Collected Works of Frances Trollope

by Frances Milton Trollope

  Her watchfulness was not in vain, for it was at rather an earlier hour than usual that the footsteps of Miss Brandenberry and her lovelorn brother were heard gently to creak along the passage, on the outside of her door.

  The love of Mr. Brandenberry had, during his two last interviews with the mistress of his soul, progressed so rapidly, as rather to alarm Sophia, lest she should receive from him proposals so explicit, as to force from her an answer equally direct; a consummation which she greatly desired to avoid. She had just enough of woman’s weakness in her heart, to feel rather pleasantly fluttered and flurried by the passionate glances of Mr. Brandenberry’s large grey eyes; and, as it was a principle with her never to deprive herself of anything pleasant, if she could possibly avoid it, she was extremely desirous to keep matters from this concluding crisis, as long as possible. She had therefore administered to him at their last meeting, rather a strong dose of sedative and cooling stiffness of manner; and she was therefore aware that in order to give the poor man courage and energy sufficient to make him useful, the interview must commence with a little gentle friendship. She held ready therefore, as the pair approached her, a band for each, and even permitted herself to look full up into the face of her adorer, which always encouraged him to look back again with all the tender passion he could muster, into hers. This prefatory pantomime having been performed with equal ability on both sides, and Miss Brandenberry having a place indicated to her on the same sofa whereon the gracious heiress herself sat, the conversation began, as usual, by a few earnest phrases from the faithful Margaret, expressive of what she and Richard had felt all through yesterday, and the day before, because they had not dared to intrude upon the sweetest neighbour that ever happy people had, for fear of being too troublesome.

  “I am always glad to see you and your brother, Miss Brandenberry,” replied Sophia, “and I am sure to-day I am quite delighted that you are come, for I really want some friend to consult with about a very disagreeable circumstance which has occurred to me.”

  “Gracious Heaven! what has happened? Dear, too dear Miss Martin Thorpe l Relieve me from this agony of suspense. Has any one dared....” but here his emotion or his prudence stopped him, or Mr. Brandenberry would certainly have added, “to make love to you, besides myself?”

  “Nothing has happened to me, Mr. Brandenberry,” replied Sophia, mildly, “which need alarm you, but much that has been very painful to me. It grieves me deeply to tell you, my kind friends, that I fear it will be impossible for me to continue to endure the residence of my guardian’s family under my roof. Their conduct renders my existence perfectly miserable.”

  “Black-hearted, ungrateful wretches!” exclaimed Miss Brandenberry, suddenly throwing her long arms round the rather startled heiress.... “Forgive me!.... Oh forgive me, dearest Miss Martin Thorpe!” she added, almost sobbing, “but the idea of any one using you ill, is more than I can bear.”

  “Margaret!”.... cried her brother, rising solemnly from his chair, and speaking as if his agitation made articulation exceedingly difficult, “Margaret!.... Think what others suffer at hearing this, who dare not give their tortured feelings vent.... Sister! restrain yourself.... Oh! do not let me see that another may venture to draw near, and demonstrate sympathy, which I would die to show in the same way!.... Margaret, Margaret, forbear!” This was uttered in accents of such very vehement emotion, that it was impossible Miss Martin Thorpe could be greatly surprised when Mr. Brandenberry dropped on one knee upon her footstool, and, evidently (of course) not knowing what he did, seized her hand, and kissed it.

  “Pray get up, Mr. Brandenberry,” said the heiress, blushing a little, but still looking very placid, “I hope there is nothing that need frighten my friends so very much. When Providence has blessed people with good sense, Mr. Brandenberry, it is their duty, you know, to exert it, in order to get out of difficulties, into which, of one kind or another, everybody is liable to fall.” To this gentle reproof Mr. Brandenberry replied by that favourite phrase of all gentlemen in his interesting situation, “Forgive me!”.... and having said this, with even more than usual pathos, he again seated himself, but considerably nearer than before, to the fair and injured creature who thus touchingly confided her sorrows to him; and with clasped hands, and eyes that languished almost to closing, prepared himself to listen with enforced composure, to what she should say next.

  “It would be needlessly painful, and indeed altogether improper, for me to enter at length into the description of all I have endured since the Heathcote family arrived here. I hope you both know me too well to think that I should complain lightly.... but I do assure you that it is a great deal worse than I can bear. This being the case, I shall be much obliged to you, Mr. Brandenberry, if you can give me any information respecting the legal manner of changing one guardian for another?”

  “Have you already fixed upon that other?” demanded Mr. Brandenberry, in a timid trembling whisper.

  “No, Mr. Brandenberry, I have not,” replied Miss Martin Thorpe, permitting her eyes again to look at him very mildly. “But that choice may be more easy to make, perhaps, than the vacancy for it.”

  “Not so, not so, I assure you,” replied the gentleman, with a tone of recovered spirit and animation. “Nothing is more simple, more easy, or of more constant recurrence. You have only to declare that such is your will, and no gentleman, deserving the name, will resist it for a moment; but if he should, you must have recourse to the Chancellor.”

  “That is exactly what I wanted to know, and I thank you very much for giving me the information,” said Sophia, with the appearance of being relieved from considerable anxiety. “I shall now know how to proceed.”

  “I have no words to express the joy I feel at the idea of being useful to you!” returned Mr. Brandenberry; “and think me not presuming on the precious friendship which has granted me this inestimable privilege, if I ask to whom you will confide the dear, the sacred office of watching over you, during the remaining months’ of your minority?”

  This question, notwithstanding its pretty wording, was a direct one, and Miss Martin Thorpe had a sort of instinctive dislike to answering such. She hesitated for a moment, and was just going to utter one of her little innocent white lies, by saying that she had not yet decided, when she remembered that having got the information she wanted, she need not fan Mr. Brandenberry’s tender passion any more just at present. She saw plainly enough that he hoped to be appointed guardian himself; and considering this as very decidedly a piece of presumption, she made up her mind to tell him the truth, quite aware that if the disappointment chilled him too violently, and sent him to a greater distance than she desired, it would be easy enough to whistle him back, and make him again as tender as she might happen to wish. She therefore replied quietly, and with that precision of feature which, in her, often gave to a young face the sedateness of age, “I shall appoint Mr. Westley.”

  Mr. Brandenberry had sufficient command of himself not to betray the discomfiture which this answer occasioned him. Of all men living, perhaps, Mr. Westley was the last he would have wished to see in the situation of Miss Martin Thorpe’s guardian; for none knew better, and very few so well, in what sort of condition the long-descended acres of the Brandenberry family would be found when the old lady died.... and none, therefore, would be likely to value so justly at its worth the disinterestedness of his passion for the heiress. He said not a word, however, in reply, that could betray his feelings, but, on the contrary, after a sigh and a look that were meant to express “Would I were he!”.... he appeared to recover his better judgment, and said, “No one, my dear Miss Martin Thorpe, who knows anything of Mr. Westley, but must allow that it would be impossible for you to select a more proper person in every way.... and the choice is exactly such a one as those who know you best might have anticipated from the noble, high-minded, correctness of your views on all subjects. That selfish wishes for an appointment, which must of necessity draw the person selected for it near to you,
should arise, you cannot wonder; but that man would be unworthy to call himself your friend who could not learn to forget self when satisfied that your safety and interest were in good hands.”

  This speech was an able one, and Miss Martin Thorpe really and truly admired him for it. So they parted in the most friendly manner possible. There was hand-shaking, and there was handsqueezing, and eyes and sighs were set to work, and performed their duty well; yet Miss Martin Thorpe found in none of it any subject of offence, nor was she, either to the brother or the sister, at all more stiff and starched than it became a young lady of her feelings and pretensions to be.

  Sophia went down to dinner on that day, fully determined to take offence at something or other, and, if possible, to get up a scene which might lead by degrees to the declaration she meditated, namely, that it was impossible she could any longer submit to have her home rendered miserable by the presence of people who treated her so ill. But everything was against her. Florence had that morning received a long letter from Sir Charles Temple, so full of tender love and thoughtful consideration for her, and for every one who belonged to her, that it must have been a power, infinitely greater than any possessed by Miss Martin Thorpe, which could have disturbed her serenity, or succeeded in persuading her that the dimples must be banished from her cheek, or the light of gladness from her eye. A scrap from Algernon, addressed to Ms father and mother, had produced very nearly as exhilarating an effect upon them; for it spoke of perfect health, unbounded gratitude to Sir Charles, and affection to them, and was so brightly redolent of happiness and hope, that it was no easy task to put the receivers of it out of humour.

  Miss Martin Thorpe, however, did her best, and she had some talent for the business she undertook.

  Major Heathcote, with the very happiest and gayest of smiles, asked her to take wine.

  The brow of the heiress contracted, and with a mouth, that by its expression might have been supposed to have just come in contact with bitter apples, she replied, —

  “I really wish, sir, you would be so good as to leave off asking me to drink wine. The weekly bills for my present enormous family run so high as to make me feel the necessity of denying myself every indulgence.”

  Major Heathcote had the greatest difficulty in the world not to laugh.... but as to being angry, it never entered his bead. “Very well, my dear,” he said in reply. “You are quite right not to spend more than you can afford, and you will know better bow much that is, when you have managed your money a little longer.... I will take a glass of water now, Sophy, and no great hardship either. That is the way we often used to drink healths at Bamboo Cottage, if you remember.” —

  “Oh! yes, sir, I remember perfectly well. And I cannot help occasionally thinking that if other people remembered Bamboo Cottage as well as I do, it would be better.”

  As this was said to, or rather of, nobody in particular, nobody in particular answered it, and the next sound heard was the voice of Mrs. Heathcote asking for some bread.

  “I should be much obliged to you, Mrs. Heathcote,” said Miss Martin Thorpe, in a sour querulous tone, “if you would please not to teach my page that very awkward way of holding the bread basket. I wish, if I can, while my housekeeping expenses run so high, to avoid taking another footman, but it will be impossible to go on as we do now.”

  “Why, I am really almost afraid that it will, my dear,” said Major Heathcote, who could endure a vast deal more impertinence from a young lady, in his own person than in that of his wife.... “But, however, we had better think a little more about it, Sophy, before we make up our minds to decide; and if it is to be talked about, the fewer witnesses, besides those concerned, the better.”

  “I will not endure to be dictated to in my own house as to when I am to speak and when I am to be silent,” said the determined Sophia, rising abruptly from her chair.... “God knows I have done my best to keep out of the way, in the hope that we might live in peace.... bet this is too much! and with these words she passed through the door, and slammed it after her, with a violence that produced, as she intended, a very striking effect.

  Mrs. Heathcote and Florence were startled; too much so, indeed, to recover themselves so as to converse immediately in their usual tone, but the Major appeared to attach so little importance to the young lady’s exit, that his composure did much towards restoring theirs, and they proceeded with their dinner very much as if nothing particular had happened, excepting that they all talked rather more than usual. When the cloth was removed, and Frederic and Stephen admitted, the sudden glee which seized upon them after they had made up their minds to be sure that cousin Sophy was not present, was too much for the gravity of Florence, and she laughed aloud. In short, this evening was by far the most agreeable they had known under that roof, during the dynasty of Miss Martin Thorpe, and could she have been aware of their state of mind, it might perhaps have occasioned her as strong a pang of mental suffering as any she had yet endured.

  But this was spared her. She retired to her boudoir, perfectly satisfied that she had taken a very masterly step towards the attainment of the object she bad in view, and gave orders to Mrs. Roberts, in a gentler voice than usual, that she was to bring up her coffee as soon as possible, and that she wished to have it very particularly hot. While in this satisfied and tranquil state of mind and body, she was greatly surprised at seeing Mr. Brandenberry enter her boudoir, where never man had entered after sunset, since it had been sacred to her, and approach her with strong symptoms of agitation, but stammering something, not quite inaudible, about begging that she would permit him to have a few moments’ conversation with her.

  Miss Martin Thorpe felt a little agitated. She had never been made love to, in her life.... that is to say, nobody had ever openly pleaded guilty to the “soft impeachment,” before her, or distinctly requested her to place herself in the same gentle category for his sake.... And now she felt convinced that the awful moment was come. Her emotion, however, was not of the kind which was likely to lead to any vacillation of purpose; Sophia had no more idea of bestowing her wealth upon Mr. Brandenberry, than upon the mouldering bones of his most remote progenitor. It has been said by some heart-depreciating moralists, that we love nothing so dearly as we love ourselves.... But Miss Martin Thorpe was a living proof that the satiric remark is erroneous. She evidently loved her property or at any rate valued it, more than she did herself; for whereas she would not have been altogether unwilling to have bestowed herself on the adoring gentleman before her, an instinct, in her case infinitely stronger than self-love, commonly so called, led her to shrink, like, the sensitive mimosa, from approaches which might endanger the whole-and-soleness of the Thorpe-Combe investiture in herself.

  She speedily recovered her self-possession, however, and desired Mr. Brandenberry to sit down, with a sort of stiff civility, too nearly akin to her usual manner to produce any violent effect upon the nerves of her visitor.

  “I have waited upon you this evening,” he said, “notwithstanding the unseasonable hour, my dearest Miss Martin Thorpe, for the purpose of making an observation which may, I think, in the present state of your affairs, be of importance to you. This I trust will be an excuse for my intrusion.” The composure of Miss Martin Thorpe was completely restored by this opening. She perceived that, for the present, she was spared the necessity of dismissing from her presence the only man who had ever put it into her head to believe that she was admired.... and she was glad of it. “Make no apology, Mr. Brandenberry,” she replied, “for the time of your visit. I am quite certain that the object of it is kindness to me.”

  This was so benignly spoken (for Miss Martin Thorpe) that the most cheering anticipations for the future took possession of her lover’s heart; and he proceeded to the business he came to discuss, with the delightful consciousness that, if what he was about to say should wear the appearance of something like interference in her affairs, there was little or no fear but that it would be forgiven.

  “It has struc
k me,” he resumed in a more assured voice, “that the great object of getting rid of the odious people, whose presence so cruelly interferes with the daily happiness of the most amiable being that ever trod the earth; it has struck me, I say, my charming friend, that this may be obtained without the troublesome, and it may be expensive process of changing one legal guardian for another. Were I you, I would immediately write to Sir Charles Temple, telling him that circumstances of a domestic nature have occurred, which render it quite impossible that you should continue to permit or endure the farther residence of the Heathcote family under your roof, and that you must request him immediately to assist you in taking measures for their removal. It is impossible, my dearest Miss Martin Thorpe, but that this request should be immediately complied with; and then, should the admirable delicacy of your charming mind lead you to feel that during the remaining months of your minority it would be necessary, or at any rate advisable, that you should retain a female friend near you, somewhat more advanced in years than yourself, I have it in commission from my sister to say that she would hold herself ready to devote heart and soul to your service, in any way which you might find it convenient to desire.”

  Miss Martin Thorpe, whose first feeling on listening to a new proposition, was always that of awakened caution, heard Mr. Brandenberry with fixed attention, but an immoveable countenance; and despite his forty summers, of sharp looking round and about him, he was totally at a loss to guess the impression he had made. He had, however, the discretion to remain perfectly silent; thinking it advantageous to find out, if possible, what was passing in her closely shut-up little mind, before he ventured to say anything more.

  The silence between them endured for some minutes, but it was Miss Martin Thorpe who broke it at last.

  “You are very kind and obliging, Mr. Brandenberry, I am sure, and so is your sister, too.... very much so, indeed. But I must decline for the present giving any answer to her proposition about herself. As to what you say respecting the possibility of my getting rid of Major Heathcote and his family, without legally changing my guardian, I think it deserves very great attention. If it can be done, and I see no reason why it should not, I should very greatly prefer it. I have no reason to suspect that Major Heathcote would take any advantage of the power which the law gives him over my income, in order to inconvenience me. Indeed, I don’t think, from what I have hitherto seen of him, that it is at all probable.... and therefore, I see no risk or danger of any kind in adopting the course you advise.... and I certainly think I shall follow it.”