He Knew He Was Right - Anthony Trollope (rainbow fish read aloud txt) 📗

had been shown upstairs all the four daughters had been with

their mother; but he had said a word or two signifying his desire to

speak to Lady Rowley, and the three girls had left the room. In this

way it came to pass that he had to plead his cause before Nora’s mother

and her elder sister. He had pleaded it well, and Lady Rowley’s heart

had been well disposed towards him; but when she asked of his house and

his home, his answer had been hardy more satisfactory than that of

Alan-a-Dale. There was little that he could call his own beyond ‘The

blue vault of heaven.’ Had he saved any money? No, not a shilling—that

was to say, as he himself expressed it, nothing that could be called

money. He had a few pounds by him, just to go on with. What was his

income? Well last year he had made four hundred pounds, and this year

he hoped to make something more. He thought he could see his way

plainly to five hundred a year. Was it permanent; and if not, on what

did it depend? He believed it to be as permanent as most other

professional incomes, but was obliged to confess that, as regarded the

source from whence it was drawn at the present moment, it might be

brought to an abrupt end any day by a disagreement between himself and

the editor of the D. R. Did he think that this was fixed income? He did

think that if he and the editor of the D. R. were to fall out, he could

come across other editors who would gladly employ him. Would he himself

feel safe in giving his own sister to a man with such an income? In

answer to this question, he started some rather bold doctrines on the

subject of matrimony in general, asserting that safety was not

desirable, that energy, patience, and mutual confidence would be

increased by the excitement of risk, and that in his opinion it behoved

young men and young women to come together and get themselves married,

even though there might be some not remote danger of distress before

them. He admitted that starvation would be disagreeable, especially for

children, in the eyes of their parents, but alleged that children as a

rule were not starved, and quoted the Scripture to prove that honest

laborious men were not to be seen begging their bread in the streets.

He was very eloquent, but his eloquence itself was against him. Both

Lady Rowley and Mrs Trevelyan were afraid of such advanced opinions;

and, although everything was of course to be left, nominally, to the

decision of Sir Marmaduke, they both declared that they could not

recommend Sir Marmaduke to consent. Lady Rowley said a word as to the

expediency of taking Nora back with her to the Mandarins, pointing out

what appeared to her then to be the necessity of taking Mrs Trevelyan

with them also; and in saying this she hinted that if Nora were

disposed to stand by her engagement, and Mr Stanbury equally so

disposed, there might be some possibility of a marriage at a future

period. Only, in such case, there must be no correspondence. In answer

to this Hugh declared that he regarded such a scheme as being

altogether bad. The Mandarins were so very far distant that he might as

well be engaged to an angel in heaven. Nora, if she were to go away

now, would perhaps never come back again; and if she did come back,

would be an old woman, with hollow cheeks. In replying to this

proposition, he let fall an opinion that Nora was old enough to judge

for herself. He said nothing about her actual age, and did not venture

to plead that the young lady had a legal right to do as she liked with

herself; but he made it manifest that such an idea was in his mind. In

answer to this, Lady Rowley asserted that Nora was a good girl, and

would do as her father told her; but she did not venture to assert that

Nora would give up her engagement. Lady Rowley at last undertook to

speak to Sir Rowley, and to speak also to her daughter. Hugh was asked

for his address, and gave that of the office of the D. R. He was always

to be found there between three and five; and after that, four times a

week, in the reporters’ gallery of the House of Commons. Then he was at

some pains to explain to Lady Rowley that though he attended the

reporters’ gallery, he did not report himself. It was his duty to

write leading political articles, and, to enable him to do so, he

attended the debates.

 

Before he went Mrs Trevelyan thanked him most cordially for the trouble

he had taken in procuring for her the address at Willesden, and gave

him some account of the journey which she and her mother had made to

River’s Cottage. He argued with both of them that the unfortunate man

must now be regarded as being altogether out of his mind, and something

was said as to the great wisdom and experience of Dr Trite Turbury.

Then Hugh Stanbury took his leave; and even Lady Rowley bade him adieu

with kind cordiality. ‘I don’t wonder, mamma, that Nora should like

him,’ said Mrs Trevelyan.

 

‘That is all very well, my dear, and no doubt he is pleasant, and

manly, and all that; but really it would be almost like marrying a

beggar.’

 

‘For myself,’ said Mrs Trevelyan, ‘if I could begin life again, I do

not think that any temptation would induce me to place myself in a

man’s power.’

 

Sir Marmaduke was told of all this on his return home, and he asked

many questions as to the nature of Stanbury’s work. When it was

explained to him, Lady Rowley repeating as nearly as she could all that

Hugh had himself said about it, he expressed his opinion that writing

for a penny newspaper was hardly more safe as a source of income than

betting on horse races. ‘I don’t see that it is wrong,’ said Mrs

Trevelyan.

 

‘I say nothing about wrong. I simply assert that it is uncertain. The

very existence of such a periodical must in itself be most insecure.’

Sir Marmaduke, amidst the cares of his government at the Mandarins,

had, perhaps, had no better opportunity of watching what was going on

in the world of letters than had fallen to the lot of Miss Stanbury at

Exeter.

 

‘I think your papa is right,’ said Lady Rowley.

 

‘Of course I am right. It is out of the question; and so Nora must be

told.’ He had as yet heard nothing about Mr Glascock. Had that

misfortune been communicated to him his cup would indeed have been

filled with sorrow to overflowing.

 

In the evening Nora was closeted with her father. ‘Nora, my dear, you

must understand, once and for all, that this cannot be,’ said Sir

Marmaduke. The Governor, when he was not disturbed by outward

circumstances, could assume a good deal of personal dignity, and could

speak, especially to his children, with an air of indisputable

authority.

 

‘What can’t be, papa?’ said Nora.

 

Sir Marmaduke perceived at once that there was no indication of

obedience in his daughter’s voice, and he prepared himself for battle.

He conceived himself to be very strong, and thought that his objections

were so well founded that no one would deny their truth and that his

daughter had not a leg to stand on. ‘This, that your mamma tells me of

about Mr Stanbury. Do you know, my dear, that he has not a shilling in

the world?’

 

‘I know that he has no fortune, papa if you mean that.’

 

‘And no profession either—nothing that can be called a profession. I do

not wish to argue it, my dear, because there is no room for argument.

The whole thing is preposterous. I cannot but think ill of him for

having proposed it to you; for he must have known, must have known, that

a young man without an income cannot be accepted as a fitting suitor

for a gentleman’s daughter. As for yourself, I can only hope that you

will get the little idea out of your head very quickly; but mamma will

speak to you about that. What I want you to understand from me is this,

that there must be an end to it.’

 

Nora listened to this speech in perfect silence, standing before her

father, and waiting patiently till the last word of it should be

pronounced. Even when he had finished she still paused before she

answered him. ‘Papa,’ she said at last and hesitated again before she

went on.

 

‘Well, my dear.’

 

‘I can not give it up.’

 

‘But you must give it up.’

 

‘No, papa. I would do anything I could for you and mamma, but that is

impossible.’

 

‘Why is it impossible?’

 

‘Because I love him so dearly.’

 

‘That is nonsense. That is what all girls say when they choose to run

against their parents. I tell you that it shall be given up. I will not

have him here. I forbid you to see him. It is quite out of the question

that you should marry such a man. I do hope, Nora, that you are not

going to add to mamma’s difficulties and mine by being obstinate and

disobedient.’ He paused a moment, and then added, ‘I do not think that

there is anything more to be said.’

 

‘Papa.’

 

‘My dear, I think you had better say nothing further about it. If you

cannot bring yourself at the present moment to promise that there shall

be an end of it, you had better hold your tongue. You have heard what I

say, and you have heard what mamma says. I do not for a moment suppose

that you dream of carrying on a communication with this gentleman in

opposition to our wishes.’

 

‘But I do.’

 

‘Do what?’

 

‘Papa, you had better listen to me.’ Sir Marmaduke, when he heard this,

assumed an air of increased authority, in which he intended that

paternal anger should be visible; but he seated himself, and prepared

to receive, at any rate, some of the arguments with which Nora intended

to bolster up her bad cause. ‘I have promised Mr Stanbury that I will

be his wife.’

 

‘That is all nonsense.’

 

‘Do listen to me, papa. I have listened to you and you ought to listen

to me. I have promised him, and I must keep my promise. I shall keep

my promise if he wishes it. There is a time when a girl must be

supposed to know what is best for herself, just as there is for a man.’

 

‘I never heard such stuff in all my life. Do you mean that you’ll go

out and marry him like a beggar, with nothing but what you stand up in,

with no friend to be with you, an outcast, thrown off by your mother

with your father’s curse?’

 

‘Oh, papa, do not say that. You would not curse me. You could not.’

 

‘If you do it at all, that will be the way.’

 

‘That will not be the way, papa. You could not treat me like that.’

 

‘And how are you proposing to treat me?’

 

‘But, papa, in whatever way I do it, I must do it. I do not say today

or tomorrow; but it must be the intention and purpose of my life, and I

must declare that it is, everywhere. I have made up my mind about it. I

am engaged to him,