Isle of Wight, and on the further shore,about three miles from the point of the island which we callthe Needles, there is a little break in the cliff, known to allstay-at-home English travellers as Freshwater Gate. Here there is acluster of cottages and two inns, and a few bathing-boxes, and readyaccess by easy ascents to the breezy downs on either side, over whichthe sea air blows with all its salt and wholesome sweetness. At oneof these two inns Lady Ongar located herself and Sophie; and allFreshwater, and all Yarmouth, and all that end of the island werealive to the fact that the rich widowed countess respecting whomsuch strange tales were told, had come on a visit to these parts.Innkeepers like such visitors. The more venomous are the stories toldagainst them, the more money are they apt to spend, and the lesslikely are they to examine their bills. A rich woman altogetherwithout a character is a mine of wealth to an innkeeper. In thepresent case no such godsend had come in the way,--but there wassupposed to be a something a little odd, and the visitor was on thataccount the more welcome.

  Sophie was not the most delightful companion in the world for sucha place. London was her sphere, as she herself had understood whendeclaiming against those husbands who keep their wives in thecountry. And she had no love for the sea specially, regarding allwinds as nuisances excepting such as had been raised by her ownefforts, and thinking that salt from a saltcellar was more convenientthan that brought to her on the breezes. It was now near the end ofMay, but she had not been half an hour at the inn before she was loudin demanding a fire,--and when the fire came she was unwilling toleave it. Her gesture was magnificent when Lady Ongar proposed toher that she should bathe. What,--put her own dear little dry body,by her own will, into the cold sea! She shrugged herself, and shookherself, and without speaking a word declined with so much eloquencethat it was impossible not to admire her. Nor would she walk. On thefirst day, during the warmest part of the day, she allowed herself tobe taken out in a carriage belonging to the inn; but after her driveshe clung to the fire, and consumed her time with a French novel.

  Nor was Lady Ongar much more comfortable in the Isle of Wight thanshe had been in London. The old poet told us how Black Care sitsbehind the horseman, and some modern poet will some day describe tous that terrible goddess as she takes her place with the stoker closeto the fire of the locomotive engine. Sitting with Sophie oppositeto her, Lady Ongar was not happy, even though her eye rested on thelines of that magnificent coast. Once indeed, on the evening of theirfirst day, Sophie left her, and she was alone for nearly an hour.Ah, how happy could she have been if Harry Clavering might have beenthere with her. Perhaps a day might come in which Harry might bringher there. In such a case Atra Cura would be left behind, and thenshe might be altogether happy. She sat dreaming of this for above anhour, and Sophie was still away. When Sophie returned, which she didall too soon, she explained that she had been in her bedroom. She hadbeen very busy, and now had come down to make herself comfortable.

  On the next evening Lady Ongar declared her intention of going upon the downs by herself. They had dined at five, so that she mighthave a long evening, and soon after six she started. "If I do notbreak down I will get as far as the Needles," she said. Sophie, whohad heard that the distance was three miles, lifted up her hands indespair. "If you are not back before nine I shall send the peopleafter you." Consenting to this with a laugh, Lady Ongar made her wayup to the downs, and walked steadily on towards the extreme point ofthe island. To the Needles themselves she did not make her way. Theserocks are now approached, as all the stay-at-home travellers know,through a fort, and down to the fort she did not go. But turning alittle from the highest point of the hill towards the cliffs on herleft hand, she descended till she reached a spot from which she couldlook down on the pebbly beach lying some three hundred feet belowher, and on the soft shining ripple of the quiet waters as theymoved themselves with a pleasant sound on the long strand which laystretched in a line from the spot beneath her out to the point ofthe island. The evening was war
m, and almost transparent in itsclearness, and very quiet. There was no sound even of a breeze. Whenshe seated herself close upon the margin of the cliff, she heard thesmall waves moving the stones which they washed, and the sound wasas the sound of little children's voices, very distant. Lookingdown, she could see through the wonderful transparency of the water,and the pebbles below it were bright as diamonds, and the sandswere burnished like gold. And each tiny silent wavelet as it movedup towards the shore and lost itself at last in its own effort,stretched itself the whole length of the strand. Such brightness onthe sea-shore she had never seen before, nor had she ever listened asnow she listened to that infantine babble of the baby waves. She satthere close upon the margin, on a seat of chalk which the winds hadmade, looking, listening, and forgetting for a while that she wasLady Ongar whom people did not know, who lived alone in the worldwith Sophie Gordeloup for her friend,--and whose lover was betrothedto another woman. She had been there perhaps half-an-hour, and hadlearned to be at home on her perch, sitting there in comfort, with nodesire to move, when a voice which she well knew at the first soundstartled her, and she rose quickly to her feet. "Lady Ongar," saidthe voice, "are you not rather near the edge?" As she turned roundthere was Count Pateroff with his hand already upon her dress, sothat no danger might be produced by the suddenness of his speech.

  "Lady Ongar, are you not rather near the edge?"]

  "There is nothing to fear," she said, stepping back from her seat. Asshe did so, he dropped his hand from her dress, and, raising it tohis head, lifted his hat from his forehead. "You will excuse me, Ihope, Lady Ongar," he said, "for having taken this mode of speakingto you."

  "I certainly shall not excuse you; nor, further than I can help it,shall I listen to you."

  "There are a few words which I must say."

  "Count Pateroff, I beg that you will leave me. This is treacherousand unmanly,--and can do you no good. By what right do you follow mehere?"

  "I follow you for your own good, Lady Ongar; I do it that you mayhear me say a few words that are necessary for you to hear."

  "I will hear no words from you,--that is, none willingly. By thistime you ought to know me and to understand me." She had begun towalk up the hill very rapidly, and for a moment or two he had thoughtthat she would escape him; but her breath had soon failed her, andshe found herself compelled to stand while he regained his placebeside her. This he had not done without an effort, and for someminutes they were both silent. "It is very beautiful," at last hesaid, pointing away over the sea.

  "Yes;--it is very beautiful," she answered. "Why did you disturb mewhen I was so happy?" But the count was still recovering his breath,and made no answer to this question. When, however, she attempted tomove on again, still breasting the hill, he put his hand upon her armvery gently.

  "Lady Ongar," he said, "you must listen to me for a moment. Why notdo it without a quarrel?"

  "If you mean that I cannot escape from you, it is true enough."

  "Why should you want to escape? Did I ever hurt you? Before this haveI not protected you from injury?"

  "No;--never. You protect me!"

  "Yes;--I; from your husband, from yourself, and from the world. Youdo not know,--not yet, all that I have done for you. Did you readwhat Lord Ongar had said?"

  "I read what it pleased you to write."

  "What it pleased me! Do you pretend to think that Lord Ongar did notspeak as he speaks there? Do you not know that those were his ownwords? Do you not recognize them? Ah, yes, Lady Ongar; you know themto be true."

  "Their truth or falsehood is nothing to me. They are altogetherindifferent to me either way."

  "That would be very well if it were possible; but it is not. There;now we are at the top, and it will be easier. Will you let me havethe honour to offer you my arm? No! Be it so; but I think you wouldwalk the easier. It would not be for the first time."

  "That is a falsehood." As she spoke she stepped before him, andlooked into his face with eyes full of passion. "That is a positivefalsehood. I never walked with a hand resting on your arm."

  There came over his face the pleasantest smile as he answered her."You forget everything," he said;--"everything. But it does notmatter. Other people will not forget. Julie, you had better take mefor your husband. You will be better as my wife, and happier, thanyou can be otherwise."

  "Look down there, Count Pateroff;--down to the edge. If my misery istoo great to be borne, I can escape from it there on better termsthan you propose to me."

  "Ah! That is what we call poetry. Poetry is very pretty, and insaying this as you do, you make yourself divine. But to be dashedover the cliffs and broken on the rocks;--in prose it is not sowell."

  "Sir, will you allow me to pass on while you remain; or will you letme rest here, while you return alone?"

  "No, Julie; not so. I have found you with too much difficulty. InLondon, you see, I could not find you. Here, for a minute, you mustlisten to me. Do you not know, Julie, that your character is in myhands?"

  "In your hands? No;--never; thank God, never. But what if it were?"

  "Only this,--that I am forced to play the only game that you leaveopen to me. Chance brought you and me together in such a way thatnothing but marriage can be beneficial to either of us;--and I sworeto Lord Ongar that it should be so. I mean that it shall be so,--orthat you shall be punished for your misconduct to him and to me."

  "You are both insolent and false. But listen to me, since you arehere and I cannot avoid you. I know what your threats mean."

  "I have never threatened you. I have promised you my aid, but haveused no threats."

  "Not when you tell me that I shall be punished? But to avoid nopunishment, if any be in your power, will I ever willingly placemyself in your company. You may write of me what papers you please,and repeat of me whatever stories you may choose to fabricate, butyou will not frighten me into compliance by doing so. I have, at anyrate, spirit enough to resist such attempts as that."

  "As you are living at present, you are alone in the world!"

  "And I am content to remain alone."

  "You are thinking, then, of no second marriage?"

  "If I were, does that concern you? But I will speak no further wordto you. If you follow me into the inn, or persecute me further byforcing yourself upon me, I will put myself under the protection ofthe police."

  Having said this, she walked on as quickly as her strength wouldpermit, while he walked by her side, urging upon her his oldarguments as to Lord Ongar's expressed wishes, as to his own effortson her behalf,--and at last as to the strong affection with which heregarded her. But she kept her promise, and said not a word in answerto it all. For more than an hour they walked side by side, and duringthe greater part of that time not a syllable escaped from her.From moment to moment she kept her eye warily on him, fearing thathe might take her by the arm, or attempt some violence with her.But he was too wise for this, and too fully conscious that nosuch proceeding on his part could be of any service to him. Hecontinued, however, to speak to her words which she could not avoidhearing,--hoping rather than thinking that he might at last frightenher by a description of all the evil which it was within his powerto do her. But in acting thus he showed that he knew nothing of hercharacter. She was not a woman whom any prospect of evil couldpossibly frighten into a distasteful marriage.

  Within a few hundred yards of the hotel there is another fort, and atthis point the path taken by Lady Ongar led into the private groundsof the inn at which she was staying. Here the count left her, raisinghis hat as he did so, and saying that he hoped to see her againbefore she left the island.

  "If you do so," said she, "it shall be in presence of those who canprotect me." And so they parted.