_Chapter XX_
Mr Woodburn's house, everybody admitted, was one of the nicest inCarlingford; but that was not so visible out of doors as in. He was agreat amateur of flowers and fruit, and had his garden lined on eachside with greenhouses, which were no doubt very fine in their way, butsomewhat spoiled the garden, which had not in the least the homely,luxuriant, old-fashioned look of the other gardens, where, for the mostpart, the flowers and shrubs grew as if they liked it and were athome--whereas Mr Woodburn's flower-beds were occupied only bytenants-at-will; but at one corner near the house there was a littlearbour, so covered up and heaped over with clematis that even the Scotchgardener had not the heart to touch it. The mass was so perfect and yetso light that it was the most perfect hiding-place imaginable; andnobody who had not been in it could have suspected that there was apossibility of getting inside. Here Mrs Woodburn and Mr Cavendish wereseated on this particular afternoon; she very eager, animated, and inearnest, he silent and leaning his head on his two hands in a sort ofdowncast, fallen way. Mrs Woodburn had one of her lively eyes on thegarden that nobody might enter unseen, and for this once was "takingoff" no one, but was most emphatically and unquestionably herself.
"So you did not do it," she said. "Why didn't you do it? when you knewso much depended upon it! You know I did not wish for it myself, atfirst. But now since this man has come, and you have got into such apanic, and never will have the courage to face it out----"
"How can I have the courage to face it out?" said Mr Cavendish, with agroan. "It is all very easy for a woman to speak who has only tocriticise other people. If you had to do it yourself----"
"Ah, if I only had!" cried the sister. "You may be sure I would not makeso much fuss. After all, what is there to do? Take your place insociety, which you have worked for and won as honestly as anybody everwon it, and look another man in the face who is not half so clever norso sensible as you are. Why, what can he say? If I only could do it,you may be sure I should not lose any time."
"Yes," said Mr Cavendish, lifting his head. "To be sure, you're amimic--you can assume any part you like; but I am not so clever. I tellyou again, the only thing I can do is to go away----"
"Run away, you mean," said Mrs Woodburn. "I should be foolish, indeed,if I were trusting to your cleverness to assume a part. My dear goodbrother, you would find it impossible to put yourself sufficiently insympathy with another," cried the mimic, in the Archdeacon's very tone,with a laugh, and at the same time a little snarl of bitter contempt.
"Oh, for Heaven's sake, Nelly, no foolery just now," said Mr Cavendish."I don't understand how you can be so heartless. To mimic a man who hasmy position, my reputation, my very existence in his hands!"
"Have you murdered anybody?" said Mrs Woodburn, with intense scorn."Have you robbed anybody? If you have, I can understand all this stuff.He is the very man to mimic, on the contrary. I'd like to let you seehim as he was on that famous occasion when he delivered his opinions onart in Lucilla's drawing-room. Look here," said the mimic, putting onehand behind an imaginary coat tail, and with the other holding up avisionary drawing to the light; but this was more than her audiencecould bear.
"I think you must have vowed to drive me crazy," cried the exasperatedbrother. "Put aside for once that confounded vanity of yours--as if aman had always leisure to look at your playing the fool." While he spokein this unusual way, he got up, as was natural, and took one or twosteps across the narrow space which was shut in by those luxuriant heapsof clematis; and Mrs Woodburn, for her part, withdrew her chair out ofhis way in equal heat and indignation.
"You have always the leisure to play the fool yourselves, you men," shesaid. "Vanity, indeed! as if it were not simply to show you that one canlaugh at him without being stricken with thunder. But leave that if youlike. You know quite well if you married Lucilla Marjoribanks that therewould be no more about it. There _could_ be no more about it. Why, allGrange Lane would be in a sort of way pledged to you. I don't mean tosay _I_ am attached to Lucilla, but you used to be, or to give yourselfout for being. You flirted with her dreadfully in the winter, Iremember, when those terrible Woodburns were here," she continued, witha shiver. "If you married Lucilla and got into Parliament, you mightlaugh at all the archdeacons in the world."
"It is very easy for a woman to talk," said the reluctant wooer again.
"I can tell you something it is not easy to do," cried his sister. "Itis frightfully hard for a woman to stand by and see a set of men makinga mess of things, and not to dare to say a word till all is spoiled.What is this Archdeacon, I would like to know, or what could he say? Ifyou only would have the least courage, and look him in the face, hewould be disabled. As if no one had ever heard of mistaken identitybefore? And in the meantime go and see Lucilla, and get her consent. Ican't do that for you; but I could do a great deal of the rest, if youwould only have a little pluck and not give in like this."
"A _little_ pluck, by George!" cried the unfortunate man, and he threwhimself down again upon his chair. "I am not in love with LucillaMarjoribanks, and I don't want to marry her," he added doggedly, and satbeating a tune with his fingers on the table, with but a poorly-assumedair of indifference. As for Mrs Woodburn, she regarded him with a lookof contempt.
"Perhaps you will tell me who you are in love with," she saiddisdainfully; "but I did not ask to be taken into your confidence insuch an interesting way. What I wish to know is, whether you want a wifewho will keep your position for you. I am not in the least fond of her,but she is very clever. Whether you want the support of all the bestpeople in Carlingford, and connections that would put _all that_ tosilence, and a real position of your own which nobody could interferewith--that is what I want to know, Harry; as for the sentimental part, Iam not so much interested about that," said Mrs Woodburn, with acontemptuous smile. She was young still, and she was handsome in her way(for people who liked that style), and it jarred a little on the naturalfeelings to hear a young wife express herself so disdainfully; but, tobe sure, her brother was not unaccustomed to that.
"You said once that Woodburn was necessary to your happiness," he said,with a mixture of scorn and appeal, "though I can't say I saw it, for mypart."
"Did I?" she said, with a slight shrug of her shoulders; "I saw whatwas necessary on another score, as you don't seem to do. When a man hasnobody belonging to him, it is connections he ought to try for: andLucilla has very good connections; and it would be as good as securingthe support of Grange Lane. Do it for my sake, Harry, if you won't do itfor your own," said Mrs Woodburn, with a change of tone. "If you were tolet things be said, and give people an advantage, think what wouldbecome of me. Woodburn would not mind so much if somebody else wereinvolved; but oh, Harry! if he should find out _he_ had been cheated,and he only----"
"He was not cheated! You were always a great deal too good for him,Nelly," said Mr Cavendish, touched at last at an effectual point; "andas for _his_ friends and family, and all that----"
"Oh, please, don't speak of them," said Mrs Woodburn, with a shudder;"but there are only two of us in the world; and, Harry, for my sake----"
At this appeal Mr Cavendish got up again, and began to pace the littlearbour, two steps to the wall, and two steps back again. "I told you Ihad almost done it, when that confounded old woman came in," he said:"that could not be called my fault?"
"And she said she was both your grandmothers," said the mimic, with aslightly hysterical laugh, in Mrs Chiley's voice. "I know how she didit. She can't be there still, you know--go now and try."
"Let alone a little; don't hurry a fellow," said her brother, somewhatsullenly; "a man can't move himself up to the point of proposing twicein one day."
"Then promise that you will do it to-morrow," said Mrs Woodburn. "Ishall have to go in, for there is somebody coming. Harry, before I go,promise that you will do it to-morrow, for my sake."
"Oh, bother!" said Mr Cavendish; and it was all the answer he deigned togive before Mrs Woodburn was called away, notwithstanding the
adjurationshe addressed to him. It was then getting late, too late, even had hebeen disposed for such an exertion, to try his fortunes again that day,and Lucilla's allusion had given him a great longing to see Barbara oncemore before his sacrifice was accomplished. Not that it was such a greatsacrifice, after all. For Mr Cavendish was quite aware that MissMarjoribanks was a far more suitable match for him than Barbara Lake,and he was not even disposed to offer himself and his name and fortune,such as they were, to the drawing-master's daughter. But, to tell thetruth, he was not a person of fixed and settled sentiments, as he oughtto have been in order to triumph, as his sister desired, over thedifficulties of his position. Perhaps Mrs Woodburn herself would havedone just the same, had it been she from whom action was demanded. Butshe was capable of much more spirited and determined conduct in theory,as was natural, and thought she could have done a great deal better, asso many women do.
Mr Cavendish lounged about the garden a little, with his hands in hispockets, and then strayed out quite accidentally, and in the sameunpremeditating mood made his way to Grove Street. He meant nothing byit, and did not even inquire of himself where he was going, but onlystrolled out to take the air a little. And it was better to go up to thehigher parts of the town than to linger here about Grange Lane, whereall the people he knew might pass, and stop to talk and ask him where hehad been, and worry his life out. And surely he had had enough of botherfor one day. By this time it was getting dark, and it was very pleasantin Grove Street, where most of the good people had just watered theirlittle gardens, and brought out the sweetness of the mignonette. MrCavendish was not sentimental, but still the hour was not without itsinfluence; and when he looked at the lights that began to appear in theparlour windows, and breathed in the odours from the little gardens, itis not to be denied that he asked himself for a moment what was the goodof going through all this bother and vexation, and whether love in acottage, with a little garden full of mignonette and a tolerable amountof comfort within, was not, after all, a great deal more reasonable thanit looked at first sight? This, however, it must be allowed, was noconclusion arrived at on sufficient premises, and with the calmness thatbefitted such an important argument, but the mere suggestion, by theway, of an impatient, undecided mind, that did always what at the momentit found most agreeable to do, and reflected afterwards, when the momentof repentance, not of reflection, had arrived.
He had paused by instinct under a lamp not yet lighted, which was almostopposite Mr Lake's house; and it was not his fault if he saw at theupper window a figure looking out, like Mariana, and sighing, "He comethnot." Naturally the figure was concerned to find out who he was, and_he_ was anxious to find out who was the figure. And, on the whole, itwas in a very innocent manner that this entirely natural curiosity wassatisfied. First the window was opened a little--a very little, justenough to change the air--and Mr Cavendish down below heard the voice ofBarbara singing softly up above, which settled the matter as to heridentity. As to _his_, Barbara had never, from the first moment sheperceived him, any doubt of that. Her heart leaped back, as she thought,to its right place when she first caught sight of that blessedapparition; and with her heart came the orange-flowers, and the weddingbreakfast, and the veil of real Brussels for which Barbara had so muchwept. She tried to sing something that would convey hope and assuranceto her timid lover, according to romantic precedent; but her mind wasfar from being a prompt one, as has been said. Thus it was all in themost natural way that it came about. When Mr Cavendish felt quite surewho it was, he took off his hat, which was only civil, and made a stepor two forward; and then Barbara took the extreme step of going down tothe door. No doubt it was an extreme step. Nothing but a great publicaim, like that of Miss Marjoribanks, could have justified such ameasure; but then Barbara, if she had not a great public, had at least adecided personal, purpose, and obeyed the impulse of that mingledinclination towards another and determination to have her own way, whichin such a mind calls itself passion, and which sometimes, by sheer forceof will, succeeds better than either genius or calculation. She wentdown to the door, all palpitating with renewed hope, and, at the sametime, with the dread that he might escape her in the moment which wasnecessary for her passage downstairs. But when she opened the door andappeared with her cheeks glowing, and her eyes blazing, and her heartthumping in her breast, in the midst of that quiet twilight, the objectof her hopes was still there. He had even advanced a little, with aninstinctive sense of her approach; and thus they met, the street beingcomparatively quiet just then, and the mignonette perfuming the air. Tobe sure, the poetry of the situation was of a homely order, for it wasunder a lamp-post instead of a tree that the lover had placed himself;and it was not the dew, but the watering, that had brought out the odourof the mignonette; but then neither of the two were very poeticalpersonages, and the accessories did perfectly well for them.
"Is it you, Mr Cavendish? Goodness! I could not think who it was," criedBarbara, out of breath.
"Yes, it is I. I thought, if I had an opportunity, I would ask how youwere--before I go away again," said the imprudent man. He did not wantto commit himself, but at the same time he was disposed to take thebenefit of his position as a hero on the eve of departure. "I heard youhad been ill."
"Oh, no--not ill," said Barbara; and then she added, taking breath, "Iam quite well now. Won't you come in?"
This was the perfectly simple and natural manner in which it occurred.There was nobody in, and Barbara did not see, any more than her loverdid, why she should sacrifice any of her advantages. They were, on thewhole, quite well matched, and stood in need of no special protection oneither side. Though naturally Barbara, who felt by this time as if shecould almost see the pattern of the real Brussels, had a much moreserious object in view than Mr Cavendish, who went in only because itwas a pleasant thing to do at the moment, and offered him a littlerefuge from himself and his deliberations, and the decision which it wasso necessary to come to. Thus it happened that when Mr Lake and Rosecame in from the evening walk they had been taking together, they found,to their great amazement, Barbara in the little parlour, singing to MrCavendish, who had forgotten all about Grange Lane, and his dangers, andhis hopes of better fortune, and was quite as much contented with themellow contralto that delighted his ears, and the blazing scarlet bloom,and black level brows that pleased his eyes, as anybody could havedesired. To be sure, he had not even yet given a thought to the weddingbreakfast, which was all arranged already in the mind of the enchantresswho thus held him in thrall; but perhaps that may be best accounted forby referring it to one of those indefinable peculiarities of differencethat exist between the mind of woman and that of man.
When Mr Lake and his daughter came in from their walk, and their talkabout Willie, and about art, and about the "effects" and "bits" whichRose and her father mutually pointed out to each other, to find thisunexpected conjunction in the parlour, their surprise, and indeedconsternation, may be imagined. But it was only in the mind of Rose thatthe latter sentiment existed. As for Mr Lake, he had long made up hismind how, as he said, "a man of superior position" ought to be receivedwhen he made his appearance in an artist's house. Perhaps, to tell thetruth, he forgot for the moment that his visitor was young, and hisdaughter very handsome, and that it was to visit Barbara and not himselfthat Mr Cavendish had come. The little drawing-master would not sufferhimself to be seduced by thoughts which were apart from the subject fromcarrying out his principles. When Mr Cavendish rose up confused, with alook of being caught and found out, Mr Lake held out his hand to himwith perfect suavity--"I have the pleasure of knowing you only bysight," said the innocent father, "but I am very glad to make youracquaintance in my own house;" and as this was said with the consciousdignity of a man who knows that his house is not just an ordinary house,but one that naturally the patrician portion of the community, if theyonly knew it, would be glad to seek admittance to, the consequence wasthat Mr Cavendish felt only the more and more confused.
"I happened to be passing," he ex
plained faintly, "and having heard thatMiss Lake, whom I have had the pleasure of meeting----"
"I assure you," said the drawing-master, "that I hail with satisfactionthe appearance of a gentleman whose intelligence I have heard so muchof. We artists are a little limited, to be sure; for life, you know, isshort, and art is long, as the poet says; and our own occupationrequires so much of our thoughts. But still we are sympathetic, MrCavendish. We can understand other subjects of study, though we cannotshare them. Yes, Barbara has been a little poorly--but she does not lookas if there was much the matter with her to-night. Ask for the lamp,Rose," said Mr Lake, with a little grandeur. There was no light in theroom except the candles at the piano, which lighted that corner and leftthe rest of the apartment, small as it was, in comparative shade. Therewas something magnificent in the idea of adding the lamp to thatillumination; but then it is true that, as Mr Lake himself said, "everyartist is a prodigal in his heart."
Rose had been standing all this time with her hat on, looking at MrCavendish like a little Gorgon. What did he want here? How had he beenadmitted? She scorned to go and interrogate the maid, which involved akind of infidelity to her sister, but all the same she looked hard at MrCavendish with a severity which had, on the whole, a reassuring effectupon him. For, to tell the truth, the benign reception which he wasreceiving from Mr Lake, instead of setting the visitor at his ease,made him nervous; for he was not in the least aware of the heroic soulwhich existed in the drawing-master's limited person. Mr Cavendishthought nothing but that he was being "caught," according to his ownvulgar theory. He thought Barbara's father was cringing to him, andplaying the usual mean part of an interested parent who means to securea good match for his daughter. But as for Rose, she evidently, eitherfrom jealousy or some other reason, was not in the plot. She stood apartand scowled, as well as she knew how, upon the intruder. "I suppose,papa," said Rose, "Mr Cavendish wished to hear Barbara sing, and she hasbeen singing. She is always very good-natured in that way; but as wehave none of us anything particular to do, I don't see what need we havefor a lamp."
At this trenchant speech Mr Cavendish rose. He was quite grateful to thelittle Preraphaelite for her incivility. It made him feel less as if hehad committed himself, and more as if he were an intruder, which was themore agreeable suggestion of the two under the present circumstances."You remind me that I should thank Miss Lake for letting me come in andhear once more her lovely voice," he said. "I am at present only avisitor in Carlingford, and indeed in England--I may have to leave againin a day or two--good-bye. If I am still here, I shall hope to meet youon Thursday." And then he pressed Barbara's hand, who, to tell thetruth, was very reluctant to let him go away.
"If you must go----" she said, so low that her father could not hearher, though the vigilant, suspicious little Rose caught the sound, andcame a step nearer, like a little dragon, as Barbara was disposed tothink she was.
"I _must_ go," murmured Mr Cavendish; "but I shall see you--we shallmeet." He dared not say another word, so alarming were the looks of thesmall Medusa, whose countenance he could see behind Barbara regardingthe parting. As for Mr Lake, he too regarded it with a momentarycuriosity. He did not quite understand how it was that his daughter andhis visitor could know each other well enough to communicate in thisundertone.
"I am sorry to see so little of you," said Mr Lake. "I am afraid it ismy little girl's _brusque_ way of speaking that hastens your going. Iassure you we were quite unoccupied, and would have been veryhappy--perhaps we may be more fortunate another time;" and with thatthe drawing-master gave a dignified dismissal to his surprising visitor.It was Rose herself who saw Mr Cavendish to the door, which she openedfor him with an utter disregard of his excuses and attempts to do thatoffice for himself. She would not even shake hands, but made him themost majestic curtsey that was ever executed by a personage five feethigh, under the influence of which Mr Cavendish went away humbled, and,he could scarcely tell why, ashamed of himself. When Rose came back tothe parlour, still with her hat on, she found that Barbara had gone tothe window, and was looking out at the edge of the blind--which was allthat was wanted to put a climax to her sister's exasperation.
"Papa," said Rose, "I should like to know in your presence, or I shouldlike you to ask Barbara herself, what is the meaning of all that hasbeen going on to-night."
Mr Lake turned right round at this appeal with an expression of utteramaze and bewilderment, which at another moment would have struck Rosewith the profoundest delight as a study; and as for Barbara, without anymore ado she burst into a flood of passionate tears.
"Oh, you nasty, envious thing! oh, you jealous, disagreeable thing!"sobbed the elder sister; "to send him away and spoil everything withyour airs! when he was as near--just as near"--but here Barbara's voicelost itself in her tears.
"My dear, what does this mean?" said Mr Lake.
"It means, papa, that she has encouraged him to come, and invited himin, and been singing to him," cried Rose. "To think she should be one ofus, and have no proper pride! If he was fond of her, he would tell herso, and ask your permission; but she is laying herself out to please_him_, and is content that they should all jeer at her in Lucilla'sparties, and say she is trying to catch him. I thought I could have diedof shame when I saw him here to-night; and compromising you, as if thatwas why you were so civil. If it were for her good, do you think _I_would ever interfere?" cried Barbara's guardian angel. At this pointRose herself would have liked excessively to cry, if the truth must betold; but Barbara had already appropriated that facile mode ofexpression, and the little artist scorned to copy. As for Mr Lake, heturned from one to the other of his daughters with unmitigatedconsternation and dismay.
"It was all your coming in," sobbed Barbara, "if you had only had thesense to see it. _That_ was what he meant. If I was singing, it was justto pass the time; I know that was what he came for. And you to send himaway with your airs!" cried the injured young woman. All this made up ascene entirely novel to the amazed father, who felt it his duty to put astop to it, and yet could not tell what to say.
"Girls," he began, with a trembling voice, "this is all perfectly new tome. I don't understand. If Mr Cavendish, or--or any one, wishes to payhis addresses to my daughter, it is, of course, his business to apply tome in the first place. Barbara, don't cry. You know how I dislike tohear you cry," said the poor man, gradually losing his head. "Don't makea fuss, Rose; for Heaven's sake, girls, can't you say at once what youmean, and don't worry me to death? Ah, if your poor mother had but beenspared!" cried the unfortunate widower; and he had five daughtersaltogether, poor soul!--and it was so easy to drive him out of hissenses. At this point Rose intervened, and did what she could to calmmatters down. Barbara, still sobbing, retired to her chamber; the boyscame in from their cricket, and the little children had to be put tobed; and there was no one to attend to all these matters, in the absenceof the eldest sister, except the little mistress of the School ofDesign, so that naturally all further explanation was postponed for thisnight.