CHAPTER XXV.
MISS MADALINA DEMOLINES.
"I don't think you care two straws about her," Conway Dalrymplesaid to his friend John Eames, two days after the dinner-party atMrs. Dobbs Broughton's. The painter was at work in his studio, andthe private secretary from the Income-tax Office, who was no doubtengaged on some special mission to the West End on the part of SirRaffle Buffle, was sitting in a lounging-chair and smoking a cigar.
"Because I don't go about with my stockings cross-gartered, and dothat kind of business?"
"Well, yes; because you don't do that kind of business, more orless."
"It isn't in my line, my dear fellow. I know what you mean, verywell. I daresay, artistically speaking,--"
"Don't be an ass, Johnny."
"Well then, poetically, or romantically, if you like that better,-- Idaresay that poetically or romantically I am deficient. I eat mydinner very well, and I don't suppose I ought to do that; and, ifyou'll believe me, I find myself laughing sometimes."
"I never knew a man who laughed so much. You're always laughing."
"And that, you think, is a bad sign?"
"I don't believe you really care about her. I think you are awarethat you have got a love-affair on hand, and that you hang on to itrather persistently, having in some way come to a resolution thatyou would be persistent. But there isn't much heart in it. I daresaythere was once."
"And that is your opinion?"
"You are just like some of those men who for years past have beengoing to write a book on some new subject. The intention has beensincere at first, and it never altogether dies away. But the would-beauthor, though he still talks of his work, knows that it will neverbe executed, and is very patient under the disappointment. Allenthusiasm about the thing is gone, but he is still known as the manwho is going to do it some day. You are the man who means to marryMiss Dale in five, ten, or twenty years' time."
"Now, Conway, all that is thoroughly unfair. The would-be authortalks of his would-be book to everybody. I have never talked of MissDale to any one but you, and one or two very old family friends. Andfrom year to year, and from month to month, I have done all that hasbeen in my power to win her. I don't think I shall ever succeed, andyet I am as determined about it as I was when I first began it,--orrather much more so. If I do not marry Lily, I shall never marry atall, and if anybody were to tell me to-morrow that she had made upher mind to have me, I should well nigh go mad for joy. But I am notgoing to give up all my life for love. Indeed the less I can bringmyself to give up for it, the better I shall think of myself. NowI'll go away and call on old lady Demolines.
"And flirt with her daughter."
"Yes;--flirt with her daughter, if I get the opportunity. Whyshouldn't I flirt with her daughter?"
"Why not, if you like it?"
"I don't like it,--not particularly, that is; because the young ladyis not very pretty, nor yet very graceful, nor yet very wise."
"She is pretty after a fashion," said the artist, "and if not wise,she is at any rate clever."
"Nevertheless, I do not like her," said John Eames.
"Then why do you go there?"
"One has to be civil to people though they are neither pretty norwise. I don't mean to insinuate that Miss Demolines is particularlybad, or indeed that she is worse than young ladies in general. I onlyabused her because there was an insinuation in what you said, that Iwas going to amuse myself with Miss Demolines in the absence of MissDale. The one thing has nothing to do with the other thing. Nothingthat I shall say to Miss Demolines will at all militate against myloyalty to Lily."
"All right, old fellow;--I didn't mean to put you on your purgation.I want you to look at that sketch. Do you know for whom it isintended?" Johnny took up a scrap of paper, and having scrutinized itfor a minute or two declared that he had not the slightest idea whowas represented. "You know the subject,--the story that is intendedto be told?" said Dalrymple.
"Upon my word I don't. There's some old fellow seems to be catchingit over the head; but it's all so confused I can't make much of it.The woman seems to be uncommon angry."
"Do you ever read your Bible?"
"Ah, dear! not as often as I ought to do. Ah, I see; it's Sisera. Inever could quite believe that story. Jael might have killed CaptainSisera in his sleep,--for which, by-the-by, she ought to have beenhung, and she might possibly have done it with a hammer and a nail.But she could not have driven it through, and staked him to theground."
"I've warrant enough for putting it into a picture, at any rate. MyJael there is intended for Miss Van Siever."
"Miss Van Siever! Well, it is like her. Has she sat for it?"
"O dear, no; not yet. I mean to get her to do so. There's a strengthabout her, which would make her sit the part admirably. And I fancyshe would like to be driving a nail into a fellow's head. I think Ishall take Musselboro for a Sisera."
"You're not in earnest?"
"He would just do for it. But of course I shan't ask him to sit, asmy Jael would not like it. She would not consent to operate on sobase a subject. So you really are going down to Guestwick?"
"Yes; I start to-morrow. Good-by, old fellow. I'll come and sit forSisera if you'll let me;--only Miss Van Jael shall have a bluntednail, if you please."
Then Johnny left the artist's room and walked across from Kensingtonto Lady Demolines' house. As he went he partly accused himself, andpartly excused himself in that matter of his love for Lily Dale.There were moments of his life in which he felt that he wouldwillingly die for her,--that life was not worth having withouther,--in which he went about inwardly reproaching fortune for havingtreated him so cruelly. Why should she not be his? He half believedthat she loved him. She had almost told him so. She could notsurely still love that other man who had treated her with such vilefalsehood? As he considered the question in all its bearings heassured himself over and over again that there would be now no fearof that rival;--and yet he had such fears, and hated Crosbie almostas much as ever. It was a thousand pities, certainly, that the manshould have been made free by the death of his wife. But it couldhardly be that he should seek Lily again, or that Lily, if so sought,should even listen to him. But yet there he was, free once more,--anodious being, whom Johnny was determined to sacrifice to hisvengeance, if cause for such sacrifice should occur. And thusthinking of the real truth of his love, he endeavoured to excusehimself to himself from that charge of vagueness and laxness whichhis friend Conway Dalrymple had brought against him. And then againhe accused himself of the same sin. If he had been positively inearnest, with downright manly earnestness, would he have allowed thething to drag itself on with a weak uncertain life, as it had donefor the last two or three years? Lily Dale had been a dream to him inhis boyhood; and he had made a reality of his dream as soon as he hadbecome a man. But before he had been able, as a man, to tell his loveto the girl whom he had loved as a child, another man had intervened,and his prize had been taken from him. Then the wretched victorhad thrown his treasure away, and he, John Eames, had been contentto stoop to pick it up,--was content to do so now. But there wassomething which he felt to be unmanly in the constant stooping.Dalrymple had told him that he was like a man who is ever writinga book and yet never writes it. He would make another attempt toget his book written,--an attempt into which he would throw all hisstrength and all his heart. He would do his very best to make Lilyhis own. But if he failed now, he would have done with it. It seemedto him to be below his dignity as a man to be always coveting a thingwhich he could not obtain.
Johnny was informed by the boy in buttons, who opened the door forhim at Lady Demolines', that the ladies were at home, and he wasshown up into the drawing-room. Here he was allowed full ten minutesto explore the knicknacks on the table, and open the photograph book,and examine the furniture, before Miss Demolines made her appearance.When she did come, her hair was tangled more marvellously even thanwhen he saw her at the dinner-party, and her eyes were darker, andher cheeks thinner. "I'm afraid mamma w
on't be able to come down,"said Miss Demolines. "She will be so sorry; but she is not quite wellto-day. The wind is in the east, she says, and when she says the windis in the east she always refuses to be well."
"Then I should tell her it was in the west."
"But it is in the east."
"Ah, there I can't help you, Miss Demolines. I never know which iseast, and which west; and if I did, I shouldn't know from which pointthe wind blew."
"At any rate mamma can't come downstairs, and you must excuse her.What a very nice woman Mrs. Dobbs Broughton is." Johnny acknowledgedthat Mrs. Dobbs Broughton was charming. "And Mr. Broughton is sogood-natured!" Johnny again assented. "I like him of all things,"said Miss Demolines. "So do I," said Johnny;--"I never liked anybodyso much in my life. I suppose one is bound to say that kind ofthing." "Oh, you ill-natured man," said Miss Demolines. "I supposeyou think that poor Mr. Broughton is a little--just a little,--youknow what I mean."
"Not exactly," said Johnny.
"Yes, you do; you know very well what I mean. And of course he is.How can he help it?"
"Poor fellow,--no. I don't suppose he can help it, or hewould;--wouldn't he?"
"Of course Mr. Broughton had not the advantage of birth or much earlyeducation. All his friends know that, and make allowance accordingly.When she married him, she was aware of his deficiency, and made upher mind to put up with it."
"It was very kind of her; don't you think so?"
"I knew Maria Clutterbuck for years before she was married. Of courseshe was very much my senior, but, nevertheless, we were friends.I think I was hardly more than twelve years old when I first beganto correspond with Maria. She was then past twenty. So you see, Mr.Eames, I make no secret of my age."
"Why should you?"
"But never mind that. Everybody knows that Maria Clutterbuck wasvery much admired. Of course I'm not going to tell you or any othergentleman all her history."
"I was in hopes you were."
"Then certainly your hopes will be frustrated, Mr. Eames. Butundoubtedly when she told us that she was going to take DobbsBroughton, we were a little disappointed. Maria Clutterbuck hadbeen used to a better kind of life. You understand what I mean, Mr.Eames?"
"Oh, exactly;--and yet it's not a bad kind of life, either."
"No, no; that is true. It has its attractions. She keeps hercarriage, sees a good deal of company, has an excellent house, andgoes abroad for six weeks every year. But you know, Mr. Eames, thereis, perhaps, a little uncertainty about it."
"Life is always uncertain, Miss Demolines."
"You're quizzing now, I know. But don't you feel now, really, thatCity money is always very chancy? It comes and goes so quick."
"As regards the going, I think that's the same with all money," saidJohnny.
"Not with land, or the funds. Mamma has every shilling laid out ina first-class mortgage on land at four per cent. That does make onefeel so secure! The land can't run away."
"But you think poor Broughton's money may?"
"It's all speculation, you know. I don't believe she minds it; Idon't, indeed. She lives that kind of fevered life now that she likesexcitement. Of course we all know that Mr. Dobbs Broughton is notwhat we can call an educated gentleman. His manners are against him,and he is very ignorant. Even dear Maria would admit that."
"One would perhaps let that pass without asking her opinion at all."
"She has acknowledged it to me, twenty times. But he is verygood-natured, and lets her do pretty nearly anything that she likes.I only hope she won't trespass on his good-nature. I do, indeed."
"You mean, spend too much money?"
"No; I didn't mean that exactly. Of course she ought to be moderate,and I hope she is. To that kind of fevered existence profuseexpenditure is perhaps necessary. But I was thinking of somethingelse. I fear she is a little giddy."
"Dear me! I should have thought she was too--too--too--"
"You mean too old for anything of that kind. Maria Broughton must bethirty-three if she's a day."
"That would make you just twenty-five," said Johnny, feelingperfectly sure as he said so that the lady whom he was addressing wasat any rate past thirty!
"Never mind my age, Mr. Eames; whether I am twenty-five, or ahundred-and-five, has nothing to do with poor Maria Clutterbuck. Butnow I'll tell you why I mention all this to you. You must have seenhow foolish she is about your friend Mr. Dalrymple?"
"Upon my word, I haven't."
"Nonsense, Mr. Eames; you have. If she were your wife, would you likeher to call a man Conway? Of course you would not. I don't mean tosay that there's anything in it. I know Maria's principles too wellto suspect that. It's merely because she's flighty and fevered."
"That fevered existence accounts for it all," said Johnny.
"No doubt it does," said Miss Demolines, with a nod of her head,which was intended to show that she was willing to give her friendthe full benefit of any excuse which could be offered for her. "Butdon't you think you could do something, Mr. Eames?"
"I do something?"
"Yes, you. You and Mr. Dalrymple are such friends! If you were justto point out to him you know--"
"Point out what? Tell him that he oughtn't to be called Conway?Because, after all, I suppose that's the worst of it. If you mean tosay that Dalrymple is in love with Mrs. Broughton, you never made agreater mistake in your life."
"Oh, no; not in love. That would be terrible, you know." And MissDemolines shook her head sadly. "But there may be so much mischiefdone without anything of that kind! Thoughtlessness, you know, Mr.Eames,--pure thoughtlessness! Think of what I have said, and ifyou can speak a word to your friend, do. And now I want to ask yousomething else. I'm so glad you are come, because circumstances haveseemed to make it necessary that you and I should know each other.We may be of so much use if we put our heads together." Johnny bowedwhen he heard this, but made no immediate reply. "Have you heardanything about a certain picture that is being planned?" Johnny didnot wish to answer this question, but Miss Demolines paused so long,and looked so earnestly into his face, that he found himself forcedto say something.
"What picture?"
"A certain picture that is--, or, perhaps, that is not to be, paintedby Mr. Dalrymple?"
"I hear so much about Dalrymple's pictures! You don't mean theportrait of Lady Glencora Palliser? That is nearly finished, and willbe in the Exhibition this year."
"I don't mean that at all. I mean a picture that has not yet beenbegun."
"A portrait, I suppose?"
"As to that I cannot quite say. It is at any rate to be a likeness.I am sure you have heard of it. Come, Mr. Eames; it would be betterthat we should be candid with each other. You remember Miss VanSiever, of course?"
"I remember that she dined at the Broughtons'."
"And you have heard of Jael, I suppose, and Sisera?"
"Yes; in a general way,--in the Bible."
"And now will you tell me whether you have not heard the names ofJael and Miss Van Siever coupled together? I see you know all aboutit."
"I have heard of it, certainly."
"Of course you have. So have I, as you perceive. Now, Mr.Eames,"--and Miss Demolines' voice became tremulously eager as sheaddressed him,--"it is your duty, and it is my duty, to take carethat that picture shall never be painted."
"But why should it not be painted?"
"You don't know Miss Van Siever, yet."
"Not in the least."
"Nor Mrs. Van Siever."
"I never spoke a word to her."
"I do. I know them both,--well." There was something almost grandlytragic in Miss Demolines' voice as she thus spoke. "Yes, Mr. Eames,I know them well. If that scheme be continued, it will work terriblemischief. You and I must prevent it."
"But I don't see what harm it will do."
"Think of Conway Dalrymple passing so many hours in Maria'ssitting-room upstairs! The picture is to be painted there, you know."
"But Miss Van Siever will be present. Won
't that make it all right?What is there wrong about Miss Van Siever?"
"I won't deny that Clara Van Siever has a certain beauty of her own.To me she is certainly the most unattractive woman that I ever camenear. She is simply repulsive!" Hereupon Miss Demolines held up herhand as though she were banishing Miss Van Siever for ever fromher sight, and shuddered slightly. "Men think her handsome, andshe is handsome. But she is false, covetous, malicious, cruel, anddishonest."
"What a fiend in petticoats!"
"You may say that, Mr. Eames. And then her mother! Her mother isnot so bad. Her mother is very different. But the mother is anodious woman, too. It was an evil day for Maria Clutterbuck whenshe first saw either the mother or the daughter. I tell you that inconfidence."
"But what can I do?" said Johnny, who began to be startled and almostinterested by the eagerness of the woman.
"I'll tell you what you can do. Don't let your friend go to Mr.Broughton's house to paint the picture. If he does do it, there willmischief come of it. Of course you can prevent him."
"I should not think of trying to prevent him unless I knew why."
"She's a nasty proud minx, and it would set her up ever so high,--tothink that she was being painted by Mr. Dalrymple! But that isn't thereason. Maria would get into terrible trouble about it, and therewould be no end of mischief. I must not tell you more now, and if youdo not believe me, I cannot help it. Surely, Mr. Eames, my word maybe taken as going for something? And when I ask you to help me inthis, I do expect that you will not refuse me." By this time MissDemolines was sitting close to him, and had more than once puther hand upon his arm in the energy of her eloquence. Then as heremembered that he had never seen Miss Demolines till the otherday, or Miss Van Siever, or even Mrs. Dobbs Broughton, he bethoughthimself that it was all very droll. Nevertheless he had no objectionto Miss Demolines putting her hand upon his arm.
"I never like to interfere in anything that does not seem to be myown business," said Johnny.
"Is not your friend's business your own business? What doesfriendship mean if it is not so? And when I tell you that it is mybusiness, mine of right, does that go for nothing with you? I thoughtI might depend upon you, Mr. Eames; I did indeed." Then again she puther hand upon his arm, and as he looked into her eyes he began tothink that after all she was good-looking in a certain way. At anyrate she had fine eyes, and there was something picturesque about theentanglement of her hair. "Think of it, and then come back and talkto me again," said Miss Demolines.
"But I am going out of town to-morrow."
"For how long?"
"For ten days."
"Nothing can be done during that time. Clara Van Siever is goingaway in a day, and will not be back for three weeks. I happen toknow that; so we have plenty of time for working. It would be verydesirable that she should never even hear of it; but that cannot behoped, as Maria has such a tongue! Couldn't you see Mr. Dalrympleto-night?"
"Well, no; I don't think I could."
"Mind, at least, that you come to me as soon as ever you return."
Before he got out of the house, which he did after a mostaffectionate farewell, Johnny felt himself compelled to promise thathe would come to Miss Demolines again as soon as he got back to town;and as the door was closed behind him by the boy in buttons, he madeup his mind that he certainly would call as soon as he returned toLondon. "It's as good as a play," he said to himself. Not that hecared in the least for Miss Demolines, or that he would take anysteps with the intention of preventing the painting of the picture.Miss Demolines had some battle to fight, and he would leave her tofight it with her own weapons. If his friend chose to paint a pictureof Jael, and take Miss Van Siever as a model, it was no business ofhis. Nevertheless he would certainly go and see Miss Demolines again,because, as he said, she was as good as a play.
The Last Chronicle of Barset Page 27
