_Chapter XIV_
It was thus that Miss Marjoribanks went through all the preliminarystages, and succeeded finally in making a triumph out of what wouldcertainly have been a defeat, and a humbling defeat, for anybody else.She was much too sensible to deceive herself on the subject, or not tobe aware that to have a gentleman who was paying attention to herwithdrawn from her side in this open manner in the sight of all theworld, was as trying an accident as can happen to a woman. Fortunately,as Lucilla said, her affections were not engaged; but then, apart fromthe affections, there are other sentiments which demand consideration.Everybody in Carlingford knew that Mr Cavendish had been paying her agreat deal of attention, and the situation was one which required themost delicate skill to get through it successfully. Besides, MissMarjoribanks's circumstances were all the more difficult, since up tothis moment she had been perfectly sincere and natural in all herproceedings. Policy had been constantly inspired and backed by nature inthe measures Lucilla had taken for the organisation and welfare of herkingdom, and even what people took for the cleverest calculation was inreality a succession of happy instincts, by means of which, with thesovereignty of true genius, Miss Marjoribanks managed to pleaseeverybody by having her own way. A little victory is almost necessary tobegin with, and it is a poor nature that does not expand under thestimulus of victory; but now the young reformer had come to the secondstage. For, to be sure, that sort of thing cannot last for ever; andthis Lucilla, with the natural prevision of a ruling mind, had foreseenfrom the beginning. The shape in which she had feared defeat, if anature so full of resources could ever be said to fear, was that of abreakdown, when all the world was looking to her for amusement, or thesudden appearance of a rival entertainer in Carlingford with superiorpowers: though the last was but a dim and improbable danger, the firstwas quite possible, and might have arrived at any moment. MissMarjoribanks was much too sensible not to have foreseen this danger inall its shapes, and even in a kind of way to have provided against it.But Providence, which had always taken care of her, as Lucilla piouslyconcluded, had spared her the trial in that form. Up to this moment ithad always providentially happened that all the principal people inCarlingford were quite well and disengaged on the "evening." To be sure,the ladies had headaches, and the married gentlemen now and then wereout of temper in Grange Lane as in other less favoured places; but thesesocial accidents had been mercifully averted on Thursdays, perhaps bymeans of some special celestial agency, perhaps only through thatgood-luck which had been born with Lucilla. Not in this vulgar andlikely manner was the trial of her strength to come.
But when she was at the height of her success, and full in the eye ofthe world, and knew that everybody was remarking her, and that from thesauces for which the Doctor's table was once so famed, but which evenColonel Chiley no longer thought of identifying as Dr Marjoribanks's, tothe fashion of the _high_ white frock in which Lucilla had taught theyoung ladies of Carlingford to appear of an evening, she was beingimitated on every hand,--at that moment, when an ordinary person wouldhave had her head turned, and gone wild with too much success, MissMarjoribanks suddenly saw her dragon approaching her. Just then, whenshe could not put on a new ribbon, or do her hair in a different style,without all Carlingford knowing of it--at that epoch of intoxication andtriumph the danger came, sudden, appalling, and unlooked for. If Lucillawas staggered by the encounter, she never showed it, but met thedifficulty like a woman of mettle, and scorned to flinch. It had come tobe summer weather when the final day arrived upon which Mr Cavendishforgot himself altogether, and went over to the insidious enemy whomMiss Marjoribanks had been nourishing in her bosom. Fifty eyes were uponLucilla watching her conduct at that critical moment--fifty ears were onthe strain to divine her sentiments in her voice, and to catch someintonation at least which should betray her consciousness of what wasgoing on.
But if Miss Marjoribanks's biographer has fitly discharged his duty, thereaders of this history will have no difficulty in divining that thecuriosity of the spectators got no satisfaction from Lucilla. Manypeople even supposed she had not remarked anything, her composure was soperfect. No growing red or growing pale, no harsh notes in her voice,nor evidence of distracted attention, betrayed that her mind waselsewhere while she was attending to her guests; and yet, to be sure,she saw, just as other people did, that Barbara, all flushed andcrimson, with her eyes blazing under their sullen brows, stood in a glowof triumph at the open window, with Mr Cavendish in devotedattendance--a captive at her chariot-wheels. Matters had beenprogressing to this point for some time; but yet the two culprits hadnever before showed themselves so lost to all sense of propriety.Instead of fainting or getting pale, or showing any other symptoms ofviolent despite, Lucilla went upon her airy way, indirectly approachingthis point of interest. She went up and chatted with them, and orderedMr Cavendish to find a chair for Barbara. "What can you be thinking ofto let her stand so near the window? If she were to catch cold and loseher voice, what should we all do?" said Lucilla; and she established thetwo in the most commodious corner before she left them. "Take care shedoes not go back again into the draught," were her parting words, andeven the culprits themselves could do nothing but stare at each otherwith consternation and shame.
This was all the notice Lucilla took of what was going on. If she wasaffronted, or if she was wounded, nobody found it out; and when MrsChiley offered the tribute of her indignation and sympathy, it hasalready been recorded how her young friend responded to her."Fortunately my affections never were engaged," Lucilla said, and nodoubt that was a great advantage; but then, as we have said, there areother things besides affections to be taken into account when the womanwhom you have been kind to snaps up the man who has been payingattention to you, not only before your eyes, but before the eyes of allthe world. The result of her masterly conduct on this occasion was thather defeat became, as we have said, a triumph for Miss Marjoribanks. Tobe sure, it is to be hoped that, in the sweets of their mutual regard,the two criminals found compensation for the disapproval of thespectators; but nothing could be more marked than the way in whichCarlingford turned its cold shoulder on its early favourite. "I neverimagined Cavendish was such a fool," Mr Centum said, who was a man offew words; "if he likes that style of philandering, it is nothing to me,but he need not make an idiot of himself." As for Mr Woodburn, he, aswas natural, inflicted vicarious punishment upon his wife. "It must beall your fault," he growled, when he was taking her home, and had herat his mercy, with that logic peculiar to a married man; "you ought totell him he's making an ass of himself. Why the deuce do you let him goon with that tomfoolery? He'll lose all his chances in life, and then, Ihope, you'll be satisfied. You women can never see an inch before yourown noses!" cried the uncivil husband; which, it must be confessed, wasrather hard upon poor Mrs Woodburn, who had nothing to do with it, andhad indeed calculated upon perfecting her sketch of Barbara in thequietness of the walk home; for as everybody lived in Grange Lane,carriages were not necessary for Miss Marjoribanks's guests. Theyflitted out and in, in the moonlight, with pretty scarfs thrown overtheir heads and laced handkerchiefs tied under their chins, and madeGrange Lane between the two straight lines of garden-wall like a scenein a masquerade.
While Mr Cavendish was thus suffering by deputy the contempt of hisformer admirers, Lucilla, by herself in the abandoned drawing-room, wasthinking over the evening with a severe but on the whole satisfactoryself-examination. After the first shock, which she had encountered withso much courage, Miss Marjoribanks was rather grateful than otherwise toProvidence, which had brought the necessary trial upon her in this form.If it had been a breakdown and humiliating failure instead, howdifferent would her sensations have been! and Lucilla was quiteconscious that such a thing might have occurred. It might have occurredto her, as it had done to so many people, to see Thursday come roundwith a failure of all that made Thursday agreeable. Lady Richmond mighthave had her influenza that day, and little Henry Centum his suddenattack, which had kept his mother in convers
ation ever since, and MrsWoodburn one of her bad headaches; and as for the Miss Browns, there wasnothing in the world but Lucilla's habitual good fortune which preventedthem from having blacked their fingers with their photography to such anextent as to make them perfectly unpresentable. Or, to turn to anotherchapter of accidents, the last duet, which Barbara had insisted uponsinging without proper practice, might have broken down utterly. None ofthese things had happened, and Lucilla drew a long breath of gratitudeas she thought how fortunate she had been in all these particulars. Tobe sure, it was necessary to have a trial of one kind or other; and themodest but intense gratification of having stood the test, diffuseditself like a balm through her bosom. No doubt she would have felt, likemost people, a certain pleasure in snubbing Barbara; but then there is,on the other hand, a sweetness in sacrificing such impulses to thesacred sense of duty and the high aims of genius which is still moreattractive to a well-regulated mind. Miss Marjoribanks herself put outthe candles, and went to her own room with that feeling of havingacquitted herself satisfactorily which many people think to be thehighest gratification of which the mind is capable. After all, it was byno means certain that Mr Cavendish would be M.P. for Carlingford. MrChiltern might live for twenty years, or he even might get better, whichwas more unlikely; or supposing him to be comfortably disposed of,nobody could say with any certainty that some man unknown at present inCarlingford might not start up all of a sudden and gain the most sweetvoices of the shopkeepers, who were the majority of the community, andquite outnumbered Grange Lane. It was thus that Lucilla consoled herselfas she went meditative but undaunted to her maiden rest.
While all this was going on, Dr Marjoribanks remained an amusedspectator, and chuckled a little quietly, without saying anything toanybody, over the turn affairs had taken. The Doctor knew all abouteverybody in Carlingford, and he had never been an enthusiast in favourof Mrs Woodburn's brother, notwithstanding that the young man had beenreceived so warmly into society as one of the Cavendishes. Perhaps DrMarjoribanks being Scotch, and having a turn for genealogy, found thedescription a little vague; but at all events there can be no doubt thathe laughed to himself as he retired from the scene of his daughter'strial. The Doctor possibly thought, in a professional point of view,that a little discipline of this description would be useful to Lucilla.Perhaps he thought it would be good for her to find out that--though shehad managed to slip the reins out of his hands, and get the control ofaffairs with a skill which amused the Doctor, and made him a littleproud of her abilities, even though he was himself the victim--she couldnot go on always unchecked in her triumphant career, but must endurelike other people an occasional defeat. No doubt, had Lucilla beenreally worsted, paternal feeling would have interposed, and DrMarjoribanks would to some extent have suffered in her suffering; butthen the case was different, and nobody required, as it turned out, tosuffer for Lucilla. The Doctor was pleased she had shown so muchspirit, and pleased to see how entirely she had discomfited herantagonists, and turned the tables upon the "young puppy," in whom hehad no confidence; and withal Dr Marjoribanks chuckled a little in hissecret heart over the event itself, and concluded that it would doLucilla good. She had vanquished Nancy, and by a skilful jerk taken thereins out of his own experienced hands. He was aware that he had been onthe whole very wisely governed since his abdication, but yet he was notsorry that the young conqueror should feel herself human; so that nobodyexcept Mrs Chiley felt that mingled rage and disappointment with whichBarbara Lake had hoped to inspire Lucilla's bosom; and Mrs Chiley, so tospeak, had nothing to do with it. As for Barbara herself, she returnedhome in a state of mingled spite and exultation and disgust, whichfilled her sister with amazement.
"She is such an actor, you know," Barbara said; "she never will give into let you know how she is feeling--not if she can help it; but for allthat she must have felt it. Nobody could help feeling it, though shecarried it off so well. I knew how it would be, as soon as I had on adress that was fit to be seen."
"What is it that she could not help feeling?" said Rose. "I suppose itis Lucilla you mean?"
"I should like to know what right she had to be kind to me," criedBarbara, all glowing in her sullen but excited beauty; "and invite methere, and introduce me in her grand way, as if she was any better thanI am! And then to look at all her India muslins; but I knew it would bedifferent as soon as I had a decent dress," said the contralto, risingup to contemplate herself in the little mirror over the mantelpiece.
This conversation took place in Mr Lake's little parlour, where Rose hadbeen waiting for her sister, and where Barbara's white dress made anunusual radiance in the dim and partially-lighted room. Rose herself wasall shrouded up in her morning dress, with her pretty round arms andshoulders lost to the common view. She had been amusing herself as shewaited by working at a corner of that great design which was to win theprize on a later occasion. Readers of this history who have studied theearlier chapters will remember that Rose's tastes in ornamentation werevery clearly defined for so young a person. Instead of losing herself invague garlands of impossible flowers, the young artist clung with thetenacity of first love to the thistle leaf, which had been thefoundation of her early triumphs. Her mind was full of it even while shereceived and listened to Barbara; whether to treat it in a nationalpoint of view, bringing in the rose and shamrock, which was a perfectlyallowable proceeding, though perhaps not original--or whether she shouldyield to the "sweet feeling" which had been so conspicuous in herflounce, in the opinion of the Marlborough House gentlemen--or whether,on the contrary, she should handle the subject in a boldly naturalisticway, and use her spikes with freedom,--was a question which occupied atthat moment all Rose's faculties. Even while she asked Barbara what thesubject was on which Lucilla might be supposed to be excited, she waswithin herself thinking out this difficult idea--all the more difficult,perhaps, considering the nature of the subject, since the design in thiscase was not for a flounce, in which broad handling is practicable, butfor a veil.
"I wish you would not talk in that foolish way," said Rose; "nobody needbe any better than you, as you say. To be sure, we don't live in GrangeLane, nor keep a carriage; but I wish you would recollect that these areonly accidental circumstances. As for dress, I don't see that yourequire it; our position is so clearly defined; we are a family of----"
"Oh, for goodness gracious sake, do be quiet with your family ofartists!" cried Barbara. "Speak for yourself, if you please. I am not anartist, and never will be, I can tell you. There are better places tolive in than Grange Lane; and as for keeping a carriage, I would nevercall a little bit of a brougham a carriage, if it was me. Lucilla madebelieve to take no notice, but she did not deceive me with that. She wasas disappointed as ever she could be--I dare say now she's sittingcrying over it. I never would have cared one straw if I had not wantedto serve Lucilla out!" cried the contralto, with energy. She was stillstanding before the glass pulling her black hair about into newcombinations, and studying the effect; and as for Rose, she too lookedup, and, seeing her sister's face reflected in the glass, made thediscovery that there was something like grimace in the countenance, andpaused in the midst of her meditations with her pencil in her hand.
"Don't put yourself out of drawing," said Rose; "I wish you would not dothat so often. When the facial angle is disturbed to that extent----Butabout Lucilla, I think you are excessively ungrateful. Gratitude is nota servile sentiment," said the little Preraphaelite, with a risingcolour. "It is a slavish sort of idea to think any one has done you aninjury by being kind to you. If that is the sort of thing you are goingto talk of, I think you had better go to bed."
"Then I will, and I shan't tell you anything," said Barbaraangrily--"you are so poor-spirited. For my part, do you think I'd everhave gone to help Lucilla and sing for her, and all that sort of thing,if it had not been to better myself? Nor I wouldn't have thought of_him_ just at first, if it hadn't been to spite _her_. And I've done ittoo. I'd just like to look in at her room window and see what she'sabo
ut. I dare say she is crying her eyes out, for all her looking as ifshe took no notice. I know better than to think she doesn't care. And,Rose, he's such a dear," said Barbara, with a laugh of excitement. To besure, what she wanted was to be Mrs Cavendish, and to have a handsomehouse and a great many nice dresses; but at the same time she was young,and Mr Cavendish was good-looking, and she was a little in love, in herway, as well.
"I don't want to hear any more about it," said Rose, who was so muchmoved as to forget even her design. "I can't think how it is you have nosense of honour, and you one of the Lakes. I would not be a traitor fora dozen Mr Cavendishes!" cried Rose, in the force of her indignation."He must be a cheat, since you are a traitor. If he was a true man hewould have found you out."
"You had better be quiet, Rose," said Barbara; "you may be sure I shallnever do anything for you after we are married, if you talk like that;and then you'll be sorry enough."
"After you are married! has he asked you to marry him?" cried Rose. Shepushed away her design with both her hands in the vehemence of herfeelings, and regarded her sister with eyes which blazed, but which weretotally different in their blazing from those which burned underBarbara's level eyebrows. It was too plain a question to have a plainanswer. Barbara only lighted her candle in reply, and smiled and shookher head.
"You don't suppose I am going to answer after your insulting ways," shesaid, taking up her candle; and she swept out of the room in her whitedress with a sense of pleasure in leaving this grand point unsettled. Tobe sure, Mr Cavendish had not yet asked that important question; butthen the future was all before them, and the way clear. As for Rose, sheclenched her little fists with a gesture that would have been tooforcible for any one who was not an artist, and a member of a family ofartists. "To think she should be one of us, and not to know what honourmeans," said Rose; "and as for this man, he must be a cheat himself, orhe would find her out."
This was how Mr Cavendish's defection from Lucilla took place; and atthe same time it is a satisfaction to know that the event was receivedby everybody very much as little Rose Lake received it. And as for MissMarjoribanks, if Barbara could have had the malicious satisfaction oflooking in at the window, she would have been mortified to find thatright-minded young woman sleeping the sleep of the just and innocent,and enjoying repose as profound and agreeable as if there had been no MrCavendish in the world, not to speak of Carlingford;--which, to be sure,was a result to be greatly attributed to Lucilla's perfect health, andentire satisfaction with herself.