_Chapter XLVI_
Lucilla's calculations were fully justified by the result. Twenty timesin a day she recognised the wisdom of her own early decision, which wasmade while she was still by herself, and before anybody had come in toadvise her. If she had left it over until the time when, though muchshaken, she was understood to be able to see her friends, it is justpossible that the whirlwind of popular opinion which raged about hermight have exercised a distracting influence even upon MissMarjoribanks's clear head and steady judgment. For even now, though theysaw her in her own house, in her mourning, people would not believe thatit was true, and that Lucilla actually intended to make "no change"; andall that tide of good advice which had been flowing through Carlingfordever since the Doctor's death in the form of opinion, now rushed in uponher, notwithstanding that all the world knew that she had made up hermind. "Everybody says you are going to stay on, but we do hope it is nottrue, Lucilla," her friends said, in many voices. "It is dreadful for usto lose you, but you never _could_ bear it, dear." And this was repeatedso often that if Miss Marjoribanks had been weak-minded, she must haveended by believing not only that it was more than she was equal to, butmore than she ought to be equal to--which was a more touching argumentstill.
"You are excited now," Miss Brown said, who had a great deal ofexperience in family troubles; "one always is at such a time; but whenthings have settled down in their ordinary way, then you will find it ismore than you can bear. I think it is always best to make a change. Ifyou were to travel a little, you know----"
"But, my dear, I am poor," said Lucilla.
"It doesn't require so much money when you know how to set about it,"said her adviser; "and there are so many people who would be glad tohave you, Lucilla! And then you might settle a little at Caen or Tours,or some of those nice places, where there is such capital Englishsociety, and everything so cheap; or, if you thought your healthrequired it, at Pau or Nice, you know. You are looking quite pale, andI don't think you were ever very strong in the chest, Lucilla; andeverything is _so_ different on the Continent--one feels it the momentone crosses the Channel; there is something different in the very air."
"It smells different, I know," said Lucilla meekly; and then theconversation was interrupted by that afternoon cup of tea, which Nancycould not be got to think was an extravagance, and around which, to tellthe truth, the Grange Lane ladies began to resume their habit ofgathering--though Miss Marjoribanks, of course, was still quite unequalto society--as in the old times.
"And unless it is for a very short time, Lucilla," Mrs Centum said, whohad joined them, "you never can keep it up, you know. _I_ could notpretend to afford Nancy, for my part; and when a cook is extravagant shemay promise as faithfully as you please, and make good resolutions, andall that; but when it is in her, Lucilla--I am sure one or two receiptsshe has given me have been quite ridiculous. You don't like to give in,I know, but you'll be driven to give in; and if she does not get youinto debt as well, you will be very lucky. I know what it is. With myfamily, you know, a week of Nancy would make an end of me."
"And the worst of all is," said Lady Richmond, who had driven inexpressly to add her mite to the treasure of precious counsel, of whichMiss Marjoribanks was making so little use, "that I am sure Lucilla isoverestimating her strength. She will find after that she is not equalto it, you know; all the associations--and the people coming at night toask for the Doctor--and--and all that. I know it would kill _me_."
"Dear Lady Richmond," said Lucilla, making a desperate stand, andsetting, as it were, her back against a rock, "don't you think I canbear it best here where you are all so kind to me; and where everybodywas so fond of--of _him_? You can't think what a comfort it is to me,"said Lucilla, with a sob, "to see all the hatbands upon the gentlemen'shats."
And then there was a pause, for this was an argument against whichnobody could find anything to say.
"For my part, I think the only thing she can do is to take Inmates,"said Aunt Jemima. "If I were obliged to leave she would be so verylonely. I have known ladies do it who were in a very good position, andit made no difference; people visited them all the same. She could say,'In consequence of changes in the family,' or 'A lady who has a largerhouse than she requires'; which I am sure is quite true. It goes toone's heart to think of all these bedrooms, and only one lady to sleepin them all--when so many people are so hampered for want of room. Orshe might say, 'For the sake of society'; for, I am sure, if I shouldhave to go away----"
"But I hope you are not going away. It would be so sad for Lucilla to beleft alone," said Lady Richmond, who took a serious view of everything,"at such a time."
"Oh, no!" Aunt Jemima said, faltering a little; and then a pink blush,which seemed strangely uncalled for in such a mild little tea-party,came over her mature countenance; "but then one can never tell what mayhappen. I might have other duties--my son might make a call upon mytime. Not that I know of anything at present," she added hurriedly, "butI never can bind myself on account of Tom----"
And then she caught Lucilla's eye, and grew more confused than ever.What could she have to be confused about? If Tom did make a call uponher time, whatever that might mean, there was nothing in it to call ablush upon his mother's face. And the fact was, that a letter had comefrom Tom a day or two before, of which, contrary to all her usualhabits, Aunt Jemima had taken no notice to Lucilla. These were thingswhich would have roused Miss Marjoribanks's curiosity if she had beenable to think about anything, as she said. But her visitors were takingtheir cup of tea all the time, in a melancholy, half-sympathetic,half-disapproving way, and they could not be expected to see anythingparticularly interesting in Aunt Jemima's blush.
And then Rose Lake came in from Grove Street, who was rather an unusualvisitor, and whose appearance, though they were all very kind andgracious to her, rather put the others to flight; for nobody had everquite forgotten or forgiven Barbara's brief entrance into society andflirtation with Mr Cavendish, which might be said to have been thebeginning of all that happened to him in Grange Lane. As for Mrs Centum,she took her leave directly, and pressed Lucilla's hand, and could nothelp saying in her ear that she hoped _the other_ was not coming back toCarlingford to throw herself in poor Mr Cavendish's way. "It would dohim so much harm," Mrs Centum said anxiously; "but oh! I forgot,Lucilla, you are on the other side."
"I am on no side _now_," said Miss Marjoribanks, with plaintive meaning;"and Barbara was as old as I am, you know, and she must have gone off."
"I have no doubt she has gone off," said Mrs Centum, with righteousindignation. "As old as you, Lucilla! She must be ten years older atleast; and such a shocking style of looks--if men were not soinfatuated! And you have not gone off at all, my poor dear," she added,with all the warmth of friendship! And then they were joined at the doorby the county lady, who was the next to go away.
"My dear, I hope you will be guided for the best," Lady Richmond said asshe went away; but she gave a deep sigh as she kissed Lucilla, andlooked as if she had very little faith in the efficacy of her own wish.Maria Brown had withdrawn to another part of the drawing-room with AuntJemima, so that Lucilla was, so to speak, left alone with Rose. AndRose, too, had come with the intention of giving advice.
"I hear you are going to stay, Lucilla," she said, "and I did not thinkI would be doing my duty if I did not tell you what was in my mind. _I_can't do any good to anybody, you know; but you who are so clever, andhave so much in your power----"
"I am poor now," said Miss Marjoribanks; "and as for being clever, Idon't know about that. I never was clever about drawing or Art, likeyou."
"Oh, like me!" said poor little Rose, whose Career had been sacrificedten years ago, and who was a little misanthropical now, and did notbelieve even in Schools of Design; "I am not so sure about the moralinfluence of Art as I used to be--except High Art, to be sure; but wenever have any High Art down here. And oh, Lucilla! the poor people _do_want something done for them. If I was as clever as you, and with agreat house all to mysel
f like this, and well off, and with plenty ofinfluence, and no ties----" said Rose, with energetic emphasis. She madea pause there, and she was so much in earnest that the tears came intoher eyes. "I would make it a House of Mercy, Lucilla! I would show allthese poor creatures how to live and how to manage, if I was as cleveras you; and teach them and their children, and look after them, and bea mother to them!" said Rose; and here she stopped short, altogetherovercome by her own magnificent conception of what her friend could ormight do.
Aunt Jemima and Miss Brown, who had drawn near out of curiosity, staredat Rose as if they thought she had gone mad; but Lucilla, who was of alarger mind and more enlightened ideas, neither laughed nor lookedhorrified. She did not make a very distinct answer, it is true, but shewas very kind to her new adviser, and made her a fresh cup of tea, andeven consented, though in an ambiguous way, to the principle she hadjust enunciated, "If you won't be affronted, my dear," Lucilla said, "Ido not think that Art could do very much in Carlingford; and I am sureany little thing that I may be of use for----" But she did not commitherself any further, and Rose too found the result of her visitunsatisfactory, and went home disappointed in Lucilla. This was how theafternoon passed; and at the end of such a day, it may well be imaginedhow Miss Marjoribanks congratulated herself on having made up her mindbefore the public, so to speak, were admitted. For Rose was followed bythe Rector, who, though he did not propose in so many words a House ofMercy, made no secret of his conviction that parish-work was the onlything that could be of any service to Lucilla; and that, in short, suchwas the inevitable and providential destination of a woman who had "noties." Indeed, to hear Mr Bury, a stranger would have been disposed tobelieve that Dr Marjoribanks had been, as he said, "removed," and hisfortune swept away, all in order to indicate to Lucilla the propersphere for her energies. In the face of all this it will be seen howentirely Miss Marjoribanks's wisdom in making her decision by herselfbefore her advisers broke in upon her, was justified. She could now sether back against her rock, and face her assailants, as Fitz-James did.
Come one, come all, this rock shall fly From its firm base as soon as I,
might have been her utterance; but she was not in a defiant mood. Shekissed all her counsellors that day (except, of course, the Rector), andheard them out with the sweetest patience; and then she thought toherself how much better it was that she had made up her mind to take herown way.
Notwithstanding, all this commotion of public opinion about her made acertain impression upon Miss Marjoribanks's mind. It was not unpleasantto feel that, for this moment at least, she was the centre of thethoughts of the community, and that almost everybody in Carlingford hadtaken the trouble to frame an ideal existence for her, according as heor she regarded life. It is so seldom that any one has it in his power,consciously and evidently, to regulate his life for himself, and make itwhatever he wants it to be. And then, at the same time, the best thatshe could make of it would, after all, be something very limited andunsatisfactory. In her musings on this subject, Lucilla could not but goback a great many times to that last conversation she had with herfather, when she walked up Grange Lane with him that night over thethawed and muddy snow. The Doctor had said she was not cut out for asingle woman; and Lucilla, with candour, yet a certain philosophicalspeculativeness, had allowed that she was not--unless, indeed, she couldbe very rich. If she had been very rich, the prospect would no doubthave been, to a certain extent, different. And then, oddly enough, itwas Rose Lake's suggestion which came after this to Lucilla's mind. Shedid not smile at it as some people might expect she would. One thing wasquite sure, that she had no intention of sinking into a nobody, andgiving up all power of acting upon her fellow-creatures; and she couldnot help being conscious of the fact that she was able to be of much useto her fellow-creatures. If it had been Maria Brown, for instance, whohad been concerned, the whole question would have been one of utterunimportance, except to the heroine itself; but it was different in MissMarjoribanks's case. The House of Mercy was not a thing to be taken intoany serious consideration; but still there was something in the ideawhich Lucilla could not dismiss carelessly as her friends could. She hadno vocation, such as the foundress of such an establishment ought tohave, nor did she see her way to the abandonment of all projects forherself, and that utter devotion to the cause of humanity which would beinvolved in it; but yet, when a woman happens to be full of energy andspirit, and determined that whatever she may be she shall certainly notbe a nonentity, her position is one that demands thought. She was verycapable of serving her fellow-creatures, and very willing and welldisposed to serve them; and yet she was not inclined to give herself upentirely to them, nor to relinquish her personal prospects--vaguethough these might be. It was a tough problem, and one which might havecaused a most unusual disturbance in Lucilla's well-regulated mind, hadnot she remembered all at once what deep mourning she was in, and thatat present no sort of action, either of one kind or another, could beexpected of her. There was no need for making a final decision, eitherabout the parish-work, or about taking Inmates, as Aunt Jemima proposed,or about any other single suggestion which had been offered to her; nomore than there was any necessity for asking what her cousin Tom's lastletter had been about, or why his mother looked so guilty andembarrassed when she spoke of him. Grief has its privileges andexemptions, like other great principles of life; and the recollectionthat she could not at present be expected to be able to think aboutanything, filled Lucilla's mind with the most soothing sense ofconsolation and refreshing calm.
And then other events occurred to occupy her friends; the election forone thing began to grow a little exciting, and took away some of thesuperfluous energy of Grange Lane. Mr Ashburton had carried all beforehim at first; but since the Rector had come into the field, the balancehad changed a little. Mr Bury was very Low-Church; and from the momentat which he was persuaded that Mr Cavendish was a great penitent, thequestion as to which was the Man for Carlingford had been solved in hismind in the most satisfactory way. A man who intrenched himself in mererespectability, and trusted in his own good character, and consideredhimself to have a clear conscience, and to have done his duty, had nochance against a repentant sinner. Mr Cavendish, perhaps, had not donehis duty quite so well; but then he was penitent, and everything wasexpressed in that word. The Rector was by no means contemptible, eitheras an adversary or a supporter--and the worst of it was that, inembracing Mr Cavendish's claims, he could scarcely help speaking of MrAshburton as if he was in a very bad way. And feeling began to riserather high in Carlingford. If anything could have deepened theintensity of Miss Marjoribanks's grief, it would have been to know thatall this was going on, and that affairs might go badly with hercandidate, while she was shut up, and could give no aid. It was hardupon her, and it was hard upon the candidates themselves--one of whomhad thus become generally disapproved of, without, so far as he knew,doing anything to deserve it; while the other occupied the still morepainful character of being on his promotion--a repentant man, with acharacter to keep up. It was no wonder that Mrs Centum grew pale at thevery idea of such a creature as Barbara Lake throwing herself in poor MrCavendish's way. A wrong step one way or other--a relapse into the waysof wickedness--might undo in a moment all that it had cost so muchtrouble to do. And the advantage of the Rector's support was thusgrievously counterbalanced by what might be called the uncertainty ofit--especially as Mr Cavendish was not, as his committee lamentedsecretly among themselves, a man of strong will or business habits, inwhom implicit confidence could be placed. He might get restive, andthrow the Rector over just at the critical moment; or he might relapseinto his lazy Continental habits, and give up church-going and othergood practices. But still, up to this moment, he had shown verytolerable perseverance; and Mr Bury's influence thrown into his scalehad equalised matters very much, and made the contest very exciting. Allthis Lucilla heard, not from Mr Cavendish, but from her own candidate,who had taken to calling in a steady sort of way. He never went into anyeffusions of symp
athy, for he was not that kind of man; but he wouldshake hands with her, and say that people must submit to the decrees ofProvidence; and then he would speak of the election and of his chances.Sometimes Mr Ashburton was despondent, and then Lucilla cheered him up;and sometimes he had very good hopes.
"I am very glad you are to be here," he said on one of these occasions."It would have been a great loss to me if you had gone away. I shallnever forget our talk about it here _that_ day, and how you were thefirst person that found me out."
"It was not any cleverness of mine," said Lucilla. "It came into my mindin a moment, like spirit-rapping, you know. It seems so strange to talkof that _now_; there have been such changes since then--it looks likeyears."
"Yes," said Mr Ashburton, in his steady way. "There is nothing thatreally makes time look so long; but we must all bow to thesedispensations, my dear Miss Marjoribanks. I would not speak of theelection, but that I thought it might amuse you. The writs are out now,you know, and it takes place on Monday week."
Upon which Miss Marjoribanks smiled upon Mr Ashburton, and held out herhands to him with a gesture and look which said more than words. "Youknow you will have _all_ my best wishes," she said; and the candidatewas much moved--more moved than at such a moment he had thought itpossible to be.
"If I succeed, I know whom I shall thank the most," he said fervently;and then, as this was a climax, and it would have been a kind of bathosto plunge into ordinary details after it, Mr Ashburton got up, stillholding Lucilla's hand, and clasped it almost tenderly as he saidgood-bye. She looked very well in her mourning, though she had notexpected to do so; for black was not Lucilla's style. And the fact was,that instead of having gone off, as she herself said, Miss Marjoribankslooked better than ever she did, and was even embellished by the naturaltears which still shone by times in her eyes. Mr Ashburton went out in akind of bewilderment after this interview, and forgot his overcoat inthe hall, and had to come back for it, which was a confusingcircumstance; and then he went on his way with a gentle excitement whichwas not unpleasant. "Would she, I wonder?" he said to himself, as hewent up Grange Lane. Perhaps he was only asking himself whether Lucillawould or could be present along with Lady Richmond and her family at thewindow of the Blue Boar on the great day; but if that was it, the ideahad a certain brightening and quickening influence upon his face and hismovements. The doubt he had on the subject, whatever it was, was not adiscouraging, but a piquant, stimulating, exciting doubt. He had all butproposed the question to his committee when he went in among them, whichwould have filled these gentlemen with wonder and dismay. But though hedid not do that, he carried it home with him, as he trotted back to theFirs to dinner. Mr Ashburton took a walk through his own house thatevening, and examined all its capabilities--with no particular motive,as he was at pains to explain to his housekeeper; and again he said tohimself, "Would she, I wonder?" before he retired for the night; whichwas no doubt an unusual sort of iteration for so sensible a man, and oneso fully occupied with the most important affairs, to make.
As for Lucilla, she was not in the way of asking herself any questionsat that moment. She was letting things take their course, and notinterfering; and consequently, nothing that happened could be said to beher fault. She carried this principle so far, that even when Aunt Jemimawas herself led to open the subject, in a hesitating way, MissMarjoribanks never even asked a single question about Tom's last letter.She was in mourning, and that was enough for her. As for appearing atthe window of the Blue Boar with Lady Richmond, if that was what MrAshburton was curious about, he might have saved himself the trouble ofany speculations on the subject. For though Miss Marjoribanks would bevery anxious about the election, she would indeed have been ashamed ofherself could her feelings have permitted her to appear anywhere inpublic so soon. Thus, while Mr Ashburton occupied himself much with thequestion which had taken possession of his mind, Lucilla took a goodbook, which seemed the best reading for her in her circumstances, andwhen she had looked after all her straitened affairs in the morning, satdown sweetly in the afternoon quiet of her retirement and seclusion, andlet things take their way.