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

Spaldings had

removed from Florence to the Baths of Lucca. Mr Glascock had followed

in their wake, and the whole party were living at the Baths in one of

those hotels in which so many English and Americans are wont to

congregate in the early weeks of the Italian summer. The marriage was

to take place in the last week of the month; and all the party were to

return to Florence for the occasion with the exception of Sir Marmaduke

and Mrs Trevelyan. She was altogether unfitted for wedding joys, and

her father had promised to bear her company when the others left her.

Mr Glascock and Caroline Spalding were to be married in Florence, and

were to depart immediately from thence for some of the cooler parts of

Switzerland. After that Sir Marmaduke and Lady Rowley were to return to

London with their daughters, preparatory to that dreary journey back to

the Mandarins; and they had not even yet resolved what they had better

do respecting that unfortunate man who was living in seclusion on the

hilltop near Siena. They had consulted lawyers and doctors in Florence,

but it had seemed that everybody there was afraid of putting the law in

force against an Englishman. Doubtless there was a law in respect to

the custody of the insane; and it was admitted that if Trevelyan were

dangerously mad something could be done; but it seemed that nobody was

willing to stir in such a case as that which now existed. Something, it

was said, might be done at some future time; but the difficulties were

so great that nothing could be done now.

 

It was very sad, because it was necessary that some decision should be

made as to the future residence of Mrs Trevelyan and of Nora. Emily had

declared that nothing should induce her to go to the Islands with her

father and mother unless her boy went with her. Since her journey to

Casalunga she had also expressed her unwillingness to leave her

husband. Her heart had been greatly softened towards him, and she had

declared that where he remained, there would she remain as near to him

as circumstances would admit. It might be that at last her care would

be necessary for his comfort. He supplied her with means of living, and

she would use these means as well as she might be able in his service.

 

Then there had arisen the question of Nora’s future residence. And

there had come troubles and storms in the family. Nora had said that

she would not go back to the Mandarins, but had not at first been able

to say where or how she would live. She had suggested that she might

stay with her sister, but her father had insisted that she could not

live on the income supplied by Trevelyan. Then, when pressed hard, she

had declared that she intended to live on Hugh Stanbury’s income. She

would marry him at once with her father’s leave, if she could get it,

but without it if it needs must be so. Her mother told her that Hugh

Stanbury was not himself ready for her; he had not even proposed so

hasty a marriage, nor had he any home fitted for her. Lady Rowley, in

arguing this, had expressed no assent to the marriage, even as a

distant arrangement, but had thought thus to vanquish her daughter by

suggesting small but insuperable difficulties. On a sudden, however,

Lady Rowley found that all this was turned against her, by an offer

that came direct from Mr Glascock. His Caroline, he said, was very

anxious that Nora should come to them at Monkhams as soon as they had

returned home from Switzerland. They intended to be there by the middle

of August, and would hurry there sooner, if there was any immediate

difficulty about finding a home for Nora. Mr Glascock said nothing

about Hugh Stanbury; but, of course, Lady Rowley understood that Nora

had told all her troubles and hopes to Caroline, and that Caroline had

told them to her future husband. Lady Rowley, in answer to this, could

only say that she would consult her husband.

 

There was something very grievous in the proposition to Lady Rowley. If

Nora had not been self-willed and stiff-necked beyond the usual

self-willedness and stiff-neckedness of young women she might have been

herself the mistress of Monkhams. It was proposed now that she should

go there to wait till a poor man should have got together shillings

enough to buy a few chairs and tables, and a bed to lie upon! The

thought of this was very bitter. ‘I cannot think, Nora, how you could

have the heart to go there,’ said Lady Rowley.

 

‘I cannot understand why not, mamma. Caroline and I are friends, and

surely he and I need not be enemies. He has never injured me; and if he

does not take offence, why should I?’

 

‘If you don’t see it, I can’t help it,’ said Lady Rowley.

 

And then Mrs Spalding’s triumph was terrible to Lady Rowley. Mrs

Spalding knew nothing of her future son-in-law’s former passion, and

spoke of her Caroline as having achieved triumphs beyond the reach of

other girls. Lady Rowley bore it, never absolutely telling the tale of

her daughter’s fruitless victory. She was too good at heart to utter

the boast but it was very hard to repress it. Upon the whole she would

have preferred that Mr Glascock and his bride should not have become

the fast friends of herself and her family. There was more of pain than

of pleasure in the alliance. But circumstances had been too strong for

her. Mr Glascock had been of great use in reference to Trevelyan, and

Caroline and Nora had become attached to each other almost on their

first acquaintance. Here they were together at the Baths of Lucca, and

Nora was to be one of the four bridesmaids. When Sir Marmaduke was

consulted about this visit to Monkhams, he became fretful, and would

give no answer. The marriage, he said, was impossible, and Nora was a

fool. He could give her no allowance more than would suffice for her

clothes, and it was madness for her to think of stopping in England.

But he was so full of cares that he could come to no absolute decision

on this matter. Nora, however, had come to a very absolute decision.

 

‘Caroline,’ she said, ‘if you will have me, I will go to Monkhams.’

 

‘Of course we will have you. Has not Charles said how delighted he

would be?’

 

‘Oh yes, your Charles,’ said Nora laughing.

 

‘He is mine now, dear. You must not expect him to change his mind

again. I gave him the chance, you know, and he would not take it. But,

Nora, come to Monkhams, and stay as long as it suits. I have talked it

all over with him, and we both agree that you shall have a home there.

You shall be just like a sister. Olivia is coming too after a bit; but

he says there is room for a dozen sisters. Of course it will be all

right with Mr Stanbury after a while.’ And so it was settled among them

that Nora Rowley should find a home at Monkhams, if a home in England

should be wanted for her.

 

It wanted but four days to that fixed for the marriage at Florence, and

but six to that on which the Rowleys were to leave Italy for England,

when Mr Glascock received Trevelyan’s letter. It was brought to him as

he was sitting at a late breakfast in the garden of the hotel; and

there were present at the moment not only all the Spalding family, but

the Rowleys also. Sir Marmaduke was there and Lady Rowley, and the

three unmarried daughters; but Mrs Trevelyan, as was her wont, had

remained alone in her own room. Mr Glascock read the letter, and read

it again, without attracting much attention. Caroline, who was of

course sitting next to him, had her eyes upon him, and could see that

the letter moved him; but she was not curious, and at any rate asked no

question. He himself understood fully how great was the offer made, how

all-important to the happiness of the poor mother, and he was also

aware, or thought that he was aware, how likely it might be that the

offer would be retracted. As regarded himself, a journey from the Baths

at Lucca to Casalunga and back before his marriage, would be a great

infliction on his patience. It was his plan to stay where he was till

the day before his marriage, and then to return to Florence with the

rest of the party. All this must be altered, and sudden changes must be

made, if he decided on going to Siena himself. The weather now was very

hot, and such a journey would be most disagreeable to him. Of course he

had little schemes in his head, little amatory schemes for prenuptial

enjoyment, which, in spite of his mature years, were exceedingly

agreeable to him. The chestnut woods round the Baths of Lucca are very

pleasant in the early summer, and there were excursions planned in

which Caroline would be close by his side, almost already his wife. But,

if he did not go, whom could he send? It would be necessary at least

that he should consult her, the mother of the child, before any

decision was formed.

 

At last he took Lady Rowley aside, and read to her the letter. She

understood at once that it opened almost a heaven of bliss to her

daughter, and she understood also how probable it might be that wretched

man, with his shaken wits, should change his mind. ‘I think I ought to

go,’ said Mr Glascock. ‘But how can you go now?’

 

‘I can go,’ said he. ‘There is time for it. It need not put off my

marriage, to which of course I could not consent. I do not know whom I

could send.’

 

‘Moonier could go,’ said Lady Rowley, naming the courier.

 

‘Yes he could go. But it might be that he would return without the

child, and then we should not forgive ourselves. I will go, Lady

Rowley. After all, what does it signify? I am a little old, I sometimes

think, for this philandering. You shall take his letter to your

daughter, and I will explain it all to Caroline.’

 

Caroline had not a word to say. She could only kiss him, and promise to

make him what amends she could when he came back. ‘Of course you are

right,’ she said. ‘Do you think that I would say a word against it,

even though the marriage were to be postponed?’

 

‘I should—a good many words. But I will be back in time for that, and

will bring the boy with me.’

 

Mrs Trevelyan, when her husband’s letter was read to her, was almost

overcome by the feelings which it excited. In her first paroxysm of joy

she declared that she would herself go to Siena, not for her child’s

sake, but for that of her husband. She felt at once that the boy was

being given up because of the father’s weakness, because he felt himself

to be unable to be a protector to his son, and her woman’s heart was

melted with softness as she thought of the condition of the man to whom

she had once given her whole heart. Since then, doubtless, her heart

had revolted from him. Since that time there had come hours in which

she had almost hated him for his cruelty to her. There had been moments

in which she had almost cursed his name because of the aspersion which

it