CHAPTER XV.
"YOU SHOULD REMEMBER THAT I AM HIS MOTHER."
"This is so kind of you," said Lady Carbury, grasping her cousin'shand as she got out of the carriage.
"The kindness is on your part," said Roger.
"I felt so much before I dared to ask you to take us. But I did solong to get into the country, and I do so love Carbury. And--and--"
"Where should a Carbury go to escape from London smoke, but to theold house? I am afraid Henrietta will find it dull."
"Oh no," said Hetta smiling. "You ought to remember that I am neverdull in the country."
"The bishop and Mrs. Yeld are coming here to dine to-morrow,--and theHepworths."
"I shall be so glad to meet the bishop once more," said Lady Carbury.
"I think everybody must be glad to meet him, he is such a dear, goodfellow, and his wife is just as good. And there is another gentlemancoming whom you have never seen."
"A new neighbour?"
"Yes,--a new neighbour;--Father John Barham, who has come to Becclesas priest. He has got a little cottage about a mile from here, inthis parish, and does duty both at Beccles and Bungay. I used to knowsomething of his family."
"He is a gentleman then?"
"Certainly he is a gentleman. He took his degree at Oxford, andthen became what we call a pervert, and what I suppose they call aconvert. He has not got a shilling in the world beyond what theypay him as a priest, which I take it amounts to about as much asthe wages of a day labourer. He told me the other day that he wasabsolutely forced to buy second-hand clothes."
"How shocking!" said Lady Carbury, holding up her hands.
"He didn't seem to be at all shocked at telling it. We have got to bequite friends."
"Will the bishop like to meet him?"
"Why should not the bishop like to meet him? I've told the bishop allabout him, and the bishop particularly wishes to know him. He won'thurt the bishop. But you and Hetta will find it very dull."
"I shan't find it dull, Mr. Carbury," said Henrietta.
"It was to escape from the eternal parties that we came down here,"said Lady Carbury. She had nevertheless been anxious to hear whatguests were expected at the Manor House. Sir Felix had promised tocome down on Saturday, with the intention of returning on Monday, andLady Carbury had hoped that some visiting might be arranged betweenCaversham and the Manor House, so that her son might have the fulladvantage of his closeness to Marie Melmotte.
"I have asked the Longestaffes for Monday," said Roger.
"They are down here then?"
"I think they arrived yesterday. There is always a flustering breezein the air and a perturbation generally through the county when theycome or go, and I think I perceived the effects about four in theafternoon. They won't come, I dare say."
"Why not?"
"They never do. They have probably a house full of guests, and theyknow that my accommodation is limited. I've no doubt they'll ask uson Tuesday or Wednesday, and if you like we will go."
"I know they are to have guests," said Lady Carbury.
"What guests?"
"The Melmottes are coming to them." Lady Carbury, as she made theannouncement, felt that her voice and countenance and self-possessionwere failing her, and that she could not mention the thing as shewould any matter that was indifferent to her.
"The Melmottes coming to Caversham!" said Roger, looking atHenrietta, who blushed with shame as she remembered that she had beenbrought into her lover's house solely in order that her brother mighthave an opportunity of seeing Marie Melmotte in the country.
"Oh yes,--Madame Melmotte told me. I take it they are very intimate."
"Mr. Longestaffe ask the Melmottes to visit him at Caversham!"
"Why not?"
"I should almost as soon have believed that I myself might have beeninduced to ask them here."
"I fancy, Roger, that Mr. Longestaffe does want a little pecuniaryassistance."
"And he condescends to get it in this way! I suppose it will make nodifference soon whom one knows, and whom one doesn't. Things aren'tas they were, of course, and never will be again. Perhaps it's allfor the better;--I won't say it isn't. But I should have thought thatsuch a man as Mr. Longestaffe might have kept such another man as Mr.Melmotte out of his wife's drawing-room." Henrietta became redderthan ever. Even Lady Carbury flushed up, as she remembered that RogerCarbury knew that she had taken her daughter to Madame Melmotte'sball. He thought of this himself as soon as the words were spoken,and then tried to make some half apology. "I don't approve of themin London, you know; but I think they are very much worse in thecountry."
Then there was a movement. The ladies were shown into their rooms,and Roger again went out into the garden. He began to feel that heunderstood it all. Lady Carbury had come down to his house in orderthat she might be near the Melmottes! There was something in thiswhich he felt it difficult not to resent. It was for no love of himthat she was there. He had felt that Henrietta ought not to have beenbrought to his house; but he could have forgiven that, because herpresence there was a charm to him. He could have forgiven that, evenwhile he was thinking that her mother had brought her there withthe object of disposing of her. If it were so, the mother's objectwould be the same as his own, and such a manoeuvre he could pardon,though he could not approve. His self-love had to some extent beengratified. But now he saw that he and his house had been simply usedin order that a vile project of marrying two vile people to eachother might be furthered!
As he was thinking of all this, Lady Carbury came out to him inthe garden. She had changed her travelling dress, and made herselfpretty, as she well knew how to do. And now she dressed her face inher sweetest smiles. Her mind, also, was full of the Melmottes, andshe wished to explain to her stern, unbending cousin all the goodthat might come to her and hers by an alliance with the heiress. "Ican understand, Roger," she said, taking his arm, "that you shouldnot like those people."
"What people?"
"The Melmottes."
"I don't dislike them. How should I dislike people that I never saw?I dislike those who seek their society simply because they have thereputation of being rich."
"Meaning me."
"No; not meaning you. I don't dislike you, as you know very well,though I do dislike the fact that you should run after these people.I was thinking of the Longestaffes then."
"Do you suppose, my friend, that I run after them for my owngratification? Do you think that I go to their house because I findpleasure in their magnificence; or that I follow them down here forany good that they will do me?"
"I would not follow them at all."
"I will go back if you bid me, but I must first explain what I mean.You know my son's condition,--better, I fear, than he does himself."Roger nodded assent to this, but said nothing. "What is he to do? Theonly chance for a young man in his position is that he should marry agirl with money. He is good-looking; you can't deny that."
"Nature has done enough for him."
"We must take him as he is. He was put into the army very young, andwas very young when he came into possession of his own small fortune.He might have done better; but how many young men placed in suchtemptations do well? As it is, he has nothing left."
"I fear not."
"And therefore is it not imperative that he should marry a girl withmoney?"
"I call that stealing a girl's money, Lady Carbury."
"Oh, Roger, how hard you are!"
"A man must be hard or soft,--which is best?"
"With women I think that a little softness has the most effect. Iwant to make you understand this about the Melmottes. It stands toreason that the girl will not marry Felix unless she loves him."
"But does he love her?"
"Why should he not? Is a girl to be debarred from being loved becauseshe has money? Of course she looks to be married, and why should shenot have Felix if she likes him best? Cannot you sympathize with myanxiety so to place him that he shall not be a disgrace to the name
and to the family?"
"We had better not talk about the family, Lady Carbury."
"But I think so much about it."
"You will never get me to say that I think the family will bebenefited by a marriage with the daughter of Mr. Melmotte. I lookupon him as dirt in the gutter. To me, in my old-fashioned way, allhis money, if he has it, can make no difference. When there is aquestion of marriage people at any rate should know something of eachother. Who knows anything of this man? Who can be sure that she ishis daughter?"
"He would give her her fortune when she married."
"Yes; it all comes to that. Men say openly that he is an adventurerand a swindler. No one pretends to think that he is a gentleman.There is a consciousness among all who speak of him that he amasseshis money not by honest trade, but by unknown tricks,--as does a cardsharper. He is one whom we would not admit into our kitchens, muchless to our tables, on the score of his own merits. But because hehas learned the art of making money, we not only put up with him, butsettle upon his carcase as so many birds of prey."
"Do you mean that Felix should not marry the girl, even if they loveeach other?"
He shook his head in disgust, feeling sure that any idea of love onthe part of the young man was a sham and a pretence, not only asregarded him, but also his mother. He could not quite declare this,and yet he desired that she should understand that he thought so."I have nothing more to say about it," he continued. "Had it gone onin London I should have said nothing. It is no affair of mine. WhenI am told that the girl is in the neighbourhood, at such a house asCaversham, and that Felix is coming here in order that he may be nearto his prey, and when I am asked to be a party to the thing, I canonly say what I think. Your son would be welcome to my house, becausehe is your son and my cousin, little as I approve his mode of life;but I could have wished that he had chosen some other place for thework that he has on hand."
"If you wish it, Roger, we will return to London. I shall find ithard to explain to Hetta;--but we will go."
"No; I certainly do not wish that."
"But you have said such hard things! How are we to stay? You speakof Felix as though he were all bad." She looked at him hoping to getfrom him some contradiction of this, some retractation, some kindlyword; but it was what he did think, and he had nothing to say. Shecould bear much. She was not delicate as to censure implied, or evenexpressed. She had endured rough usage before, and was prepared toendure more. Had he found fault with herself, or with Henrietta, shewould have put up with it, for the sake of benefits to come,--wouldhave forgiven it the more easily because perhaps it might not havebeen deserved. But for her son she was prepared to fight. If she didnot defend him, who would? "I am grieved, Roger, that we should havetroubled you with our visit, but I think that we had better go. Youare very harsh, and it crushes me."
"I have not meant to be harsh."
"You say that Felix is seeking for his--prey, and that he is to bebrought here to be near--his prey. What can be more harsh than that?At any rate, you should remember that I am his mother."
"You should remember that I am his mother."]
She expressed her sense of injury very well. Roger began to beashamed of himself, and to think that he had spoken unkind words. Andyet he did not know how to recall them. "If I have hurt you, I regretit much."
"Of course you have hurt me. I think I will go in now. How very hardthe world is! I came here thinking to find peace and sunshine, andthere has come a storm at once."
"You asked me about the Melmottes, and I was obliged to speak. Youcannot think that I meant to offend you." They walked on in silencetill they had reached the door leading from the garden into thehouse, and here he stopped her. "If I have been over hot with you,let me beg your pardon." She smiled and bowed; but her smile was notone of forgiveness; and then she essayed to pass on into the house."Pray do not speak of going, Lady Carbury."
"I think I will go to my room now. My head aches so that I can hardlystand."
It was late in the afternoon,--about six,--and according to his dailycustom he should have gone round to the offices to see his men asthey came from their work, but he stood still for a few moments onthe spot where Lady Carbury had left him and went slowly across thelawn to the bridge and there seated himself on the parapet. Could itreally be that she meant to leave his house in anger and to take herdaughter with her? Was it thus that he was to part with the one humanbeing in the world that he loved? He was a man who thought much ofthe duties of hospitality, feeling that a man in his own house wasbound to exercise a courtesy towards his guests sweeter, softer, moregracious than the world required elsewhere. And of all guests thoseof his own name were the best entitled to such courtesy at Carbury.He held the place in trust for the use of others. But if there wereone among all others to whom the house should be a house of refugefrom care, not an abode of trouble, on whose behalf were it possiblehe would make the very air softer, and the flowers sweeter than theirwont, to whom he would declare, were such words possible to histongue, that of him and of his house, and of all things there she wasthe mistress, whether she would condescend to love him or no,--thatone was his cousin Hetta. And now he had been told by his guest thathe had been so rough to her that she and her daughter must return toLondon!
And he could not acquit himself. He knew that he had been rough.He had said very hard words. It was true that he could not haveexpressed his meaning without hard words, nor have repressed hismeaning without self-reproach. But in his present mood he could notcomfort himself by justifying himself. She had told him that he oughtto have remembered that Felix was her son; and as she spoke she hadacted well the part of an outraged mother. His heart was so soft thatthough he knew the woman to be false and the son to be worthless, heutterly condemned himself. Look where he would there was no comfort.When he had sat half-an-hour upon the bridge he turned towards thehouse to dress for dinner,--and to prepare himself for an apology, ifany apology might be accepted. At the door, standing in the doorwayas though waiting for him, he met his cousin Hetta. She had on herbosom the rose he had placed in her room, and as he approached her hethought that there was more in her eyes of graciousness towards himthan he had ever seen there before.
"Mr. Carbury," she said, "mamma is so unhappy!"
"I fear that I have offended her."
"It is not that, but that you should be so,--so angry about Felix."
"I am vexed with myself that I have vexed her,--more vexed than I cantell you."
"She knows how good you are."
"No, I'm not. I was very bad just now. She was so offended with methat she talked of going back to London." He paused for her to speak,but Hetta had no words ready for the moment. "I should be wretchedindeed if you and she were to leave my house in anger."
"I do not think she will do that."
"And you?"
"I am not angry. I should never dare to be angry with you. I onlywish that Felix would be better. They say that young men have to bebad, and that they do get to be better as they grow older. He issomething in the city now, a director they call him, and mamma thinksthat the work will be of service to him." Roger could express nohope in this direction or even look as though he approved of thedirectorship. "I don't see why he should not try at any rate."
"Dear Hetta, I only wish he were like you."
"Girls are so different, you know."
It was not till late in the evening, long after dinner, that he madehis apology in form to Lady Carbury; but he did make it, and at lastit was accepted. "I think I was rough to you, talking about Felix,"he said,--"and I beg your pardon."
"You were energetic, that was all."
"A gentleman should never be rough to a lady, and a man should neverbe rough to his own guests. I hope you will forgive me." She answeredhim by putting out her hand and smiling on him; and so the quarrelwas over.
Lady Carbury understood the full extent of her triumph, and wasenabled by her disposition to use it thoroughly. Felix might nowcome down to Carbury, and go over fr
om thence to Caversham, andprosecute his wooing, and the master of Carbury could make no furtherobjection. And Felix, if he would come, would not now be snubbed.Roger would understand that he was constrained to courtesy by theformer severity of his language. Such points as these Lady Carburynever missed. He understood it too, and though he was soft andgracious in his bearing, endeavouring to make his house as pleasantas he could to his two guests, he felt that he had been cheated outof his undoubted right to disapprove of all connection with theMelmottes. In the course of the evening there came a note,--or rathera bundle of notes,--from Caversham. That addressed to Roger wasin the form of a letter. Lady Pomona was sorry to say that theLongestaffe party were prevented from having the pleasure of diningat Carbury Hall by the fact that they had a house full of guests.Lady Pomona hoped that Mr. Carbury and his relatives, who, LadyPomona heard, were with him at the Hall, would do the Longestaffesthe pleasure of dining at Caversham either on the Monday or Tuesdayfollowing, as might best suit the Carbury plans. That was the purportof Lady Pomona's letter to Roger Carbury. Then there were cards ofinvitation for Lady Carbury and her daughter, and also for Sir Felix.
Roger, as he read his own note, handed the others over to LadyCarbury, and then asked her what she would wish to have done. Thetone of his voice, as he spoke, grated on her ear, as there wassomething in it of his former harshness. But she knew how to use hertriumph. "I should like to go," she said.
"I certainly shall not go," he replied; "but there will be nodifficulty whatever in sending you over. You must answer at once,because their servant is waiting."
"Monday will be best," she said; "--that is, if nobody is cominghere."
"There will be nobody here."
"I suppose I had better say that I, and Hetta,--and Felix will accepttheir invitation."
"I can make no suggestion," said Roger, thinking how delightful itwould be if Henrietta could remain with him; how objectionable it wasthat Henrietta should be taken to Caversham to meet the Melmottes.Poor Hetta herself could say nothing. She certainly did not wish tomeet the Melmottes, nor did she wish to dine, alone, with her cousinRoger.
"That will be best," said Lady Carbury after a moment's thought. "Itis very good of you to let us go, and to send us."
"Of course you will do here just as you please," he replied. Butthere was still that tone in his voice which Lady Carbury feared. Aquarter of an hour later the Caversham servant was on his way homewith two letters,--the one from Roger expressing his regret that hecould not accept Lady Pomona's invitation, and the other from LadyCarbury declaring that she and her son and daughter would have greatpleasure in dining at Caversham on the Monday.
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