Miss Marjoribanks

by Mrs. Oliphant

  _Chapter XLIX_

  Mr Ashburton, it may be supposed, had but little time to think on thateventful evening; and yet he was thinking all the way home, as he droveback in the chilly spring night to his own house. If his further courseof action had been made in any way to depend upon the events of thisday, it was now settled beyond all further uncertainty; and though hewas not a man in his first youth, nor a likely subject for a romanticpassion, still he was a little excited by the position in which he foundhimself. Miss Marjoribanks had been his inspiring genius, and hadinterested herself in his success in the warmest and fullest way; and ifever a woman was made for a certain position, Lucilla was made to be thewife of the Member for Carlingford. Long, long ago, at the verybeginning of her career, when it was of Mr Cavendish that everybody wasthinking, the ideal fitness of this position had struck everybody.Circumstances had changed since then, and Mr Cavendish had fallen, and aworthier hero had been placed in his stead; but though the person waschanged, the circumstances remained unaltered. Natural fitness wasindeed so apparent, that many people would have been disposed to saythat it was Lucilla's duty to accept Mr Ashburton, even independent ofthe fact that he was perfectly eligible in every other respect.

  But with all this the new Member for Carlingford was not able to assurehimself that there had been anything particular in Lucilla's manner tohimself. With her as with Carlingford, it was pure optimism. He was thebest man, and her quick intelligence had divined it sooner than anybodyelse had done. Whether there was anything more in it, Mr Ashburton couldnot tell. His own impression was that she would accept him; but if shedid not, he would have no right to complain of "encouragement," or tothink himself jilted. This was what he was thinking as he drove home;but at the same time he was very far from being in a desponding state ofmind. He felt very nearly as sure that Lucilla would be his wife, as ifthey were already standing before the Rector in Carlingford Church. Hehad just won one victory, which naturally made him feel more confidentof winning another; and even without entertaining any over-exaltedopinion of himself, it was evident that, under all the circumstances, awoman of thirty, with two hundred a year, would be a fool to reject suchan offer. And Lucilla was the very furthest in the world from being afool. It was in every respect the beginning of a new world to MrAshburton, and it would have been out of nature had he not been a littleexcited. After the quiet life he had led at the Firs, biding his time,he had now to look forward to a busy and important existence, half of itspent amid the commotion and ceaseless stir of town. A new career, awife, a new position, the most important in his district--it was notmuch wonder if Mr Ashburton felt a little excited. He was fatigued atthe same time, too much fatigued to be disposed for sleep; and all theseunited influences swayed him to a state of mind very much unlike hisordinary sensible calm. All his excitement culminated so in thoughts ofLucilla, that the new Member felt himself truly a lover; and late as thehour was, he took up a candle and once more made a survey all alone ofhis solitary house.

  Nothing could look more dismal than the dark rooms, where there wasneither light nor fire--the great desert drawing-room, for example,which stood unchanged as it had been in the days of his grand-aunts, thegood old ladies who had bequeathed the Firs to Mr Ashburton. He had madeno change in it, and scarcely ever used it, keeping to his library anddining-room, with the possibility, no doubt, always before him ofpreparing it in due course of time for his wife. That moment had nowarrived, and in his excitement he went into the desolate room with hiscandle, which just made the darkness visible, and tried to see the duskycurtains and faded carpet, and the indescribable fossil air whicheverything had. There were the odd little spider-legged stands, uponwhich the Miss Penrhyns had placed their work-boxes, and the old sofason which they had sat, and the floods of old tapestry-work with whichthey had decorated their favourite sitting-room. The sight of it chilledthe Member for Carlingford, and made him sad. He tried to turn histhoughts to the time when this same room should be fitted up to suitLucilla's complexion, and should be gay with light and with herpresence. He did all he could to realise the moment when, with amistress so active and energetic, the whole place would change itsaspect, and glow forth resplendent into the twilight of the county, acentral point for all. Perhaps it was his fatigue which gained upon himjust at this moment, and repulsed all livelier thoughts; but the factis, that however willing Lucilla might turn out to be, her image wascoy, and would not come. The more Mr Ashburton tried to think of her asin possession here, the more the grim images of the two old MissPenrhyns walked out of the darkness and asserted their prior claims.They even seemed to have got into the library before him when he wentback, though there his fire was burning, and his lamp. After that therewas nothing left for a man to do, even though he had been that dayelected Member for Carlingford, but to yield to the weakness of anordinary mortal, and go to bed.

  Thoughts very different, but even more disturbing, were going on at thesame time in Grange Lane. Poor Mr Cavendish, for one thing,--upbraidedby everybody's looks, and even by some people's words--feeling himselfcondemned, censured, and despised on all sides--smarting under hissister's wild reproaches and her husband's blunt commentarythereupon,--had slunk away from their society after dinner, not seeing_now_ why he should bear it any longer. "By Jove! if it had only beenfor _her_ sake, you might have left over your philandering for anothernight," Mr Woodburn had said, in his coarse way; and it was all MrCavendish could do to refrain from saying that one time and another hehad done quite enough for _her_ sake, but he did not see any reason whyhe should put up with it any longer. He strolled out of doors, thoughthe town was still in commotion, and could not but think of thesympathetic countenance which had paled to-day at sight of the numbersof the poll. She, by Heaven! might have had reason to find fault withhim, and she had never done so; _she_ had never perceived that he wasstout, or changed from old times. As he entertained these thoughts, hissteps going down Grange Lane gradually quickened, but he did not say tohimself where he was going. He went a very roundabout way, as if he didnot mean it, as far as St Roque's, and then up by the lane to thefar-off desert extremity of Grove Street. It was simply to walk off hisexcitement and disappointment, and free himself from criticism for thatevening at least; but as he walked he could not help thinking thatBarbara, if she were well dressed, would still be a fine woman, that hervoice was magnificent in its way, and that about Naples, perhaps, or thebaths of Lucca, or in Germany, or the south of France, a man might beable to get on well enough with such a companion, where society was notso exacting or stiff-starched as in England. And the end was, that thefeet of the defeated candidate carried him, ere ever he was aware, withsome kind of independent volition of their own, to Mr Lake's door--andit may be here said, once for all, that this visit was decisive of MrCavendish's fate.

  This will not be regarded as anything but a digression by such ofLucilla's friends as may be solicitous to know what she was making upher mind to under the circumstances; but the truth is that Lucilla'shistorian cannot, any more than Miss Marjoribanks herself could, refrainfrom a certain regret over Mr Cavendish. That was what he came to, poorman! after all his experiences; a man who was capable of so much betterthings--a man even who, if he had made a right use of his opportunities,might once have had as good a chance as any other of marrying Lucillaherself. If there ever was an instance of chances thrown away and lostopportunities, surely here was that lamentable example. And thus, poorman! all his hopes and all his chances came to an end.

  As for Miss Marjoribanks herself, it would be vain to say that this wasnot a very exciting moment for her. If there ever could be said to be atime when she temporarily lost the entire sway and control of herselfand her feelings, it would be at this crisis. She went about all thatevening like a woman in a dream. For the first time in her life she notonly did not know what she would do, but she did not know what shewanted to do. There could now be no mistaking what Mr Ashburton'sintentions were. Up to a very recent time Lucilla had been able to takerefuge in her mourni
ng, and conclude that she had no present occasion todisturb herself. But now that calm was over. She could not conceal fromherself that it was in her power by a word to reap all the advantages ofthe election, and to step at once into the only position which she hadever felt might be superior to her own in Carlingford. At last thisgreat testimonial of female merit was to be laid at her feet. A manthoroughly eligible in every way--moderately rich, well connected, ableto restore to her all, and more than all, the advantages which she hadlost at her father's death--a man, above all, who was Member forCarlingford, was going to offer himself to her acceptance, and put hishappiness in her hands; and while she was so well aware of this, she wasnot at all so well aware what answer she would make him. Lucilla's mindwas in such a commotion as she sat over her embroidery, that she thoughtit strange indeed that it did not show, and could not understand howAunt Jemima could sit there so quietly opposite her, as if nothing wasthe matter. But, to tell the truth, there was a good deal the matterwith Aunt Jemima too, which was perhaps the reason why she saw no signsof her companion's agitation. Mrs John Marjoribanks had not been ableany more than her niece to shut her eyes to Mr Ashburton's evidentmeaning, and now that matters were visibly coming to a crisis, a suddenpanic and horror had seized her. What would Tom say? If she stood by andsaw the prize snapped up under her very eyes, what account could shegive to her son of her stewardship? how could she explain her silence asto all _his_ wishes and intentions, her absolute avoidance of his namein all her conversations with Lucilla? While Miss Marjoribanks marvelledthat the emotion in her breast could be invisible, and at Aunt Jemima'sinsensibility, the bosom of that good woman was throbbing with equalexcitement. Sometimes each made an indifferent remark, and panted afterit, as if she had given utterance to the most exhausting emotions; butso great was the preoccupation of both that neither observed how it wasfaring with the other.

  But perhaps, on the whole, it was Aunt Jemima that suffered the most;for her there was nothing flattering, nothing gratifying, no prospect ofchange or increased happiness, or any of the splendours of imaginationinvolved. All that could happen to her would be the displeasure of herson and his disappointment; and it might be her fault, she who couldhave consented to be chopped up in little pieces, if that would havedone Tom any good; but who, notwithstanding, was not anxious for him tomarry his cousin, now that her father's fortune was all lost and she hadbut two hundred a year. They had a silent cup of tea together at eighto'clock, after that noisy exciting one at five, which had been shared byhalf Carlingford, as Aunt Jemima thought. The buzz of that impromptuassembly, in which everybody talked at the same moment, and nobodylistened, except perhaps Lucilla, had all died away into utterstillness; but the excitement had not died away; _that_ had only risento a white heat, silent and consuming, as the two ladies sat over theirtea.

  "Do you expect Mr Ashburton to-morrow, Lucilla?" Aunt Jemima said, aftera long pause.

  "Mr Ashburton?" said Lucilla, with a slight start; and, to tell thetruth, she was glad to employ that childish expedient to gain a littletime, and consider what she should say. "Indeed I don't know if he willhave time to come. Most likely there will be a great deal to do."

  "If he does come," said Mrs John, with a sigh--"or _when_ he does come,I ought to say, for you know very well he _will_ come, Lucilla--Isuppose there is no doubt that he will have something very particular tosay."

  "I am sure I don't know, Aunt Jemima," said Miss Marjoribanks; but shenever raised her eyes from her work, as she would have done in any othercase. "Now that the election is over, you know----"

  "I hope, my dear, I have been long enough in the world to know all aboutthat," Aunt Jemima said severely, "and what it means when young ladiestake such interest in elections;" and then some such feeling as the doghad in the manger--a jealousy of those who sought the gift though sheherself did not want it--came over Mrs John, and at the same time asudden desire to clear her conscience and make a stand for Tom. She didit suddenly, and went further than she meant to go; but then she neverdreamt it would have the least effect. "I would not say anything todisturb your mind, Lucilla, if you have made up your mind; but when youreceive your new friends, you might think of other people who perhapshave been fond of you before you ever saw them, or heard their veryname."

  She was frightened at it herself before the words were out of her mouth,and the effect it had upon Miss Marjoribanks was wonderful. She threwher embroidery away, and looked Tom's mother keenly in the face. "Idon't think you know anybody who is fond of me, Aunt Jemima," she said;"I don't suppose anybody is fond of me. Do you?" said Lucilla. But bythat time Aunt Jemima had got thoroughly frightened, both at herself andher companion, and had nothing more to say.

  "I am sure all these people to-day have been too much for you," shesaid. "I wonder what they could all be thinking of, for my part,flocking in upon you like that, so soon after----I thought it was veryindelicate of Lady Richmond. And Lucilla, my dear, your nerves are quiteaffected, and I am sure you ought to go to bed."

  Upon which Miss Marjoribanks recovered herself in a moment, and foldedup her worsted-work. "I do feel tired," she said sweetly, "and perhapsit _was_ too much. I think I will take your advice, Aunt Jemima. Theexcitement keeps one up for the moment, and then it tells after. Isuppose the best thing is to go to bed."

  "Much the best, my dear," Aunt Jemima said, giving Lucilla a kiss; butshe did not take her own advice. She took a long time to think it allover, and sat up by the side of the decaying fire until it wasmidnight--an hour at which a female establishment like this shouldsurely have been all shut up and at rest. And Lucilla did very much thesame thing, wondering greatly what her aunt could tell her if she had amind, and having the greatest inclination in the world to break into herchamber, and see, at any risk, what was in Tom's last letter. If shecould have seen that, it might have thrown some light on the problemLucilla was discussing, or given her some guidance through herdifficulties. It was just then that Mr Ashburton was inviting her imageinto the fossil drawing-room, and finding nothing but the grim shades ofthe Miss Penrhyns answer to his call. Perhaps this was because Lucilla'simage at that moment was called upon more potently from another quarterin a more familiar voice.

  But after this exhausting day and late sitting-up, everybody was late inthe morning, at least in Grange Lane. Miss Marjoribanks had sleptlittle all night, and she was not in a more settled state of mind whenthe day returned which probably would bring the matter to a speedydecision. Her mind was like a country held by two armies, one of whichby turns swept the other into a corner, but only to be driven back inits turn. After the unaccountable stupidity of the general public--afterall the Cavendishes, Beverleys, and Riders who had once had it in theirpower to distinguish themselves by at least making her an offer, and whohad not done it--here at last, in all good faith, honesty, andpromptitude, had appeared a man superior to them all--a man whom shewould have no reason to be ashamed of in any particular, sensible likeherself, public-spirited like herself--a man whose pursuits she couldenter into fully, who had a perfectly ideal position to offer her, andin whose person, indeed, all sorts of desirable qualities seemed tomeet. Miss Marjoribanks, when she considered all this, and thought overall their recent intercourse, and the terms of friendship into which theelection had brought them, felt, as any other sensible person would havefelt, that there was only one answer which could be given to such a man.If she neglected or played with his devotion, then certainly she neverwould deserve to have another such possibility afforded to her, andmerited nothing better than to live and die a single woman on twohundred a year. But then, on the other hand, there would rush forth acrowd of quick-coming and fantastic suggestions which took awayLucilla's breath, and made her heart beat loud. What if there might be"other people" who had been fond of her before she ever heard of MrAshburton's name? What if there might be some one in the world who wasready, not to offer her his hand and fortune in a reasonable way, as MrAshburton no doubt would, but to throw himself all in a heap at herfeet, and make th
e greatest fool of himself possible for her sake? MissMarjoribanks had been the very soul of good sense all her days, but nowher ruling quality seemed to forsake her. And yet she could not consentto yield herself up to pure unreason without a struggle. She foughtmanfully, womanfully against the weakness which hitherto must have beenlying hidden in some out-of-the-way corner in her heart. Probably if MrAshburton had asked her all at once amid the excitement of the election,or at any other unpremeditated moment, Lucilla would have been saved allthis self-torment; but it is hard upon a woman to have a proposalhanging over her head by a hair, as it were, and to look forward to itwithout any uncertainty or mystery, and have full time to make up hermind. And there was no accounting for the curious force and vividnesswith which that strange idea about "other people," upon which AuntJemima would throw no light, had come into Lucilla's head.

  She was still in the same frightful chaos of uncertainty when MrAshburton was shown into the drawing-room. She had not even heard himring, and was thus deprived of the one possible moment of coming to adecision before she faced and confronted her fate. Miss Marjoribanks'sheart gave a great jump, and then she recovered herself, and rose upwithout faltering, and shook hands with him. She was all alone, for AuntJemima had not found herself equal to facing the emergency; and therewas not the least possibility of evading or postponing, or in any wayrunning away from it now. Lucilla sat down again upon her sofa where shehad been sitting, and composed herself with a certain despairingtranquillity, and trusted in Providence. She had thrown herself on otheroccasions, though never at an equally important crisis, upon theinspiration of the moment, and she felt it would not forsake her now.

  "I should be sorry the election was over," said Mr Ashburton, who wasnaturally a little agitated too, "if I thought its privileges were over,and you would not let me come----I shall always think I owe my successto you; and I would thank you for being so kind--so very kind to me,if----"

  "Oh, dear, no; pray don't say so," cried Lucilla. "I only felt sure thatyou were the best man--the only man--for Carlingford."

  "I wish I might but prove the best man for something else," said thecandidate nervously; and then he cleared his throat. "I would say youhad been kind if I did not hope--if I was not so very anxious that youshould be something more than kind. It may be vain of me, but I think wecould get on together. I think I could understand you, and do youjustice----Lucilla! what is the matter? Good heavens! is it possiblethat I have taken you quite by surprise?"

  What caused this question was that Miss Marjoribanks had all at oncechanged colour, and given a great start, and put her hand to her breast,where her heart had taken such a leap that she felt it in her throat.But it was not because of what Mr Ashburton was saying; it was becauseof one of the very commonest sounds of everyday existence--a cabdriving down Grange Lane; but then it was a cab driving in such a waythat you could have sworn there was somebody in it in a terrible hurry,and who had just arrived by the twelve o'clock train.

  "Oh, no, no," said Miss Marjoribanks; "I know you have always done memore than justice, Mr Ashburton, and so have all my friends; and I amsure we always will get on well together. I wish you joy with all myheart, and I wish you every happiness; and I always thought, up to thisvery last moment----"

  Lucilla stopped again, and once more put her hand to her breast. Herheart gave another jump, and, if such a thing were possible to a heart,went off from its mistress altogether, and rushed downstairs bodily tosee who was coming. Yet, with all her agitation, she had still enoughself-control to lift an appealing look--a look which threw herself uponhis mercy, and implored his forbearance--to Mr Ashburton's face.

  As for the Member for Carlingford, he was confounded, and could not tellwhat to make of it. What was it she had thought up to the very lastmoment? Was this a refusal, or was she only putting off his claim, orwas it something altogether independent of him and his intentions thatagitated Lucilla to such an unusual extent? While he sat in hisconfusion trying to make it out, the most startling sound interruptedthe interview. The old disused bell that had so often called DrMarjoribanks up at night, and which hung near the door of the oldDoctor's room, just over the drawing-room, began to peal through thesilence, as if rung by a hand too impatient to notice what it was withwhich it made its summons.

  "Papa's bell!" Miss Marjoribanks cried, with a little shriek; and shegot up trembling, and then dropped upon her seat again, and in heragitated state burst into tears. And Mr Ashburton felt that, under thesemost extraordinary circumstances, even so sensible a woman as Lucillamight be justified in fainting, embarrassing and uncomfortable as thatwould be.

  "I will go and see what it means," he said, with still half the air of aman who had a right to go and see, and was, as it were, almost in hisown house. As he turned round, the door bell pealed wildly below incorrection of the mistake. It was evident that somebody wanted admissionwho had not a moment to lose, and who was in the habit of pulling wildlyat whatever came in his way. Mr Ashburton went out of the room to seewho it was, a little amused and a little alarmed, but much annoyed atbottom, as was only natural, at such an interruption. He did not verywell know whether he was accepted or rejected; but it was equally hisduty in either case to put a stop to the ringing of that ghostly bell.He went away, meaning to return immediately and have it out and know hisfate. And Lucilla, whose heart had come back, having fully ascertainedwho it was, and was now choking her with its beating, was left to awaitthe new event and the new-comer alone.