Throckmorton: A Novel

by Molly Elliot Seawell

  CHAPTER IX.

  Throckmorton made one short, sharp struggle with himself, and thenyielded to Jacqueline's fascination.

  Without Freke's keen perceptions, Throckmorton knew enough to doubtwhether he ought to congratulate or curse himself if he won Jacqueline;and that he could win her, his own good sense told him soon enough.Jacqueline's nature was so impressionable that a strong determinationcould conquer her at any time and at any thing for a season.Throckmorton, tramping about the country roads with his gun on hisshoulder; having jolly bachelor parties at Millenbeck, which wereconfined strictly to the Severn neighborhood; in church on Sunday,half-listening to Morford's pyrotechnics in the pulpit; smoking atunearthly hours in his own den; riding hard after the hounds--thethought of Jacqueline was never far away, and never without a suspicionof pain and dissatisfaction. He was not given to paltering with himself,and nothing could utterly blind his strong common sense--a common sensethat was so imperative to be heard, so difficult to answer, soimpossible to evade. It was not in him to surrender his judgmentabsolutely. He faced bravely the discrepancy in their ages, but he soonadmitted to himself that there were other incongruities deeper and moresignificant than that. Nevertheless, although Reason might argue andpreach, Love carried the day. Throckmorton reminded himself thatmiracles sometimes happened in love. He did not suffer himself to thinkwhat Jacqueline would be twenty years from then. Time is always fatal towomen of her type. Even her beauty was essentially the beauty of youth.In twenty years she would be stout and florid. Here Throckmorton, in hisreflections, unexpectedly went off on Judith. Hers was a beauty thatwould last--the beauty of expression, of _esprit_. Then his thoughts,with a sort of shock, reverted to Jacqueline.

  As for Freke, Throckmorton did not once connect him with Jacqueline.Freke was a black sheep, and, as Throckmorton devoutly and thankfullyremembered, the daughter of General and Mrs. Temple would not be likelyto regard a divorced man as a single man. So, in the course of two orthree weeks, Throckmorton had gone through all his phases, and had madeup his mind. He could not but laugh at Mrs. Temple's unsuspectingsecurity. She had always regarded Jacqueline as a child, and indeedregarded her very little in any way.

  This excellent woman, whose gospel was embodied in her duty to herhusband and her children, had always been a singularly unjust mother;but she thought herself the most devoted mother in the world, becauseshe regularly superintended Jacqueline's changes of flannels, and madeher take off her shoes when she got her feet wet. Both Mrs. Temple andthe general were absolutely incapable of entertaining the idea thatFreke was growing fond of Jacqueline; and Freke was not only astuteenough to keep them in the dark, but to keep Judith, too, who fondlyimagined that she herself had reduced Freke to good behavior as regardedJacqueline. Freke's estimate of the two young women had not changed inthe least--only Jacqueline was come-at-able and Judith was not--and heloved to cross Judith and vex her, and give her pin-sticks as well asstabs in return for the frank hatred she felt for him. She had electedher own position with him--so let her keep it.

  It never took Throckmorton long to act on his determinations. Jacquelinesaw what was coming. He had a way of looking at her that forced her tolook up and then to look down again. He said little things to her,instinct with meaning, that brought the blood to her face. He performedsmall services for her that were merely conventional, but which werefrom him to her acts of adoration. And Judith saw it all.

  He did not have to wait long for an opportunity. One evening he went toBarn Elms. The general was threatened with a return of his gout, whichhad got better, and Mrs. Temple had imprisoned him in the "charmber,"where she mounted guard over him. Only Jacqueline and Judith, withlittle Beverley, who had been allowed to stay up until eight o'clock, asa great privilege, were in the drawing-room when he walked in. The boyand Throckmorton were such chums that there was no hope of gettingBeverley off under a half-hour. He stood between Throckmorton's knees,perfectly happy to be with him, asking endless questions in a subduedwhisper, and frowning out of his expressive eyes when Throckmortonwanted to know when his mother intended to cut off his long, yellowcurls, so that he would be a real boy. Judith, sitting in her usualplace, smiling and calm, soon settled that the winged word would bespoken that night. What better chance would Throckmorton have than whenshe should be gone to put the child to bed? She watched the tall clockon the high mantel with a fearful sinking of the heart, that drove thecolor out of her face. Presently it was half-past eight.

  "Come, dearest," she said to the child.

  Beverley held back.

  "I don't want to go with you," he said. "I want to stay and play."

  This childish treason to her at that moment was a stab. She got up witha smile, and opened her arms wide, her eyes shining under her straightbrows.

  "Come, dear little boy," she said.

  The tone was so winning, so compelling, it went to the child's babyheart. He ran to his mother, with wide-open arms, who caught him andheld him tight, covering his yellow mop of hair with kisses.Throckmorton looked on surprised and admiring. He had never seen Judithyield to anything emotional like that; she was laughing, blushing, andalmost crying, as Beverley swung round her neck. And Throckmortonthought he had never seen her look so handsome as when she ran out ofthe room, carrying the child, who was a sturdy fellow, in her slenderarms, her face deeply flushed. Throckmorton, as he held the door openfor her to pass out, gave her a meaning smile; but Judith would not lookat him. Up-stairs, Beverley was soon in his little bed. Judith, sittingon the floor, with both arms crossed on the crib, held one of thechild's little warm hands in hers; the only real and comforting thing inlife then seemed that childish hand.

  "I will stay an hour," she said. "Mother will be vexed"--Mrs. Temple hadold-fashioned ideas about leaving girls to themselves--"but he shall behappy. I will see that he has his chance." But, like Throckmortonhimself, she feared for his happiness. Nobody knew better than sheJacqueline's weakness. She had, indeed, a sort of childish cleverness,which was, however, of no practical good to her; but then, as Judithremembered, Throckmorton's love could transform any woman. "Yes, I shallgo through it," she thought, still kneeling on the carpet, and pressingher face to the child's in the crib; "Jacqueline will insist that Ishall take off the mourning I wear for the man I never loved, at thewedding of the man I do love. If Throckmorton has any doubts or troubleswith Jacqueline, he will certainly come to me. I will help him loyally,and he will need a friend. So far, though, from making me suffer more,the hope of befriending him is the only hope I have left in the world. Iwonder how it feels to have one's heart aching and throbbing for anotherwoman's husband--to be counting time by the times one sees him? Forassuredly a few words spoken by a priest can not change this." Shestruck her heart. "And in everything Jacqueline will be blest above me.See how poor and straitened we are, and Jacqueline's life will be freefrom any care at all! However, to be loved by Throckmorton must mean tobe rich and free and happy." And then, with a sort of clear-eyeddespair, she began to look into the future, and see all of Jacqueline'sand Throckmorton's life spread out before her. "And how unworthy sheis!" she almost cried out aloud. She had now risen from the crib andwas gazing out of the window at Millenbeck, that was plainly visibleacross the white stretch of snow between the two places. "Of course, shewill love him--no woman could help that--but she can't understand him.She will not have the slightest respect for his habits, and will alwaysbe wanting him to alter them for her. She never will understand thereserves of Throckmorton's nature. She will tease him with questions. Iwould not care if Jacqueline were the one to be unhappy"--for so hadpain changed her toward the child that had been to her almost as herown--"but in a few years the spell will have vanished. Throckmorton willfind out that she is no companion for him. There can be no realcompanionship for any man like Throckmorton except with a womansomewhere near his own level--least of all now, when he is no longeryoung."

  Then she came back and took the child out of his little bed, and heldhim in her arms and wept passionat
ely over him. "At least I have you,darling; I have you!" she cried.

  Down-stairs, in the drawing-room, Throckmorton made good use of histime. With very little apprenticeship, he knew how to make love so thatany woman would listen to him.

  He told Jacqueline that he loved her, in his own straightforward way;and Jacqueline, whose heart beat furiously, who was frightened and halfrebellious, suffered him to get a few shy words from her. Throckmortondid not stoop to deny his age, but he condescended to apologize for it.In a dim and nebulous way Jacqueline understood the value of the man whothus offered his manly and unstained heart, but she felt acutely thewant of common ground between them.

  Throckmorton's love-making was not at all what simple Jacqueline fanciedlove-making to be. He did not protest--he did not talk poetry, nor abasehimself; he made no exaggerated promises, nor did he sue for her love.At the first sign of yielding, he caught her to his heart and devouredher with kisses. Yet, when Jacqueline wanted to escape from him, he lether go. He would not keep her a moment unwillingly. Jacqueline did notunderstand this masterful way of doing things. She fancied that a lovermeant a slave, and apparently Throckmorton considered a lover meant amaster.

  At the end of an hour, Judith returned to the room. Throckmorton wasstanding alone on the hearth-rug, in a meditative attitude. In his eyes,as they sought Judith's, was a kind of passionate, troubled joy; hedoubted much, but he did not doubt his love for Jacqueline. He wentforward and took Judith's hand, who lifted her eyes, strangely bright,to his face. She was smiling, too, and a faint blush glowed in hercheeks. There were no visible signs of tears.

  "I am a happy man," said Throckmorton to her. "Jacqueline has promisedto marry me."

  His words were few, but Judith understood how much was conveyed in hissparing speech.

  "I am happy, too," she returned, pressing his hand. "You deserve to behappy, and you will make--Jacqueline happy."

  As she said this, she smiled tremulously. Throckmorton was too muchabsorbed to notice it.

  "I will, so help me Heaven!" he answered.

  In all his life before, Throckmorton did not remember ever to have feltthe desire of communion about his inner thoughts and feelings. Was itbecause he himself had changed, or that Judith had that delicate andpenetrating sympathy that drew him on to speak of what he had neverspoken before? Anyway, he sat down by her, and talked to her a longtime--talked of all the doubts and pitfalls that had beset him; hisplans that Jacqueline might be happy; his confidence that Judith wouldbe his strongest ally with Mrs. Temple, who was by no means a person tobe counted on. She might object to Throckmorton's profession, to hisbeing in what she continued to call the Yankee army, to his twenty-oddyears' seniority, to his not being a member of the church; as like asnot this was the very rock on which Throckmorton's ship would split.Judith, with the same heavenly smile, listened to him; she even made alittle wholesome fun of him; and when he rose to go, Throckmorton felt,even at that time--and nobody could say that he was a laggard inlove--that he had gained something else besides Jacqueline, in the sweetfriendship of a woman like Judith. He took her little hand, and wasabout to raise it to his lips with tender respect, when Judith, who hadstood as still as a statue, suddenly snatched her hand away and gaveThrockmorton a look so strange that he fancied her attacked by a suddenprudery that was far from becoming to her or complimentary to him. Sheslipped past him out of the door, and he heard her light and rapidfootfall as she sped up the stairs. As there was nobody left toentertain the newly accepted lover, he put on a battered blue cap, forwhich he had a sneaking affection, and sometimes wore under cover ofnight, and let himself out of the front door and went home across thesnow-covered fields, in an ecstasy.

  Meanwhile, Jacqueline, as soon as she had heard the bang of thehall-door after Throckmorton's quick, soldierly step, stole out of herown room into Judith's. In answer to her tap, Judith said, "Come in."

  Judith was seated before the old-fashioned dressing-table, her long,rich hair combed out, and was making a pretense of brushing it, butoccasionally she would stop and gaze with strange eyes at her own imagein the glass. She rose when Jacqueline entered, and took the girl inher arms as Jacqueline expected.

  "Judith," Jacqueline said, "I am to be married to Major Throckmorton. Iwonder what Freke will say!"

  Judith held her off at arm's length, and looked down at her with eyesfull of anger and disdain.

  "Don't mention Throckmorton and Freke in the same breath, Jacqueline!What does Freke's opinion count for--what does Freke himself? It is aninsult to Throckmorton to--to--"

  "But, Judith," said Jacqueline, "Freke talks better than MajorThrockmorton--"

  "And plays and sings better. Ah! yes. At the same time, Throckmorton'slittle finger is worth more than a dozen Frekes."

  "But it troubles me about Freke. I know Major Throckmorton can managemamma--he can do anything with her now; and mamma, of course, willmanage papa; but nobody can do anything with Freke."

  "Jacqueline," said Judith, sitting down and taking Jacqueline in herlap, and changing all at once into the sweetest sisterly persuasion, "noother man on earth must matter to you now but Throckmorton. Let me tellyou what a true marriage is. It is to love one man so much that with himis everything--without him is nothing. It is to study what he likes, andto like it too. It is to make his people your people, and his God yourGod. I think one need not know a great deal in order to be worthy of aman--for his love makes one worthy; but one should know a great deal inorder that one may be creditable to him in the eyes of the world. Thinkhow Throckmorton's wife should conduct herself; fancy how frightful thecontrast, if she should not in some degree be like him! I tell you,Jacqueline, a woman to sustain Throckmorton's name and credit should beno ordinary woman. If you do not love him, if you do not make him proudand happy to say, 'This is my wife,' you deserve the worst fate--"

  One of Jacqueline's fits of acuteness was on her. She looked hard atJudith.

  "It seems to me, Judith, that you would make a much more fitting wifefor him than I."

  "Don't say that!" cried Judith, breathlessly. "Never, never say thatagain!"

  Jacqueline, who knew well enough when to stop, suddenly halted. After alittle pause, she began again:

  "I know it will be dreadfully lonely at Millenbeck. Major Throckmortonloves to read, and I shall be a great interruption to his evenings. Idon't know how I shall treat Jack. Don't you think it would be a goodidea to get a companion--somebody who knows French?"

  "You musn't think of such a thing. Good heavens! a companion, withThrockmorton? You can learn more from him in one week than all thegovernesses in creation can teach you."

  "I didn't say governess," replied Jacqueline, with much dignity. "I saidcompanion."

  Then, as Jacqueline leaned her head on Judith's shoulder, Judith talkedto her long and tenderly of the duty, the respect, the love she owedThrockmorton. Jacqueline listened attentively enough. When the littlelecture was finished, Jacqueline whispered:

  "I feel differently about it now. At first, I could only think ofMillenbeck and a new piano, and doing just as I liked; but now, I willtry--I will really try--not to vex Major Throckmorton."

  That was all that could be got out of her.

  Judith went with her to her room, and did not leave it until Jacquelinewas tucked in her big four-poster, with the ghastly white tester anddimity hangings. Jacqueline kissed her a dozen times before she wentaway. Judith, too, was loath to leave. As long as she was doingsomething for Jacqueline, she was doing something for Throckmorton. Forwas not Jacqueline Throckmorton's now?