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

spread that report about her ‘ladyship,’ gladly

agreed to be the fourth.

 

As the reader will remember, the whole party from the Baths of Lucca

reached Florence only the day before the marriage, and Nora at the

station promised to go up to Caroline that same evening. ‘Mr Glascock

will tell me about the little boy,’ said Caroline; ‘but I shall be so

anxious to hear about your sister.’ So Nora crossed the bridge after

dinner, and went up to the American Minister’s palatial residence.

Caroline was then in the loggia, and Mr Glascock was with her; and for

a while they talked about Emily Trevelyan and her misfortunes. Mr

Glascock was clearly of opinion that Trevelyan would soon be either in

an asylum or in his grave. ‘I could not bring myself to tell your

sister so,’ he said; ‘but I think your father should be told or your

mother. Something should be done to put an end to that fearful

residence at Casalunga.’ Then by degrees the conversation changed

itself to Nora’s prospects; and Caroline, with her friend’s hand in

hers, asked after Hugh Stanbury.

 

‘You will not mind speaking before him will you?’ said Caroline,

putting her hand on her own lover’s arm.

 

‘Not unless he should mind it,’ said Nora, smiling.

 

She had meant nothing beyond a simple reply to her friend’s question,

but he took her words in a different sense, and blushed as he

remembered his visit to Nuncombe Putney.

 

‘He thinks almost more of your happiness than he does of mine,’ said

Caroline; ‘which isn’t fair, as I am sure that Mr Stanbury will not

reciprocate the attention. And now, dear, when are we to see you?’

 

‘Who on earth can say?’

 

‘I suppose Mr Stanbury would say something, only he is not here.’

 

‘And papa won’t send my letter,’ said Nora.

 

‘You are sure that you will not go out to the Islands with him?’

 

‘Quite sure,’ said Nora. ‘I have made up my mind so far as that.’

 

‘And what will your sister do?’

 

‘I think she will stay. I think she will say good-bye to papa and mamma

here in Florence.’

 

‘I am quite of opinion that she should not leave her husband alone in

Italy,’ said Mr Glascock.

 

‘She has not told us with certainty,’ said Nora; ‘but I feel sure that

she will stay. Papa thinks she ought to go with them to London.’

 

‘Your papa seems to have two very intractable daughters,’ said

Caroline.

 

‘As for me,’ declared Nora, solemnly, ‘nothing shall make me go back to

the Islands unless Mr Stanbury should tell me to do so.’

 

‘And they start at the end of July?’

 

‘On the last Saturday.’

 

‘And what will you do then, Nora?’

 

‘I believe there are casual wards that people go to.’

 

‘Casual wards!’ said Caroline.

 

‘Miss Rowley is condescending to poke her fun at you,’ said Mr

Glascock.

 

‘She is quite welcome, and shall poke as much as she likes; only we

must be serious now. If it be necessary, we will get back by the end of

July, won’t we, Charles?’

 

‘You will do nothing of the kind,’ said Nora. ‘What! give up your

honeymoon to provide me with board and lodgings! How can you suppose

that I am so selfish or so helpless? I would go to my aunt, Mrs

Outhouse.’

 

‘We know that that wouldn’t do,’ said Caroline. ‘You might as well be

in Italy as far as Mr Stanbury is concerned.’

 

‘If Miss Rowley would go to Monkhams, she might wait for us,’ suggested

Mr Glascock. ‘Old Mrs Richards is there; and though of course she would

be dull—’

 

‘It is quite unnecessary,’ said Nora. ‘I shall take a two-pair back in

a respectable feminine quarter, like any other young woman who wants

such accommodation, and shall wait there till my young man can come and

give me his arm to church. That is about the way we shall do it. I am

not going to give myself any airs, Mr Glascock, or make any

difficulties. Papa is always talking to me about chairs and tables and

frying-pans, and I shall practise to do with as few of them as

possible. As I am headstrong about having my young man, and I own that I

am headstrong about that, I guess I’ve got to fit myself for that sort

of life.’ And Nora, as she said this, pronounced her words with

something of a nasal twang, imitating certain countrywomen of her

friend’s.

 

‘I like to hear you joking about it, Nora; because your voice is so

cheery and you are so bright when you joke. But, nevertheless, one has

to be reasonable, and to look the facts in the face. I don’t see how

you are to be left in London alone, and you know that your aunt Mrs

Outhouse or at any rate your uncle would not receive you except on

receiving some strong anti-Stanbury pledge.’

 

‘I certainly shall not give an anti-Stanbury pledge.’

 

‘And, therefore, that is out of the question. You will have a fortnight

or three weeks in London, in all the bustle of their departure, and I

declare I think that at the last moment you will go with them.’

 

‘Never! unless he says so.’

 

‘I don’t see how you are even to meet “him,” and talk it over.’

 

‘I’ll manage that. My promise not to write lasts only while we are in

Italy.’

 

‘I think we had better get back to England, Charles, and take pity on

this poor destitute one.’

 

‘If you talk of such a thing I will swear that I will never go to

Monkhams. You will find that I shall manage it. It may be that I shall

do something very shocking so that all your patronage will hardly be

able to bring me round afterwards; but I will do something that will

serve my purpose. I have not gone so far as this to be turned back

now.’ Nora, as she spoke of having ‘gone so far,’ was looking at Mr

Glascock, who was seated in an easy armchair close to the girl whom he

was to make his wife on the morrow, and she was thinking, no doubt, of

the visit which he had made to Nuncombe Putney, and of the first

irretrievable step which she had taken when she told him that her love

was given to another. That had been her Rubicon. And though there had

been periods with her since the passing of it, in which she had felt

that she had crossed it in vain, that she had thrown away the splendid

security of the other bank without obtaining the perilous object of her

ambition, though there had been moments in which she had almost

regretted her own courage and noble action, still, having passed the

river, there was nothing for her but to go on to Rome. She was not

going to be stopped now by the want of a house in which to hide herself

for a few weeks. She was without money, except so much as her mother

might be able, almost surreptitiously, to give her. She was without

friends to help her except these who were now with her, whose

friendship had come to her in so singular a mariner, and whose power to

aid her at the present moment was cruelly curtailed by their own

circumstances. Nothing was settled as to her own marriage. In

consequence of the promise that had been extorted from her that she

should not correspond with Stanbury, she knew nothing of his present

wishes or intention. Her father was so offended by her firmness that he

would hardly speak to her. And it was evident to her that her mother,

though disposed to yield, was still in hopes that her daughter, in the

press and difficulty of the moment, would allow herself to be carried

away with the rest of the family to the other side of the world. She

knew all this, but she had made up her mind that she would not be

carried away. It was not very pleasant, the thought that she would be

obliged at last to ask her young man, as she called him, to provide for

her; but she would do that and trust herself altogether in his hands

sooner than be taken to the Antipodes. ‘I can be very resolute if I

please, my dear,’ she said, looking at Caroline. Mr Glascock almost

thought that she must have intended to address him.

 

They sat there discussing the matter for some time through the long,

cool, evening hours, but nothing could be settled further except that

Nora would write to her friend as soon as her affairs had begun to

shape themselves after her return to England. At last Caroline went

into the house, and for a few minutes Mr Glascock was alone with Nora.

He had remained, determining that the moment should come, but now that

it was there he was for awhile unable to say the words that he wished

to utter. At last he spoke. ‘Miss Rowley, Caroline is so eager to be

your friend.’

 

‘I know she is, and I do love her so dearly. But, without joke, Mr

Glascock, there will be as it were a great gulf between us.’

 

‘I do not know that there need be any gulf, great or little. But I did

not mean to allude to that. What I want to say is this. My feelings are

not a bit less warm or sincere than hers. You know of old that I am not

very good at expressing myself.’

 

‘I know nothing of the kind.’

 

‘There is no such gulf as what you speak of. All that is mostly gone

by, and a nobleman in England, though he has advantages as a gentleman,

is no more than a gentleman. But that has nothing to do with what I am

saying now. I shall never forget my journey to Devonshire. I won’t

pretend to say now that I regret its result.’

 

‘I am quite sure you don’t.’

 

‘No; I do not, though I thought then that I should regret it always. But

remember this, Miss Rowley that you can never ask me to do anything

that I will not, if possible, do for you. You are in some little

difficulty now—’

 

‘It will disappear, Mr Glascock. Difficulties always do.’

 

‘But we will do anything that we are wanted to do; and should a certain

event take place—’

 

‘It will take place some day.’

 

‘Then I hope that we may be able to make Mr Stanbury and his wife quite

at home at Monkhams.’ After that he took Nora’s hand and kissed it, and

at that moment Caroline came back to them.

 

‘Tomorrow, Mr Glascock,’ she said, ‘you will, I believe, be at liberty

to kiss everybody; but today you should be more discreet.’

 

It was generally admitted among the various legations in Florence that

there had not been such a wedding in the City of Flowers since it had

become the capital of Italia. Mr Glascock and Miss Spalding were

married in the chapel of the legation, a legation chapel on the ground

floor having been extemporised for the occasion. This greatly enhanced

the pleasantness of the thing, and saved the necessity of matrons and

bridesmaids packing themselves and their finery into close fusty

carriages. A portion of the guests attended in the chapel, and the

remainder, when the ceremony was over, were found strolling about the

shady garden. The whole affair of the breakfast was very splendid and

lasted some hours. In the midst of this