CHAPTER XI.
THE TRUANT WIFE.
Phineas on his return to London wrote a line to Lady Chiltern inaccordance with a promise which had been exacted from him. She wasanxious to learn something as to the real condition of her husband'sbrother-in-law, and, when she heard that Phineas was going toLoughlinter, had begged that he would tell her the truth. "He hasbecome eccentric, gloomy, and very strange," said Phineas. "I do notbelieve that he is really mad, but his condition is such that I thinkno friend should recommend Lady Laura to return to him. He seems tohave devoted himself to a gloomy religion,--and to the saving ofmoney. I had but one interview with him, and that was essentiallydisagreeable." Having remained two days in London, and havingparticipated, as far as those two days would allow him, in thegeneral horror occasioned by the wickedness and success of Mr.Daubeny, he started for Dresden.
He found Lord Brentford living in a spacious house, with a hugegarden round it, close upon the northern confines of the town.Dresden, taken altogether, is a clean cheerful city, and strikesthe stranger on his first entrance as a place in which men aregregarious, busy, full of merriment, and pre-eminently social. Suchis the happy appearance of but few towns either in the old or thenew world, and is hardly more common in Germany than elsewhere.Leipsic is decidedly busy, but does not look to be social. Vienna issufficiently gregarious, but its streets are melancholy. Munich issocial, but lacks the hum of business. Frankfort is both practicaland picturesque, but it is dirty, and apparently averse to mirth.Dresden has much to recommend it, and had Lord Brentford with hisdaughter come abroad in quest of comfortable easy social life, hischoice would have been well made. But, as it was, any of the townsabove named would have suited him as well as Dresden, for he saw nosociety, and cared nothing for the outward things of the world aroundhim. He found Dresden to be very cold in the winter and very hot inthe summer, and he liked neither heat nor cold; but he had made uphis mind that all places, and indeed all things, are nearly equallydisagreeable, and therefore he remained at Dresden, grumbling almostdaily as to the climate and manners of the people.
Phineas, when he arrived at the hall door, almost doubted whetherhe had not been as wrong in visiting Lord Brentford as he had ingoing to Loughlinter. His friendship with the old Earl had beenvery fitful, and there had been quarrels quite as pronounced as thefriendship. He had often been happy in the Earl's house, but thehappiness had not sprung from any love for the man himself. How wouldit be with him if he found the Earl hardly more civil to him than theEarl's son-in-law had been? In former days the Earl had been a manquite capable of making himself disagreeable, and probably had notyet lost the power of doing so. Of all our capabilities this is theone which clings longest to us. He was thinking of all this when hefound himself at the door of the Earl's house. He had travelled allnight, and was very cold. At Leipsic there had been a nominal twentyminutes for refreshment, which the circumstances of the station hadreduced to five. This had occurred very early in the morning, and hadsufficed only to give him a bowl of coffee. It was now nearly ten,and breakfast had become a serious consideration with him. He almostdoubted whether it would not have been better for him to have gone toan hotel in the first instance.
He soon found himself in the hall amidst a cluster of servants, amongwhom he recognised the face of a man from Saulsby. He had, however,little time allowed him for looking about. He was hardly in the housebefore Lady Laura Kennedy was in his arms. She had run forward, andbefore he could look into her face, she had put up her cheek to hislips and had taken both his hands. "Oh, my friend," she said; "oh,my friend! How good you are to come to me! How good you are to come!"And then she led him into a large room, in which a table had beenprepared for breakfast, close to an English-looking open fire. "Howcold you must be, and how hungry! Shall I have breakfast for you atonce, or will you dress first? You are to be quite at home, you know;exactly as though we were brother and sister. You are not to stand onany ceremonies." And again she took him by the hand. He had hardlylooked her yet in the face, and he could not do so now because heknew that she was crying. "Then I will show you to your room," shesaid, when he had decided for a tub of water before breakfast. "Yes,I will,--my own self. And I'd fetch the water for you, only I know itis there already. How long will you be? Half an hour? Very well. Andyou would like tea best, wouldn't you?"
"Certainly, I should like tea best."
"I will make it for you. Papa never comes down till near two, and weshall have all the morning for talking. Oh, Phineas, it is such apleasure to hear your voice again. You have been at Loughlinter?"
"Yes, I have been there."
"How very good of you; but I won't ask a question now. You must putup with a stove here, as we have not open fires in the bed-rooms. Ihope you will be comfortable. Don't be more than half an hour, as Ishall be impatient."
Though he was thus instigated to haste he stood a few minutes withhis back to the warm stove that he might be enabled to think of itall. It was two years since he had seen this woman, and when they hadparted there had been more between them of the remembrances of oldfriendship than of present affection. During the last few weeks oftheir intimacy she had made a point of telling him that she intendedto separate herself from her husband; but she had done so as thoughit were a duty, and an arranged part of her own defence of her ownconduct. And in the latter incidents of her London life,--that lifewith which he had been conversant,--she had generally been opposedto him, or, at any rate, had chosen to be divided from him. She hadsaid severe things to him,--telling him that he was cold, heartless,and uninterested, never trying even to please him with that sort ofpraise which had once been so common with her in her intercourse withhim, and which all men love to hear from the mouths of women. Shehad then been cold to him, though she would make wretched allusionsto the time when he, at any rate, had not been cold to her. She hadreproached him, and had at the same time turned away from him. Shehad repudiated him, first as a lover, then as a friend; and he hadhitherto never been able to gauge the depth of the affection for himwhich had underlaid all her conduct. As he stood there thinking of itall, he began to understand it.
How natural had been her conduct on his arrival, and how like thatof a genuine, true-hearted, honest woman! All her first thoughts hadbeen for his little personal wants,--that he should be warmed, andfed, and made outwardly comfortable. Let sorrow be ever so deep,and love ever so true, a man will be cold who travels by winter,and hungry who has travelled by night. And a woman, who is a true,genuine woman, always takes delight in ministering to the naturalwants of her friend. To see a man eat and drink, and wear hisslippers, and sit at ease in his chair, is delightful to the feminineheart that loves. When I heard the other day that a girl had herselfvisited the room prepared for a man in her mother's house, thenI knew that she loved him, though I had never before believed it.Phineas, as he stood there, was aware that this woman loved himdearly. She had embraced him, and given her face to him to kiss. Shehad clasped his hands, and clung to him, and had shown him plainlythat in the midst of all her sorrow she could be made happy byhis coming. But he was a man far too generous to take all this asmeaning aught that it did not mean,--too generous, and intrinsicallytoo manly. In his character there was much of weakness, much ofvacillation, perhaps some deficiency of strength and purpose; butthere was no touch of vanity. Women had loved him, and had told himso; and he had been made happy, and also wretched, by their love. Buthe had never taken pride, personally, to himself because they hadloved him. It had been the accident of his life. Now he rememberedchiefly that this woman had called herself his sister, and he wasgrateful.
Then he thought of her personal appearance. As yet he had hardlylooked at her, but he felt that she had become old and worn, angularand hard-visaged. All this had no effect upon his feelings towardsher, but filled him with ineffable regret. When he had first knownher she had been a woman with a noble presence--not soft and feminineas had been Violet Effingham, but handsome and lustrous, with ahealthy youth. In regard to age he
and she were of the same standing.That he knew well. She had passed her thirty-second birthday, butthat was all. He felt himself to be still a young man, but he couldnot think of her as of a young woman.
When he went down she had been listening for his footsteps, andmet him at the door of the room. "Now sit down," she said, "and becomfortable--if you can, with German surroundings. They are almostalways late, and never give one any time. Everybody says so. Thestation at Leipsic is dreadful, I know. Good coffee is very well, butwhat is the use of good coffee if you have no time to drink it? Youmust eat our omelette. If there is one thing we can do better thanyou it is to make an omelette. Yes,--that is genuine German sausage.There is always some placed upon the table, but the Germans who comehere never touch it themselves. You will have a cutlet, won't you?I breakfasted an hour ago, and more. I would not wait because thenI thought I could talk to you better, and wait upon you. I did notthink that anything would ever please me so much again as your cominghas done. Oh, how much we shall have to say! Do you remember when welast parted;--when you were going back to Ireland?"
"I remember it well."
"Ah me; as I look back upon it all, how strange it seems. I dare sayyou don't remember the first day I met you, at Mr. Mildmay's,--when Iasked you to come to Portman Square because Barrington had said thatyou were clever?"
"I remember well going to Portman Square."
"That was the beginning of it all. Oh dear, oh dear; when I think ofit I find it so hard to see where I have been right, and where I havebeen wrong. If I had not been very wrong all this evil could not havecome upon me."
"Misfortune has not always been deserved."
"I am sure it has been so with me. You can smoke here if you like."This Phineas persistently refused to do. "You may if you please. Papanever comes in here, and I don't mind it. You'll settle down in a dayor two, and understand the extent of your liberties. Tell me firstabout Violet. She is happy?"
"Quite happy, I think."
"I knew he would be good to her. But does she like the kind of life?"
"Oh, yes."
"She has a baby, and therefore of course she is happy. She says he isthe finest fellow in the world."
"I dare say he is. They all seem to be contented with him, but theydon't talk much about him."
"No; they wouldn't. Had you a child you would have talked about him,Phineas. I should have loved my baby better than all the world, but Ishould have been silent about him. With Violet of course her husbandis the first object. It would certainly be so from her nature. And soOswald is quite tame?"
"I don't know that he is very tame out hunting."
"But to her?"
"I should think always. She, you know, is very clever."
"So clever!"
"And would be sure to steer clear of all offence," said Phineas,enthusiastically.
"While I could never for an hour avoid it. Did they say anythingabout the journey to Flanders?"
"Chiltern did, frequently. He made me strip my shoulder to show himthe place where he hit me."
"How like Oswald!"
"And he told me that he would have given one of his eyes to kill me,only Colepepper wouldn't let him go on. He half quarrelled with hissecond, but the man told him that I had not fired at him, and thething must drop. 'It's better as it is, you know,' he said. And Iagreed with him."
"And how did Violet receive you?"
"Like an angel,--as she is."
"Well, yes. I'll grant she is an angel now. I was angry with heronce, you know. You men find so many angels in your travels. You havebeen honester than some. You have generally been off with the oldangel before you were on with the new,--as far at least as I knew."
"Is that meant for rebuke, Lady Laura?"
"No, my friend; no. That is all over. I said to myself when you toldme that you would come, that I would not utter one ill-natured word.And I told myself more than that!"
"What more?"
"That you had never deserved it,--at least from me. But surely youwere the most simple of men."
"I dare say."
"Men when they are true are simple. They are often false as hell,and then they are crafty as Lucifer. But the man who is true judgesothers by himself,--almost without reflection. A woman can be true assteel and cunning at the same time. How cunning was Violet, and yetshe never deceived one of her lovers, even by a look. Did she?"
"She never deceived me,--if you mean that. She never cared a strawabout me, and told me so to my face very plainly."
"She did care,--many straws. But I think she always loved Oswald. Sherefused him again and again, because she thought it wrong to run agreat risk, but I knew she would never marry any one else. How littleLady Baldock understood her. Fancy your meeting Lady Baldock atOswald's house!"
"Fancy Augusta Boreham turning nun!"
"How exquisitely grotesque it must have been when she made hercomplaint to you."
"I pitied her with all my heart."
"Of course you did,--because you are so soft. And now, Phineas, wewill put it off no longer. Tell me all that you have to tell me abouthim."
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