_Chapter XXVI_
Miss Marjoribanks's mind had scarcely subsided out of the firstexhilarating sense of a great many things to do, and a truly importantmission in hand, when little Rose Lake sought her with that confessionof family troubles, and prayer for counsel and aid in the extremity,which opened a new way and mode of working to Lucilla. Rose was proud,poor little soul, not only of her exceptional position, and that of herfamily, as a family of artists, but also with a constitutional andindividual pride as one of the natural conservators of domestic honour,who would rather have died than have heard the Lakes lightly spoken of,or upbraided with debt or indecorum, or any other crime. She had beensilent as long as she could about Barbara's shortcomings, jealouslyconcealing them from all the world, and attacking them with a violencewhich made her big elder sister, who was twice as big and six times asstrong as she, tremble before her when they were alone. But little Rosehad at length found things come to a point beyond which her experiencedid not go. Barbara began to have secret meetings with a man whosepresence nobody was aware of, and who did not come openly to the houseto seek her, and persevered, in spite of all remonstrances, in thisclandestine career; and all the prejudices and all the instincts of theyoung artist rose up against her. A vague presentiment of greater evilbehind impelled her to some action, and shame and pride combined at thesame time to keep her silent. She could not speak to her father, becausethe poor man lost his head straightway, and made piteous appeals to hernot to make a fuss, and threw the burden back again upon her with adouble weight; and besides, he was only a man, though he was her father,and Rose had the pride of a woman in addition to her other pride. Inthese painful circumstances, it occurred to her to consult Lucilla, whohad been, as has been recounted in an early part of this history, agreat authority at Mount Pleasant, where her heroic belief in herselfled, as was natural, others to believe in her. And then MissMarjoribanks was one of the people who can keep counsel; and Rose felt,besides, that Lucilla had been injured, and had not revenged herself,and that to put confidence in her would be, to a certain extent, to makeup for the offence. All these motives, combined with an intolerablesense of having upon her shoulders a burden greater than she could bear,drove the young artist at last to Grange Lane, where Lucilla, as we havesaid, was still in the state of mental exhilaration and excitementnaturally consequent upon having a very important piece of work in hand.
"I don't know what to do," said Rose; "I made up my mind I never wouldsay a word to any one. It is so strange she should have no proper pride!but then it is dreadful to think, what if anything should come of it!though I am sure I don't know what could come of it; but they might runaway, or something; and then people are so fond of talking. I thoughtfor a long time, if I only knew some nice old lady; but then I don'tsuppose there are any nice old ladies in Carlingford," added thePreraphaelist, with a sigh.
"Oh, you little monster!" cried Lucilla, "there is Mrs Chiley, thedearest old----; but never mind, make haste and tell me all the same."
"Lucilla," said Rose solemnly, "we are not great people like you; weare not rich, nor able to have all we like, and everybody to visit us;but, all the same, we have our Pride. The honour of a family is just asprecious whether people live," said the young artist, with a certainseverity, "in Grove Street or in Grange Lane."
This exordium had its natural effect upon Miss Marjoribanks; herimagination leaped forward a long way beyond the reality which hercompanion talked of so solemnly, and she changed her colour a little, aseven a woman of her experience might be excused for doing in thepresence of something terrible and disastrous so near at hand.
"I wish you would not frighten me," said Lucilla; "I am very sorry foryou, you dear little Rose. You are only a baby yourself, and ought notto have any bother. Tell me all about it, there's a dear."
But these soothing tones were too much for Rose's composure. She cried,and her cheeks flushed, and her dewy eyes enlarged and lightened whenthey had thrown off a little part of their oppression in the form ofthose hot salt tears. Miss Marjoribanks had never seen her look sopretty, and said so to herself, with a momentary and perfectlydisinterested regret that there was "nobody" to see her--a regret whichprobably changed its character before Rose left the house. But in themeantime Lucilla soothed her and kissed her, and took off her hat andshed her pretty curls off her forehead. These curls were not by anymeans so strong and vehement in their twist as Miss Marjoribanks's own,but hung loosely and softly with the "sweet neglect" of the poet. "Youwould look very nice if you would take a little pains," Lucilla said, inher maternal way. "You must wear your hair just so on Thursday; and nowtell me all about it--there's a dear."
"Lucilla, _you know_" said Rose, drying her tears, "she has taken togoing out in the evening, and I am sure she meets him every night. Ican't be a spy on her, whatever she does, and I can't lock her up, youknow, or lock the door, or anything like that. I am not her mother,"said the poor little sister pathetically, with a regretful sob. "Andthen she has taken to making herself _nice_ before she goes out. I don'tthink she ever cared much for being nice--not at home, you know; but nowshe has pretty collars and gloves and things, and I can't tell where shegets them," cried Rose, her eyes lighting up passionately. "She has nomoney to spend on such things. Lucilla, I should die if I thought shewould accept them from _him_."
"You dear old Rose, you don't know what you are saying," said theexperienced Lucilla; "most likely, if she meets a gentleman, she isengaged to him; and They always give people presents, you know. If youwould only tell me who it is."
"Lucilla, do not trifle with me," said Rose; "it is much too serious forthat--engaged without papa knowing of it, nor me! You know very wellthat would be no engagement. I sometimes think she is--is--fond of him,"said the reverent little maiden, whose voice changed and softened underthe influence of that supposition; "and then again I think it is onlybecause he is rich," she went on, with new vehemence. "Oh, Lucilla, ifyou only knew how dreadful it was to have such thoughts--and there isnobody to take care of her but me! Papa cannot be worried, for thatwould react upon everything. An artist is not just like other people. Itis everybody's duty to leave him undisturbed; and then, you know, he isonly a man, and does not understand; and if she won't pay any attentionto me when I speak to her, oh, Lucilla, tell me, what can I do?"
"Let me think," said Lucilla gravely. "You know I can't tell all in amoment. It is Mr Cavendish, I suppose, though you won't say so. Now justwait a moment, and let me think."
"I once thought of going to him," said Rose; "perhaps he might begenerous, and go away. An artist can do many things that other peoplecan't do. We have an exceptional position," the Preraphaelist went on,faltering a little, and not feeling quite so sure of the fact on thatspecial occasion. "I thought of going and begging of him, if it was onmy knees----"
"My dear," said Lucilla, with great seriousness, "if you did, I think itis most likely he would fall in love with _you_, and that would not mendthe matter; and I am sure Barbara would give you poison. I will tell youwhat we must do. I would not do it for everybody; but you know I wasalways very fond of you, you dear little Rose. You shall ask me forto-morrow evening to come to tea."
"To come to tea!" echoed poor Rose, in dismay. She had been waiting forLucilla's advice with a great deal of anxiety; but at the present momentit would be vain to conceal that the proposed expedient seemed to heraltogether inadequate for the emergency. The light went out of her faceas she opened her eyes wide and fixed them on Lucilla; and for onemoment, one desperate moment, Rose was disloyal, and lost faith in theonly person who could help her; which, perhaps, under the circumstances,was not a thing to cause much surprise.
"My dear, you may be sure I would not propose it, if I did not feel itwas the best thing to do," said Lucilla, with great gravity. "It happensprecisely that I want to see Mr Cavendish, and if he is at home he nevershows himself, and I have been wondering how I could find him. I shallmake him walk home with me," said Miss Marjoribanks, "so you need not beuneasy, Ros
e, about the trouble I am taking. I am doing it to servemyself as well as you. We shall say eight o'clock, if that is not toolate."
"But, Lucilla----" said Rose, with consternation; and then she stoppedshort, and could not tell what more to say.
"You don't understand it?" said Miss Marjoribanks; "I don't think it wasto be expected that you should understand it. A little thing like youhas no way of knowing the world. When Barbara knows I am there, she willbe sure to bring him to the very door; she will want me to see that heis with her; and you may leave the rest to me," said Lucilla. "For mypart, I have something very particular to say to Mr Cavendish. It is myluck," Miss Marjoribanks added, "for I could not think how to get to seehim. At eight o'clock to-morrow evening----"
"Yes," said Rose; but perhaps it was still doubtful how far sheunderstood the mode of operations proposed. Lucilla's prompt and facilegenius was too much for the young artist, and there was, as she herselfwould have said, an entire want of "keeping" between her own sense ofthe position, tragical and desperate as that was, and any state ofmatters which could be ameliorated by the fact of Miss Marjoribankscoming to tea. It had been Rose's only hope, and now it seemed all atonce to fail her; and yet, at the same time, that instinctive faith inLucilla which came naturally to every one under her influence struggledagainst reason in Rose's heart. Her red soft lips fell apart with thehurried breath of wonder and doubt; her eyes still expanded, and clearerthan usual after their tears, were fixed upon Lucilla with an appealing,questioning look; and it was just at this moment, when Rose was a greatdeal too much absorbed in her disappointment and surprise, and lingeringhope, to take any notice of strange sounds or sights, or of anybodycoming, that Thomas all at once opened the door and showed Mrs Centuminto the room.
Now it would have mattered very little for Mrs Centum--who, to be sure,knew Lucilla perfectly well, and would never have dreamed for a momentof identifying such a trifling little person as Rose Lake in any waywith Miss Marjoribanks; but then Mrs Centum happened at that precisemoment to be bringing the new arrival, the important stranger, who hadso much in his power--General Travers himself--to be introduced toLucilla; and it was not the fault either of Rose or the General if itwas on the young mistress of the Female School of Design that thewarrior's first glance fell. Naturally the conversation had run uponMiss Marjoribanks on the past evening, for Mrs Centum was full of theenthusiasm and excitement incident to that _pate_ which Lucilla had somagnanimously enabled her to produce. "Is she pretty?" General Travershad demanded, as was to be expected. "We--ll," Mrs Centum had replied,and made a long pause--"would you call Lucilla pretty, Charles?" andCharles had been equally dubious in his response; for, to be sure, itwas a dereliction from Miss Marjoribanks's dignity to call her pretty,which is a trifling sort of qualification. But when the General enteredthe drawing-room, which might be called the centre of Carlingford, andsaw before him that little dewy face, full of clouds and sunshine,uncertain, unquiet, open-eyed, with the red lips apart, and the eyesclear and expanded with recent tears--a face which gave a certainsentiment of freshness and fragrance to the atmosphere like the quietafter a storm--he did not understand what his hosts could mean. "I callher very pretty," he said, under his breath, to his interested anddelighted chaperone; and we are surely justified in appealing to thereaders of this history, as Lucilla, who was always reasonable,afterwards did to herself, whether it could be justly said under all thecircumstances, that either Rose or the General were to blame?
The little artist got up hurriedly when she awoke to the fact that othervisitors had come into the room, but she was not at all interested inGeneral Travers, whom Rose, with the unconscious insolence of youth,classified in her own mind as an elderly gentleman. Not that he was atall an elderly gentleman; but then a man of forty, especially when he isa fine man and adequately developed for his years, has at the firstglance no great attraction for an impertinent of seventeen. Rose didnot go away without receiving another kiss from Lucilla, and a partingreminder. "To-morrow at eight o'clock; and mind you leave it all to me,and don't worry," said Miss Marjoribanks; and Rose, half ashamed, put onher hat and went away, without so much as remarking the admiration inthe stranger's eyes, nor the look of disappointment with which he sawher leave the room. Rose thought no more of him than if he had been apiece of furniture; but as for the General, when he found himselfobliged to turn to Lucilla and make himself agreeable, the drawback ofhaving thus had his admiration forestalled and drawn away from itslegitimate object was such, that he did not find her at all pretty;which, after all, on a first interview at least, is all They thinkabout, as Miss Marjoribanks herself said.
"We must do all we can to make Carlingford agreeable to the General,"said Mrs Centum. "You know how much depends upon it, Lucilla. If we canbut make him like the place, only think what an advantage tosociety--and we have such nice society in Carlingford," said theinjudicious woman, who did not know what to say.
"Nothing very particular," said Miss Marjoribanks. "I hope GeneralTravers will like us; but as for the officers, I am not so sure. Theyare all so light and airy, you know: and to have nothing but flirtingmen is almost as bad as having nobody that can flirt; which is myposition," Lucilla added, with a sigh, "as long as Mr Cavendish isaway."
"Lucilla," cried Mrs Centum, a little shocked, "one would think to hearyou that you were the greatest coquette possible; and on the contraryshe is quite an example to all our young ladies, I assure you, General;and as for flirting----"
"Dear Mrs Centum," said Lucilla sweetly, "one has always to do one'sduty to society. As far as I am concerned, it is quite different. And Idon't mean to say that the officers would not be a great acquisition,"Miss Marjoribanks continued, with her usual politeness; "but then toomany young people are the ruin of society. If we were to run all todancing and that sort of thing, after all the trouble one has taken----"said Lucilla. Perhaps it was not quite civil; but then it must beadmitted, that to see a man look blankly in your face as if he weresaying in his mind, "Then it is only _you_, and not that pretty littlething, that is Miss Marjoribanks!" was about as exasperating a sensationas one is likely to meet with. Lucilla understood perfectly wellGeneral Travers's look, and for the moment, instead of making herselfagreeable, it was the contrary impulse that moved her. She looked athim, not blankly as he looked at her, but in a calmly considerate way,as she might have looked at Mr Holden the upholsterer, had he proposed anew kind of _tapisserie_ to her judgment. "One would be alwaysdelighted, of course, to have General Travers," said Miss Marjoribanks,"but I am afraid the officers would not do."
As for Mrs Centum, she was quite incapable of managing such a terriblecrisis. She felt it, indeed, a little hard that it should be her man whowas defied in this alarming way, while Mr Cavendish and the Archdeacon,the two previous candidates, had both been received so sweetly. To besure, it was his own fault; but that did not mend matters. She lookedfrom one to the other with a scared look, and grew very red, and untiedher bonnet; and then, as none of these evidences of agitation had anyeffect upon the other parties involved, plunged into the heat of theconflict without considering what she was about to say.
"Lucilla, I am surprised at you," said Mrs Centum, "when you know howyou have gone on about Mr Cavendish--when you know what a fuss you havemade, and how you have told everybody----"
"By the bye, who is Mr Cavendish?" said General Travers, interposing,with that holy horror of a quarrel between women which is common to theinferior half of creation. "I wonder if he is a fellow one used to meeteverywhere. One never could get any satisfaction who he belonged to. Henever pretended to be one of the Devonshire Cavendishes, you know. Idon't know if he had any family at all, or relations, or that sort ofthing. In most cases a man gets on just as well without them, in myopinion. I wonder if this fellow you are talking of is he?"
"Oh, no," said Mrs Centum. "I hope you will meet him before you leaveCarlingford. He has a sister married here; but we have always understoodhe was one of the Cavendishes. I am sure Mrs Woodburn always
givesherself out for somebody," she continued, beginning to let theinteresting suspicion enter her mind; for, to be sure, they were aboutof a standing, and the banker's wife had sometimes felt a little sore atthe idea that her neighbour possessed distinctions of family which weredenied to herself. "It is true, none of her relations ever come to seeher," said Mrs Centum, and she began to forget the General, andLucilla's reception of him, in this still more interesting subject. Itwas the first time that the authenticity of the Cavendishes had beenattacked in Carlingford; and, to be sure, what is the good of havingfine connections if they cannot be produced? While Mrs Centum pondered asuggestion so interesting, Lucilla, on her part, also took advantage ofthe occasion, and descended from the calm heights of dignity on whichshe had placed herself. And the General, who was a well-bred man, hadgot over for the moment the unlucky impression made upon him by thefresh face of little Rose Lake.
"Mr Cavendish is very nice," said Miss Marjoribanks. "I am very fond ofall my own relations, but I don't care about other people's. Of coursehe is one of the Cavendishes. I don't see how he can help it, when thatis his name. I should think it was sure to be the same. We should be soobliged to you if you would bring him back to Carlingford. I don't know,I am sure, why he is so obstinate in staying away."
"Perhaps somebody has been unkind to him," said the General, feeling itwas expected of him.
"I am sure _I_ have not been unkind to him," said Lucilla. "He is such aloss to me. If you are going to do us the pleasure of coming onThursday--Oh, I am sure we shall feel quite honoured, both papa and I--Iwill show you how badly off I am. It is not a party in the least, and wedon't dance," said Miss Marjoribanks, "that is why I am a littleuncertain about the officers. It is one of my principles that too manyyoung people are the ruin of society; but it is hard work, sometimes,when one is not properly supported," Lucilla added, with a gentle sigh.
"If I can be of any use," said the amused soldier. "I don't pretend tobe able to replace Cavendish, if it is Cavendish; but----"
"No," said Miss Marjoribanks, with resignation, "it is not easy toreplace him. He has quite a talent, you know; but I am sure it is verykind of you, and we shall be delighted to have such an acquisition,"Lucilla continued, after a pause, with a gracious smile; and then sheled her guests downstairs to luncheon, which was every way satisfactory.As for the General, it cannot be doubted that he had the worst of it inthis little encounter, and felt himself by no means such a greatpersonage in Carlingford as his hospitable entertainers had persuadedhim he should be. Mrs Centum declared afterwards that she could notform the least idea what Lucilla meant by it, she who was generally socivil to everybody. But it is not necessary to say that MissMarjoribanks knew perfectly well what she was doing, and felt itimperatively necessary to bring down General Travers to his properlevel. Carlingford could exist perfectly well without him and hisofficers; but Lucilla did not mean that the society she had taken somuch pains to form should be condescended to by a mere soldier. Andthen, after all, she was only human, and it was not to be expected shecould pass over the blank look with which her visitor turned to herself,after having by evil fortune cast his eyes upon Rose Lake. At the sametime, Miss Marjoribanks, always magnanimous, did not blame Rose, who hadno hand whatever in the matter; and if she avenged herself in a ladylikeand satisfactory manner, it is not to be supposed that it was simply asense of offence which actuated Lucilla. She did it, on the contrary, onstrictly philosophical principles, having perceived that Mrs Centum wasspoiling her General, and that it was absolutely necessary that heshould be disabused.
When they left, Mrs Centum was almost afraid to put the question thattrembled on her lips. She uttered it at last, faltering, and with a verydoubtful expression, for she could not conceal from herself the factthat the General had been snubbed. "How do you like Lucilla?" she said,in the most humble way; and then she turned away her face. She couldbear it, whatever it might be. She said to herself that so long as thechildren were well, and the holidays about over, she could bearanything; and what did it matter to her about the officers?--but at thesame time she preferred to avert her face when she received the blow.
"I am sure Miss Marjoribanks is a person for whom I shall alwaysentertain the highest respect," said the General, and he gave a littlelaugh. "Was that pretty little creature a sister of hers?--or afriend?--or what? I don't know when I have seen anything so pretty,"said the unsuspecting man; and then Mrs Centum turned round upon himwith a kind of horror.
"_That_ Lucilla's sister!--why, she has no sister; I told you so; she isan only child, and will have everything. She will be quite an heiress,"cried Mrs Centum, "if the old Doctor were to die; though, I am sure,poor dear man, I hope he will not die. There is no other medical man inthe town that one can have the least confidence in, except Dr Rider;and then _he_ is so young, and can't have much experience with children.Her sister, indeed! It was little Rose Lake, the drawing-master'sdaughter," said Mrs Centum, with cruel distinctness. The General onlysaid, "Oh!" but it was in a crestfallen tone; for to be snubbed by onelady, and struck with sudden enthusiasm for another, who, after all, wasnot a lady to speak of, but only a drawing-master's daughter, was ratherhard upon the poor man. Thus it was the soldier, who in ordinarycircumstances ought to have been the most successful, who began in themost cruel and uncomfortable way his campaign in Carlingford.
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