CHAPTER VI.
The Bridge over the Rhine.
"George," said Kate, speaking before she quite got up to them, "willyou tell me whether you have been preparing all your things for anopen sale by auction?" Then she stole a look at Alice, and havinglearned from that glance that something had occurred which preventedAlice from joining her in her raillery, she went on with it herselfrapidly, as though to cover Alice's confusion, and give her time torally before they should all move. "Would you believe it? he hadthree razors laid out on his table--"
"A man must shave,--even at Basle."
"But not with three razors at once; and three hair-brushes, andhalf a dozen toothbrushes, and a small collection of combs, andfour or five little glass bottles, looking as though they containedpoison,--all with silver tops. I can only suppose you desired tostartle the weak mind of the chambermaid. I have put them all up; butremember this, if they are taken out again you are responsible. AndI will not put up your boots, George. What can you have wanted withthree pairs of boots at Basle?"
"When you have completed the list of my wardrobe we'll go out uponthe bridge. That is, if Alice likes it."
"Oh, yes; I shall like it."
"Come along then," said Kate. And so they moved away. When they gotupon the bridge Alice and Kate were together, while George strolledbehind them, close to them, but not taking any part in theirconversation,--as though he had merely gone with them as an escort.Kate seemed to be perfectly content with this arrangement, chatteringto Alice, so that she might show that there was nothing serious onthe minds of any of them. It need hardly be said that Alice at thistime made no appeal to George to join them. He followed them at theirheels, with his hands behind his back, looking down upon the pavementand simply waiting upon their pleasure.
"Do you know," said Kate, "I have a very great mind to run away."
"Where do you want to run to?"
"Well;--that wouldn't much signify. Perhaps I'd go to the little innat Handek. It's a lonely place, where nobody would hear of me,--and Ishould have the waterfall. I'm afraid they'd want to have their billpaid. That would be the worst of it."
"But why run away just now?"
"I won't, because you wouldn't like going home with Georgealone,--and I suppose he'd be bound to look after me, as he's doingnow. I wonder what he thinks of having to walk over the bridge afterus girls. I suppose he'd be in that place down there drinking beer,if we weren't here."
"If he wanted to go, I dare say he would, in spite of us."
"That's ungrateful of you, for I'm sure we've never been kept in amoment by his failing us. But as I was saying, I do dread going home.You are going to John Grey, which may be pleasant enough; but I'mgoing--to Aunt Greenow."
"It's your own choice."
"No, it's not. I haven't any choice in the matter. Of course I mightrefuse to speak to Aunt Greenow, and nobody could make me;--butpractically I haven't any choice in the matter. Fancy a month atYarmouth with no companion but such a woman as that!"
"I shouldn't mind it. Aunt Greenow always seems to me to be a verygood sort of woman."
"She may be a good woman, but I must say I think she's of a bad sort.You've never heard her talk about her husband?"
"No, never; I think she did cry a little the first day she came toQueen Anne Street, but that wasn't unnatural."
"He was thirty years older than herself."
"But still he was her husband. And even if her tears are assumed,what of that? What's a woman to do? Of course she was wrong to marryhim. She was thirty-five, and had nothing, while he was sixty-five,and was very rich. According to all accounts she made him a very goodwife, and now that she's got all his money, you wouldn't have her goabout laughing within three months of his death."
"No; I wouldn't have her laugh; but neither would I have her cry.And she's quite right to wear weeds; but she needn't be so veryoutrageous in the depth of her hems, or so very careful that her capsare becoming. Her eyes will be worn out by their double service. Theyare always red with weeping, and yet she is ready every minute with afull battery of execution for any man that she sees."
"Then why have you consented to go to Yarmouth with her?"
"Just because she's got forty thousand pounds. If Mr. Greenow had lefther with a bare maintenance I don't suppose I should ever have heldout my hand to her."
"Then you're as bad as she is."
"Quite as bad;--and that's what makes me want to run away. But itisn't my own fault altogether. It's the fault of the world at large.Does anybody ever drop their rich relatives? When she proposed totake me to Yarmouth, wasn't it natural that the squire should ask meto go? When I told George, wasn't it natural that he should say, 'Oh,go by all means. She's got forty thousand pounds!' One can't pretendto be wiser or better than one's relatives. And after all what can Iexpect from her money?"
"Nothing, I should say."
"Not a halfpenny. I'm nearly thirty and she's only forty, and ofcourse she'll marry again. I will say of myself, too, that no personliving cares less for money."
"I should think no one."
"Yet one sticks to one's rich relatives. It's the way of the world."Then she paused a moment. "But shall I tell you, Alice, why I dostick to her? Perhaps you'll think the object as mean as though Iwanted her money myself."
"Why is it?"
"Because it is on the cards that she may help George in his career. Ido not want money, but he may. And for such purposes as his, I thinkit fair that all the family should contribute. I feel sure that hewould make a name for himself in Parliament; and if I had my way Iwould spend every shilling of Vavasor money in putting him there.When I told the squire so I thought he would have eaten me. I reallydid think he would have turned me out of the house."
"And serve you right too after what had happened."
"I didn't care. Let him turn me out. I was determined he should knowwhat I thought. He swore at me; and then he was so unhappy at whathe had done that he came and kissed me that night in my bedroom, andgave me a ten-pound note. What do you think I did with it? I sent itas a contribution to the next election and George has it now lockedup in a box. Don't you tell him that I told you."
Then they stopped and leaned for a while over the parapet of thebridge. "Come here, George," said Kate; and she made room for himbetween herself and Alice. "Wouldn't you like to be swimming downthere as those boys were doing when we went out into the balcony? Thewater looks so enticing."
"I can't say I should;--unless it might be a pleasant way of swimminginto the next world."
"I should so like to feel myself going with the stream," said Kate;"particularly by this light. I can't fancy in the least that I shouldbe drowned."
"I can't fancy anything else," said Alice.
"It would be so pleasant to feel the water gliding along one's limbs,and to be carried away headlong,--knowing that you were on the directroad to Rotterdam."
"And so arrive there without your clothes," said George.
"They would be brought after in a boat. Didn't you see that thoseboys had a boat with them? But if I lived here, I'd never do itexcept by moonlight. The water looks so clear and bright now, and therushing sound of it is so soft! The sea at Yarmouth won't be anythinglike that I suppose."
Neither of them any longer answered her, and yet she went on talkingabout the river, and their aunt, and her prospects at Yarmouth.Neither of them answered her, and yet it seemed that they had not aword to say to each other. But still they stood there looking downupon the river, and every now and then Kate's voice was to be heard,preventing the feeling which might otherwise have arisen that theirhearts were too full for speech.
At last Alice seemed to shiver. There was a slight trembling in herarms, which George felt rather than saw. "You are cold," he said.
"No indeed."
"If you are let us go in. I thought you shivered with the night air."
"It wasn't that. I was thinking of something. Don't you ever think ofthings that make you shiver?"
"Indeed I do, very often;--so often that I have to do my shiveringsinwardly. Otherwise people would think I had the palsy."
"I don't mean things of moment," said Alice. "Little bits of thingsmake me do it;--perhaps a word that I said and ought not to have saidten years ago;--the most ordinary little mistakes, even my own pastthoughts to myself about the merest trifles. They are always makingme shiver."
"It's not because you have committed any murder then."
"No; but it's my conscience all the same, I suppose."
"Ah! I'm not so good as you. I doubt it's not my conscience at all.When I think of a chance I've let go by, as I have thousands, then itis that I shiver. But, as I tell you, I shiver inwardly. I've been inone long shiver ever since we came out because of one chance that Ilet go by. Come, we'll go in. We've to be up at five o'clock, and nowit's eleven. I'll do the rest of my shivering in bed."
"Are you tired of being out?" said Kate, when the other two began tomove.
"Not tired of being out, but George reminds me that we have to be upat five."
"I wish George would hold his tongue. We can't come to the bridgeat Basle every night in our lives. If one found oneself at the topof Sinai I'm afraid the first feeling would be one of fear lest onewouldn't be down in time to dress for dinner. Are you aware, George,that the king of rivers is running beneath your feet, and that themoon is shining with a brilliance you never see at home?"
"I'll stay here all night if you'll put off going to-morrow," saidGeorge.
"Our money wouldn't hold out," said Kate.
"Don't talk about Sinai any more after that," said he, "but let's goin to bed."
They walked across the bridge back to the hotel in the same manner asbefore, the two girls going together with the young man after them,and so they went up the front steps of the hotel, through the hall,and on to the stairs. Here George handed Alice her candle, and as hedid so he whispered a few words to her. "My shivering fit has to comeyet," said he, "and will last me the whole night." She would havegiven much to be able to answer him lightly, as though what he hadsaid had meant nothing;--but she couldn't do it; the light speechwould not come to her. She was conscious of all this, and went awayto her own room without answering him at all. Here she sat down atthe window looking out upon the river till Kate should join her.Their rooms opened through from one to the other, and she would notbegin her packing till her cousin should come.
But Kate had gone with her brother, promising, as she did so, thatshe would be back in half a minute. That half minute was protractedbeyond half an hour. "If you'll take my advice," said Kate, at last,standing up with her candle in her hand, "you'll ask her in plainwords to give you another chance. Do it to-morrow at Strasbourg;you'll never have a better opportunity."
"And bid her throw John Grey over!"
"Don't say anything about John Grey; leave her to settle that matterwith herself. Believe me that she has quite courage enough to disposeof John Grey, if she has courage enough to accept your offer."
"Kate, you women never understand each other. If I were to do that,all her most powerful feelings would be arrayed in arms against me.I must leave her to find out first that she wishes to be rid of herengagement."
"She has found that out long ago. Do you think I don't know what shewishes? But if you can't bring yourself to speak to her, she'll marryhim in spite of her wishes."
"Bring myself! I've never been very slow in bringing myself to speakto any one when there was need. It isn't very pleasant sometimes, butI do it, if I find occasion."
"But surely it must be pleasant with her. You must be glad to findthat she still loves you. You still love her, I suppose?"
"Upon my word I don't know."
"Don't provoke me, George. I'm moving heaven and earth to bring youtwo together; but if I didn't think you loved her, I'd go to her atonce and bid her never see you again."
"Upon my word, Kate, I sometimes think it would be better if you'dleave heaven and earth alone."
"Then I will. But of all human beings, surely you're the mostungrateful."
"Why shouldn't she marry John Grey if she likes him?"
"But she doesn't like him. And I hate him. I hate the sound of hisvoice, and the turn of his eye, and that slow, steady movement ofhis,--as though he was always bethinking himself that he wouldn'twear out his clothes."
"I don't see that your hating him ought to have anything to do withit."
"If you're going to preach morals, I'll leave you. It's the darlingwish of my heart that she should be your wife. If you ever lovedanybody,--and I sometimes doubt whether you ever did,--but if youdid, you loved her."
"Did and do are different things."
"Very well, George; then I have done. It has been the same in everytwist and turn of my life. In everything that I have striven to dofor you, you have thrown yourself over, in order that I might bethrown over too. But I believe you say this merely to vex me."
"Upon my word, Kate, I think you'd better go to bed."
"But not till I've told her everything. I won't leave her to bedeceived and ill-used again."
"Who is ill-using her now? Is it not the worst of ill-usage, tryingto separate her from that man?"
"No;--if I thought so, I would have no hand in doing it. She wouldbe miserable with him, and make him miserable as well. She does notreally love him. He loves her, but I've nothing to do with that. It'snothing to me if he breaks his heart."
"I shall break mine if you don't let me go to bed."
With that she went away and hurried along the corridor, till she cameto her cousin's room. She found Alice still seated at the window, orrather kneeling on the chair, with her head out through the lattice."Why, you lazy creature," said Kate; "I declare you haven't touched athing."
"You said we'd do it together."
"But he has kept me. Oh, what a man he is! If he ever does getmarried, what will his wife do with him?"
"I don't think he ever will," said Alice.
"Don't you? I dare say you understand him better than I do. SometimesI think that the only thing wanting to make him thoroughly good, is awife. But it isn't every woman that would do for him. And the womanwho marries him should have high courage. There are moments with himwhen he is very wild; but he never is cruel and never hard. Is Mr.Grey ever hard?"
"Never; nor yet wild."
"Oh, certainly not that. I'm quite sure he's never wild."
"When you say that, Kate, I know that you mean to abuse him."
"No; upon my word. What's the good of abusing him to you? I like aman to be wild,--wild in my sense. You knew that before."
"I wonder whether you'd like a wild man for yourself?"
"Ah! that's a question I've never asked myself. I've been oftencurious to consider what sort of husband would suit you, but I'vehad very few thoughts about a husband for myself. The truth is, I'mmarried to George. Ever since--"
"Ever since what?"
"Since you and he were parted, I've had nothing to do in life but tostick to him. And I shall do so to the end,--unless one thing shouldhappen."
"And what's that?"
"Unless you should become his wife after all. He will never marryanybody else."
"Kate, you shouldn't allude to such a thing now. You know that it'simpossible."
"Well, perhaps so. As far as I'm concerned, it is all the betterfor me. If George ever married, I should have nothing to do in theworld;--literally nothing--nothing--nothing--nothing!"
"Kate, don't talk in that way," and Alice came up to her and embracedher.
"Go away," said she. "Go, Alice; you and I must part. I cannot bearit any longer. You must know it all. When you are married to JohnGrey, our friendship must be over. If you became George's wife Ishould become nobody. I've nothing else in the world. You and hewould be so all-sufficient for each other, that I should drop awayfrom you like an old garment. But I'd give up all, everything, everyhope I have, to see you become George's wife. I know myself not tobe good. I know myself to be very
bad, and yet I care nothing formyself. Don't Alice, don't; I don't want your caresses. Caress him,and I'll kneel at your feet and cover them with kisses." She had nowthrown herself upon a sofa, and had turned her face away to the wall.
"Kate, you shouldn't speak in that way."
"Of course I shouldn't,--but I do."
"You, who know everything, must know that I cannot marry yourbrother,--even if he wished it."
"He does wish it."
"Not though I were under no other engagement."
"And why not?" said Kate, again starting up. "What is there toseparate you from George now, but that unfortunate affair, that willend in the misery of you all. Do you think I can't see? Don't I knowwhich of the two men you like best?"
"You are making me sorry, Kate, that I have ventured to come here inyour brother's company. It is not only unkind of you to talk to me inthis way, but worse than that--it is indelicate."
"Oh, indelicate! How I do hate that word. If any word in the languagereminds me of a whited sepulchre it is that;--all clean and polishedoutside with filth and rottenness within. Are your thoughts delicate?that's the thing. You are engaged to marry John Grey. That may bedelicate enough if you love him truly, and feel yourself fitted to behis wife; but it's about the most indelicate thing you can do, if youlove any one better than him. Delicacy with many women is like theircleanliness. Nothing can be nicer than the whole outside get-up, butyou wouldn't wish to answer for anything beneath."
"If you think ill of me like that--"
"No; I don't think ill of you. How can I think ill of you when I knowthat all your difficulties have come from him? It hasn't been yourfault; it has been his throughout. It is he who has driven you tosacrifice yourself on this altar. If we can, both of us, manage tolay aside all delicacy and pretence, and dare to speak the truth,we shall acknowledge that it is so. Had Mr. Grey come to you whilethings were smooth between you and George, would you have thought itpossible that he could be George's rival in your estimation? It isHyperion to Satyr."
"And which is the Satyr?"
"I'll leave your heart to tell you. You know what is the darlingwish of my heart. But, Alice, if I thought that Mr. Grey was to youHyperion,--if I thought that you could marry him with that sort ofworshipping, idolatrous love which makes a girl proud as well ashappy in her marriage, I wouldn't raise a little finger to preventit."
To this Alice made no answer, and then Kate allowed the matter todrop. Alice made no answer, though she felt that she was allowingjudgement to go against her by default in not doing so. She hadintended to fight bravely, and to have maintained the excellenceof her present position as the affianced bride of Mr. Grey, but shefelt that she had failed. She felt that she had, in some sort,acknowledged that the match was one to be deplored;--that her wordsin her own defence would by no means have satisfied Mr. Grey, if Mr.Grey could have heard them;--that they would have induced him tooffer her back her troth rather than have made him happy as a lover.But she had nothing further to say. She could do something. She wouldhurry home and bid him name the earliest day he pleased. After thather cousin would cease to disturb her in her career.
It was nearly one o'clock before the two girls began to prepare fortheir morning start, and Alice, when they had finished their packing,seemed to be worn out with fatigue. "If you are tired, dear, we'llput it off," said Kate. "Not for worlds," said Alice. "For half aword we'll do it," continued Kate. "I'll slip out to George and tellhim, and there's nothing he'd like so much." But Alice would notconsent.
About two they got into bed, and punctually at six they were at therailway station. "Don't speak to me," said George, when he met themat their door in the passage. "I shall only yawn in your face."However, they were in time,--which means abroad that they were at thestation half an hour before their train started,--and they went onupon their journey to Strasbourg.
There is nothing further to be told of their tour. They were but twodays and nights on the road from Basle to London and during thosetwo days and nights neither George nor Kate spoke a word to Alice ofher marriage, nor was any allusion made to the balcony at the inn, orto the bridge over the river.
Can You Forgive Her? Page 8