The Way We Live Now

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER XCVIII.

  MARIE MELMOTTE'S FATE.

  In the meantime Marie Melmotte was living with Madame Melmotte intheir lodgings up at Hampstead, and was taking quite a new look outinto the world. Fisker had become her devoted servant,--not with thatold-fashioned service which meant making love, but with perhaps atruer devotion to her material interests. He had ascertained on herbehalf that she was the undoubted owner of the money which her fatherhad made over to her on his first arrival in England,--and she alsohad made herself mistress of that fact with equal precision. Itwould have astonished those who had known her six months since couldthey now have seen how excellent a woman of business she had become,and how capable she was of making the fullest use of Mr. Fisker'sservices. In doing him justice it must be owned that he keptnothing back from her of that which he learned, probably feelingthat he might best achieve success in his present project by suchhonesty,--feeling also, no doubt, the girl's own strength indiscovering truth and falsehood. "She's her father's own daughter,"he said one day to Croll in Abchurch Lane;--for Croll, though hehad left Melmotte's employment when he found that his name had beenforged, had now returned to the service of the daughter in someundefined position, and had been engaged to go with her and MadameMelmotte to New York.

  "Ah; yees," said Croll, "but bigger. He vas passionate, and did losehis 'ead; and vas blow'd up vid bigness." Whereupon Croll made anaction as though he were a frog swelling himself to the dimensionsof an ox. "'E bursted himself, Mr. Fisker. 'E vas a great man; butthe greater he grew he vas always less and less vise. 'E ate somuch that he became too fat to see to eat his vittels." It was thusthat Herr Croll analyzed the character of his late master. "ButMa'me'selle,--ah, she is different. She vill never eat too moch, butvill see to eat alvays." Thus too he analyzed the character of hisyoung mistress.

  At first things did not arrange themselves pleasantly between MadameMelmotte and Marie. The reader will perhaps remember that they werein no way connected by blood. Madame Melmotte was not Marie's mother,nor, in the eye of the law, could Marie claim Melmotte as her father.She was alone in the world, absolutely without a relation, notknowing even what had been her mother's name,--not even knowing whatwas her father's true name, as in the various biographies of thegreat man which were, as a matter of course, published within afortnight of his death, various accounts were given as to his birth,parentage, and early history. The general opinion seemed to be thathis father had been a noted coiner in New York,--an Irishman of thename of Melmody,--and, in one memoir, the probability of the descentwas argued from Melmotte's skill in forgery. But Marie, though shewas thus isolated, and now altogether separated from the lords andduchesses who a few weeks since had been interested in her career,was the undoubted owner of the money,--a fact which was beyond thecomprehension of Madame Melmotte. She could understand,--and wasdelighted to understand,--that a very large sum of money had beensaved from the wreck, and that she might therefore look forward toprosperous tranquillity for the rest of her life. Though she neveracknowledged so much to herself, she soon learned to regard theremoval of her husband as the end of her troubles. But she couldnot comprehend why Marie should claim all the money as her own.She declared herself to be quite willing to divide the spoil,--andsuggested such an arrangement both to Marie and to Croll. Of Fiskershe was afraid, thinking that the iniquity of giving all the moneyto Marie originated with him, in order that he might obtain itby marrying the girl. Croll, who understood it all perfectly,told her the story a dozen times,--but quite in vain. She made atimid suggestion of employing a lawyer on her own behalf, and wasonly deterred from doing so by Marie's ready assent to such anarrangement. Marie's equally ready surrender of any right she mighthave to a portion of the jewels which had been saved had perhapssome effect in softening the elder lady's heart. She thus was inpossession of a treasure of her own,--though a treasure small incomparison with that of the younger woman; and the younger woman hadpromised that in the event of her marriage she would be liberal.

  It was distinctly understood that they were both to go to New Yorkunder Mr. Fisker's guidance as soon as things should be sufficientlysettled to allow of their departure; and Madame Melmotte was told,about the middle of August, that their places had been taken for the3rd of September. But nothing more was told her. She did not as yetknow whether Marie was to go out free or as the affianced bride ofHamilton Fisker. And she felt herself injured by being left so muchin the dark. She herself was inimical to Fisker, regarding him as adark, designing man, who would ultimately swallow up all that herhusband had left behind him,--and trusted herself entirely to Croll,who was personally attentive to her. Fisker was, of course, goingon to San Francisco. Marie also had talked of crossing the Americancontinent. But Madame Melmotte was disposed to think that for her,with her jewels, and such share of the money as Marie might beinduced to give her, New York would be the most fitting residence.Why should she drag herself across the continent to California? HerrCroll had declared his purpose of remaining in New York. Then itoccurred to the lady that as Melmotte was a name which might be toowell known in New York, and which it therefore might be wise tochange, Croll would do as well as any other. She and Herr Croll hadknown each other for a great many years, and were, she thought, ofabout the same age. Croll had some money saved. She had, at any rate,her jewels,--and Croll would probably be able to get some portion ofall that money, which ought to be hers, if his affairs were made tobe identical with her own. So she smiled upon Croll, and whisperedto him; and when she had given Croll two glasses of Curacoa,--whichcomforter she kept in her own hands, as safe-guarded almost as thejewels,--then Croll understood her.

  But it was essential that she should know what Marie intended to do.Marie was anything but communicative, and certainly was not in anyway submissive. "My dear," she said one day, asking the question inFrench, without any preface or apology, "are you going to be marriedto Mr. Fisker?"

  "What makes you ask that?"

  "It is so important I should know. Where am I to live? What am I todo? What money shall I have? Who will be a friend to me? A womanought to know. You will marry Fisker if you like him. Why cannot youtell me?"

  "Because I do not know. When I know I will tell you. If you go onasking me till to-morrow morning I can say no more."

  And this was true. She did not know. It certainly was not Fisker'sfault that she should still be in the dark as to her own destiny, forhe had asked her often enough, and had pressed his suit with all hiseloquence. But Marie had now been wooed so often that she felt theimportance of the step which was suggested to her. The romance ofthe thing was with her a good deal worn, and the material view ofmatrimony had also been damaged in her sight. She had fallen in lovewith Sir Felix Carbury, and had assured herself over and over againthat she worshipped the very ground on which he stood. But she hadtaught herself this business of falling in love as a lesson, ratherthan felt it. After her father's first attempts to marry her to thisand that suitor because of her wealth,--attempts which she had hardlyopposed amidst the consternation and glitter of the world to whichshe was suddenly introduced,--she had learned from novels that itwould be right that she should be in love, and she had chosen SirFelix as her idol. The reader knows what had been the end of thatepisode in her life. She certainly was not now in love with Sir FelixCarbury. Then she had as it were relapsed into the hands of LordNidderdale,--one of her early suitors,--and had felt that as love wasnot to prevail, and as it would be well that she should marry someone, he might probably be as good as any other, and certainly betterthan many others. She had almost learned to like Lord Nidderdale andto believe that he liked her, when the tragedy came. Lord Nidderdalehad been very good-natured,--but he had deserted her at last. Shehad never allowed herself to be angry with him for a moment. It hadbeen a matter of course that he should do so. Her fortune was stilllarge, but not so large as the sum named in the bargain made. And itwas moreover weighted with her father's blood. From the moment ofher father's death she had never dreamed that he would m
arry her.Why should he? Her thoughts in reference to Sir Felix were bitterenough;--but as against Nidderdale they were not at all bitter.Should she ever meet him again she would shake hands with him andsmile,--if not pleasantly as she thought of the things which werepast,--at any rate with good humour. But all this had not madeher much in love with matrimony generally. She had over a hundredthousand pounds of her own, and, feeling conscious of her own powerin regard to her own money, knowing that she could do as she pleasedwith her wealth, she began to look out into life seriously.

  What could she do with her money, and in what way would she shape herlife, should she determine to remain her own mistress? Were she torefuse Fisker how should she begin? He would then be banished, andher only remaining friends, the only persons whose names she wouldeven know in her own country, would be her father's widow andHerr Croll. She already began to see Madame Melmotte's purport inreference to Croll, and could not reconcile herself to the idea ofopening an establishment with them on a scale commensurate with herfortune. Nor could she settle in her own mind any pleasant positionfor herself as a single woman, living alone in perfect independence.She had opinions of women's rights,--especially in regard to money;and she entertained also a vague notion that in America a young womanwould not need support so essentially as in England. Nevertheless,the idea of a fine house for herself in Boston, or Philadelphia,--forin that case she would have to avoid New York as the chosen residenceof Madame Melmotte,--did not recommend itself to her. As to Fiskerhimself,--she certainly liked him. He was not beautiful like FelixCarbury, nor had he the easy good-humour of Lord Nidderdale. She hadseen enough of English gentlemen to know that Fisker was very unlikethem. But she had not seen enough of English gentlemen to make Fiskerdistasteful to her. He told her that he had a big house at SanFrancisco, and she certainly desired to live in a big house. Herepresented himself to be a thriving man, and she calculated thathe certainly would not be here, in London, arranging her father'saffairs, were he not possessed of commercial importance. She hadcontrived to learn that, in the United States, a married womanhas greater power over her own money than in England, and thisinformation acted strongly in Fisker's favour. On consideration ofthe whole subject she was inclined to think that she would do betterin the world as Mrs. Fisker than as Marie Melmotte,--if she could seeher way clearly in the matter of her own money.

  "I have got excellent berths," Fisker said to her one morning atHampstead. At these interviews, which were devoted first to businessand then to love, Madame Melmotte was never allowed to be present.

  "I am to be alone?"

  "Oh, yes. There is a cabin for Madame Melmotte and the maid, and acabin for you. Everything will be comfortable. And there is anotherlady going,--Mrs. Hurtle,--whom I think you will like."

  "Has she a husband?"

  "Not going with us," said Mr. Fisker evasively.

  "But she has one?"

  "Well, yes;--but you had better not mention him. He is not exactlyall that a husband should be."

  "Did she not come over here to marry some one else?"--For Marie inthe days of her sweet intimacy with Sir Felix Carbury had heardsomething of Mrs. Hurtle's story.

  "There is a story, and I dare say I shall tell you all about it someday. But you may be sure I should not ask you to associate with anyone you ought not to know."

  "Oh,--I can take care of myself."

  "No doubt, Miss Melmotte,--no doubt. I feel that quite strongly.But what I meant to observe was this,--that I certainly should notintroduce a lady whom I aspire to make my own lady to any lady whoma lady oughtn't to know. I hope I make myself understood, MissMelmotte."

  "Oh, quite."

  "And perhaps I may go on to say that if I could go on board thatship as your accepted lover, I could do a deal more to make youcomfortable, particularly when you land, than just as a mere friend,Miss Melmotte. You can't doubt my heart."

  "I don't see why I shouldn't. Gentlemen's hearts are things very muchto be doubted as far as I've seen 'em. I don't think many of 'em have'em at all."

  "Miss Melmotte, you do not know the glorious west. Your pastexperiences have been drawn from this effete and stone-cold countryin which passion is no longer allowed to sway. On those golden shoreswhich the Pacific washes man is still true,--and woman is stilltender."

  "Perhaps I'd better wait and see, Mr. Fisker."

  But this was not Mr. Fisker's view of the case. There might be othermen desirous of being true on those golden shores. "And then," saidhe, pleading his cause not without skill, "the laws regulatingwoman's property there are just the reverse of those which thegreediness of man has established here. The wife there can claimher share of her husband's property, but hers is exclusively herown. America is certainly the country for women,--and especiallyCalifornia."

  "Ah;--I shall find out all about it, I suppose, when I've been therea few months."

  "But you would enter San Francisco, Miss Melmotte, under such muchbetter auspices,--if I may be allowed to say so,--as a married ladyor as a lady just going to be married."

  "Ain't single ladies much thought of in California?"

  "It isn't that. Come, Miss Melmotte, you know what I mean."

  "Yes, I do."

  "Let us go in for life together. We've both done uncommon well. I'mspending 30,000 dollars a year,--at that rate,--in my own house.You'll see it all. If we put them both together,--what's yours andwhat's mine,--we can put our foot out as far as about any one there,I guess."

  "I don't know that I care about putting my foot out. I've seensomething of that already, Mr. Fisker. You shouldn't put your footout farther than you can draw it in again."

  "You needn't fear me as to that, Miss Melmotte. I shouldn't be ableto touch a dollar of your money. It would be such a triumph to gointo Francisco as man and wife."

  "I shouldn't think of being married till I had been there a while andlooked about me."

  "And seen the house! Well;--there's something in that. The house isall there, I can tell you. I'm not a bit afraid but what you'll likethe house. But if we were engaged, I could do every thing for you.Where would you be, going into San Francisco all alone? Oh, MissMelmotte, I do admire you so much!"

  I doubt whether this last assurance had much efficacy. But thearguments with which it was introduced did prevail to a certainextent. "I'll tell you how it must be then," she said.

  "How shall it be?" and as he asked the question he jumped up and puthis arm round her waist.

  "Not like that, Mr. Fisker," she said, withdrawing herself. "It shallbe in this way. You may consider yourself engaged to me."

  "I'm the happiest man on this continent," he said, forgetting in hisecstasy that he was not in the United States.

  "But if I find when I get to Francisco anything to induce me tochange my mind, I shall change it. I like you very well, but I'm notgoing to take a leap in the dark, and I'm not going to marry a pig ina poke."

  "There you're quite right," he said,--"quite right."

  "You may give it out on board the ship that we're engaged, and I'lltell Madame Melmotte the same. She and Croll don't mean going anyfarther than New York."

  "We needn't break our hearts about that;--need we?"

  "It don't much signify. Well;--I'll go on with Mrs. Hurtle, if she'llhave me."

  "Too much delighted she'll be."

  "And she shall be told we're engaged."

  "My darling!"

  "But if I don't like it when I get to Frisco, as you call it, all theropes in California shan't make me do it. Well;--yes; you may giveme a kiss I suppose now if you care about it." And so,--or rather sofar,--Mr. Fisker and Marie Melmotte became engaged to each other asman and wife.

  After that Mr. Fisker's remaining business in England went verysmoothly with him. It was understood up at Hampstead that he wasengaged to Marie Melmotte,--and it soon came to be understood alsothat Madame Melmotte was to be married to Herr Croll. No doubt thefather of the one lady and the husband of the other had died sorecently as to make these arrangements sub
ject to certain censoriousobjections. But there was a feeling that Melmotte had been so unlikeother men, both in his life and in his death, that they who had beenconcerned with him were not to be weighed by ordinary scales. Nor didit much matter, for the persons concerned took their departure soonafter the arrangement was made, and Hampstead knew them no more.

  On the 3rd of September Madame Melmotte, Marie, Mrs. Hurtle, HamiltonK. Fisker, and Herr Croll left Liverpool for New York; and the threeladies were determined that they never would revisit a country ofwhich their reminiscences certainly were not happy. The writer of thepresent chronicle may so far look forward,--carrying his reader withhim,--as to declare that Marie Melmotte did become Mrs. Fisker verysoon after her arrival at San Francisco.