The Way We Live Now

by Anthony Trollope

  CHAPTER LXX.

  SIR FELIX MEDDLES WITH MANY MATTERS.

  There is no duty more certain or fixed in the world than that whichcalls upon a brother to defend his sister from ill-usage; but, at thesame time, in the way we live now, no duty is more difficult, andwe may say generally more indistinct. The ill-usage to which men'ssisters are most generally exposed is one which hardly admits ofeither protection or vengeance,--although the duty of protectingand avenging is felt and acknowledged. We are not allowed to fightduels, and that banging about of another man with a stick is alwaysdisagreeable and seldom successful. A John Crumb can do it, perhaps,and come out of the affair exulting; but not a Sir Felix Carbury,even if the Sir Felix of the occasion have the requisite courage.There is a feeling, too, when a girl has been jilted,--thrown over,perhaps, is the proper term,--after the gentleman has had the fun ofmaking love to her for an entire season, and has perhaps even beenallowed privileges as her promised husband, that the less said thebetter. The girl does not mean to break her heart for love of thefalse one, and become the tragic heroine of a tale for three months.It is her purpose again to

  --trick her beams, and with new-spangled ore Flame in the forehead of the morning sky.

  Though this one has been false, as were perhaps two or three before,still the road to success is open. Uno avulso non deficit alter. Butif all the notoriety of cudgels and cutting whips be given to thelate unfortunate affair, the difficulty of finding a substitute willbe greatly increased. The brother recognises his duty, and preparesfor vengeance. The injured one probably desires that she may be leftto fight her own little battles alone.

  "Then, by heaven, he shall answer it to me," Sir Felix had said verygrandly, when his sister had told him that she was engaged to a manwho was, as he thought he knew, engaged also to marry another woman.Here, no doubt, was gross ill-usage, and opportunity at any rate forthreats. No money was required and no immediate action,--and SirFelix could act the fine gentleman and the dictatorial brother atvery little present expense. But Hetta, who ought perhaps to haveknown her brother more thoroughly, was fool enough to believe him.On the day but one following, no answer had as yet come from RogerCarbury,--nor could as yet have come. But Hetta's mind was full ofher trouble, and she remembered her brother's threat. Felix hadforgotten that he had made a threat,--and, indeed, had thought nomore of the matter since his interview with his sister.

  "Felix," she said, "you won't mention that to Mr. Montague!"

  "Mention what? Oh! about that woman, Mrs. Hurtle? Indeed I shall.A man who does that kind of thing ought to be crushed;--and, byheavens, if he does it to you, he shall be crushed."

  "I want to tell you, Felix. If it is so, I will see him no more."

  "If it is so! I tell you I know it."

  "Mamma has written to Roger. At least I feel sure she has."

  "What has she written to him for? What has Roger Carbury to do withour affairs?"

  "Only you said he knew! If he says so, that is, if you and he bothsay that he is to marry that woman,--I will not see Mr. Montagueagain. Pray do not go to him. If such a misfortune does come, it isbetter to bear it and to be silent. What good can be done?"

  "Leave that to me," said Sir Felix, walking out of the room with muchfraternal bluster. Then he went forth, and at once had himself drivento Paul Montague's lodgings. Had Hetta not been foolish enough toremind him of his duty, he would not now have undertaken the task.He too, no doubt, remembered as he went that duels were things ofthe past, and that even fists and sticks are considered to be out offashion. "Montague," he said, assuming all the dignity of demeanourthat his late sorrows had left to him, "I believe I am right insaying that you are engaged to marry that American lady, Mrs.Hurtle."

  "Then let me tell you that you were never more wrong in your life.What business have you with Mrs. Hurtle?"

  "When a man proposes to my sister, I think I've a great deal ofbusiness," said Sir Felix.

  "Well;--yes; I admit that fully. If I answered you roughly, I begyour pardon. Now as to the facts. I am not going to marry Mrs.Hurtle. I suppose I know how you have heard her name;--but as youhave heard it, I have no hesitation in telling you so much. As youknow where she is to be found you can go and ask her if you please.On the other hand, it is the dearest wish of my heart to marry yoursister. I trust that will be enough for you."

  "You were engaged to Mrs. Hurtle?"

  "My dear Carbury, I don't think I'm bound to tell you all the detailsof my past life. At any rate, I don't feel inclined to do so inanswer to hostile questions. I dare say you have heard enough of Mrs.Hurtle to justify you, as your sister's brother, in asking me whetherI am in any way entangled by a connection with her. I tell you thatI am not. If you still doubt, I refer you to the lady herself. Beyondthat, I do not think I am called on to go; and beyond that I won'tgo,--at any rate, at present." Sir Felix still blustered, and madewhat capital he could out of his position as a brother; but he tookno steps towards positive revenge. "Of course, Carbury," said theother, "I wish to regard you as a brother; and if I am rough to you,it is only because you are rough to me."

  Sir Felix was now in that part of town which he had been accustomedto haunt,--for the first time since his misadventure,--and, pluckingup his courage, resolved that he would turn into the Beargarden. Hewould have a glass of sherry, and face the one or two men who wouldas yet be there, and in this way gradually creep back to his oldhabits. But when he arrived there, the club was shut up. "What thedeuce is Vossner about?" said he, pulling out his watch. It wasnearly five o'clock. He rang the bell, and knocked at the door,feeling that this was an occasion for courage. One of the servants,in what we may call private clothes, after some delay, drew back thebolts, and told him the astounding news;--The club was shut up! "Doyou mean to say I can't come in?" said Sir Felix. The man certainlydid mean to tell him so, for he opened the door no more than a foot,and stood in that narrow aperture. Mr. Vossner had gone away. Therehad been a meeting of the Committee, and the club was shut up.Whatever further information rested in the waiter's bosom he declinedto communicate to Sir Felix Carbury.

  "By George!" The wrong that was done him filled the young baronet'sbosom with indignation. He had intended, he assured himself, to dineat his club, to spend the evening there sportively, to be pleasantamong his chosen companions. And now the club was shut up, andVossner had gone away! What business had the club to be shut up? Whatright had Vossner to go away? Had he not paid his subscription inadvance? Throughout the world, the more wrong a man does, the moreindignant is he at wrong done to him. Sir Felix almost thought thathe could recover damages from the whole Committee.

  He went direct to Mrs. Pipkin's house. When he made that half promiseof marriage in Mrs. Pipkin's hearing, he had said that he would comeagain on the morrow. This he had not done; but of that he thoughtnothing. Such breaches of faith, when committed by a young man inhis position, require not even an apology. He was admitted by Rubyherself, who was of course delighted to see him. "Who do you thinkis in town?" she said. "John Crumb; but though he came here ever sosmart, I wouldn't so much as speak to him, except to tell him togo away." Sir Felix, when he heard the name, felt an uncomfortablesensation creep over him. "I don't know I'm sure what he should comeafter me for, and me telling him as plain as the nose on his facethat I never want to see him again."

  "He's not of much account," said the baronet.

  "He would marry me out and out immediately, if I'd have him,"continued Ruby, who perhaps thought that her honest old lover shouldnot be spoken of as being altogether of no account. "And he haseverything comfortable in the way of furniture, and all that. Andthey do say he's ever so much money in the bank. But I detest him,"said Ruby, shaking her pretty head, and inclining herself towards heraristocratic lover's shoulder.

  This took place in the back parlour, before Mrs. Pipkin had ascendedfrom the kitchen prepared to disturb so much romantic bliss withwretched references to the cold outer world. "Well, now, Sir Felix,"she began, "if things is squ
are, of course you're welcome to see myniece."

  "And what if they're round, Mrs. Pipkin?" said the gallant, careless,sparkling Lothario.

  "Well, or round either, so long as they're honest."

  "Ruby and I are both honest;--ain't we, Ruby? I want to take her outto dinner, Mrs. Pipkin. She shall be back before late;--before ten;she shall indeed." Ruby inclined herself still more closely towardshis shoulder. "Come, Ruby, get your hat and change your dress, andwe'll be off. I've ever so many things to tell you."

  Ever so many things to tell her! They must be to fix a day for themarriage, and to let her know where they were to live, and to settlewhat dress she should wear,--and perhaps to give her the money to goand buy it! Ever so many things to tell her! She looked up into Mrs.Pipkin's face with imploring eyes. Surely on such an occasion as thisan aunt would not expect that her niece should be a prisoner and aslave. "Have it been put in writing, Sir Felix Carbury?" demandedMrs. Pipkin with cruel gravity. Mrs. Hurtle had given it as herdecided opinion that Sir Felix would not really mean to marry RubyRuggles unless he showed himself willing to do so with all theformality of a written contract.

  "Writing be bothered," said Sir Felix.

  "That's all very well, Sir Felix. Writing do bother, very often. Butwhen a gentleman has intentions, a bit of writing shows it plainernor words. Ruby don't go no where to dine unless you puts it intowriting."

  "Aunt Pipkin!" exclaimed the wretched Ruby. "What do you think I'mgoing to do with her?" asked Sir Felix.

  "If you want to make her your wife, put it in writing. And if it beas you don't, just say so, and walk away,--free."

  "I shall go," said Ruby. "I'm not going to be kept here a prisonerfor any one. I can go when I please. You wait, Felix, and I'll bedown in a minute." The girl, with a nimble spring, ran upstairs,and began to change her dress without giving herself a moment forthought.

  "She don't come back no more here, Sir Felix," said Mrs. Pipkin, inher most solemn tones. "She ain't nothing to me, no more than she wasmy poor dear husband's sister's child. There ain't no blood betweenus, and won't be no disgrace. But I'd be loth to see her on thestreets."

  "Then why won't you let me bring her back again?"

  "'Cause that'd be the way to send her there. You don't mean to marryher." To this Sir Felix said nothing. "You're not thinking of that.It's just a bit of sport,--and then there she is, an old shoe tobe chucked away, just a rag to be swept into the dust-bin. I'veseen scores of 'em, and I'd sooner a child of mine should die in aworkus', or be starved to death. But it's all nothing to the likes o'you."

  "I haven't done her any harm," said Sir Felix, almost frightened.

  "Then go away, and don't do her any. That's Mrs. Hurtle's door open.You go and speak to her. She can talk a deal better nor me."

  "Mrs. Hurtle hasn't been able to manage her own affairs very well."

  "Mrs. Hurtle's a lady, Sir Felix, and a widow, and one as has seenthe world." As she spoke, Mrs. Hurtle came downstairs, and anintroduction, after some rude fashion, was effected between her andSir Felix. Mrs. Hurtle had heard often of Sir Felix Carbury, and wasquite as certain as Mrs. Pipkin that he did not mean to marry RubyRuggles. In a few minutes Felix found himself alone with Mrs. Hurtlein her own room. He had been anxious to see the woman since he hadheard of her engagement with Paul Montague, and doubly anxious sincehe had also heard of Paul's engagement with his sister. It was not anhour since Paul himself had referred him to her for corroboration ofhis own statement.

  "Sir Felix Carbury," she said, "I am afraid you are doing that poorgirl no good, and are intending to do her none." It did occur to himvery strongly that this could be no affair of Mrs. Hurtle's, and thathe, as a man of position in society, was being interfered with in anunjustifiable manner. Aunt Pipkin wasn't even an aunt; but who wasMrs. Hurtle? "Would it not be better that you should leave her tobecome the wife of a man who is really fond of her?"

  He could already see something in Mrs. Hurtle's eye which preventedhis at once bursting into wrath;--but who was Mrs. Hurtle, that sheshould interfere with him? "Upon my word, ma'am," he said, "I'm verymuch obliged to you, but I don't quite know to what I owe the honourof your--your--"

  "Interference you mean."

  "I didn't say so, but perhaps that's about it."

  "I'd interfere to save any woman that God ever made," said Mrs.Hurtle with energy. "We're all apt to wait a little too long, becausewe're ashamed to do any little good that chance puts in our way. Youmust go and leave her, Sir Felix."

  "I suppose she may do as she pleases about that."

  "Do you mean to make her your wife?" asked Mrs. Hurtle sternly.

  "Does Mr. Paul Montague mean to make you his wife?" rejoined SirFelix with an impudent swagger. He had struck the blow certainlyhard enough, and it had gone all the way home. She had not surmisedthat he would have heard aught of her own concerns. She only barelyconnected him with that Roger Carbury who, she knew, was Paul's greatfriend, and she had as yet never heard that Hetta Carbury was thegirl whom Paul loved. Had Paul so talked about her that this youngscamp should know all her story?

  She thought awhile,--she had to think for a moment,--before she couldanswer him. "I do not see," she said, with a faint attempt at asmile, "that there is any parallel between the two cases. I, at anyrate, am old enough to take care of myself. Should he not marry me,I am as I was before. Will it be so with that poor girl if she allowsherself to be taken about the town by you at night?" She had desiredin what she said to protect Ruby rather than herself. What could itmatter whether this young man was left in a belief that she was, orthat she was not, about to be married?

  "If you'll answer me, I'll answer you," said Sir Felix. "Does Mr.Montague mean to make you his wife?"

  "It does not concern you to know," said she, flashing upon him. "Thequestion is insolent."

  "It does concern me,--a great deal more than anything about Ruby canconcern you. And as you won't answer me, I won't answer you."

  "Then, sir, that girl's fate will be upon your head."

  "I know all about that," said the baronet.

  "And the young man who has followed her up to town will probably knowwhere to find you," added Mrs. Hurtle.

  To such a threat as this, no answer could be made, and Sir Felixleft the room. At any rate, John Crumb was not there at present. Andwere there not policemen in London? And what additional harm wouldbe done to John Crumb, or what increase of anger engendered in thattrue lover's breast, by one additional evening's amusement? Ruby haddanced with him so often at the Music Hall that John Crumb couldhardly be made more bellicose by the fact of her dining with himon this evening. When he descended, he found Ruby in the hall, allarrayed. "You don't come in here again to-night," said Mrs. Pipkin,thumping the little table which stood in the passage, "if you goesout of that there door with that there young man."

  "Then I shall," said Ruby linking herself on to her lover's arm.

  "Baggage! Slut!" said Mrs. Pipkin; "after all I've done for you, justas one as though you were my own flesh and blood."

  "I've worked for it, I suppose;--haven't I?" rejoined Ruby.

  "You send for your things to-morrow, for you don't come in here nomore. You ain't nothing to me no more nor no other girl. But I'd 'vesaved you, if you'd but a' let me. As for you,"--and she looked atSir Felix,--"only because I've lodgings to let, and because of thelady upstairs, I'd shake you that well, you'd never come here nomore after poor girls." I do not think that she need have fearedany remonstrance from Mrs. Hurtle, even had she put her threat intoexecution.

  Sir Felix, thinking that he had had enough of Mrs. Pipkin and herlodger, left the house with Ruby on his arm. For the moment, Ruby hadbeen triumphant, and was happy. She did not stop to consider whetherher aunt would or would not open her door when she should returntired, and perhaps repentant. She was on her lover's arm, in herbest clothes, and going to have a dinner given to her. And herlover had told her that he had ever so many things,--ever so manythings to say to her! But s
he would ask no impertinent questionsin the first hour of her bliss. It was so pleasant to walk withhim up to Pentonville;--so joyous to turn into a gay enclosure,half public-house and half tea-garden; so pleasant to hear him orderthe good things, which in his company would be so nice! Who cannotunderstand that even an urban Rosherville must be an Elysium to thosewho have lately been eating their meals in all the gloom of a smallLondon underground kitchen? There we will leave Ruby in her bliss.

  At about nine that evening John Crumb called at Mrs. Pipkin's, andwas told that Ruby had gone out with Sir Felix Carbury. He hit hisleg a blow with his fist, and glared out of his eyes. "He'll have ithot some day," said John Crumb. He was allowed to remain waiting forRuby till midnight, and then, with a sorrowful heart, he took hisdeparture.