_Chapter IX_
It was not till Miss Marjoribanks had surmounted to a certain extent thevexation caused her by her unlucky confidence in Tom, that that unhappyyoung man took the step which Lucilla had so long dreaded, but which shetrusted to her own genius to hinder him from carrying into execution.Miss Marjoribanks had extricated herself so triumphantly from theconsequences of that unhappy commencement of her very charmingluncheon-parties, that she had begun to forget the culpability of hercousin. She had defeated the Rector in his benevolent intentions, andshe had taken up his protegee just at the moment when Mr Bury was mostdisgusted with the unfortunate woman's weakness. Poor Mrs Mortimer, tobe sure, had fainted, or had been near fainting, at the most inopportunemoment, and it was only natural that the Rector should be annoyed; butas for Lucilla, who was always prompt in her actions, and whose goodnature and liberality were undoubted, she found her opportunity in thefailure of Mr Bury's scheme. After the Rector had gone away, MissMarjoribanks herself conducted the widow home; and by this time MrsMortimer's prospects were beginning to brighten under the active andefficient patronage of her new friend. This being the case, Lucilla'sgood humour was perfectly restored, and she had forgiven Tom hismaladroitness. "He cannot help it, you know," she said privately to oldMrs Chiley: "I suppose some people are born to do ridiculous things."And it was indeed as if he had intended to give a practical illustrationof the truth of this conclusion that Tom chose the particular moment hedid for driving Miss Marjoribanks to the extremity of her patience. Theupholsterers were in the house, and indeed had just finished putting upthe pictures on the new paper in the drawing-room (which was green, asLucilla had determined it should be, of the most delicate tint, andlooked, as she flattered herself, exactly like silk hangings); and MrHolden himself waited with a certain complaisance for MissMarjoribanks's opinion of the effect. He had no doubt on the subjecthimself; but he was naturally impressed, as most people were, with thatconfidence in Lucilla's judgment which so much facilitates theoperations of those persons who are born to greatness. It was preciselyat this moment that his evil genius persuaded Tom Marjoribanks tointerrupt Thomas, who was carrying Mr Holden's message to his youngmistress, and to shut the library door upon the external world. Lucillahad taken refuge in the library during the renovation of thedrawing-room; and she was aware that this was Tom's last day atCarlingford, and had no intention of being unkind to him. To tell thetruth, she had at the bottom of her heart a certain regard and impulseof protection and patronage towards Tom, of which something might havecome had the unlucky fellow known how to manage. But, at the same time,Miss Marjoribanks was aware that things must be approaching a crisisupstairs, and was listening intently to the movements overhead, andwondering why she was not sent for. This was the moment of all others atwhich Tom thought fit to claim a hearing; and the state of Lucilla'sfeelings may be easily imagined when she saw him plant himself by herside, with his face alternately red and white, and all the signs of adesperate resolution in his countenance. For the first time in her lifea certain despair took possession of Miss Marjoribanks's mind. Thesounds had suddenly ceased upstairs, as if the artists were making apause to contemplate the effect of their completed work--which indeedwas precisely the case--and at the same time nobody came to call her,important though the occasion was. She made a last effort to emancipateherself before it was too late.
"Ring, please, Tom," she said; "I want to know if they have finishedupstairs. I am so sorry you are going away; but you know it is one of myprinciples never to neglect my duty. I am sure they must be waiting forme--if you would only be kind enough to ring."
"Lucilla," said Tom, "you know I would do anything in the world youliked to tell me; but don't ask me to ring just now: I am going to leaveyou, and there is something I must say to you, Lucilla," said the youngman, with agitation. Miss Marjoribanks was seated near the window, andshe had a moral certainty that if any of the Browns happened to be inthat ridiculous glass-house where they did their photography, they musthave a perfectly good view of her, with Tom in the background, who hadplaced himself so as to shut her into the recess of the window. This,coupled with the evidence of her senses that the workmen up stairs hadceased their work, and that a slow footstep traversing the floor now andthen was all that was audible, drove Lucilla to despair.
"Yes," she said, temporising a little, which was the only thing shecould do, "I am sure I am very sorry; but then, you know, with the housein such a condition! Next time you come I shall be able to enjoy yoursociety," said the designing young woman; "but at present I am _so_busy. It is one of my principles, you know, that things are neverrightly done if the lady of the house does not pay proper attention.They are sure to make some dreadful mistake upstairs if I don't lookafter them. I shall see you again before you go."
"Lucilla, don't be so cruel!" cried the unlucky Tom, and he caught herhand though they were at the window; "do stop a moment and listen to me.Lucilla! what does it matter about furniture and things when a man'sheart is bursting?" cried the unfortunate lover; and just at that momentMiss Marjoribanks could see that the curtain was drawn aside alittle--ever so little--in the glass-house. She sat down again with asigh, and drew her hand away, and prepared herself to meet her fate withheroism at least.
"What in the world can you have been doing?" said Lucilla innocently;"you used always to tell me, you know, when you got into any difficulty,and I am sure if I can be of any use to you, Tom----But as for furnitureand things, they matter a great deal, I assure you, to people'shappiness; and then, you know, it is the object of my life to be acomfort to dear papa."
When she said this, Miss Marjoribanks settled herself again in therecess of the window, so that the Miss Browns could command a full viewif they chose; for Lucilla's courage was of the highest order, andnothing, except, perhaps, a strategical necessity of profoundimportance, would have moved her to retreat before an enemy. As for Tom,he was bewildered, to start with, by this solemn repetition of her greatpurpose.
"I know how good you are, Lucilla," he said, with humility; "but then myuncle, you know--I don't think he is a man to appreciate----Oh,Lucilla! why should you go and sacrifice to him the happiness of yourlife?"
"Tom," said Miss Marjoribanks, with some solemnity, "I wish you wouldnot talk to me of happiness. I have always been brought up to believethat duty was happiness; and everybody has known for a long time whatwas the object of my life. As for poor papa, it is the worse for him ifhe does not understand; but that does not make any difference to myduty," said the devoted daughter. She gave a little sigh as she spoke,the sigh of a great soul, whose motives must always remain to someextent unappreciated; and the sight of her resignation and beautifulperseverance overwhelmed her unlucky suitor; for indeed, up to thismoment, Lucilla still entertained the hope of preventing Tom from, asshe herself described it, "saying the very words," which, to be sure,are awkward words to hear and to say.
"Lucilla, when you are so good to my uncle, you ought to have a littlepity on me," said Tom, driven to the deepest despondency. "How do youthink I can bear it, to see you getting everything done here, as if youmeant to stay all your life--when you know I love you?" said theunfortunate young man; "when you know I have always been so fond of you,Lucilla, and always looked forward to the time----; and now it is veryhard to see you care so little for me."
"Tom," said Miss Marjoribanks, with indignant surprise, "how _can_ yousay I care little for you? you know I was always very fond of you, onthe contrary. I am sure I always stood your friend at home, whateverhappened, and never said a word when you broke that pretty little pearlring I was so fond of, and tore the scarf that my aunt gave me. Iwonder, for my part, how you can be so unkind as so say so. We havealways been the very best friends in the world," said Lucilla, with anair of injury. "I always said at school I liked you the best of all mycousins; and I am very fond of all my cousins." Miss Marjoribanksconcluded, after a little pause, "It is so unkind to tell me that Idon't care for _you_."
Poor Tom groaned wit
hin himself as he listened. He did not know what toanswer to Lucilla's aggrieved yet frank confession. Naturally it wouldhave been much less displeasing to Tom to understand that she hated him,and never desired to see him any more. But Miss Marjoribanks was farfrom entertaining any such unchristian sentiments. She even began toforget her anxiety about what was going on upstairs in that delightfulsense of power and abundant resources with which she was mastering thepresent difficulty. She reflected in herself that though it wasexcessively annoying to be thus occupied at such a moment, still it wasnearly as important to make an end of Tom as to see that the pictureswere hung rightly; for, to be sure, it was always easy to return to thelatter subject. Accordingly, she drew her chair a little nearer to thewindow, and regarded Tom with a calm gaze of benevolent interest whichwas in perfect accordance with the sentiments she had just expressed; alook in which a gentle reproach was mingled. "I have always been like asister to you," said Lucilla; "how can you be so unkind as to say Idon't care?"
As for the unhappy Tom, he got up, as was natural, and took a littlewalk in front of the table, as a young man in trouble is apt to do. "Youknow very well that is not what I mean, Lucilla," he saiddisconsolately. "It is you who are unkind. I don't know why it is thatladies are so cruel; I am not such a snob as to persecute anybody. Butwhat is the good of pretending not to know what I mean?"
"Tom, listen!" cried Miss Marjoribanks, rising in her turn; "I feel surethey must have finished. There is Mr Holden going through the garden.And everybody knows that hanging pictures is just the thing of allothers that requires a person of taste. If they have spoiled the room,it will be all your fault."
"Oh, for Heaven's sake never mind the room!" said Tom. "I never thoughtyou would have trifled with a man, Lucilla. You know quite well what Imean; you know it isn't a--a new thing," said the lover, beginning tostammer and get confused. "You know that is what I have been thinking ofall along, as soon as ever I had anything to live on. I love you,Lucilla; you know I love you! how can you trifle with me so?"
"It is you who are trifling," said Miss Marjoribanks, "especially whenyou know I have really something of importance to do. You can comeupstairs with me if you like. Of course we all love each other. What isthe good of being relations otherwise?" said Lucilla calmly; "it is sucha natural thing, you know. I suppose it is because you are going awaythat you are so affectionate to-day. It is very nice of you, I am sure;but, Tom, I feel quite certain you have not packed your things," MissMarjoribanks added, in an admonitory tone. "Come along with meupstairs."
And by this time Lucilla's curiosity was beginning again to get theupper hand. If she only could have escaped, it would have beenimpossible for her cousin to have renewed the conversation; and luckilyhe was to leave Carlingford the same evening; but then a man is alwaysan inconsequent creature, and not to be calculated on. This time,instead of obeying as usual, Tom--having, as Miss Marjoribanksafterwards described (but only in the strictest confidence), "workedhimself up to it"--set himself directly in her way, and seized upon bothher hands.
"Lucilla," cried the unlucky fellow, "is it possible that you reallyhave misunderstood me all this time? Do you mean to say that you don'tknow? Oh, Lucilla, listen just five minutes. It isn't because I am yourcousin. I wish to Heaven I was not your cousin, but some one you hadnever seen before. I mean I want you to consent to--to--to--marry me,Lucilla. That is what I mean. I am called to the bar, and I can work foryou, and make a reputation. Lucilla, listen to what I have to say."
Miss Marjoribanks left her hands in his with a calmness which froze poorTom's heart in his breast. She did not even take the trouble to drawthem away. "Have you gone out of your senses, Tom?" she asked, in hersensible way; and she lifted her eyes to the face of the poor youngfellow who was in love, with an inquiring look, as if she felt a littleanxious about him. "If you have any feeling as if fever was coming on,"said Lucilla, "I think you should go upstairs and lie down a little tillpapa comes in. I heard there had been some cases down about the canal. Ihope it is not the assizes that have been too much for you." When MissMarjoribanks said this, she herself took fast hold of Tom's hands with amotherly grasp to feel if they were hot, and looked into his eyes with acertain serious inspection, which, under the circumstances, poor fellow!was enough to drive him out of the little rationality he had left.
Tom was so far carried away by his frenzy, that he gave her a littleshake in his impatience. "You are trying to drive me mad, Lucilla!"cried the young man. "I have got no fever. It is only you who aredriving me out of my senses. This time you must hear me. I will not letyou go till you have given me an answer. I am called to the bar, and Ihave begun my Career," said Tom, making a pause for breath. "I knew youwould have laughed at me when I was depending on my mother; but now allthat is over, Lucilla. I have loved you as long as I can remember; and Ialways thought--that you--cared for me a little. If you will have me,there is nothing I could not do," said Tom, who thoroughly believed whathe was saying; "and if you will not have me, I will not answer for theconsequences. If I go off to India, or if I go to the bad----"
"Tom," said Lucilla solemnly, and this time she drew away her hands, "ifyou ever want to get married, I think the very best thing you can do isto go to India. As for marrying just now at your age, you know you mightas well jump into the sea. You need not be vexed," said MissMarjoribanks, in her motherly way. "I would not speak so if I was notyour best friend. As for marrying me, you know it is ridiculous. I havenot the least intention of marrying anybody. If I had thought of that, Ineed never have come home at all. As for your going to the bad, I am notafraid of that. If I were to let you carry on with such a ridiculousidea, I should never forgive myself. It would be just as sensible to gointo a lunatic asylum at once. It is very lucky for you that you saidthis to _me_," Lucilla went on, "and not to one of the girls that thinkit great fun to be married. And if I were you, Tom, I would go and packmy things. You know you are always too late; and don't jump on yourportmanteau and make such a dreadful noise if it won't shut, but ringthe bell for Thomas. You know we are to dine at half-past five to-day,to give you time for the train."
These were the last words Tom Marjoribanks heard as Lucilla left theroom. She ran up to the drawing-room without losing a minute, and burstin upon the vacant place where Mr Holden had stood so long waiting forher. To be sure, Miss Marjoribanks's forebodings were so far fulfilledthat the St Cecilia, which she meant to have over the piano, was hungquite in the other corner of the room, by reason of being just the samesize as another picture at the opposite angle, which the workmen,sternly symmetrical, thought it necessary to "match." But, after all,that was a trifling defect. She stood in the middle of the room, andsurveyed the walls, well pleased, with a heart which kept beating verysteadily in her bosom. On the whole, perhaps, she was not sorry to havehad it out with Tom. So far as he was personally concerned, MissMarjoribanks, being a physician's daughter, had great faith in the _vismedicatrix_, and was not afraid for her cousin's health or his morals,as a less experienced woman might have been. If she was angry withanybody, it was with herself, who had not taken sufficient precautionsto avoid the explanation. "But, after all, everything is for the best,"Lucilla said to herself, with that beautiful confidence which is commonto people who have things their own way; and she devoted her mind to theSt Cecilia, and paid no more attention to Tom. It was not till more thanan hour after that a succession of dreadful thumps was not only heardbut felt throughout the house. It was Tom, but he was not doing any harmto himself. He was not blowing out his brains or knocking his headagainst the wall. He was only jumping on his portmanteau,notwithstanding that Lucilla had warned him against such aproceeding--and in his state of mind the jumps were naturally morefrantic than usual. When Lucilla heard it, she rang the bell, and toldThomas to go and help Mr Tom with his packing; from which it will beseen that Miss Marjoribanks bore no grudge against her cousin but wasdisposed to send him forth in friendship and peace.