The Way We Live Now

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER XXXIX.

  "I DO LOVE HIM."

  So it was. Lady Carbury had returned home from the soiree of learnedpeople, and had brought Roger Carbury with her. They both came upto the drawing-room and found Paul and Henrietta together. It needhardly be said that they were both surprised. Roger supposed thatMontague was still at Liverpool, and, knowing that he was not afrequent visitor in Welbeck Street, could hardly avoid a feelingthat a meeting between the two had now been planned in the mother'sabsence. The reader knows that it was not so. Roger certainly was aman not liable to suspicion, but the circumstances in this case weresuspicious. There would have been nothing to suspect,--no reason whyPaul should not have been there,--but from the promise which had beengiven. There was, indeed, no breach of that promise proved by Paul'spresence in Welbeck Street; but Roger felt rather than thought thatthe two could hardly have spent the evening together without suchbreach. Whether Paul had broken the promise by what he had alreadysaid the reader must be left to decide.

  Lady Carbury was the first to speak. "This is quite an unexpectedpleasure, Mr. Montague." Whether Roger suspected anything or not,she did. The moment she saw Paul the idea occurred to her that themeeting between Hetta and him had been preconcerted.

  "Yes," he said,--making a lame excuse, where no excuse should havebeen made,--"I had nothing to do, and was lonely, and thought that Iwould come up and see you." Lady Carbury disbelieved him altogether,but Roger felt assured that his coming in Lady Carbury's absence hadbeen an accident. The man had said so, and that was enough.

  "I thought you were at Liverpool," said Roger.

  "I came back to-day,--to be present at that Board in the city. I havehad a good deal to trouble me. I will tell you all about it just now.What has brought you to London?"

  "A little business," said Roger.

  Then there was an awkward silence. Lady Carbury was angry, and hardlyknew whether she ought or ought not to show her anger. For Henriettait was very awkward. She, too, could not but feel that she had beencaught, though no innocence could be whiter than hers. She knew wellher mother's mind, and the way in which her mother's thoughts wouldrun. Silence was frightful to her, and she found herself forced tospeak. "Have you had a pleasant evening, mamma?"

  "Have you had a pleasant evening, my dear?" said Lady Carbury,forgetting herself in her desire to punish her daughter.

  "Indeed, no," said Hetta, attempting to laugh, "I have been trying towork hard at Dante, but one never does any good when one has to tryto work. I was just going to bed when Mr. Montague came in. What didyou think of the wise men and the wise women, Roger?"

  "I was out of my element, of course; but I think your mother likedit."

  "I was very glad indeed to meet Dr. Palmoil. It seems that if wecan only open the interior of Africa a little further, we can geteverything that is wanted to complete the chemical combinationnecessary for feeding the human race. Isn't that a grand idea,Roger?"

  "A little more elbow grease is the combination that I look to."

  "Surely, Roger, if the Bible is to go for anything, we are to believethat labour is a curse and not a blessing. Adam was not born tolabour."

  "But he fell; and I doubt whether Dr. Palmoil will be able to put hisdescendants back into Eden."

  "Roger, for a religious man, you do say the strangest things! I havequite made up my mind to this;--if ever I can see things so settledhere as to enable me to move, I will visit the interior of Africa. Itis the garden of the world."

  This scrap of enthusiasm so carried them through their immediatedifficulties that the two men were able to take their leave and toget out of the room with fair comfort. As soon as the door was closedbehind them Lady Carbury attacked her daughter. "What brought himhere?"

  "He brought himself, mamma."

  "Don't answer me in that way, Hetta. Of course he brought himself.That is insolent."

  "Insolent, mamma! How can you say such hard words? I meant that hecame of his own accord."

  "How long was he here?"

  "Two minutes before you came in. Why do you cross-question me likethis? I could not help his coming. I did not desire that he might beshown up."

  "You did not know that he was to come?"

  "Mamma, if I am to be suspected, all is over between us."

  "What do you mean by that?"

  "If you can think that I would deceive you, you will think so always.If you will not trust me, how am I to live with you as though youdid? I knew nothing of his coming."

  "Tell me this, Hetta; are you engaged to marry him?"

  "No;--I am not."

  "Has he asked you to marry him?"

  Hetta paused a moment, considering, before she answered thisquestion. "I do not think he ever has."

  "You do not think?"

  "I was going on to explain. He never has asked me. But he has saidthat which makes me know that he wishes me to be his wife."

  "What has he said? When did he say it?"

  Again she paused. But again she answered with straightforwardsimplicity. "Just before you came in, he said--; I don't know what hesaid; but it meant that."

  "You told me he had been here but a minute."

  "It was but very little more. If you take me at my word in that way,of course you can make me out to be wrong, mamma. It was almost notime, and yet he said it."

  "He had come prepared to say it."

  "How could he,--expecting to find you?"

  "Psha! He expected nothing of the kind."

  "I think you do him wrong, mamma. I am sure you are doing me wrong.I think his coming was an accident, and that what he said was--anaccident."

  "An accident!"

  "It was not intended,--not then, mamma. I have known it ever solong;--and so have you. It was natural that he should say so when wewere alone together."

  "And you;--what did you say?"

  "Nothing. You came."

  "I am sorry that my coming should have been so inopportune. But Imust ask one other question, Hetta. What do you intend to say?" Hettawas again silent, and now for a longer space. She put her hand up toher brow and pushed back her hair as she thought whether her motherhad a right to continue this cross-examination. She had told hermother everything as it had happened. She had kept back no deed done,no word spoken, either now or at any time. But she was not sure thather mother had a right to know her thoughts, feeling as she did thatshe had so little sympathy from her mother. "How do you intend toanswer him?" demanded Lady Carbury.

  "I do not know that he will ask again."

  "That is prevaricating."

  "No, mamma;--I do not prevaricate. It is unfair to say that to me.I do love him. There. I think it ought to have been enough for you toknow that I should never give him encouragement without telling youabout it. I do love him, and I shall never love any one else."

  "He is a ruined man. Your cousin says that all this Company in whichhe is involved will go to pieces."

  Hetta was too clever to allow this argument to pass. She did notdoubt that Roger had so spoken of the Railway to her mother, but shedid doubt that her mother had believed the story. "If so," said she,"Mr. Melmotte will be a ruined man too, and yet you want Felix tomarry Marie Melmotte."

  "It makes me ill to hear you talk,--as if you understood thesethings. And you think you will marry this man because he is to make afortune out of the Railway!" Lady Carbury was able to speak with anextremity of scorn in reference to the assumed pursuit by one of herchildren of an advantageous position which she was doing all in herpower to recommend to the other child.

  "I have not thought of his fortune. I have not thought of marryinghim, mamma. I think you are very cruel to me. You say things so hard,that I cannot bear them."

  "Why will you not marry your cousin?"

  "I am not good enough for him."

  "Nonsense!"

  "Very well; you say so. But that is what I think. He is so much aboveme, that, though I do love him, I cannot think of him in that way.And I have told you that I do love some
one else. I have no secretfrom you now. Good night, mamma," she said, coming up to her motherand kissing her. "Do be kind to me; and pray,--pray,--do believe me."Lady Carbury then allowed herself to be kissed, and allowed herdaughter to leave the room.

  Lady Carbury allowed herself to be kissed.]

  There was a great deal said that night between Roger Carbury andPaul Montague before they parted. As they walked together to Roger'shotel he said not a word as to Paul's presence in Welbeck Street.Paul had declared his visit in Lady Carbury's absence to havebeen accidental,--and therefore there was nothing more to be said.Montague then asked as to the cause of Carbury's journey to London."I do not wish it to be talked of," said Roger after a pause,--"andof course I could not speak of it before Hetta. A girl has gone awayfrom our neighbourhood. You remember old Ruggles?"

  "You do not mean that Ruby has levanted? She was to have married JohnCrumb."

  "Just so,--but she has gone off, leaving John Crumb in an unhappyframe of mind. John Crumb is an honest man and almost too good forher."

  "Ruby is very pretty. Has she gone with any one?"

  "No;--she went alone. But the horror of it is this. They think downthere that Felix has,--well, made love to her, and that she has beentaken to London by him."

  "That would be very bad."

  "He certainly has known her. Though he lied, as he always lies, whenI first spoke to him, I brought him to admit that he and she hadbeen friends down in Suffolk. Of course we know what such friendshipmeans. But I do not think that she came to London at his instance. Ofcourse he would lie about that. He would lie about anything. If hishorse cost him a hundred pounds, he would tell one man that he gavefifty, and another two hundred. But he has not lived long enough yetto be able to lie and tell the truth with the same eye. When he is asold as I am he'll be perfect."

  "He knows nothing about her coming to town?"

  "He did not when I first asked him. I am not sure, but I fancy thatI was too quick after her. She started last Saturday morning. Ifollowed on the Sunday, and made him out at his club. I think that heknew nothing then of her being in town. He is very clever if he did.Since that he has avoided me. I caught him once but only for half aminute, and then he swore that he had not seen her."

  "You still believed him?"

  "No;--he did it very well, but I knew that he was prepared for me.I cannot say how it may have been. To make matters worse old Ruggleshas now quarrelled with Crumb, and is no longer anxious to get backhis granddaughter. He was frightened at first; but that has gone off,and he is now reconciled to the loss of the girl and the saving ofhis money."

  After that Paul told all his own story,--the double story, both inregard to Melmotte and to Mrs. Hurtle. As regarded the Railway, Rogercould only tell him to follow explicitly the advice of his Liverpoolfriend. "I never believed in the thing, you know."

  "Nor did I. But what could I do?"

  "I'm not going to blame you. Indeed, knowing you as I do, feelingsure that you intend to be honest, I would not for a moment insist onmy own opinion, if it did not seem that Mr. Ramsbottom thinks as Ido. In such a matter, when a man does not see his own way clearly,it behoves him to be able to show that he has followed the adviceof some man whom the world esteems and recognises. You have to bindyour character to another man's character; and that other man'scharacter, if it be good, will carry you through. From what I hearMr. Ramsbottom's character is sufficiently good;--but then you mustdo exactly what he tells you."

  But the Railway business, though it comprised all that Montague hadin the world, was not the heaviest of his troubles. What was he todo about Mrs. Hurtle? He had now, for the first time, to tell hisfriend that Mrs. Hurtle had come to London, and that he had been withher three or four times. There was this difficulty in the matter,too,--that it was very hard to speak of his engagement with Mrs.Hurtle without in some sort alluding to his love for HenriettaCarbury. Roger knew of both loves;--had been very urgent with hisfriend to abandon the widow, and at any rate equally urgent with himto give up the other passion. Were he to marry the widow, all dangeron the other side would be at an end. And yet, in discussing thequestion of Mrs. Hurtle, he was to do so as though there were no suchperson existing as Henrietta Carbury. The discussion did take placeexactly as though there were no such person as Henrietta Carbury.Paul told it all,--the rumoured duel, the rumoured murder, and therumour of the existing husband.

  "It may be necessary that you should go out to Kansas,--and toOregon," said Roger.

  "But even if the rumours be untrue I will not marry her," said Paul.Roger shrugged his shoulders. He was doubtless thinking of HettaCarbury, but he said nothing. "And what would she do, remaininghere?" continued Paul. Roger admitted that it would be awkward. "Iam determined that under no circumstances will I marry her. I knowI have been a fool. I know I have been wrong. But of course, if therebe a fair cause for my broken word, I will use it if I can."

  "You will get out of it, honestly if you can; but you will get out ofit honestly or--any other way."

  "Did you not advise me to get out of it, Roger;--before we knew asmuch as we do now?"

  "I did,--and I do. If you make a bargain with the Devil, it may bedishonest to cheat him,--and yet I would have you cheat him if youcould. As to this woman, I do believe she has deceived you. If I wereyou, nothing should induce me to marry her;--not though her clawswere strong enough to tear me utterly in pieces. I'll tell you whatI'll do. I'll go and see her if you like it."

  But Paul would not submit to this. He felt that he was bound himselfto incur the risk of those claws, and that no substitute could takehis place. They sat long into the night, and it was at last resolvedbetween them that on the next morning Paul should go to Islington,should tell Mrs. Hurtle all the stories which he had heard, andshould end by declaring his resolution that under no circumstanceswould he marry her. They both felt how improbable it was that heshould ever be allowed to get to the end of such a story,--how almostcertain it was that the breeding of the wild cat would show itselfbefore that time should come. But, still, that was the course to bepursued as far as circumstances would admit; and Paul was at any rateto declare, claws or no claws, husband or no husband,--whether theduel or the murder was admitted or denied,--that he would never makeMrs. Hurtle his wife. "I wish it were over, old fellow," said Roger.

  "So do I," said Paul, as he took his leave.

  He went to bed like a man condemned to die on the next morning, andhe awoke in the same condition. He had slept well, but as he shookfrom him his happy dream, the wretched reality at once overwhelmedhim. But the man who is to be hung has no choice. He cannot, when hewakes, declare that he has changed his mind, and postpone the hour.It was quite open to Paul Montague to give himself such instantrelief. He put his hand up to his brow, and almost made himselfbelieve that his head was aching. This was Saturday. Would it not bewell that he should think of it further, and put off his executiontill Monday? Monday was so far distant that he felt that he could goto Islington quite comfortably on Monday. Was there not some hithertoforgotten point which it would be well that he should discuss withhis friend Roger before he saw the lady? Should he not rush down toLiverpool, and ask a few more questions of Mr. Ramsbottom? Why shouldhe go forth to execution, seeing that the matter was in his ownhands?

  At last he jumped out of bed and into his tub, and dressed himselfas quickly as he could. He worked himself up into a fit of fortitude,and resolved that the thing should be done before the fit was over.He ate his breakfast about nine, and then asked himself whether hemight not be too early were he to go at once to Islington. But heremembered that she was always early. In every respect she was anenergetic woman, using her time for some purpose, either good or bad,not sleeping it away in bed. If one has to be hung on a given day,would it not be well to be hung as soon after waking as possible?I can fancy that the hangman would hardly come early enough. And ifone had to be hung in a given week, would not one wish to be hung onthe first day of the week, even at the risk of breaking one's last
Sabbath day in this world? Whatever be the misery to be endured, getit over. The horror of every agony is in its anticipation. Paul hadrealised something of this when he threw himself into a Hansom cab,and ordered the man to drive him to Islington.

  How quick that cab went! Nothing ever goes so quick as a Hansom cabwhen a man starts for a dinner-party a little too early;--nothingso slow when he starts too late. Of all cabs this, surely, wasthe quickest. Paul was lodging in Suffolk Street, close to PallMall,--whence the way to Islington, across Oxford Street, acrossTottenham Court Road, across numerous squares north-east of theMuseum, seems to be long. The end of Goswell Road is the outsideof the world in that direction, and Islington is beyond the end ofGoswell Road. And yet that Hansom cab was there before Paul Montaguehad been able to arrange the words with which he would begin theinterview. He had given the street and the number of the street. Itwas not till after he had started that it occurred to him that itmight be well that he should get out at the end of the street, andwalk to the house,--so that he might, as it were, fetch his breathbefore the interview was commenced. But the cabman dashed up to thedoor in a manner purposely devised to make every inmate of the houseaware that a cab had just arrived before it. There was a littlegarden before the house. We all know the garden;--twenty-four feetlong, by twelve broad;--and an iron-grated door, with the landlady'sname on a brass plate. Paul, when he had paid the cabman,--giving theman half-a-crown, and asking for no change in his agony,--pushed inthe iron gate and walked very quickly up to the door, rang ratherfuriously, and before the door was well opened asked for Mrs. Hurtle.

  "Mrs. Hurtle is out for the day," said the girl who opened the door."Leastways, she went out yesterday and won't be back till to-night."Providence had sent him a reprieve! But he almost forgot thereprieve, as he looked at the girl and saw that she was Ruby Ruggles."Oh laws, Mr. Montague, is that you?" Ruby Ruggles had often seenPaul down in Suffolk, and recognised him as quickly as he did her. Itoccurred to her at once that he had come in search of herself. Sheknew that Roger Carbury was up in town looking for her. So much shehad of course learned from Sir Felix,--for at this time she had seenthe baronet more than once since her arrival. Montague, she knew,was Roger Carbury's intimate friend, and now she felt that she wascaught. In her terror she did not at first remember that the visitorhad asked for Mrs. Hurtle.

  "Yes, it is I. I was sorry to hear, Miss Ruggles, that you had leftyour home."

  "I'm all right, Mr. Montague;--I am. Mrs. Pipkin is my aunt, or,leastways, my mother's brother's widow, though grandfather neverwould speak to her. She's quite respectable, and has five children,and lets lodgings. There's a lady here now, and has gone away withher just for one night down to Southend. They'll be back thisevening, and I've the children to mind, with the servant girl. I'mquite respectable here, Mr. Montague, and nobody need be a bit afraidabout me."

  "Mrs. Hurtle has gone down to Southend?"

  "Yes, Mr. Montague; she wasn't quite well, and wanted a breath ofair, she said. And aunt didn't like she should go alone, as Mrs.Hurtle is such a stranger. And Mrs. Hurtle said as she didn'tmind paying for two, and so they've gone, and the baby with them.Mrs. Pipkin said as the baby shouldn't be no trouble. And Mrs.Hurtle,--she's most as fond of the baby as aunt. Do you know Mrs.Hurtle, sir?"

  "Yes; she's a friend of mine."

  "Oh; I didn't know. I did know as there was some friend as wasexpected and as didn't come. Be I to say, sir, as you was here?"

  Paul thought it might be as well to shift the subject and to ask Rubya few questions about herself while he made up his mind what messagehe would leave for Mrs. Hurtle. "I'm afraid they are very unhappyabout you down at Bungay, Miss Ruggles."

  "Then they've got to be unhappy; that's all about it, Mr. Montague.Grandfather is that provoking as a young woman can't live with him,nor yet I won't try never again. He lugged me all about the room bymy hair, Mr. Montague. How is a young woman to put up with that?And I did everything for him,--that careful that no one won't do itagain;--did his linen, and his victuals, and even cleaned his bootsof a Sunday, 'cause he was that mean he wouldn't have anybody aboutthe place only me and the girl who had to milk the cows. There wasn'tnobody to do anything, only me. And then he went to drag me aboutby the hairs of my head. You won't see me again at Sheep's Acre, Mr.Montague;--nor yet won't the Squire."

  "But I thought there was somebody else was to give you a home."

  "John Crumb! Oh, yes, there's John Crumb. There's plenty of people togive me a home, Mr. Montague."

  "You were to have been married to John Crumb, I thought."

  "Ladies is to change their minds if they like it, Mr. Montague. I'msure you've heard that before. Grandfather made me say I'd havehim,--but I never cared that for him."

  "I'm afraid, Miss Ruggles, you won't find a better man up here inLondon."

  "I didn't come here to look for a man, Mr. Montague; I can tell youthat. They has to look for me, if they want me. But I am lookedafter; and that by one as John Crumb ain't fit to touch." That toldthe whole story. Paul when he heard the little boast was quite surethat Roger's fear about Felix was well founded. And as for JohnCrumb's fitness to touch Sir Felix, Paul felt that the Bungay mealmanmight have an opinion of his own on that matter. "But there's Betsy acrying up-stairs, and I promised not to leave them children for oneminute."

  "I will tell the Squire that I saw you, Miss Ruggles."

  "What does the Squire want o' me? I ain't nothing to theSquire,--except that I respects him. You can tell if you please, Mr.Montague, of course. I'm a coming, my darling."

  Paul made his way into Mrs. Hurtle's sitting-room and wrote a notefor her in pencil. He had come, he said, immediately on his returnfrom Liverpool, and was sorry to find that she was away for the day.When should he call again? If she would make an appointment he wouldattend to it. He felt as he wrote this that he might very safely havehimself made an appointment for the morrow; but he cheated himselfinto half believing that the suggestion he now made was the moregracious and civil. At any rate it would certainly give him anotherday. Mrs. Hurtle would not return till late in the evening, and asthe following day was Sunday there would be no delivery by post.When the note was finished he left it on the table, and called toRuby to tell her that he was going. "Mr. Montague," she said in aconfidential whisper, as she tripped down the stairs, "I don't seewhy you need be saying anything about me, you know."

  "Mr. Carbury is up in town looking after you."

  "What 'm I to Mr. Carbury?"

  "Your grandfather is very anxious about you."

  "Not a bit of it, Mr. Montague. Grandfather knows very well whereI am. There! Grandfather doesn't want me back, and I ain't a going.Why should the Squire bother himself about me? I don't bother myselfabout him."

  "He's afraid, Miss Ruggles, that you are trusting yourself to a youngman who is not trustworthy."

  "I can mind myself very well, Mr. Montague."

  "Tell me this. Have you seen Sir Felix Carbury since you've been intown?" Ruby, whose blushes came very easily, now flushed up to herforehead. "You may be sure that he means no good to you. What cancome of an intimacy between you and such a one as he?"

  "I don't see why I shouldn't have my friend, Mr. Montague, as well asyou. Howsomever, if you'll not tell, I'll be ever so much obliged."

  "But I must tell Mr. Carbury."

  "Then I ain't obliged to you one bit," said Ruby, shutting the door.

  Paul as he walked away could not help thinking of the justice ofRuby's reproach to him. What business had he to take upon himself tobe a Mentor to any one in regard to an affair of love;--he, who hadengaged himself to marry Mrs. Hurtle, and who the evening before hadfor the first time declared his love to Hetta Carbury?

  In regard to Mrs. Hurtle he had got a reprieve, as he thought, fortwo days;--but it did not make him happy or even comfortable. As hewalked back to his lodgings he knew it would have been better for himto have had the interview over. But, at any rate, he could now thinkof Hetta Carbury, and the wo
rds he had spoken to her. Had he heardthat declaration which she had made to her mother, he would have beenable for the hour to have forgotten Mrs. Hurtle.