_Chapter XXXV_
It was the very day after the marriage, and two or three days after thisconversation, that Mr Cavendish left Carlingford. He went to spend thewinter in Italy, which had long been "a dream" of his, as he explainedto some of the young ladies--most of whom had the same "dream," withoutthe enviable power of carrying it out. He made very brief and formaladieux to Lucilla, to the extreme amazement of all the surroundingworld, and then disappeared, leaving--just at that moment after theexcitement of the marriage was over, when Grange Lane stood most in needof somebody to rouse its drooping spirits--a wonderful blank behind him.Lucilla said much less about her feelings on this occasion than she wasin the habit of doing, but there could be no doubt that she felt it, andfelt it acutely. And the worst of it was, that it was she who wasuniversally blamed for the sudden and unexplained departure of the mostpopular man in Carlingford. Some people thought he had gone away toescape from the necessity of proposing to her; and some of more friendlyand charitable disposition believed with Mrs Chiley that Lucilla hadrefused him; and some, who were mostly outsiders and of a humble class,were of opinion that Miss Marjoribanks had exercised all her influenceto send Mr Cavendish out of the way of Barbara Lake. It was with thisimpression that Rose made her way one of those foggy autumn morningsthrough the fallen leaves with which the garden was carpeted, to see ifany explanation was to be got from Lucilla. The art-inspectors fromMarlborough House had just paid their annual visit to Carlingford, andhad found the Female School of Design in a condition which, as they saidin their report, "warranted the warmest encomiums," and Rose had alsowon a prize for her veil in the exhibition at Kensington of ornamentalart. These were triumphs which would have made the little artistoverwhelmingly happy, if they had not been neutralised by othercircumstances; but as it was, they only aggravated the difficulties ofthe position in which she found herself. She came to Lucilla in abonnet--a circumstance which of itself was solemn and ominous; forgenerally that portentous article of dress, which was home-made, and didnot consist with cheerful dispositions, was reserved by Rose for goingto church; and her soft cheeks were pale, and the hazel eyes more dewythan usual, though it was rain, and not dew, that had been falling fromthem during those last painful days.
"I am ashamed to ask you such a question," said Rose; "but I want you totell me, Lucilla, if you know why Mr Cavendish has gone away. She willnot come and ask you herself, or rather I would not let her come; forshe is so passionate, one does not know what she might do. You havebehaved a little strange, Lucilla," said the straightforward Rose. "Ifhe cared for her, and she cared for him, you had no right to come andtake him away."
"My dear, I did not take him away," said Miss Marjoribanks. "I had totalk to him about some--business; that was all. It is disgraceful ofBarbara to bother you about it, who are only a baby and oughtn't to knowanything----"
"Lucilla!" cried Rose, with flashing eyes, "I am seventeen, and I willnot put up with it any longer. It is all your fault. What right had youto come and drag us to your great parties? We are not as rich as you,nor as fine, but we have a rank of our own," cried the little artist."You have a great deal more money, but we have some things that moneycannot buy. You made Barbara come and sing, and put things into herhead; and you made me come, though I did not want to. Why did you ask_us_ to your parties, Lucilla? It is all your fault!"
Lucilla was in a subdued state of mind, as may have been perceived, andanswered quite meekly. "I don't know why you should all turn against melike this," she said, more sadly than surprised. "It is unkind of you tosay it was my fault. I did not expect it from you; and when I have somany vexations----" Miss Marjoribanks added. She sat down as she spoke,after being repulsed by Rose, with an air of depression which was quiteunusual to her; for to be blamed and misunderstood on all sides was hardfor one who was always working in the service of her fellow-creatures,and doing everything for the best.
As for Rose, her heart smote her on the instant. "Have _you_ vexations,Lucilla?" she said, in her innocence. It was the first time such an ideahad entered into her mind.
"I don't think I have anything else," said Lucilla; though even as shesaid it she began to recover her spirits. "I do all I can for myfriends, and they are never pleased; and when anything goes wrong it isalways my fault."
"Perhaps if you were not to do so much----" Rose began to say, for shewas in her way a wise little woman; but her heart smote her again, andshe restrained the truism, and then after a little pause she resumed heractual business. "I am ashamed to ask you, but do you know where MrCavendish is, Lucilla?" said Rose. "She is breaking her heart because hehas gone away."
"Did he never go to say good-bye nor anything?" asked Miss Marjoribanks.She was sorry, for it was quite the contrary of the advice she hadgiven, but still it would be wrong to deny that Mr Cavendish rose higherin Lucilla's opinion when she heard it. "I don't know any more thaneverybody knows. He has gone to Italy, but he will come back, and Isuppose she can wait," Miss Marjoribanks added, with perhaps a touch ofcontempt. "For my part, I don't think she will break her heart."
"It is because you do not know her," said Rose, with someindignation--for at seventeen a broken heart comes natural. "Oh,Lucilla, it is dreadful, and I don't know what to do!" cried the littleartist, changing her tone. "I am a selfish wretch, but I cannot help it.It is as good as putting an end to my Career; and just after my designhas been so successful--and when papa was so proud--and when I thought Imight have been a help. It is dreadful to think of oneself when herheart is breaking; but I shall have to give up everything; and I--Ican't help feeling it, Lucilla," cried Rose, with a sudden outburst oftears.
All this was sufficiently unintelligible to Miss Marjoribanks, who wasnot the least in anxiety about Barbara's breaking heart. "Tell me whatis the matter, and perhaps we can do something," said Lucilla,forgetting how little her past exertions had been appreciated; and Rose,with equal inconsistency, dried her tears at the sound of MissMarjoribanks's reassuring voice.
"I know I am a wretch to be thinking of myself," she said. "She cannotbe expected to stay and sacrifice herself for us, after all she hassuffered. She has made up her mind and advertised in the _Times_, andnothing can change it now. She is going out for a governess, Lucilla."
"Going for a--what?" said Miss Marjoribanks, who could not believe herears.
"For a governess," said Rose calmly; for though she had been partlybrought up at Mount Pleasant, she had not the elevated idea of aninstructress of youth which might have been expected from a pupil ofthat establishment. "She has advertised in the _Times_," Rose added,with quiet despair, "with no objections to travel. I would do anythingin the world for Barbara, but one can't help thinking of oneselfsometimes, and there is an end of my Career." When she had said this shebrushed the last tear off her eyelashes, and sat straight up, a littlemartyr and heroic victim to duty. "Her eye, though fixed on empty space,beamed keen with honour"; but still there was a certain desperation inthe composure with which Rose regarded, after the first outburst, theabandonment of all her hopes.
"She is a selfish thing," said Lucilla indignantly; "she always was aselfish thing. I should like to know what she can teach anybody? If Iwere you and your papa, I certainly would not let her go away. I don'tsee any reason in the world why you should give in to her and let herstop your--your Career, you know; why should you? I would not give in toher for one moment, if I were your papa and you."
"Why should I?" said Rose; "because there is nobody else to do anything,Lucilla. Fleda and Dreda are such two little things; and there are allthe boys to think of, and poor papa. It is of no use asking why. If Idon't do it, there will be nobody to do it," said Rose, with big tearscoming to her eyes. Her Career was dear to her heart, and those twotears welled up from the depths; but then there would be nobody else todo it--a consideration which continually filters out the people who aregood for anything out of the muddy current of the ordinary world.
"And your pretty drawings, and the veil, and the School of Design!"c
ried Lucilla. "You dear little Rose, don't cry. It never can bepermitted, you know. She cannot teach anything, and nobody will haveher. She is a selfish thing, though she is your sister; and if I wereyour papa and you----"
"It would be no good," said Rose. "She will go, whatever anybody maysay. _She_ does not care," said the little martyr, and the two big tearsfell, making two big round blotches upon the strings of that bonnetwhich Lucilla had difficulty in keeping her hands off. But when she hadthus expressed her feelings, Rose relented over her sister. "She hassuffered so much here; how can any one ask her to sacrifice herself tous?" said the young artist mournfully. "And I am quite happy," saidRose--"quite happy; it makes all the difference. It is her _heart_, youknow, Lucilla; and it is only my Career."
And this time the tears were dashed away by an indignant little hand.Barbara's heart, if she had such an organ, had never in its existencecost such bitter drops. But as for Lucilla, what could she do? She couldonly repeat, "If I was your papa and you," with a melancholy sense thatshe was here balked and could do no more. For even the aid of MissMarjoribanks was as nothing against dead selfishness and folly, the twomost invincible forces in the world. Instead of taking the business intoher own hands, and carrying it through triumphantly as she had hithertobeen in the habit of doing, Lucilla could only minister to the sufferer,and keep up her courage, and mourn over the Career thus put in danger.Barbara's advertisement was in the newspapers, and her foolish mind wasmade up; and the hope that nobody would have her was a forlorn hope, forsomebody always does have the incapable people, as Miss Marjoribanks waswell aware. And the contralto had been of some use in Grange Lane and alittle in Grove Street, and it would be difficult, either in the onesphere or the other, to find any one to fill her place. It was thus amiduniversal demolition that Christmas approached, and Miss Marjoribanksended the first portion of her eventful career.
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