_Chapter VIII_
The evening passed off in a way which, if Miss Marjoribanks had been anordinary woman, would have altogether obliterated from her mind allrecollection of the failure at lunch. To speak first of the mostimportant particular, the dinner was perfect. As for the benighted menwho had doubted Lucilla, they were covered with shame, and, at the sametime, with delight. If there had been a fault in Dr Marjoribanks's tableunder the ancient regime, it lay in a certain want of variety, andoccasional over-abundance, which wounded the feelings of young MrCavendish, who was a person of refinement. To-night, as thataccomplished critic remarked, there was a certain air of feminine gracediffused over everything--and an amount of doubt and expectation,unknown to the composed feastings of old, gave interest to the meal. Asfor the Doctor, he found Mrs Chiley, at his right hand, not so great abore as he expected. She was a woman capable of appreciating thetriumphs of art that were set before her; and had indeed been trained toas high a pitch of culture in this respect as perhaps is possible to thefemale intelligence; and then her pride and delight in being admitted toa participation in those sacred mysteries was beyond expression. "Mydear Lucilla, I feel exactly as if I was going to be made a freemason;and as if your dear good papa had to blindfold me, and make me swear allsorts of things before he took me downstairs," she said, as they sattogether waiting for the commencement of the ceremony; and when the twoladies returned to the drawing-room, Mrs Chiley took Lucilla in her armsand gave her a kiss, as the only way of expressing adequately herenthusiasm. "My love," said the Colonel's wife, "I never realised beforewhat it was to have a genius. You should be very thankful to Providencefor giving you such a gift. I have given dinners all my life--that is,all my married life, my dear, which comes to almost the same thing, forI was only a baby--but I never could come up to anything like that,"said Mrs Chiley, with tears in her eyes. As for Miss Marjoribanks, shewas so satisfied with her success that she felt at liberty totranquillise her old friend.
"I am sure you always give very nice dinners," she said; "and then, youknow, the Colonel has his favourite dishes--whereas, I must say forpapa, he is very reasonable for a man. I am so glad you are pleased. Itis very kind of you to say it is genius, but I don't pretend to anythingbut paying great attention and studying the combinations. There isnothing one cannot manage if one only takes the trouble. Come here tothis nice easy-chair--it is so comfortable. It is so nice to have alittle moment to ourselves before they come upstairs."
"That is what I always say," said Mrs Chiley; "but there are not manygirls so sensible as you, Lucilla. I hear them all saying it is so muchbetter French fashion. Of course, I am an old woman, and like things inthe old style."
"I don't think it is because I am more sensible," said MissMarjoribanks, with modesty. "I don't pretend to be better than otherpeople. It is because I have thought it all over, you know--and then Iwent through a course of political economy when I was at MountPleasant," Lucilla said tranquilly, with an air of having explained thewhole matter, which much impressed her hearer. "But for all that,something dreadful happened to-day. Tom brought in one of his friendswith him, you know, and Miss Bury was here, and they talked--I want totell you, in case she should say something, and then you will know whatto believe. I never felt so dreadfully ashamed in my life--theytalked----"
"My dear! not anything improper, I hope," cried the old lady, in dismay.
"Oh, no," said Lucilla; "but they began laughing about some peoplehaving no souls, you know--as if there could be anybody without asoul--and poor Miss Bury nearly fainted. You may think what a dreadfulthing it was for me."
"My dear child, if that was all," said Mrs Chiley, reassured--"as foreverybody having a soul, I am sure I cannot say. You never were inIndia, to be sure; but Miss Bury should have known better than to faintat a young man's talk, and frighten you, my poor dear. She ought to beashamed of herself, at her age. Do you think Tom has turned out clever?"the old lady continued, not without a little finesse, and watchingLucilla with a curious eye.
"Not in the very least," said Miss Marjoribanks calmly; "he is just asawkward as he used to be. It is dreadful to have him here just now, whenI have so many things to do--and then he would follow me abouteverywhere if I would let him. A cousin of that sort is always in theway."
"I am always afraid of a cousin, for my part," said Mrs Chiley; "andtalking of that, what do you think of Mr Cavendish, Lucilla? He is verynice in himself, and he has a nice property; and some people say he hasa very good chance to be member for Carlingford when there is anelection. I think that is just what would suit you."
"I could not see him for the lamp," said Lucilla; "it was right betweenus, you know--but it is no use talking of that sort of thing just now.Of course, if I had liked, I never need have come home at all," MissMarjoribanks added, with composure; "and, now I have come home, I havegot other things to think of. If papa is good, I will not think ofleaving him for ten years."
"Oh, yes; I have heard girls say that before," said Mrs Chiley; "butthey always changed their minds. You would not like to be an old maid,Lucilla; and in ten years----"
"I should have begun to go off a little, no doubt," said MissMarjoribanks. "No, I can't say I wish to be an old maid. Can they becoming upstairs already, do you think? Oh, it is Tom, I suppose," saidLucilla, with a little indignation. But when _They_ did make theirappearance, which was at a tolerably early period--for a return to thedrawing-room was quite a novelty for Dr Marjoribanks's friends, andtempted them accordingly--Miss Marjoribanks was quite ready to receivethem. And just before ten o'clock, when Mrs Chiley began to think ofgoing home, Lucilla, without being asked, and without indeed a word ofpreface, suddenly went to the piano, and before anybody knew, hadcommenced to sing. She was a great deal too sensible to go into high arton this occasion, or to electrify her father's friends with hernewly-acquired Italian, or even with German, as some young ladies do.She sang them a ballad out of one of those treasures of resuscitatedballads which the new generation had then begun to dig out of the bowelsof the earth. There was not, to tell the truth, a great deal of musicin it, which proved Lucilla's disinterestedness. "I only sang it toamuse you," she said, when all the world crowded to the piano; and forthat night she was not to be persuaded to further exertions. Thus MissMarjoribanks proved to her little public that power of subordinating herpersonal tastes and even her vanity to her great object, which more thananything else demonstrates a mind made to rule. "I hope next time youwill be more charitable, and not tantalise us in this way," Mr Cavendishsaid, as he took his leave; and Lucilla retired from the scene of hertriumph, conscious of having achieved entire success in her firstappearance in Carlingford. She laid her head upon her pillow with thatsweet sense of an approving conscience which accompanies the footstepsof the benefactors of their kind. But even Miss Marjoribanks'ssatisfaction was not without its drawbacks. She could not get out of hermind that unhappy abortive luncheon and all its horrors; not to speak ofthe possibility of her religious principles being impugned, which wasdreadful in itself ("for people can stand a man being sceptical, youknow," Miss Marjoribanks justly observed, "but everybody knows howunbecoming it is in a woman--and me who have such a respect forreligion!"); there remained the still more alarming chance that MissBury, who was so narrow-minded, might see something improper in thepresence of the two young men at Lucilla's maidenly table; for, to besure, the Rector's sister was altogether incapable of grasping the ideathat young men, like old men and the other less interesting members ofthe human family, were simple material for Miss Marjoribanks's genius,out of which she had a great result to produce. This was the dread thatovershadowed the mind of Lucilla as she composed herself to rest afterher fatigues. When she slept the sleep of the innocent, it still pursuedher into her dreams. She dreamed that she stood at the altar by the sideof the member for Carlingford, and that Mr Bury, with inflexiblecruelty, insisted upon marrying her to Tom Marjoribanks instead; andthen the scene changed, and instead of receiving the salutations of MrCavendish as M.P.
for the borough, it was the amusing man, in thecharacter of the defeated candidate, who grinned and nodded at her, andsaid from the hustings that he would never forget the luncheon that hadbeen his first introduction to Carlingford. Such was the nightmare thatpursued Lucilla even into the sphere of dreams.
When such a presentiment takes possession of a well-balanced mind likethat of Miss Marjoribanks, it may be accepted as certain that somethingis likely to follow. Lucilla did her best to disarm fate, not only bythe sweetest submission and dutifulness to the Doctor and his wishes,but by a severe disregard of Tom, which drove that unhappy young mannearly desperate. Far from saying anything about luncheon, she evenignored his presence at breakfast, and remained calmly unconscious ofhis empty cup, until he had to ask for some coffee in an injured andpathetic voice, which amused Dr Marjoribanks beyond description. Buteven this did not prove sufficient to propitiate the Fates. When Theywere gone--and it may be well to say that Lucilla used this pronoun tosignify _the gentlemen_, in greater or smaller number as it mighthappen--and she had finished all her arrangements, Miss Marjoribanksdecided upon going to Grove Street to pay Barbara Lake a visit, andpractise some duets, which was certainly as innocent an occupation forher leisure as could be desired. She was putting on her hat with thisobject when the bell in the garden rang solemnly, and Lucilla, whosecuriosity conquered her good manners for the moment, hastening to thewindow, saw Mr Bury himself enter the garden, accompanied by a blackfigure in deep and shabby mourning. All the tremors of the night rushedback upon her mind at the sight. She felt that the moment had arrivedfor a trial of her courage very different from the exertions which hadhitherto sufficed her. Nothing but the most solemn intentions could havesupported the Rector in that severe pose of his figure and features,every line in which revealed an intention of being "faithful"; and theaccompanying mute in black, whose office the culprit could not divine,had a veil over her face, and wore a widow's dress. Miss Marjoribanks,it is true, was not a woman to be discouraged by appearances, but shefelt her heart beat as she collected all her powers to meet thismysterious assault. She took off her hat with an instinctive certaintythat, for this morning at least, the duet was impracticable, when sheheard Mr Bury's steady step ascending the stairs; but, notwithstanding,it was with a perfectly cheerful politeness that she bade him welcomewhen he came into the room. "It is so good of you to come," Lucillasaid; "you that have so much to do. I scarcely could believe it when Isaw you come in: I thought it must be for papa."
"I did hope to find Dr Marjoribanks," said the Rector, "but as he is notat home, I thought it best to come to you. This is Mrs Mortimer," saidMr Bury, taking the chair Lucilla had indicated with a certain want ofobservance of his companion which betrayed to the keen perceptions ofMiss Marjoribanks that she was a dependant of some kind or other. TheRector was a very good man, but was Evangelical, and had a large femalecircle who admired and swore by him; and, consequently, he felt it in amanner natural that he should take his seat first, and the place thatbelonged to him as the principal person present; and then, to be sure,his mission here was for Mrs Mortimer's as well as Miss Marjoribanks's"good." After this introduction, the figure in black put up its veil,and revealed a deprecating woman, with a faint sort of pleading smile onher face. Probably she was making believe to smile at the position inwhich she found herself; but anyhow she took her seat humbly on anotherchair at a little distance, and waited, as Lucilla did, for the nextgolden words that it might please the Rector to say.
"My sister told me what happened yesterday," said Mr Bury. "She is verysorry for you, Miss Marjoribanks. It is sad for you to be left alone soyoung, and without a mother, and exposed to--to temptations which it isdifficult to withstand at your age. Indeed, at all ages, we have greatoccasion to pray not to be led into temptation; for the heart of man isterribly deceitful. After hearing what she had to say, I thought it bestto come up at once this morning and talk to Dr Marjoribanks. I am surehis natural good sense will teach him that you ought not to be leftalone in the house."
"I do not see how papa can help it," said Lucilla. "I am sure it is verysad for him as well; but since dear mamma died there has been nobody butme to be a comfort to him. I think he begins to look a little cheerfulnow," Miss Marjoribanks continued, with beautiful simplicity, lookingher adversary in the face. "Everybody knows that to be a comfort to himis the object of my life."
"That is a very good feeling," said the Rector, "but it does not do todepend too much upon our feelings. You are too young to be placed in aposition of so much responsibility, and open to so much temptation. Iwas deeply grieved for Dr Marjoribanks when his partner in life wastaken from him; but my dear Miss Lucilla, now you have come home, whostand so much in need of a mother's care, we must try to find some oneto fill her place."
Lucilla uttered a scream of genuine alarm and dismay; and then she cameto herself, and saw the force of her position. She had it in her powerto turn the tables on the Rector, and she did not hesitate, as a weakerwoman might have done, out of consideration for anybody's feelings. "Doyou mean you have found some one for him to marry?" she asked, with alook of artless surprise, bending her earnest gaze on Mr Bury's face.
As for the Rector, he looked at Lucilla aghast, like a man caught in atrap. "Of course not, of course not," he stammered, after his firstpause of consternation; and then he had to stop again to take breath.Lucilla kept up the air of amazement and consternation which had comenaturally at the first, and had her eyes fixed on him, leaning forwardwith all the eager anxiety natural to the circumstances, and theunfortunate clergyman reddened from the edge of his white cravat to theroots of his gray hair. He was almost as sensitive to the idea of havingproposed something improper as his sister could have been, thoughindeed, at the worst, there would have been nothing improper in it hadDr Marjoribanks made up his mind to another wife.
"It is very dreadful for me that am so young to go against _you_" saidLucilla; "but if it is _that_, I cannot be expected to take any part init--it would not be natural. It is the great object of my life to be acomfort to papa; but if that is what you mean, I could not give in toit. I am sure Miss Bury would understand me," said Miss Marjoribanks;and she looked so nearly on the point of tears, that the Rector'sanxious disclaimer found words for itself.
"Nothing of the kind, my dear Miss Lucilla--nothing of the kind," criedMr Bury; "such an idea never came into my mind. I cannot imagine how Icould have said anything--I can't fancy what put such an idea----MrsMortimer, you are not going away?"
Lucilla had already seen with the corner of her eye that the victim hadstarted violently, and that her heavy veil had fallen over her face--butshe had not taken any notice, for there are cases in which it isabsolutely necessary to have a victim. By this time, however, the poorwoman had risen in her nervous, undecided way.
"I had better go--I am sure I had better go," she said hurriedly,clasping together a pair of helpless hands, as if they could find alittle strength in union. "Miss Marjoribanks will understand you better,and you will perhaps understand Miss Marjoribanks----"
"Oh, sit down, sit down," said Mr Bury, who was not tolerant offeelings. "Perhaps I expressed myself badly. What I meant to say was,that Mrs Mortimer, who has been a little unfortunate incircumstances--sit down, pray--had by a singular providence just appliedto me when my sister returned home yesterday. These things do not happenby chance, Lucilla. We are taken care of when we are not thinking of it.Mrs Mortimer is a Christian lady for whom I have the greatest respect. Asituation to take the superintendence of the domestic affairs, and tohave charge of you, would be just what would suit her. It must be agreat anxiety to the Doctor to leave you alone, and without any control,at your age. You may think the liberty is pleasant at first, but if youhad a Christian friend to watch over and take care of you----What is thematter?" said the Rector, in great alarm. It was only that the poorwidow who was to have charge of Lucilla, according to his benevolentintention, looked so like fainting, that Miss Marjoribanks jumped upfrom her chair and rang the
bell hastily. It was not Lucilla's way tolose time about anything; she took the poor woman by the shoulders andall but lifted her to the sofa, where she was lying down with her bonnetoff when the Rector came to his senses. To describe the feelings withwhich Mr Bury contemplated this little _entr'acte_, which was not in hisprogramme, would be beyond our powers. He went off humbly and opened thewindow when he was told to do so, and tried to find the eau-de-Cologneon the table; while Thomas rushed downstairs for water at a pace veryunlike his usual steady rate of progress. As for Lucilla, she stood bythe side of her patient quite self-possessed, while the Rector looked sofoolish. "She will be all right directly," Miss Marjoribanks was saying;"luckily she never went right off. When you don't go right off, lyingdown is everything. If there had been any one to run and get some watershe would have got over it; but luckily I saw it in time." What possibleanswer Mr Bury could make to this, or how he could go on with hisaddress in sight of the strange turn things had taken, it would havebeen hard to say. Fortunately for the moment he did not attempt it, butwalked about in dismay, and put himself in the draught (with hisrheumatism), and felt dreadfully vexed and angry with Mrs Mortimer, who,for her part, now she had done with fainting, manifested an inclinationto cry, for which Mr Bury in his heart could have whipped her, had thatmode of discipline been permitted in the Church of England. Lucilla wasmerciful, but she could not help taking a little advantage of hervictory. She gave the sufferer a glass of water, and the eau-de-Cologneto keep her from a relapse, and whispered to her to lie quiet; and thenshe came back and took her seat, and begged the Rector not to stand inthe draught.
"I don't think she is strong," said Miss Marjoribanks confidentially,when she had wiled the disconcerted clergyman back to her side, "hercolour changes so; she never would be able for what there is to do here,even if papa would consent to think of it. For my part I am sure Ishould be glad of a little assistance," said Lucilla, "but I never liketo give false hopes, and I don't think papa would consent;--she looksnice if she was not so weak, poor thing!--and there are such quantitiesof things to be done here: but if you wish it, Mr Bury, I will speak topapa," said Miss Marjoribanks, lifting her eyes, which were so open andstraightforward, to the Rector's face.
To tell the truth, he did not in the least know what to say, and thechances are he would not have been half so vexed and angry, nor felt inso unchristian a disposition with the poor woman on the sofa, had hemeant to do her harm instead of good. "Yes, I should be glad if youwould mention it to Dr Marjoribanks," he said, without very well knowingwhat he said; and got up to shake hands with Lucilla, and thenrecollected that he could not leave his protegee behind him, andhesitated, and did not know what to do. He was really grateful, withoutbeing aware of it, to Miss Marjoribanks, when once again she came to hisaid.
"Please, leave her a little," said Lucilla, "and I can make acquaintancewith her, you know, in case papa should be disposed to think of it;--shemust lie still till it quite wears off. I would ask you to stay to lunchif I was not afraid of wasting your precious time----"
Mr Bury gave a little gasp of indignation, but he did not say anything.On the whole, even though smarting under the indignity of being asked tolunch, as his sister had been, when probably there might be a repetitionof the scene of yesterday, he was glad to get safely out of the house,even at the risk of abandoning his enterprise. As for a woman in want ofa situation, who had so little common sense as to faint at such acritical moment, the Rector was disposed to wash his hands of her; forMr Bury, "like them all," as Lucilla said, was horribly frightened by afaint when he saw one, and afterwards pretended to disbelieve it, andcalled it one of the things which a little self-command could alwaysprevent. When he was gone Miss Marjoribanks felt the full importance ofher victory; and then, though she had not hesitated to sacrifice thispoor woman when it was necessary to have a victim, that moment was over,and she had no pleasure in being cruel; on the contrary, she went andsat by her patient, and talked, and was very kind to her; and after awhile heard all her story, and was more comforting than the Rector couldhave been for his life.
"I knew it would hurt your feelings," Miss Marjoribanks said candidly,"but I could not do anything else--and you know it was Mr Bury's fault;but I am sure if I can be of any use to you----" It was thus thatLucilla added, without knowing it, another complication to her fortunes;but then, to be sure, clear-sighted as she was, she could not see intothe future, nor know what was to follow. She told the Doctor in theevening with the greatest faithfulness, and described how Mr Burylooked, and that she had said she did not think papa would be disposedto think of it; and Dr Marjoribanks was so much entertained that he cameupstairs to hear the end, and took a cup of tea. It was the third nightin succession that the Doctor had taken this step, though it was againsthis principles; and thus it will be seen that good came out of evil in abeautifully distinct and appropriate way.