Can You Forgive Her?

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER XX.

  Which Shall It Be?

  The next day was Sunday, and it was well known at the lodging-housein the Close that Mr. Cheesacre would not be seen there then. Mrs.Greenow had specially warned him that she was not fond of Sundayvisitors, fearing that otherwise he might find it convenient to givethem too much of his society on that idle day. In the morning theaunt and niece both went to the Cathedral, and then at three o'clockthey dined. But on this occasion they did not dine alone. CharlieFairstairs, who, with her family, had come home from Yarmouth, hadbeen asked to join them; and in order that Charlie might not feel itdull, Mrs. Greenow had, with her usual good-nature, invited CaptainBellfield. A very nice little dinner they had. The captain carved theturkey, giving due honour to Mr. Cheesacre as he did so; and when henibbled his celery with his cheese, he was prettily jocose about therichness of the farmyard at Oileymead.

  "He is the most generous man I ever met," said Mrs. Greenow.

  "So he is," said Captain Bellfield, "and we'll drink his health. Poorold Cheesy! It's a great pity he shouldn't get himself a wife."

  "I don't know any man more calculated to make a young woman happy,"said Mrs. Greenow.

  "No, indeed," said Miss Fairstairs. "I'm told that his house and allabout it is quite beautiful."

  "Especially the straw-yard and the horse-pond," said the Captain. Andthen they drank the health of their absent friend.

  It had been arranged that the ladies should go to church in theevening, and it was thought that Captain Bellfield would, perhaps,accompany them; but when the time for starting came, Kate and Charliewere ready, but the widow was not, and she remained,--in order, asshe afterwards explained to Kate, that Captain Bellfield might notseem to be turned out of the house. He had made no offer churchwards,and,--"Poor man," as Mrs. Greenow said in her little explanation,"if I hadn't let him stay there, he would have had no resting-placefor the sole of his foot, but some horrid barrack-room!" Thereforethe Captain was allowed to find a resting-place in Mrs. Greenow'sdrawing-room; but on the return of the young ladies from church, hewas not there, and the widow was alone, "looking back," she said, "tothings that were gone;--that were gone. But come, dears, I am notgoing to make you melancholy." So they had tea, and Mr. Cheesacre'scream was used with liberality.

  Captain Bellfield had not allowed the opportunity to slip idly fromhis hands. In the first quarter of an hour after the younger ladieshad gone, he said little or nothing, but sat with a wine-glass beforehim, which once or twice he filled from the decanter. "I'm afraid thewine is not very good," said Mrs. Greenow. "But one can't get goodwine in lodgings."

  "I'm not thinking very much about it, Mrs. Greenow; that's the truth,"said the Captain. "I daresay the wine is very good of its kind." Thenthere was another period of silence between them.

  "I suppose you find it rather dull, living in lodgings; don't you?"asked the Captain.

  "I don't know quite what you mean by dull, Captain Bellfield; but awoman circumstanced as I am, can't find her life very gay. It's not afull twelvemonth yet since I lost all that made life desirable, andsometimes I wonder at myself for holding up as well as I do."

  "It's wicked to give way to grief too much, Mrs. Greenow."

  "That's what my dear Kate always says to me, and I'm sure I domy best to overcome it." Upon this soft tears trickled down hercheek, showing in their course that she at any rate used no paint inproducing that freshness of colour which was one of her great charms.Then she pressed her handkerchief to her eyes, and removing it,smiled faintly on the Captain. "I didn't intend to treat you to sucha scene as this, Captain Bellfield."

  "There is nothing on earth, Mrs. Greenow, I desire so much, aspermission to dry those tears."

  "Time alone can do that, Captain Bellfield;--time alone."

  "But cannot time be aided by love and friendship and affection?"

  "By friendship, yes. What would life be worth without the solace offriendship?"

  "And how much better is the warm glow of love?" Captain Bellfield,as he asked this question, deliberately got up, and moved his chairover to the widow's side. But the widow as deliberately changed herposition to the corner of a sofa. The Captain did not at once followher, nor did he in any way show that he was aware that she had fledfrom him.

  "How much better is the warm glow of love?" he said again, contentinghimself with looking into her face with all his eyes. He had hopedthat he would have been able to press her hand by this time.

  "The warm, glow of love, Captain Bellfield, if you have ever feltit--"

  "If I have ever felt it! Do I not feel it now, Mrs. Greenow? There canbe no longer any mask kept upon my feelings. I never could restrainthe yearnings of my heart when they have been strong."

  "Have they often been strong, Captain Bellfield?"

  "Yes; often;--in various scenes of life; on the field of battle--"

  "I did not know that you had seen active service."

  "What!--not on the plains of Zuzuland, when with fifty picked menI kept five hundred Caffres at bay for seven weeks;--never knew thecomfort of a bed, or a pillow to my head, for seven long weeks!"

  "Not for seven weeks?" said Mrs. Greenow.

  "No. Did I not see active service at Essiquebo, on the burning coastof Guiana, when all the wild Africans from the woods rose up todestroy the colony; or again at the mouth of the Kitchyhomy River,when I made good the capture of a slaver by my own hand and my ownsword!"

  "I really hadn't heard," said Mrs. Greenow.

  "Ah, I understand. I know. Cheesy is the best fellow in the world insome respects, but he cannot bring himself to speak well of a fellowbehind his back. I know who has belittled me. Who was the first tostorm the heights of Inkerman?" demanded the Captain, thinking in theheat of the moment that he might as well be hung for a sheep as alamb.

  "But when you spoke of yearnings, I thought you meant yearnings of asofter kind."

  "So I did. So I did. I don't know why I have been led away to speakof deeds that are very seldom mentioned, at any rate by myself. But Icannot bear that a slanderous backbiting tongue should make you thinkthat I have seen no service. I have served her Majesty in the fourquarters of the globe, Mrs. Greenow; and now I am ready to serve youin any way in which you will allow me to make my service acceptable."Whereupon he took one stride over to the sofa, and went down upon hisknees before her.

  "But, Captain Bellfield, I don't want any services. Pray get up now;the girl will come in."

  "I care nothing for any girl. I am planted here till some answershall have been made to me; till some word shall have been saidthat may give me a little hope." Then he attempted to get holdof her hand, but she put them behind her back and shook her head."Arabella," he said, "will you not speak a word to me?"

  "Not a word, Captain Bellfield, till you get up; and I won't have youcall me Arabella. I am the widow of Samuel Greenow, than whom no manwas more respected where he was known, and it is not fitting that Ishould be addressed in that way."

  "But I want you to become my wife,--and then--"

  "Ah, then indeed! But that then isn't likely to come. Get up, CaptainBellfield, or I'll push you over and then ring the bell. A man neverlooks so much like a fool as when he's kneeling down,--unless he'ssaying his prayers, as you ought to be doing now. Get up, I tell you.It's just half past seven, and I told Jeannette to come to me then."

  There was that in the widow's voice which made him get up, and herose slowly to his feet. "You've pushed all the chairs about, youstupid man," she said. Then in one minute she had restored thescattered furniture to their proper places, and had rung the bell.When Jeannette came she desired that tea might be ready by the timethat the young ladies returned, and asked Captain Bellfield if a cupshould be set for him. This he declined, and bade her farewell whileJeannette was still in the room. She shook hands with him withoutany sign of anger, and even expressed a hope that they might see himagain before long.

  "He's a very handsome man, is the Captain," said Jeannette, as thehero
of the Kitchyhomy River descended the stairs.

  "You shouldn't think about handsome men, child," said Mrs. Greenow.

  "And I'm sure I don't," said Jeannette. "Not no more than anybodyelse; but if a man is handsome, ma'am, why it stands to reason thathe is handsome."

  "I suppose Captain Bellfield has given you a kiss and a pair ofgloves."

  "As for gloves and such like, Mr. Cheesacre is much better for givingthan the Captain; as we all know; don't we, ma'am? But in regard tokisses, they're presents as I never takes from anybody. Let everybodypay his debts. If the Captain ever gets a wife, let him kiss her."

  On the following Tuesday morning Mr. Cheesacre as usual called in theClose, but he brought with him no basket. He merely left a winternosegay made of green leaves and laurestinus flowers, and sent up amessage to say that he should call at half past three, and hoped thathe might then be able to see Mrs. Greenow--on particular business.

  "That means you, Kate," said Mrs. Greenow.

  "No, it doesn't; it doesn't mean me at all. At any rate he won't seeme."

  "I dare say it's me he wishes to see. It seems to be the fashionableplan now for gentlemen to make offers by deputy. If he says anything,I can only refer him to you, you know."

  "Yes, you can; you can tell him simply that I won't have him. But heis no more thinking of me than--"

  "Than he is of me, you were going to say."

  "No, aunt; I wasn't going to say that at all."

  "Well, we shall see. If he does mean anything, of course you canplease yourself; but I really think you might do worse."

  "But if I don't want to do at all?"

  "Very well; you must have your own way. I can only tell you what Ithink."

  At half past three o'clock punctually Mr. Cheesacre came to thedoor, and was shown up-stairs. He was told by Jeannette that CaptainBellfield had looked in on the Sunday afternoon, but that MissFairstairs and Miss Vavasor had been there the whole time. He hadnot got on his black boots nor yet had his round topped hat. And ashe did wear a new frock coat, and had his left hand thrust into akid glove, Jeannette was quite sure that he intended business ofsome kind. With new boots, creaking loudly, he walked up into thedrawing-room, and there he found the widow alone.

  "Thanks for the flowers," she said at once. "It was so good of you tobring something that we could accept."

  "As for that," said he, "I don't see why you should scruple about atrifle of cream, but I hope that any such feeling as that will beover before long." To this the widow made no answer, but she lookedvery sweetly on him as she bade him sit down.

  He did sit down; but first he put his hat and stick carefully away inone corner, and then he pulled off his glove--somewhat laboriously,for his hand was warm. He was clearly prepared for great things. Ashe pushed up his hair with his hands there came from his locks anambrosial perfume,--as of marrow-oil, and there was a fixed proprietyof position of every hair of his whiskers, which indicated veryplainly that he had been at a hairdresser's shop since he left themarket. Nor do I believe that he had worn that coat when he came tothe door earlier in the morning. If I were to say that he had calledat his tailor's also, I do not think that I should be wrong.

  "How goes everything at Oileymead?" said Mrs. Greenow, seeing that herguest wanted some little assistance in leading off the conversation.

  "Pretty well, Mrs. Greenow; pretty well. Everything will go very wellif I am successful in the object which I have on hand to-day."

  "I'm sure I hope you'll be successful in all your undertakings."

  "In all my business undertakings I am, Mrs. Greenow. There isn't ashilling due on my land to e'er a bank in Norwich; and I haven'tthrashed out a quarter of last year's corn yet, which is more thanmany of them can say. But there ain't many of them who don't have topay rent, and so perhaps I oughtn't to boast."

  "I know that Providence has been very good to you, Mr. Cheesacre, asregards worldly matters."

  "And I haven't left it all to Providence, either. Those who do,generally go to the wall, as far as I can see. I'm always at worklate and early, and I know when I get a profit out of a man's labourand when I don't, as well as though it was my only chance of breadand cheese."

  "I always thought you understood farming business, Mr. Cheesacre."

  "Yes, I do. I like a bit of fun well enough, when the time for itcomes, as you saw at Yarmouth. And I keep my three or four hunters,as I think a country gentleman should; and I shoot over my ownground. But I always stick to my work. There are men, like Bellfield,who won't work. What do they come to? They're always borrowing."

  "But he has fought his country's battles, Mr. Cheesacre."

  "He fight! I suppose he's been telling you some of his old stories.He was ten years in the West Indies, and all his fighting was withthe mosquitoes."

  "But he was in the Crimea. At Inkerman, for instance--"

  "He in the Crimea! Well, never mind. But do you inquire before youbelieve that story. But as I was saying, Mrs. Greenow, you have seenmy little place at Oileymead."

  "A charming house. All you want is a mistress for it."

  "That's it; that's just it. All I want is a mistress for it. Andthere's only one woman on earth that I would wish to see in thatposition. Arabella Greenow, will you be that woman?" As he made theoffer he got up and stood before her, placing his right hand upon hisheart.

  "Arabella Greenow, will you be that woman?"]

  "I, Mr. Cheesacre!" she said.

  "Yes, you. Who else? Since I saw you what other woman has beenanything to me; or, indeed, I may say before? Since the first dayI saw you I felt that there my happiness depended."

  "Oh, Mr. Cheesacre, I thought you were looking elsewhere."

  "No, no, no. There never was such a mistake as that. I have thehighest regard and esteem for Miss Vavasor, but really--"

  "Mr. Cheesacre, what am I to say to you?"

  "What are you to say to me? Say that you'll be mine. Say that I shallbe yours. Say that all I have at Oileymead shall be yours. Say thatthe open carriage for a pair of ponies to be driven by a lady whichI have been looking at this morning shall be yours. Yes, indeed; thesweetest thing you ever saw in your life,--just like one that thelady of the Lord Lieutenant drives about in always. That's what youmust say. Come, Mrs. Greenow!"

  "Ah, Mr. Cheesacre, you don't know what it is to have buried the prideof your youth hardly yet twelve months."

  "But you have buried him, and there let there be an end of it. Yoursitting here all alone, morning, noon, and night, won't bring himback. I'm sorry for him; I am indeed. Poor Greenow! But what more canI do?"

  "I can do more, Mr. Cheesacre. I can mourn for him in solitude and insilence."

  "No, no, no. What's the use of it,--breaking your heart fornothing,--and my heart too. You never think of that." And Mr.Cheesacre spoke in a tone that was full of reproach.

  "It cannot be, Mr. Cheesacre."

  "Ah, but it can be. Come, Mrs. Greenow. We understand each other wellenough now, surely. Come, dearest." And he approached her as thoughto put his arm round her waist. But at that moment there came a knockat the door, and Jeannette, entering the room, told her mistress thatCaptain Bellfield was below and wanted to know whether he could seeher for a minute on particular business.

  "Show Captain Bellfield up, certainly," said Mrs. Greenow.

  "D---- Captain Bellfield!" said Mr. Cheesacre.