Phineas Redux

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER XLII.

  BOULOGNE.

  Gerard Maule, as he sat upstairs half undressed in his bedroom thatnight didn't like it. He hardly knew what it was that he did notlike,--but he felt that there was something wrong. He thought thatLord Chiltern had not been warranted in speaking to him with a toneof authority, and in talking of a brother's position,--and the restof it. He had lacked the presence of mind for saying anything at themoment; but he must say something sooner or later. He wasn't going tobe driven by Lord Chiltern. When he looked back at his own conduct hethought that it had been more than noble,--almost romantic. He hadfallen in love with Miss Palliser, and spoken his love out freely,without any reference to money. He didn't know what more any fellowcould have done. As to his marrying out of hand, the day after hisengagement, as a man of fortune can do, everybody must have knownthat that was out of the question. Adelaide of course had known it.It had been suggested to him that he should consult his father as toliving at Maule Abbey. Now if there was one thing he hated more thananother, it was consulting his father; and yet he had done it. He hadasked for a loan of the old house in perfect faith, and it was nothis fault that it had been refused. He could not make a house to livein, nor could he coin a fortune. He had L800 a-year of his own, butof course he owed a little money. Men with such incomes always doowe a little money. It was almost impossible that he should marryquite at once. It was not his fault that Adelaide had no fortune ofher own. When he fell in love with her he had been a great deal toogenerous to think of fortune, and that ought to be remembered now tohis credit. Such was the sum of his thoughts, and his anger spreaditself from Lord Chiltern even on to Adelaide herself. Chiltern wouldhardly have spoken in that way unless she had complained. She, nodoubt, had been speaking to Lady Chiltern, and Lady Chiltern hadpassed it on to her husband. He would have it out with Adelaide onthe next morning,--quite decidedly. And he would make Lord Chilternunderstand that he would not endure interference. He was quite readyto leave Harrington Hall at a moment's notice if he were ill-treated.This was the humour in which Gerard Maule put himself to bed thatnight.

  On the following morning he was very late at breakfast,--so late thatLord Chiltern had gone over to the kennels. As he was dressing he hadresolved that it would be fitting that he should speak again to hishost before he said anything to Adelaide that might appear to imputeblame to her. He would ask Chiltern whether anything was meant bywhat had been said over-night. But, as it happened, Adelaide had beenleft alone to pour out his tea for him, and,--as the reader willunderstand to have been certain on such an occasion,--they were lefttogether for an hour in the breakfast parlour. It was impossible thatsuch an hour should be passed without some reference to the grievancewhich was lying heavy on his heart. "Late; I should think you are,"said Adelaide laughing. "It is nearly eleven. Lord Chiltern has beenout an hour. I suppose you never get up early except for hunting."

  "People always think it is so wonderfully virtuous to get up. What'sthe use of it?"

  "Your breakfast is so cold."

  "I don't care about that. I suppose they can boil me an egg. I wasvery seedy when I went to bed."

  "You smoked too many cigars, sir."

  "No, I didn't; but Chiltern was saying things that I didn't like."Adelaide's face at once became very serious. "Yes, a good deal ofsugar, please. I don't care about toast, and anything does for me. Hehas gone to the kennels, has he?"

  "He said he should. What was he saying last night?"

  "Nothing particular. He has a way of blowing up, you know; and helooks at one just as if he expected that everybody was to do justwhat he chooses."

  "You didn't quarrel?"

  "Not at all; I went off to bed without saying a word. I hate jaws.I shall just put it right this morning; that's all."

  "Was it about me, Gerard?"

  "It doesn't signify the least."

  "But it does signify. If you and he were to quarrel would it notsignify to me very much? How could I stay here with them, or go upto London with them, if you and he had really quarrelled? You musttell me. I know that it was about me." Then she came and sat close tohim. "Gerard," she continued, "I don't think you understand how mucheverything is to me that concerns you."

  When he began to reflect, he could not quite recollect what it wasthat Lord Chiltern had said to him. He did remember that somethinghad been suggested about a brother and sister which had implied thatAdelaide might want protection, but there was nothing unnatural orother than kind in the position which Lord Chiltern had declaredthat he would assume. "He seemed to think that I wasn't treating youwell," said he, turning round from the breakfast-table to the fire,"and that is a sort of thing I can't stand."

  "I have never said so, Gerard."

  "I don't know what it is that he expects, or why he should interfereat all. I can't bear to be interfered with. What does he know aboutit? He has had somebody to pay everything for him half-a-dozen times,but I have to look out for myself."

  "What does all this mean?"

  "You would ask me, you know. I am bothered out of my life by ever somany things, and now he comes and adds his botheration."

  "What bothers you, Gerard? If anything bothers you, surely you willtell me. If there has been anything to trouble you since you saw yourfather why have you not written and told me? Is your trouble aboutme?"

  "Well, of course it is, in a sort of way."

  "I will not be a trouble to you."

  "Now you are going to misunderstand me! Of course, you are not atrouble to me. You know that I love you better than anything in theworld."

  "I hope so."

  "Of course I do." Then he put his arm round her waist and pressed herto his bosom. "But what can a man do? When Lady Chiltern recommendedthat I should go to my father and tell him, I did it. I knew that nogood could come of it. He wouldn't lift his hand to do anything forme."

  "How horrid that is!"

  "He thinks it a shame that I should have my uncle's money, though henever had any more right to it than that man out there. He is alwayssaying that I am better off than he is."

  "I suppose you are."

  "I am very badly off, I know that. People seem to think that L800 isever so much, but I find it to be very little."

  "And it will be much less if you are married," said Adelaide gravely.

  "Of course, everything must be changed. I must sell my horses, and wemust cut and run, and go and live at Boulogne, I suppose. But a mancan't do that kind of thing all in a moment. Then Chiltern comes andtalks as though he were Virtue personified. What business is it ofhis?"

  Then Adelaide became still more grave. She had now removed herselffrom his embrace, and was standing a little apart from him on therug. She did not answer him at first; and when she did so, she spokevery slowly. "We have been rash, I fear; and have done what we havedone without sufficient thought."

  "I don't say that at all."

  "But I do. It does seem now that we have been imprudent." Then shesmiled as she completed her speech. "There had better be noengagement between us."

  "Why do you say that?"

  "Because it is quite clear that it has been a trouble to you ratherthan a happiness."

  "I wouldn't give it up for all the world."

  "But it will be better. I had not thought about it as I should havedone. I did not understand that the prospect of marrying would makeyou--so very poor. I see it now. You had better tell Lord Chilternthat it is--done with, and I will tell her the same. It will bebetter; and I will go back to Italy at once."

  "Certainly not. It is not done with, and it shall not be done with."

  "Do you think I will marry the man I love when he tells me thatby--marrying--me, he will be--banished to--Bou--logne? You had bettersee Lord Chiltern; indeed you had." And then she walked out of theroom.

  Then came upon him at once a feeling that he had behaved badly; andyet he had been so generous, so full of intentions to be devoted andtrue! He had never for a moment thought of breaking off the match,and wou
ld not think of it now. He loved her better than ever, andwould live only with the intention of making her his wife. But hecertainly should not have talked to her of his poverty, nor should hehave mentioned Boulogne. And yet what should he have done? She wouldcross-question him about Lord Chiltern, and it was so essentiallynecessary that he should make her understand his real condition. Ithad all come from that man's unjustifiable interference,--as he wouldat once go and tell him. Of course he would marry Adelaide, but themarriage must be delayed. Everybody waits twelve months before theyare married; and why should she not wait? He was miserable because heknew that he had made her unhappy;--but the fault had been with LordChiltern. He would speak his mind frankly to Chiltern, and then wouldexplain with loving tenderness to his Adelaide that they would stillbe all in all to each other, but that a short year must elapse beforehe could put his house in order for her. After that he would sell hishorses. That resolve was in itself so great that he did not thinkit necessary at the present moment to invent any more plans for thefuture. So he went out into the hall, took his hat, and marched offto the kennels.

  At the kennels he found Lord Chiltern surrounded by the denizens ofthe hunt. His huntsman, with the kennelman and feeder, and two whips,and old Doggett were all there, and the Master of the Hounds was inthe middle of his business. The dogs were divided by ages, as wellas by sex, and were being brought out and examined. Old Doggett wasgiving advice,--differing almost always from Cox, the huntsman, asto the propriety of keeping this hound or of cashiering that. Nose,pace, strength, and docility were all questioned with an eagernesshardly known in any other business; and on each question LordChiltern listened to everybody, and then decided with a single word.When he had once resolved, nothing further urged by any man thencould avail anything. Jove never was so autocratic, and certainlynever so much in earnest. From the look of Lord Chiltern's brow italmost seemed as though this weight of empire must be too much forany mere man. Very little notice was taken of Gerard Maule when hejoined the conclave, though it was felt in reference to him that hewas sufficiently staunch a friend to the hunt to be trusted withthe secrets of the kennel. Lord Chiltern merely muttered some wordsof greeting, and Cox lifted the old hunting-cap which he wore. Foranother hour the conference was held. Those who have attended suchmeetings know well that a morning on the flags is apt to be a longaffair. Old Doggett, who had privileges, smoked a pipe, and GerardMaule lit one cigar after another. But Lord Chiltern had become toothorough a man of business to smoke when so employed. At last thelast order was given,--Doggett snarled his last snarl,--and Coxuttered his last "My lord." Then Gerard Maule and the Master left thehounds and walked home together.

  The affair had been so long that Gerard had almost forgotten hisgrievance. But now as they got out together upon the park, heremembered the tone of Adelaide's voice as she left him, andremembered also that, as matters stood at present, it was essentiallynecessary that something should be said. "I suppose I shall have togo and see that woman," said Lord Chiltern.

  "Do you mean Adelaide?" asked Maule, in a tone of infinite surprise.

  "I mean this new Duchess, who I'm told is to manage everythingherself. That man Fothergill is going on with just the old game atTrumpeton."

  "Is he, indeed? I was thinking of something else just at that moment.You remember what you were saying about Miss Palliser last night."

  "Yes."

  "Well;--I don't think, you know, you had a right to speak as youdid."

  Lord Chiltern almost flew at his companion, as he replied, "I saidnothing. I do say that when a man becomes engaged to a girl, heshould let her hear from him, so that they may know what each otheris about."

  "You hinted something about being her brother."

  "Of course I did. If you mean well by her, as I hope you do, it can'tfret you to think that she has got somebody to look after her tillyou come in and take possession. It is the commonest thing in theworld when a girl is left all alone as she is."

  "You seemed to make out that I wasn't treating her well."

  "I said nothing of the kind, Maule; but if you ask me--"

  "I don't ask you anything."

  "Yes, you do. You come and find fault with me for speaking last nightin the most good-natured way in the world. And, therefore, I tell younow that you will be behaving very badly indeed, unless you make somearrangement at once as to what you mean to do."

  "That's your opinion," said Gerard Maule.

  "Yes, it is; and you'll find it to be the opinion of any man or womanthat you may ask who knows anything about such things. And I'll tellyou what, Master Maule, if you think you're going to face me downyou'll find yourself mistaken. Stop a moment, and just listen to me.You haven't a much better friend than I am, and I'm sure she hasn't abetter friend than my wife. All this has taken place under our roof,and I mean to speak my mind plainly. What do you propose to do aboutyour marriage?"

  "I don't propose to tell you what I mean to do."

  "Will you tell Miss Palliser,--or my wife?"

  "That is just as I may think fit."

  "Then I must tell you that you cannot meet her at my house."

  "I'll leave it to-day."

  "You needn't do that either. You sleep on it, and then make up yourmind. You can't suppose that I have any curiosity about it. The girlis fond of you, and I suppose that you are fond of her. Don't quarrelfor nothing. If I have offended you, speak to Lady Chiltern aboutit."

  "Very well;--I will speak to Lady Chiltern."

  When they reached the house it was clear that something was wrong.Miss Palliser was not seen again before dinner, and Lady Chiltern wasgrave and very cold in her manner to Gerard Maule. He was left aloneall the afternoon, which he passed with his horses and groom, smokingmore cigars,--but thinking all the time of Adelaide Palliser's lastwords, of Lord Chiltern's frown, and of Lady Chiltern's manner tohim. When he came into the drawing-room before dinner, Lady Chilternand Adelaide were both there, and Adelaide immediately began to askquestions about the kennel and the huntsmen. But she studiouslykept at a distance from him, and he himself felt that it would beimpossible to resume at present the footing on which he stood withthem both on the previous evening. Presently Lord Chiltern came in,and another man and his wife who had come to stay at Harrington.Nothing could be more dull than the whole evening. At least so Gerardfound it. He did take Adelaide in to dinner, but he did not sit nextto her at table, for which, however, there was an excuse, as, hadhe done so, the new-comer must have been placed by his wife. He wascross, and would not make an attempt to speak to his neighbour, and,though he tried once or twice to talk to Lady Chiltern--than whom,as a rule, no woman was ever more easy in conversation--he failedaltogether. Now and again he strove to catch Adelaide's eye, but evenin that he could not succeed. When the ladies left the room Chilternand the new-comer--who was not a sporting man, and therefore did notunderstand the question--became lost in the mazes of Trumpeton Wood.But Gerard Maule did not put in a word; nor was a word addressed tohim by Lord Chiltern. As he sat there sipping his wine, he made uphis mind that he would leave Harrington Hall the next morning. Whenhe was again in the drawing-room, things were conducted in just thesame way. He spoke to Adelaide, and she answered him; but therewas no word of encouragement--not a tone of comfort in her voice.He found himself driven to attempt conversation with the strangelady, and at last was made to play whist with Lady Chiltern and thetwo new-comers. Later on in the evening, when Adelaide had goneto her own chamber, he was invited by Lady Chiltern into her ownsitting-room upstairs, and there the whole thing was explained tohim. Miss Palliser had declared that the match should be broken off.

  "Do you mean altogether, Lady Chiltern?"

  "Certainly I do. Such a resolve cannot be a half-and-halfarrangement."

  "But why?"

  "I think you must know why, Mr. Maule."

  "I don't in the least. I won't have it broken off. I have as muchright to have a voice in the matter as she has, and I don't in theleast believe it's her doing."
r />   "Mr. Maule!"

  "I do not care; I must speak out. Why does she not tell me soherself?"

  "She did tell you so."

  "No, she didn't. She said something, but not that. I don't supposea man was ever so used before; and it's all Lord Chiltern;--justbecause I told him that he had no right to interfere with me. And hehas no right."

  "You and Oswald were away together when she told me that she had madeup her mind. Oswald has hardly spoken to her since you have been inthe house. He certainly has not spoken to her about you since youcame to us."

  "What is the meaning of it, then?"

  "You told her that your engagement had overwhelmed you withtroubles."

  "Of course; there must be troubles."

  "And that--you would have to be banished to Boulogne when you weremarried."

  "I didn't mean her to take that literally."

  "It wasn't a nice way, Mr. Maule, to speak of your future life to thegirl to whom you were engaged. Of course it was her hope to make yourlife happier, not less happy. And when you made her understand--asyou did very plainly--that your married prospects filled you withdismay, of course she had no other alternative but to retreat fromher engagement."

  "I wasn't dismayed."

  "It is not my doing, Mr. Maule."

  "I suppose she'll see me?"

  "If you insist upon it she will; but she would rather not."

  Gerard, however, did insist, and Adelaide was brought to him thereinto that room before he went to bed. She was very gentle with him,and spoke to him in a tone very different from that which LadyChiltern had used; but he found himself utterly powerless to changeher. That unfortunate allusion to a miserable exile at Boulogne hadcompleted the work which the former plaints had commenced, and haddriven her to a resolution to separate herself from him altogether.

  "Mr. Maule," she said, "when I perceived that our proposed marriagewas looked upon by you as a misfortune, I could do nothing but putan end to our engagement."

  "But I didn't think it a misfortune."

  "You made me think that it would be unfortunate for you, and that isquite as strong a reason. I hope we shall part as friends."

  "I won't part at all," he said, standing his ground with his back tothe fire. "I don't understand it, by heaven I don't. Because I saidsome stupid thing about Boulogne, all in joke--"

  "It was not in joke when you said that troubles had come heavy on yousince you were engaged."

  "A man may be allowed to know, himself, whether he was in joke ornot. I suppose the truth is you don't care about me?"

  "I hope, Mr. Maule, that in time it may come--not quite to that."

  "I think that you are--using me very badly. I think that youare--behaving--falsely to me. I think that I am--very--shamefullytreated--among you. Of course I shall go. Of course I shall not stayin this house. A man can't make a girl keep her promise. No--I won'tshake hands. I won't even say good-bye to you. Of course I shall go."So saying he slammed the door behind him.

  "If he cares for you he'll come back to you," Lady Chiltern said toAdelaide that night, who at the moment was lying on her bed in a sadcondition, frantic with headache.

  "I don't want him to come back; I will never make him go toBoulogne."

  "Don't think of it, dear."

  "Not think of it! how can I help thinking of it? I shall always thinkof it. But I never want to see him again--never! How can I want tomarry a man who tells me that I shall be a trouble to him? He shallnever,--never have to go to Boulogne for me."