Collected Works of Frances Trollope

by Frances Milton Trollope

  “But to me, mother, there would be something inexpressibly painful in the idea of selling them. All other things seem to be in common between us; but as to these, they are so decidedly, so peculiarly your own, that I cannot endure their being sold.”

  “Do you know, my dear son,” she replied, “that I have made one really philosophical reflection since you and I have been people of business, and obliged to act for ourselves? It has been very well said that ‘sweet are the uses of adversity,’ and as far as I have yet seen, the sweetest and the best seems to be the sort of activity which it gives to the faculty called common sense. When serious cares and serious business beset us, the nonsense and fal-lalery of life seems to wither, crumble, and fall away, leaving us in the grand simplicity of reality. That is MY condition, Herbert, at this moment; and I do assure you that the putting in competition the silly vanity of keeping these toys, against the solid advantage of selling them, seems to me like a positive derangement of intellect.”

  “It may be so, mother,” replied the young man; “but I suppose fal-lalery, as you call it, is stronger within me than common sense. For I cannot help feeling that the selling these toys would be very painful to me.”

  “Let me ask you one question, Herbert, to which, if you answer yes, I withdraw my request that these trinkets should be sold. Herbert! — do you wish to keep them for Janet?” Janet herself could scarcely have blushed more perceptibly, had she heard the question; neither could she, with all her truth, have answered it with more perfect sincerity.

  “No, dearest mother! — no!” ejaculated Herbert: “let her but wear your honoured name, and the first and dearest hope of my heart will be satisfied!”

  “And the surest way to enable you to invest her with that name, is for us to sell everything that can assist us in getting out of debt,” said his mother.

  And thereupon the casket of diamonds disappeared, and was exchanged for a sum very far exceeding the hopes of cither mother or son.

  Nor was this transaction kept secret either from Janet or her adopted mother; and when Lady Otterborne playfully described the manner of it, not forgetting the little coup de theatre by which it was concluded, not all the jewels that ever imperial bridegroom gave, or royal bride accepted, ever caused a warmer flush of pride and joy than was produced on Janet by this anecdote, recited as it was in a tone that was redolent of joy by the mother of Herbert.

  CHAPTER LI.

  POOR Mr. Mathews meanwhile was in a state which he constantly assured his kind-hearted father-in-law very nearly approached distraction. And beyond all doubt, the forsaken grandfather was very anxious; but he would have been still more so, perhaps, had he not felt a little secret suspicion that his beloved Stephen might have exaggerated a little. “Poor dear boy! — It was so natural that he should dislike returning, just at first, to the scene of his cruel disappointment!” And it really was a very fortunate thing that this interpretation of his darlings lengthened absence had suggested itself, for it soothed him greatly. The not hearing at all was a consolatory circumstance, as it was a proof that he was not dead; and in this manner he sustained his spirits sufficiently to prevent his becoming either sick or mad, for another interval of nearly three weeks, — and then came not the announcement of his death, but a letter, tolerably well written, from the hand of the young gentleman himself, stating that by the especial interference of a manifold providence, his life had been spared, after a very skilful practitioner had declared his immediate death to be certain.

  “But my sorrows do not end here,” continued the unfortunate young man, “ for during the time that I was either insensible or delirious, my pocket-book and purse were stolen, and the first melancholy effect of my returning’ senses was to show me that I was penniless! It has been perfectly impossible for me,” he added, “to discover the thief, — for my poor landlady, who is really, though poor, a very worthy person, has been obliged to have more than one person in, to hold me during my delirium; and, as she truly says, it is impossible for me to know which of them was the thief. Now, therefore, my ever clear and ever generous grandfather, I must again throw myself upon your affection, — and, I may say, upon your mercy; for unless you immediately send me enough money to pay the just demands that are made upon me here, together with what will be necessary to pay my journey back to your dear peaceful home, I must still perish without having been again blessed by an embrace from you! Less than forty pounds will, I am sorry to say, be of no use to me, — for my good doctor’s bill is still to be paid, as well as my lodgings and attendance; for, alas! I was robbed before I had been well enough to pay anything.”

  This letter, which concluded as usual with the most enthusiastic expressions of affection, was, of course, a very great comfort to the grandfather, — but it was, as he truly said, a very great shock to the man. He hesitated not for a single moment, however, about sending the supply of money demanded, — and was rewarded for his generosity by seeing his grandson enter the parlour two days afterwards, at the moment the family were sitting down to dinner.

  The meeting was a very tender one between Mr. Mathews and his restored grandson; and great indeed was the joy of the former, at perceiving that the desperate illness which had caused him such terrible alarm, had left no traces of suffering” behind it.

  “Ah! my dear boy!” said the delighted old gentleman, “what a fine thing it is to be young! Young people do sometimes die, there is no denying that, — but illness, when it does not kill, really passes away from the young like breath from a looking-glass. It just gives a dimness for the moment, and then goes away as if by magic!”

  And certainly Mr. Stephen Cornington did look wonderfully well, considering the dreadful illness from which he had been suffering. Nevertheless, it was easy to perceive every now and then that his fine clear voice became rather feeble, and sometimes, when he made any movement, — like holding out his plate, or the like — his hand trembled; and then he shook his head, and said with a mournful sigh, “Alas! my dear grandfather, I fear that looks are not always to be trusted!”

  Mrs. Mathews laid very perceptibly changed colour at the moment when her restored grandson made his unexpected appearance in the dining-room. That she had never loved him very dearly is quite certain, and it is equally so that this defect of affection on her part was not occasioned by any want of attentive observance on his.

  It really was not the young man’s fault if he were not so fondly caressing to her as to his grandfather. He had decidedly made the attempt, but it had not answered; — and it cannot be doubted that the acute Stephen Cornington was aware of this.

  Nevertheless he saw, or fancied he saw, still less of liking in her manner to him now than heretofore. Was it because she had found out how much money he had contrived to get? He had given his beloved grandfather credit for more discretion.

  But whatever the cause might be, the increased dislike begot increased dislike, — and there was no need of this, for he had disliked her with very considerable heartiness before.

  As to Janet, he had long ago made up his mind to take the least possible notice of her in any way; and as poor Mr. King was so nearly blind as scarcely to know one person from another till they spoke to him, the task of properly welcoming the interesting invalid devolved altogether on his grandfather.

  Days and weeks rolled on, making little apparent change in the situation of any of the persons of our little drama. The continued absence of the Steyton family; Louisa Price also having joined their happy party; the increasing infirmities of good old Mr. King; the terrible death of Sir Charles Otterborne, together with all the changes at the Manor-house, which followed it, had altogether put a stop for the present to all the hospitable meetings which used so frequently to bring together the families resident at Weldon; but it may be easily imagined that this change was hailed as a blessing by the four friends who now so constantly passed a portion of every day together at the Manor-house.

  That Mr. Stephen Cornington should find all this most des
perately dull, can certainly astonish no one. A daily ride to Hertford with his old grandfather was really his only recreation, — excepting that sometimes after that beloved grandfather was fast asleep, he would occasionally contrive to get out unheard, and unseen, and scamper back again to the county town, where he was fortunate enough to meet more than one who could soothe the wearying tedium of his present existence by a few games of billiards.

  Human beings, ungrateful, short-sighted human beings, are very apt to complain that happiness does not last long, when we get it. But if it did, where would be the ceaseless progress by which the world moves on towards its destiny?

  When all concealment, all mystery, all doubt, and all fear had been removed from the attachment and the engagement which united Sir Herbert Otterborne and Janet Anderson; when the most cordial approbation from the real mother of the one, and the adopted mother of the other had ratified and sanctified their engagement; when no day was suffered to pass without their meeting, and no meeting ever took place without their feeling that they were dearer to each other when they parted, than they had been when they met — when all this was achieved, and most certainly all this was achieved — then Herbert Otterborne and Janet Anderson believed themselves to be the very happiest people in existence.

  And yet before many months were gone and over, although nothing whatever had occurred to make either of them doubt this delightful fact — but when, on the contrary, everything that had occurred tended to confirm it, why did Herbert begin invariably to look sorrowful whenever this fact was alluded to? Why did Janet, though she watched this sorrow in silence, invariably look as if she perfectly agreed with him? And why did the two maternal ladies, one on this side the fire, and the other on that, why did they too always look as if there was considerable cause for his melancholy, though it would be better perhaps to say nothing about it?

  But at length, however, some one bolder than the rest (it was, probably, the melancholy Herbert himself), confessed the real cause why this “winter of discontent” had succeeded the glorious summer of hope and joy which had preceded it. The real cause was, that they had all agreed together in council that the affianced lovers were to wait for seven years before they were married.

  How very true it is that everything is comparative! When it was first openly avowed amongst them that the engagement was to be entered into by the young people, and ratified by the old ones, they all felt as if they defied the power of the whole world to make them feel otherwise than happy; and they were quite ready to repeat the defiance now — only an opinion was first whispered, and then pronounced very audibly indeed by Sir Herbert, that if they could be married immediately they should be a great deal happier still.

  And such is the weakness of human nature, that from the time this impatient thought was openly confessed, comparison set to work, and speedily proved beyond the power of contradiction that, considered with reference to what might be their actual situation, was very far indeed from happiness.

  This might be wrong, perhaps, inasmuch as it set at nought all those struggles for a contented spirit which are thought to constitute the perfection of human wisdom. But at any rate we may say in its defence, that it was conducive to activity of mind and energy of purpose, and while discussing the possible and impossible ways by which a gentleman may increase his worldly wealth, it became very evident that there were few things, however toilsome, which a gentleman might do, which poor Sir Herbert was not willing to undertake.

  But, alas! it soon became only too evident that all these discussions were but idle talk, and that the poor debt-burdened baronet, young as he was, was too old to learn a profession.

  It was after watching the expressive countenance of her son, after one of these abortive conversations, that Lady Otterborne whispered in the ear of Mrs. Mathews at the moment of parting:

  “Come to me alone to-morrow, my dear friend, and come early. Sir Herbert is going to Hertford on business, and I wish to enjoy a tête-à-tête gossiping with you before he comes back.”

  Mrs. Mathews promised this, and kept her word.

  “Now then, dear neighbour,” said Lady Otterborne, “let us open our hearts to each other with the most perfect freedom, even though the subject be that very ticklish thing called money Shall we?”

  To this fresh question poor Mrs. Mathews answered, “Yes;” though unhappily it was precisely the subject on which it was the most painful for her either to speak or to think.

  But satisfied with this acquiescence, and little suspecting that there was more than one heavy secret connected with this hateful theme, which was now threatening to become the greatest sorrow of her unfortunate friend’s existence, Lady Otterborne placed herself and her neighbour very comfortably upon the hearth-rug, and thus began:

  I shall propitiate you neither by preface nor apology, my dear friend; we understand each other much too well to render this needful. I am quite sure that you see and feel as well as I do, that noble as is the stedfast purpose of my son to clear himself from all the heavy claims which beset him, he will not, as things now are, achieve this without great suffering. Both our young people have from first to last behaved admirably! — I never ‘read in tale or history,’ any story of true love in which the parties have kept all their sorrows so completely to themselves.”

  “It is quite true, Lady Otterborne,” replied Mrs. Mathews. “Though I pride myself a good deal on the affection of our Janet, and on the pleasant freedom from restraint in which we live together, it is a positive fact, that the affection which has been so long nestling in her heart for Herbert, was not only unknown, but absolutely rejected by me, after I had exerted all my powers of observation to discover whether any feeling of the kind existed or not.”

  “This was admirable — and it applies equally to them both,” returned her friend; “and this it is which now makes the evident depression of Herbert’s spirits so painful to me. I know that he must have suffered much, before I could have perceived that he suffered at all.”

  “Yet, what can be done to shorten this tedious interval?” said Mrs. Mathews. “In all the discussions on the subject to which you have so kindly permitted me to be a party, it has appeared to me that the plans laid down have been admirable, and the manner in which they appear to be adhered to is more admirable still.”

  “True — quite true. Your judgment is correct, Mrs. Mathews, and your praise is deserved,” said Lady Otterborne; “but nevertheless,” she continued, “I am far from happy about my son. He has pledged himself to wait till he possesses a clear thousand a-year before he asks Janet to marry him; for he well knows that with less than that it would be impossible for him to live here in such a way as to justify his asking her to live here with him. Nor could I conscientiously give my consent to the marriage before. It is very easy, and it is very natural after the tremendous event that has happened here, that my son and I should withdraw ourselves a good deal from society; and having done this, all the details of our altered mode of living are kept naturally and unobtrusively out of sight, and in this way the tedious and difficult task which he set himself may be performed, without his altered mode of living being made the theme of eternal gossipings. But the case would be far different if he were to present himself to the county in the character of a bridegroom. The doing so would be both painful and wrong; it would, in fact, be rendering all the efforts we are now making utterly futile. It would be more rational to emigrate at once, and convert our Janet into an Australian shepherdess And yet I feel certain that every year of this threatened seven will add about three to the age of Herbert.”

  “Nor do I quite expect that Janet will be as fair a bride then as now,” said Mrs. Mathews, with a melancholy smile; “yet what can be done to prevent it?”

  “Ay, dear friend! — there is the question. Can anything be done? — and what? It would be folly indeed to look about us for an immediate, and a perfect cure for all the difficulties which beset us: but it has occurred to me that something might be hit upon to me
nd the matter, if not to cure it; and with this hope before me, I feel sure, dearest Mrs. Mathews, that you will excuse my asking you frankly what the probable amount of Janet’s fortune may be? I know that it has been understood in the neighbourhood that her father’s affairs are not yet finally settled — a delay which we all know must be almost inevitable when the concerns of a bank are to be gone over and arranged; but it has been generally understood, I believe, that her fortune is likely to be considerable — and if this be so, may we not fairly hope that these terrible seven years may be shortened?” Unhappy Mrs. Mathews! — how bitterly did she now deplore the folly of which she had been guilty, in permitting this idle vision of Janet’s possible wealth to grow into shape and form, so desperately like premeditated delusion, as to make her feel herself something very little better than a swindler! She had determined from the first hour in which the love of Herbert had been acknowledged, that she would state to Lady Otterborne all she knew respecting these still unsettled affairs. But, alas! the subject was a painful one; and no allusion having ever been made to it, day after day had been suffered to steal away, till Mrs. Mathews herself had almost forgotten that there were any accounts still unsettled in which Janet had an interest.

  But now her statements upon the subject were given with the most perfect unreserve, and the result of course was to convince the anxious mother that, whatever might be possible in future, there was nothing whatever to be reckoned upon at present; and in this view of the case the two disconsolate ladies very perfectly agreed.

  But at the very moment when this painful conviction was expressed by both with equal sincerity and equal sorrow, an idea suddenly occurred to Mrs. Mathews which caused her such a violent revulsion, from extreme despondence to extreme delight, that it was with very considerable difficulty she composed her features into an expression of sufficient gravity to suit the important occasion.