An Old Man's Love

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER III.

  MARY LAWRIE.

  There is nothing more difficult in the writing of a story than todescribe adequately the person of a hero or a heroine, so as to placebefore the mind of the reader any clear picture of him or her whois described. A courtship is harder still--so hard that we may saygenerally that it is impossible. Southey's Lodore is supposed to havebeen effective; but let any one with the words in his memory standbeside the waterfall and say whether it is such as the words havepainted it. It rushes and it foams, as described by the poet, muchmore violently than does the real water; and so does everythingdescribed, unless in the hands of a wonderful master. But I haveclear images on my brain of the characters of the persons introduced.I know with fair accuracy what was intended by the character as givenof Amelia Booth, of Clarissa, of Di Vernon, and of Maggie Tulliver.But as their persons have not been drawn with the pencil for me bythe artists who themselves created them, I have no conception howthey looked. Of Thackeray's Beatrix I have a vivid idea, becauseshe was drawn for him by an artist under his own eye. I have now todescribe Mary Lawrie, but have no artist who will take the troubleto learn my thoughts and to reproduce them. Consequently I fear thatno true idea of the young lady can be conveyed to the reader; andthat I must leave him to entertain such a notion of her carriage anddemeanour as must come to him at the end from the reading of thewhole book.

  But the attempt must be made, if only for fashion sake, so that noadventitious help may be wanting to him, or more probably to her, whomay care to form for herself a personification of Mary Lawrie. Shewas a tall, thin, staid girl, who never put herself forward in any ofthose walks of life in which such a young lady as she is called uponto show herself. She was silent and reserved, and sometimes startled,even when appealed to in a household so quiet as that of MrWhittlestaff. Those who had seen her former life had known that shehad lived under the dominion of her step-mother, and had so accountedfor her manner. And then, added to this, was the sense of entiredependence on a stranger, which, no doubt, helped to quell herspirit. But Mr Whittlestaff had eyes with which to see and ears withwhich to hear, and was not to be taken in by the outward appearanceof the young lady. He had perceived that under that quiet guise andtimid startled look there existed a power of fighting a battle forherself or for a friend, if an occasion should arise which shouldappear to herself to be sufficient. He had known her as one of herfather's household, and of her step-mother's; and had seen probablysome little instance of self-assertion, such as had not yet madeitself apparent to Mrs Baggett.

  A man who had met her once, and for a few minutes only, wouldcertainly not declare her to be beautiful. She, too, like MrWhittlestaff, was always contented to pass unobserved. But the chanceman, had he seen her for long, would surely remark that Miss Lawriewas an attractive girl; and had he heard her talk freely on anymatter of interest, would have called her very attractive. She wouldblaze up into sudden eloquence, and then would become shame-stricken,and abashed, and dumfounded, so as to show that she had for amoment forgotten her audience, and then the audience,--the chanceman,--would surely set his wits to work and try to reproduce in her arenewal of that intimacy to which she had seemed to yield herself forthe moment.

  But yet I am not describing her after the accepted fashion. I shouldproduce a catalogue of features, and tell how every one of themwas formed. Her hair was dark, and worn very plain, but with thatgraceful care which shows that the owner has not slurred over hertoilet with hurried negligence. Of complexion it can hardly be saidthat she had any; so little was the appearance of her countenancediversified by a change of hue. If I am bound to declare her colour,I must, in truth, say that she was brown. There was none even of thatflying hue which is supposed to be intended when a woman is called abrunette. When she first came to Croker's Hall, health produced novariation. Nor did any such come quickly; though before she had livedthere a year and a half, now and again a slight tinge of dark rubywould show itself on her cheek, and then vanish almost quicker thanit had come. Mr Whittlestaff, when he would see this, would bealmost beside himself in admiration.

  Her eyes were deep blue, so deep that the casual observer would notat first recognise their colour. But when you had perceived that theywere blue, and had brought the fact home to your knowledge, theirblueness remained with you as a thing fixed for ever. And you wouldfeel, if you yourself were thoughtful and contemplative, and muchgiven to study a lady's eyes, that, such as they were, every ladywould possess the like if only it were given to her to choose.

  Her nose was slight and fine, and perhaps lent to her face, of allher features, its most special grace. Her lips, alas! were too thinfor true female beauty, and lacked that round and luscious fulnesswhich seems in many a girl's face to declare the purpose for whichthey were made. Through them her white teeth would occasionally beseen, and then her face was at its best, as, for instance, when shewas smiling; but that was seldom; and at other moments it seemed asthough she were too careful to keep her mouth closed.

  But if her mouth was defective, the symmetry of her chin, carryingwith it the oval of her cheek and jaws, was perfect. How many aface, otherwise lovely to look upon, is made mean and comparativelybase, either by the lengthening or the shortening of the chin! Thatabsolute perfection which Miss Lawrie owned, we do not, perhaps,often meet. But when found, I confess that nothing to me gives sosure an evidence of true blood and good-breeding.

  Such is the catalogue of Mary Lawrie's features, drawn out with careby one who has delighted for many hours to sit and look at them.All the power of language which the writer possesses has been usedin thus reproducing them. But now, when this portion of his workis done, he feels sure that no reader of his novel will have theslightest idea of what Mary Lawrie was like.

  An incident must now be told of her early life, of which she neverspoke to man, woman, or child. Her step-mother had known thecircumstance, but had rarely spoken of it. There had come across herpath in Norwich a young man who had stirred her heart, and had wonher affections. But the young man had passed on, and there, as far asthe present and the past were concerned, had been an end of it. Theyoung man had been no favourite with her step-mother; and her father,who was almost on his death-bed, had heard what was going on almostwithout a remark. He had been told that the man was penniless, andas his daughter had been to him the dearest thing upon earth, he hadbeen glad to save himself the pain of expressing disapproval. JohnGordon had, however, been a gentleman, and was fit in all things tobe the husband of such a girl as Mary Lawrie,--except that he waspenniless, and she, also, had possessed nothing. He had passed on hisway without speaking, and had gone--even Mary did not know whither.She had accepted her fate, and had never allowed the name of JohnGordon to pass her lips.

  The days passed very quickly at Croker's Hall, but not so quickly butthat Mary knew well what was going on in Mr Whittlestaff's mind. Howis it that a girl understands to a certainty the state of a man'sheart in regard to her,--or rather, not his heart, but his purpose? Agirl may believe that a man loves her, and may be deceived; but shewill not be deceived as to whether he wishes to marry her. Graduallycame the conviction on Miss Lawrie's mind of Mr Whittlestaff'spurpose. And, as it did so, came the conviction also that she couldnot do it. Of this he saw nothing; but he was instigated by it tobe more eager,--and was at the same time additionally abashed bysomething in her manner which made him feel that the task before himwas not an easy one.

  Mrs Baggett, who knew well all the symptoms as her master displayedthem, became angry with Mary Lawrie. Who was Mary Lawrie, that sheshould take upon herself to deny Mr Whittlestaff anything? Nodoubt it would, as she told herself, be better for Mrs Baggett inmany respects that her master should remain unmarried. She assuredherself that if a mistress were put over her head, she must retireto Portsmouth,--which, of all places for her, had the dreariestmemories. She could remain where she was very well, while Mary Lawrieremained also where she was. But it provoked her to think that theoffer should be made to the girl and should b
e refused. "What onearth it is they sees in 'em, is what I never can understand. Sheain't pretty,--not to say,--and she looks as though butter wouldn'tmelt in her mouth. But she's got it inside her, and some of them daysit'll come out." Then Mrs Baggett determined that she would have afew words on the subject with Mary Lawrie.

  Mary had now been a year and four months at Croker's Hall, and had,under pressure from Mr Whittlestaff, assumed something of the mannerrather than of the airs of a mistress to Mrs Baggett. This the oldwoman did not at all resent, because the reality of power was stillin her hands; but she could not endure that the idolatry of loveshould always be present in her master's face. If the young womanwould only become Mrs Whittlestaff, then the idolatry would passaway. At any rate, her master would not continue "to make an ass ofhimself," as Mrs Baggett phrased it.

  "Don't you think, Miss, as that Mr Whittlestaff is looking verypeeky?"

  "Is he, Mrs Baggett?"

  "'Deed and he is, to my thinking; and it's all along of you. He's gota fancy into his mind,--and why shouldn't he have his fancy?"

  "I don't know, I'm sure." But Mary did know. She did know what thefancy was, and why Mr Whittlestaff shouldn't have it.

  "I tell you fairly, Miss, there is nothing I hate so much as vagariesin young women."

  "I hope there are no vagaries to be hated in me, Mrs Baggett."

  "Well, I'm not quite so sure. You do go as straightforward as moston 'em; but I ain't quite sure but that there are a few twists andtwirls. What do you suppose he wants to be at?"

  "How am I to say?" Then she bethought herself that were she to tellthe truth, she could say very well.

  "Do you mean as you don't know?" said the old woman.

  "Am I bound to tell you if I do know?"

  "If you wish to do the best for him, you are. What's the good ofbeating about the bush? Why don't you have him?"

  Mary did not quite know whether it behoved her to be angry with theold servant, and if so, how she was to show her anger. "You shouldn'ttalk such nonsense, Mrs Baggett."

  "That's all very well. It is all nonsense; but nonsense has to betalked sometimes. Here's a gentleman as you owe everything to. If hewanted your head from your shoulders, you shouldn't make any scruple.What are you, that you shouldn't let a gentleman like him have hisown way? Asking your pardon, but I don't mean it any way out ofdisrespect. Of course it would be all agin me. An old woman doesn'twant to have a young mistress over her head, and if she's my sperrit,she wouldn't bear it. I won't, any way."

  "Then why do you ask me to do this thing?"

  "Because a gentleman like him should have his own way. And an old haglike me shouldn't stand for anything. No more shouldn't a young womanlike you who has had so much done for her. Now, Miss Mary, you seeI've told you my mind freely."

  "But he has never asked me."

  "You just sit close up to him, and he'll ask you free enough. Ishouldn't speak as I have done if there had been a morsel of doubtabout it. Do you doubt it yourself, Miss?" To this Miss Lawrie didnot find it necessary to return any answer.

  When Mrs Baggett had gone and Mary was left to herself, she couldnot but think over what the woman had said to her. In the firstplace, was she not bound to be angry with the woman, and to expressher anger? Was it not impertinent, nay, almost indecent, that thewoman should come to her and interrogate her on such a subject?The inmost, most secret feelings of her heart had been ruthlesslyinquired into and probed by a menial servant, who had asked questionsof her, and made suggestions to her, as though her part in the affairhad been of no consequence. "What are you, that you shouldn't leta gentleman like him have his own way?" Why was it not so much toher as to Mr Whittlestaff? Was it not her all; the consummationor destruction of every hope; the making or unmaking of her joy orof her happiness? Could it be right that she should marry any man,merely because the man wanted her? Were there to be no questionsraised as to her own life, her own contentment, her own ideas of whatwas proper? It was true that this woman knew nothing of John Gordon.But she must have known that there might be a John Gordon,--whomshe, Mary Lawrie, was required to set on one side, merely because MrWhittlestaff "wanted her." Mrs Baggett had been grossly impertinentin daring to talk to her of Mr Whittlestaff's wants.

  But then, as she walked slowly round the garden, she found herselfbound to inquire of herself whether what the woman said had not beentrue. Did she not eat his bread; did she not wear his clothes; werenot the very boots on her feet his property? And she was there in hishouse, without the slightest tie of blood or family connection. Hehad taken her from sheer charity, and had saved her from the terribledependency of becoming a friendless governess. Looking out to thelife which she had avoided, it seemed to her to be full of abjectmisery. And he had brought her to his own house, and had made her themistress of everything. She knew that she had been undemonstrative inher manner, and that such was her nature. But her heart welled overwith gratitude as she thought of the sweetness of the life which hehad prepared for her. Was not the question true? "What am I, that Ishould stand in the way and prevent such a man as that from havingwhat he wants?"

  And then she told herself that he personally was full of good gifts.How different might it have been with her had some elderly men"wanted her," such as she had seen about in the world! How much wasthere in this man that she knew that she could learn to love? And hewas one of whom she need in no wise be ashamed. He was a gentleman,pleasant to look at, sweet in manner, comely and clean in appearance.Would not the world say of her how lucky she had been should it cometo pass that she should become Mrs Whittlestaff? Then there werethoughts of John Gordon, and she told herself that it was a meredream. John Gordon had gone, and she knew not where he was; and JohnGordon had never spoken a word to her of his love. After an hour'sdeliberation, she thought that she would marry Mr Whittlestaff if heasked her, though she could not bring herself to say that she would"sit close up to him" in order that he might do so.