Clara Vaughan, Volume 2 (of 3)

by R. D. Blackmore

  CHAPTER XIV.

  From Sally's eager description of the coat and buttons, I concludedeasily that a servant from Vaughan St. Mary had been sent in quest ofme. My father hated showy liveries and loathed hair-powder, but Mr.Edgar Vaughan returned to the family usages, or rather allowed them tore-establish themselves; for on such questions he was whollyindifferent. Now what could be his motive for sending so expressly todiscover me? I knew not, neither cared very greatly, but wrote at onceto Tossil's Barton, first to return their loving contribution, whichconsisted mainly of ancestral relics prized for generations, secondly,to set free the secret of my address.

  Into my own self I returned once more. Somehow I seem to expandwhenever I come in contact with the yeoman's family, and their lowlygreatness. I am like a worm when it rains, after the drought of summer.Surely the God, who leaves us to stifle ourselves with the dust offashion and convention, has His own gracious times to breathe upon andscatter it. At intervals we may see through the reek of our ownexuding, and inhale a more bracing air than sleeps in mausoleums. Butinstead of being exalted and fed by the open breeze, we shudder at thedraught and replace our respirators.

  I returned into myself, and found little comfort there. I do not liveinside myself, as most people live in theirs. True, I am apt to resentany slight to it offered from the outside. True, I seek its keep andcomfort in a mechanical sort of way. But as for crusting in its bottle,ripening in its husk, rusting in its watch-case, I have been too longthe toy of wind and weather not to be turned inside out. Never can Imoulder into the fungoid nucleus the British taste admires. And yetthere is about me, if I must not say within me, a stanch cleaving, acohesion, a concrete will, which is of genuine Anglo-Saxon fibre. So Ithrust aside all dreams of Tossil's Barton and Vaughan Park, and certainwilder sweeter dreams which have begun to flutter and thrill through me,and in earnest I return to my task of money-making.

  Giudice still is faithful, and comforts much my solitude. He has neverasked his master's leave or mine, he has never received any formalinvitation, yet here he looks all at home, sleek and unblushing, thoughlong since quite convalescent and equal to livery stable diet. Onceindeed, as we passed the entrance, he pretended to me that hisconscience pricked him. To ease it, he sniffed about, and halted justfor a moment, then turned his nose up, recocked his tail, and trottedjauntily on. Since then he has always avoided that left side of thestreet. He is affable still to Isola, but clearly regards her as nomore than a pleasant acquaintance. Whenever she enters the room, hewalks from his corner with a stretch and a yawn, sniffs all round herdress, to learn where she has been, and what dogs she has spoken to;then, in the absence of any striking discovery, he looks into her facewith a grave complacence, and brings me his conclusion. Tom, and thebirds, the squirrel, and the little marmoset (Mrs. Shelfer's newest anddearest pet), he gazes upon from a lofty standing as so many specimensof natural history, interesting so far, but otherwise contemptible. Heis now allowed free run of the house, understands all the locks, andpresents himself in every room at the proper meal-time. Even the littledress-maker is then honoured with his attentions. Everybody loves him,he is so gentle and clever and true. Back he comes to me, with hismouth rather greasy I must admit, gives me one kiss (as a form, I amafraid), and exclaiming, "Dear me! What a life this is!' sits down onhis rug to think.

  No one can tempt him further than the corner of our street, except hismaster or myself. Miss Flounce, with my permission, granted not withoutjealousy, once aspired to the escort of Giudice. Although she carried abag of his favourite biscuits (made perhaps of bone-dust), and kept oneof them in her hand, Judy flattered her only to the corner; then heturned abruptly, and trotted firmly (rudely she called it) home, withhis eyes upon my balcony. I gave him more of his biscuits than he wouldhave got from her.

  All this was very delightful. But there were two sad drawbacks. In thefirst place, Giudice expected me to forego every other line of art, anddevote all my time to portraiture of himself. This was unreasonable,and I could not do it. Apart from other considerations, Mr. Oxgall,after buying three studies of him, declined to take any more until thosethree should be sold. To Giudice himself I had based my refusal uponmore delicate grounds. I had quoted to him,

  "Although, lest I profane your hallowed part, Queen Nature chills the blood around my heart; Sweet dog, permit me to indulge my dream Of country valleys, and the mazy stream."

  But he took no heed, and never would permit me so to do, without thekeenest jealousy.

  The other drawback was still more serious. Either by maintaining thedog, I placed his owner under an obligation; or by engrossing the dog'ssociety, I laid myself under obligation to his owner. Either view ofthe case was unpleasant; the latter, which I adopted, soon becameintolerable. So I spoke about it to Isola, for I could not well explainmyself to her brother, who ought indeed to have perceived my dilemma.

  "Oh Donna," she cried, "what nonsense you do talk! Obliged to us indeed!I am sure we are all greatly obliged to you; and many a stir it saves usat home, for the dog detests papa so; and when Conrad comes to see us,he can't bear to have Judy shut out like a thief, and he the mosthonourable dog that ever wagged a tail."

  "To be sure he is. You know you are, don't you, oh combination ofBayard and Aristides?"

  That union of justice and chivalry wagged his tail to me, and noddedgravely to Isola.

  "But I have said all along that Conny should pay for his board, and hefeels it too: but we could not tell how to propose it to you, dearDonna, you are so very outrageous."

  "I should hope so indeed."

  "And then I am sure it would break poor Judy's heart to go. Wouldn't itnow, Judy?"

  Giudice did not answer her, but came and laid his great head on my lap,and looked up at me as only a dog can look. In that wistful look hesaid as plainly as possible--

  "You know I am only a dog. But you, Clara, happen to be a human being;and so you know all we dogs know, and ever so much besides. Only youcan't smell. You can talk, as fast as you like, both to each other andto us, but we can talk to none except our fellow dogs. Now don't take amean advantage of me. I know that I was made only to be your servant,and I love you with all my heart, that I do. I can't tell at all whereI shall go when I die, or if I shall go anywhere; and I am sure I shalldie, if you cast me away like this."

  So I kissed his dotty whiskers, and promised not to desert him, though Ishould go all the way to the stables twice a day to see him.

  "And another thing, Clara dear," resumed his master's sister, "Iconsider him now more my dog than Conny's. You know he was given betweenus"--this was the first time I heard of it--"and I only lent Conrad myhalf as long as he liked to pay for him."

  Lovely Isola, like most other lovely girls, was keen aboutmoney-matters. Not that she was ungenerous. That impulsive littlemortal would give away all her substance, the moment her heart wastouched, and it was not hard to touch, despite all the quick suspicionswhich her London life and native shrewdness had now begun to produce.But as regards small dealings, she was thoroughly qualified to keep ameat-pie shop, or go upon board wages, or even to take furnishedlodging: by which climax I mean no disrespect to Mrs. Shelfer, who(considering her temptations) is the very pink of honesty, especiallysince Giudice can.

  As to these small matters, and as to many large ones, I was dear Isola'scardinal opposite. She would make, for most men, a far better wife thanI should; although she will never love with a tenth part of theintensity. She can't even hate like me. When I hate, I loathe andabhor. I never hate any one lightly, and hardly ever am reconciled, orsuppress it. Isola talks about hating, but has never learned what itmeans. Spite she can carry, and nurse like a doll, and count it a minorvirtue, albeit she cannot be sulky; hate is too heavy a burden. Scorn,which is with women the hate of things beneath them, Isola hardly knows.Perhaps she will learn it when her knowledge of the world narrows andcondenses, as with most women it does.
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  Another great difference there is between Isola and me. Although shenever would think of deceiving any one seriously, and would on noaccount tell a downright malicious lie, yet she is not so particularabout telling little fibs, or at any rate colouring matters so highlythat others are misled. This she can justify to herself in a charmingwarm-hearted way. And yet she rarely makes mischief. Her departuresare half unconscious, and always arise from good will.

  "And so now, Clara dear," concluded the senior sophist, "as Conrad hasowned all the dog so long, it is my turn to own every bit of him for anequal period, and I must pay you half a crown a week for his keep, andhalf a guinea for doctoring him so well."

  I was much inclined to take her at her word, it would have been such asurprise. But what a disgrace to Giudice and to me!

  "Oh Donna," she continued, "you have no idea how fond dear Conny is ofyou. I am getting so jealous. He thinks much more of you than he doesof me."

  I bent over my drawing with more carmine on my cheeks than was on thepalette. What folly to be sure! And Isola would come round in front.

  "Why don't you answer me, Clara? Did you ever know such a shame? Well,I do believe you like being admired every bit as much as I do, in spiteof all your sublimity. Why there comes Conny himself;" and to my greatrelief she stepped into the balcony. "I thought so. I knew the ring ofhis heel. He will wear such clumsy boots, though his foot is as prettyas mine. I always know his step, and so does Judy."

  Alas! and so do I. How weak and paltry of me, with a life like minebefore me!

  "I will go and open the door," cries his sister; "how rude he is to comewhen you are so busy, Clara."

  Away she runs, then ushers him grandly in, and away again to nurse themarmoset. I know that I look slightly discomposed. There is a glowupon me as if I had stepped into sunlight. Conrad fails to notice it,or conceals the perception. He stands before my easel. How I long forhis approbation! That of course is only from his knowledge of art andhis native taste. Yet I fear to look at his face, but wait for him tospeak. With a stretch like a windlass, and a cavernous yawn, up comesGiudice, and pokes himself right in front of my work. Could I haveforeseen that effrontery and execrable taste, less bread and milk wouldhe have had for breakfast. Conrad perceives my vexation, and despitehis good breeding is too natural not to smile. The smile is infectious,and I obtain no more than a look of commendation. But that is enough forme. I resolve to keep the drawing: Mr. Oxgall may bid what he likes.

  As our eyes meet, Conrad's and mine, I see that he is not in his usualspirits. Something has happened to vex him. Oh that I dared to askwhat it is. I also am heavy at heart, and ill at ease with myself. Isit any wonder? My nature is true and straight-forward as well as proudand passionate. But here have I been, for weeks and weeks, stoopingbelow its level. I have even been deceitful. Perhaps there was nodishonour in my change of name, with such an object in view. Perhapsthere was good excuse for maintaining disguise with Conrad, when firstwe met in London. But was it right and honourable to persist in myalias, when I could not help suspecting his growing attachment to me?Peradventure my conscience alone would not account for all the misery Ifelt about this. Had I no selfish misgivings as well? Now as I stoodbefore him, my breast began to flutter with fear, not so acute, butdeeper than my alarm in the dark, when I crouched from the conspirators.

  "Miss Valence," at last he began, "I am grieved in my heart by hearingthat you were not treated at all politely last night." He was greatlymoved, and began to lose his command of colloquial English. I had spentan evening at the Professor's house in Lucas Street, the second timeonly of my being there. Now I came to recollect it, Dr. Ross hadcertainly been a little overbearing, but I did not feel hurt thereby,because I cared not for him, and knew it to be his manner. Isola hadtold her brother, but without meaning any harm. Her father no doubt hadbeen vexed, because I could not sell him my gordit.

  "Oh, Mr. Ross," I replied, "I think nothing at all of that. A learnedman like your father cannot be expected to bear with every ignorantgirl's curiosity."

  "To a lady's love of knowledge every gentleman should administer and begratified. All men of lofty science enjoy to meet with a gentle mindinquiring."

  It was not the first time Master Conrad had disparaged, by implication,his father's great acquirements. To me it seemed scarcely graceful, andvery far from dutiful, but many of my sentiments are dreadfullyold-fashioned. An awkward pause ensued; how could I answer withoutcondemning one or the other? Though I could not quite acquit Conrad, myheart was entirely with him, for I had long been aware that he was nothappy at home. There he stood, with an angry countenance, havingdeclined the chair I had offered him. Suddenly he took both my hands andlooked me full in the face, though his eyes were glistening. I gazedfull at him, with vague apprehensions rising. How or why, I know not,but at that very moment my hair, which is always a trouble to me, fellin a mass down my cheeks and neck. He started back, but still held myhands.

  "I am made certain that I have seen you long ago. I will think, I willthink."

  I saw at once how it was, the fear on my face reminded him. I meant totell him some day, but I never meant him to find out. Scorning myselffor a hypocrite, I looked stedfastly at him and smiled.

  "You will forgive me, Miss Valence, you know that I would not use afreedom."

  He saw in my eyes that I knew it, and dropped my hands, and went on.

  "You will think me the weakest in mind and most wicked, but I am mostunhappy."

  I started in turn, and how I longed to console him. What use is pride ifit cannot even command one's eyes?

  "It is to me a disgrace to come to you with my troubles. But I do itfrom no unmanly temper. I do it alone for the sake of my precioussister Isola. I have no longer any one whom I dare to love but her, andnow I am compelled to abandon her at the last."

  "Do you mean to be long away?" This I managed to ask pretty well,though it was sore work.

  "I shall not be away from London, but I shall be departed from Isola.The house where she lives I am no more to visit. A long time I havegone there only a little, and alone to see her. She is ordered now tocome no more to me. This day I spoke very violently. But I will notdetain you with that. I will confess I did wrong; but I was richlyprovoked. My object in burdening you is double:--First to implore you,if I may without using liberty, to endure well with the Professor, lestshe should be interdicted from coming to visit you, and then she wouldhave no one remaining to love her. Second to ask, a thing that Ihesitate because I cannot narrate to you all things, whether you wouldindulge me, if there is no wrong, to come now and then to see my own andmy only sister."

  "Of course you do not mean without her father's knowledge."

  "I would never insult you, Miss Valence, by asking a thing like that. Idesire nothing of what you call clandestine. You are so free and open,you would never have to do with any sort of concealment. Neither am Iin the habit to do anything like that. It has only been commanded thatI may not go there, or invite her to come to my house. The Professorhas great power in the present, but he does not pretend to interdict mefrom my sister."

  His eyes flashed, as he spoke, with an expression quite unfilial.Remembering how differently I had loved my own dear father, I feltdisappointed and grieved, but had no right to show it.

  "Only one more thing I will entreat of you, Miss Valence; poor Isola hasnever learned what means any grief. If she is vexed by this, I pray youto sustain and comfort her; for I shall never make a wrong advantage ofyour most kind permission, so as to see her very often."

  He raised my hand to his lips in gratitude for what he called a kindnessbeyond all value to him, and his voice was trembling as he turned away.But I had done no kindness, I had given no permission; for I was notcalm enough to distinguish right from wrong. Strange indeed it seemed tome that I, for the most part so decided, could not now determine, butwas all perplexity. My great iceberg self-reliance, built in bleak andlonesome
years, was now adrift and melting in the bright sun offriendship and the warm sea-depths of love.