‘“I had no idea things were far enough advanced for you to be purchasing a work-table, Mr Harrison.”
‘I laughed off my awkwardness.
‘“Did not you, Miss Horsman? You are very much behindhand. You have not heard of my piano, then?”
‘“No, indeed,” she said, half uncertain whether I was serious or not. “Then it seems there is nothing wanting but the lady.”
‘“Perhaps she may not be wanting either,” said I, for I wished to perplex her keen curiosity.
Chapter XVI
‘WHEN I GOT home from my round, I found Mrs Rose in some sorrow.
‘“Miss Horsman called after you left,” said she. “Have you heard how John Brouncker is at Highport?”
‘“Very well,” replied I. “I called on his wife just now, and she had just got a letter from him. She had been anxious about him, for she had not heard for a week. However, all’s right now; and she has pretty well of work at Mrs Munton’s, as her servant is ill. Oh, they’ll do, never fear.”
‘“At Mrs Munton’s? Oh, that accounts for it, then. She is so deaf, and makes such blunders.”
‘“Accounts for what?” asked I.
‘“Oh, perhaps I had better not tell you,” hesitated Mrs Rose.
‘“Yes, tell me at once. I beg your pardon, but I hate mysteries.”
‘“You are so like my poor dear Mr Rose. He used to speak to me just in that sharp, cross way. It is only that Miss Horsman called. She had been making a collection for John Brouncker’s widow, and –’
‘“But the man’s alive!” said I.
‘“So it seems. But Mrs Munton had told her that he was dead. And she has got Mr Morgan’s name down at the head of the list, and Mr Bullock’s.”
‘Mr Morgan and I had got into a short, cool way of speaking to each other ever since we had differed so much about the treatment of Brouncker’s arm; and I had heard once or twice of his shakes of the head over John’s case. He would not have spoken against my method for the world, and fancied that he concealed his fears.
‘“Miss Horsman is very ill-natured, I think,” sighed forth Mrs Rose.
‘I saw that something had been said of which I had not heard, for the mere fact of collecting money for the widow was good-natured, whoever did it; so I asked, quietly, what she had said.
‘“Oh, I don’t know if I should tell you. I only know she made me cry; for I’m not well, and I can’t bear to hear any one that I live with abused.”
‘Come! this was pretty plain.
‘“What did Miss Horsman say of me?” asked I, half laughing, for I knew there was no love lost between us.
‘“Oh, she only said she wondered you could go to sales, and spend your money there, when your ignorance had made Jane Brouncker a widow, and her children fatherless.”
‘“Pooh! pooh! John’s alive, and likely to live as long as you or I, thanks to you, Mrs Rose.”
‘When my work-table came home, Mrs Rose was so struck with its beauty and completeness, and I was so much obliged to her for her identification of my interests with hers, and the kindness of her whole conduct about John, that I begged her to accept of it. She seemed very much pleased; and, after a few apologies, she consented to take it, and placed it in the most conspicuous part of the front parlour, where she usually sat. There was a good deal of morning calling in Duncombe after the sale, and during this time the fact of John being alive was established to the conviction of all except Miss Horsman, who, I believe, still doubted. I myself told Mr Morgan, who immediately went to reclaim his money; saying to me, that he was thankful of the information; he was truly glad to hear it; and he shook me warmly by the hand for the first time for a month.
Chapter XVII
‘A FEW DAYS after the sale, I was in the consulting-room. The servant must have left the folding-doors a little ajar, I think. Mrs Munton came to call on Mrs Rose; and the former being deaf, I heard all the speeches of the latter lady, as she was obliged to speak very loud in order to be heard. She began:
‘“This is a great pleasure, Mrs Munton, so seldom as you are well enough to go out.”
‘Mumble, mumble, mumble, through the door.
‘“Oh, very well, thank you. Take this seat, and then you can admire my new work-table, ma’am; a present from Mr Harrison.”
‘Mumble, mumble.
‘“Who could have told you, ma’am? Miss Horsman? Oh, yes, I showed it Miss Horsman.”
‘Mumble, mumble.
‘“I don’t quite understand you, ma’am.”
‘Mumble, mumble.
‘“I am not blushing, I believe. I really am quite in the dark as to what you mean.”
‘Mumble, mumble.
‘“Oh, yes, Mr Harrison and I are most comfortable together. He reminds me so of my dear Mr Rose – just as fidgety and anxious in his profession.”
‘Mumble, mumble.
‘“I’m sure you are joking now, ma’am.” Then I heard a pretty loud –
‘“Oh, no;” mumble, mumble, mumble, for a long time.
‘“Did he really? Well, I’m sure I don’t know. I should be sorry to think he was doomed to be unfortunate in so serious an affair; but you know my undying regard for the late Mr Rose.”
‘Another long mumble.
‘“You’re very kind, I’m sure. Mr Rose always thought more of my happiness than his own” – a little crying – “but the turtle-dove has always been my ideal, ma’am.”
‘Mumble, mumble.
‘“No one could have been happier than I. As you say, it is a compliment to matrimony.”
‘Mumble.
‘“Oh, but you must not repeat such a thing. Mr Harrison would not like it. He can’t bear to have his affairs spoken about.”
‘Then there was a change of subject; an inquiry after some poor person, I imagine. I heard Mrs Rose say –
‘“She has got a mucous membrane, I’m afraid, ma’am.”
‘A commiserating mumble.
‘“Not always fatal. I believe Mr Rose knew some cases that lived for years after it was discovered that they had a mucous membrane.” A pause. Then Mrs Rose spoke in a different tone.
‘“Are you sure, ma’am, there is no mistake about what he said?”
‘Mumble.
‘“Pray don’t be so observant, Mrs Munton; you find out too much. One can have no little secrets.”
‘The call broke up; and I heard Mrs Munton say in the passage, “I wish you joy, ma’am, with all my heart. There’s no use denying it; for I’ve seen all along what would happen.”
‘When I went in to dinner, I said to Mrs Rose –
‘“You’ve had Mrs Munton here, I think. Did she bring any news?” To my surprise, she bridled and simpered, and replied, “Oh, you must not ask, Mr Harrison: such foolish reports.”
‘I did not ask, as she seemed to wish me not, and I knew there were silly reports always about. Then I think she was vexed that I did not ask. Altogether she went on so strangely that I could not help looking at her; and then she took up a hand-screen, and held it between me and her. I really felt rather anxious.
‘“Are you not feeling well?” said I, innocently.
‘“Oh, thank you, I believe I’m quite well; only the room is rather warm, is it not?”
‘“Let me put the blinds down for you? the sun begins to have a good deal of power.” I drew down the blinds.
‘“You are so attentive, Mr Harrison. Mr Rose himself never did more for my little wishes than you do.”
‘“I wish I could do more – I wish I could show you how much I feel –” her kindness to John Brouncker, I was going to say; but I was just then called out to a patient. Before I went I turned back, and said –
‘“Take care of yourself, my dear Mrs Rose; you had better rest a little.”
‘“For your sake, I will,” said she, tenderly.
‘I did not care for whose sake she did it. Only I really thought she was not quite well, and required rest. I thought she wa
s more affected than usual at tea-time; and could have been angry with her nonsensical ways once or twice, but that I knew the real goodness of her heart. She said she wished she had the power to sweeten my life as she could my tea. I told her what a comfort she had been during my late time of anxiety, and then I stole out to try if I could hear the evening singing at the vicarage, by standing close to the garden-wall.
Chapter XVIII
‘THE NEXT MORNING I met Mr Bullock by appointment, to talk a little about the legacy which was paid into his hands. As I was leaving his office, feeling full of my riches, I met Miss Horsman. She smiled rather grimly, and said:
‘“Oh! Mr Harrison, I must congratulate you, I believe. I don’t know whether I ought to have known, but as I do, I must wish you joy. A very nice little sum, too. I always said you would have money.”
‘So she had found out my legacy, had she? Well, it was no secret, and one likes the reputation of being a person of property. Accordingly I smiled, and said I was much obliged to her, and if I could alter the figures to my liking, she might congratulate me still more.
‘She said, “Oh, Mr Harrison, you can’t have everything. It would be better the other way, certainly. Money is the great thing, as you’ve found out. The relation died most opportunely, I must say.”
‘“He was no relative,” said I; “only an intimate friend.”
‘“Dear-ah-me! I thought it had been a brother! Well, at any rate, the legacy is safe.”
‘I wished her good morning, and passed on. Before long I was sent for to Miss Tomkinson’s.
‘Miss Tomkinson sat in severe state to receive me. I went in with an air of ease, because I always felt so uncomfortable.
‘“Is this true that I hear?” asked she, in an inquisitorial manner.
‘I thought she alluded to my five hundred pounds; so I smiled, and said that I believed it was.
‘“Can money be so great an object with you, Mr Harrison?” she asked again.
‘I said I had never cared much for money, except as an assistance to any plan of settling in life; and then, as I did not like her severe way of treating the subject, I said that I hoped every one was well; though of course I expected some one was ill, or I should not have been sent for.
‘Miss Tomkinson looked very grave and sad. Then she answered: “Caroline is very poorly – the old palpitations at the heart; but of course that is nothing to you.”
‘I said I was very sorry. She had a weakness there, I knew. Could I see her? I might be able to order something for her.
‘I thought I heard Miss Tomkinson say something in a low voice about my being a heartless deceiver. Then she spoke up. “I was always distrustful of you, Mr Harrison. I never liked your looks. I begged Caroline again and again not to confide in you. I foresaw how it would end. And now I fear her precious life will be a sacrifice.”
‘I begged her not to distress herself, for in all probability there was very little the matter with her sister. Might I see her?
‘“No!” she said, shortly, standing up as if to dismiss me. “There has been too much of this seeing and calling. By my consent, you shall never see her again.”
‘I bowed. I was annoyed, of course. Such a dismissal might injure my practice just when I was most anxious to increase it.
‘“Have you no apology, no excuse to offer?”
‘I said I had done my best; I did not feel that there was any reason to offer an apology. I wished her good morning. Suddenly she came forwards.
‘“Oh, Mr Harrison,” said she, “if you have really loved Caroline, do not let a little paltry money make you desert her for another.”
‘I was struck dumb. Loved Miss Caroline! I loved Miss Tomkinson a great deal better, and yet I disliked her. She went on:
‘“I have saved nearly three thousand pounds. If you think you are too poor to marry without money, I will give it all to Caroline. I am strong, and can go on working: but she is weak, and this disappointment will kill her.” She sat down suddenly, and covered her face with her hands. Then she looked up.
‘“You are unwilling, I see. Don’t suppose I would have urged you if it had been for myself; but she has had so much sorrow.” And now she fairly cried aloud. I tried to explain; but she would not listen, but kept saying, “Leave the house, sir! leave the house!” But I would be heard.
‘“I have never had any feeling warmer than respect for Miss Caroline, and I have never shown any different feeling. I never for an instant thought of making her my wife, and she has had no cause in my behaviour to imagine I entertained any such intention.”
‘“This is adding insult to injury,” said she. “Leave the house, sir, this instant!”
Chapter XIX
‘I WENT, AND sadly enough. In a small town such an occurrence is sure to be talked about, and to make a great deal of mischief. When I went home to dinner I was so full of it, and foresaw so clearly that I should need some advocate soon to set the case in its right light, that I determined on making a confidante of good Mrs Rose. I could not eat. She watched me tenderly, and sighed when she saw my want of appetite.
‘“I am sure you have something on your mind, Mr Harrison. Would it be – would it not be – a relief to impart it to some sympathising friend?”
‘It was just what I wanted to do.
‘“My dear kind Mrs Rose,” said I, “I must tell you, if you will listen.”
‘She took up the fire-screen, and held it, as yesterday, between me and her.
‘“The most unfortunate misunderstanding has taken place. Miss Tomkinson thinks that I have been paying attentions to Miss Caroline; when, in fact – may I tell you, Mrs Rose? – my affections are placed elsewhere. Perhaps you have found it out already?” for indeed I thought I had been too much in love to conceal my attachment to Sophy from any one who knew my movements as well as Mrs Rose.
‘She hung down her head, and said she believed she had found out my secret.
‘“Then only think how miserably I am situated. If I have any hope – oh, Mrs Rose, do you think I have any hope? –”
‘She put the hand-screen still more before her face, and after some hesitation she said she thought “If I persevered – in time – I might have hope.” And then she suddenly got up, and left the room.
Chapter XX
‘THAT AFTERNOON I met Mr Bullock in the street. My mind was so full of the affair with Miss Tomkinson that I should have passed him without notice, if he had not stopped me short, and said that he must speak to me; about my wonderful five hundred pounds, I supposed. But I did not care for that now.
‘“What’s this I hear,” said he, severely, “about your engagement with Mrs Rose?”
‘“With Mrs Rose!” said I, almost laughing, although my heart was heavy enough.
‘“Yes! with Mrs Rose!” said he, sternly.
‘“I am not engaged to Mrs Rose,” I replied. “There is some mistake.”
‘“I’m glad to hear it, sir,” he answered, “very glad. It requires some explanation, however. Mrs Rose has been congratulated, and has acknowledged the truth of the report. It is confirmed by many facts. The work-table you bought, confessing your intention of giving it to your future wife, is given to her. How do you account for these things, sir?”
‘I said I did not pretend to account for them. At present, a good deal was inexplicable; and when I could give an explanation, I did not think that I should feel myself called upon to give it to him.
‘“Very well, sir; very well,” replied he, growing very red. “I shall take care, and let Mr Morgan know the opinion I entertain of you. What do you think that man deserves to be called who enters a family under the plea of friendship, and takes advantage of his intimacy to win the affections of the daughter, and then engages himself to another woman?”
‘I thought he referred to Miss Caroline. I simply said I could only say that I was not engaged; and that Miss Tomkinson had been quite mistaken in supposing I had been paying any attentions to her sister bey
ond those dictated by mere civility.
‘“Miss Tomkinson! Miss Caroline! I don’t understand to what you refer. Is there another victim to your perfidy? What I allude to are the attentions you have paid to my daughter, Miss Bullock.”
‘Another! I could but disclaim, as I had done in the case of Miss Caroline; but I began to be in despair. Would Miss Horsman, too, come forward as a victim to my tender affections? It was all Mr Morgan’s doing, who had lectured me into this tenderly deferential manner. But on the score of Miss Bullock, I was brave in my innocence. I had positively disliked her; and so I told her father, though in more civil and measured terms, adding that I was sure the feeling was reciprocal.
‘He looked as if he would like to horsewhip me. I longed to call him out.
‘“I hope my daughter has had sense enough to despise you; I hope she has, that’s all. I trust my wife may be mistaken as to her feelings.”
‘So, he had heard all through the medium of his wife. That explained something, and rather calmed me. I begged he would ask Miss Bullock if she had ever thought I had any ulterior object in my intercourse with her, beyond mere friendliness (and not so much of that, I might have added). I would refer it to her.
‘“Girls,” said Mr Bullock, a little more quietly, “do not like to acknowledge that they have been deceived and disappointed. I consider my wife’s testimony as likely to be nearer the truth than my daughter’s, for that reason. And she tells me she never doubted but that, if not absolutely engaged, you understood each other perfectly. She is sure Jemima is deeply wounded by your engagement to Mrs Rose.”
‘“Once for all, I am not engaged to anybody. Till you have seen your daughter, and learnt the truth from her, I will wish you farewell.”
‘I bowed in a stiff, haughty manner, and walked off homewards. But when I got to my own door, I remembered Mrs Rose, and all that Mr Bullock had said about her acknowledging the truth of the report of my engagement to her. Where could I go to be safe? Mrs Rose, Miss Bullock, Miss Caroline – they lived as it were at the three points of an equilateral triangle; here was I in the centre. I would go to Mr Morgan’s, and drink tea with him. There, at any rate, I was secure from any one wanting to marry me; and I might be as professionally bland as I liked, without being misunderstood. But there, too, a contretemps awaited me.