He Knew He Was Right - Anthony Trollope (rainbow fish read aloud txt) 📗
- Author: Anthony Trollope
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herself she had been very anxious not to disarrange that arrangement,
almost equally anxious not to seem to adhere to it with any special
purpose. She was very careful that there should be nothing seen in her
manner that was in any way special, but in the meantime she was
suffering an agony of trouble. He did not care for her in the least.
She was becoming sure of that. She had given all her love to a man who
had none to give her in return. As she thought of this she almost
longed for the offer of that which she knew she could not have accepted
had it been offered to her. But she talked on about the scenery, about
the weather, descanting on the pleasure of living where such loveliness
was within reach. Then there came a pause for a moment. ‘Nora’ said
Priscilla, ‘I do not know what you are thinking about, but it is not of
the beauty of Niddon Park. Then there came a faint sound as of an
hysterical sob, and then a gurgle in the throat, and then a pretence
at laughter.
‘I don’t believe I am thinking of anything at all’ said Nora.
After which Hugh insisted on descending to the bank of the river, but,
as the necessity of re-climbing the slope was quite manifest, none of
the girls would go with him. ‘Come, Miss Rowley’ said he, ‘will you not
show them that a lady can go up and down a hill as well as a man?’
‘I had rather not go up and down the hill’ said she.
Then he understood that she was angry with him; and in some sort
surmised the cause of her anger. Not that he believed that she loved
him; but it seemed possible to him that she resented the absence of his
attention. He went down, and scrambled out on the rocks into the bed of
the river, while the girls above looked down upon him, watching the
leaps that he made. Priscilla and Mrs Trevelyan called to him, bidding
him beware; but Nora called not at all. He was whistling as he made his
jumps, but still he heard their voices, and knew that he did not hear
Nora’s voice. He poised himself on the edge of a rock in the middle of
the stream, and looked up the river and down the river, turning himself
carefully on his narrow foothold; but he was thinking only of Nora.
Could there be anything nobler than to struggle on with her, if she
only would be willing? But then she was young; and should she yield to
such a request from him, she would not know what she was yielding. He
turned again, jumping from rock to rock till he reached the bank, and
then made his way again up to the withered oak.
‘You would not have repented it if you had come down with me’ he said
to Nora.
‘I am not so sure of that’ she answered.
When they started to return she stepped on gallantly with Priscilla;
but Priscilla was stopped by some chance, having some word to say to
her brother, having some other word to say to Mrs Trevelyan. Could it
be that her austerity had been softened, and that in kindness they
contrived that Nora should be left some yards behind them with her
brother? Whether it were kindness, or an unkind error, so it was. Nora,
when she perceived what destiny was doing for her, would not interfere
with destiny. If he chose to speak to her she would hear him and would
answer him. She knew very well what answer she would give him. She had
her answer quite ready at her fingers’ ends. There was no doubt about
her answer.
They had walked half a mile together and he had spoken of nothing but
the scenery. She had endeavoured to appear to be excited. Oh, yes, the
scenery of Devonshire was delightful. She hardly wanted anything more
to make her happy. If only this misery respecting her sister could
be set right!
‘And you, you yourself’ said he, ‘do you mean that there is nothing you
want in leaving London?’
‘Not much, indeed.’
‘It sometimes seemed to me that that kind of life was was very pleasant
to you.’
‘What kind of life, Mr Stanbury?’
‘The life that you were living—going out, being admired, and having the
rich and dainty all around you.’
‘I don’t dislike people because they are rich’ she said.
‘No; nor do I; and I despise those who affect to dislike them. But all
cannot be rich.’
‘Nor all dainty, as you choose to call them.’
‘But they who have once been dainty as I call them never like to divest
themselves of their daintiness. You have been one of the dainty, Miss
Rowley.’
‘Have I?’
‘Certainly; I doubt whether you would be happy if you thought that your
daintiness had departed from you.’
‘I hope, Mr Stanbury, that nothing nice and pleasant has departed from
me. If I have ever been dainty, dainty I hope. I may remain. I will
never, at, any rate, give it up of my own accord’. Why she said this,
she could never explain to herself. She had certainly not intended to
rebuff him when she had been saying it. But he spoke not a word to her
further as they walked home, either of her mode of life or of his own.
HUGH STANBURY SMOKES HIS PIPE
Nora Rowley, when she went to bed, after her walk to Niddon Park in
company with Hugh Stanbury, was full of wrath against, him. But she
could not own her anger to herself, nor could she even confess to
herself though she was breaking her heart that there really existed for
her the slightest cause of grief. But why had he been so stern to her?
Why had he gone out of his way to be uncivil to her? He had called her
‘dainty’ meaning to imply by the epithet that she was one of the
butterflies of the day, caring for nothing but sunshine, and an
opportunity of fluttering her silly wings. She had understood well what
he meant. Of course he was right to be cold to her if his heart was
cold, but he need not have insulted her by his ill-concealed rebukes.
Had he been kind to her, he might have rebuked her as much as he liked.
She quite appreciated the delightful intimacy of a loving word of
counsel from the man she loved—how nice it is, as it were, to play at
marriage, and to hear beforehand something of the pleasant weight of
gentle marital authority. But there had been nothing of that in his
manner to her. He had told her that she was dainty and had so told it
her, as she thought, that she might, learn thereby, that under no
circumstances would he have any other tale to tell her. If he had no
other tale, why had he not been silent? Did he think that she was
subject to his rebuke merely because she lived under his mother’s roof?
She would soon shew him that her residence at the Clock House gave him
no such authority over her. Then amidst her wrath and despair, she
cried herself asleep.
While she was sobbing in bed, he was sitting, with a short, black pipe
stuck into his mouth, on the corner of the churchyard wall opposite.
Before he had left the house he and Priscilla had spoken together for
some minutes about Mrs Trevelyan. ‘Of course she was wrong to see him’
said Priscilla. ‘I hesitate to wound her by so saying, because she has
been illused, though I did tell her so, when she asked me. She could
have lost nothing by declining his visit.’
‘The worst of it is that Trevelyan swears that he will never receive
her again if she received him.’
‘He must unswear it’ said Priscilla, ‘that is all. It is out of the
question that a man should take a girl from her home, and make her his
wife, and then throw her off for so little of an offence as this. She
might compel him by law to take her back’
‘What would she get by that?’
‘Little enough’ said Priscilla; ‘and it was little enough she got by
marrying him. She would have had bread, and meat, and raiment without
being married, I suppose.’
‘But it was a love-match.’
‘Yes and now she is at Nuncombe Putney, and he is roaming about in
London. He has to pay ever so much a year for his love-match, and she
is crushed into nothing by it. How long will she have to remain here,
Hugh?’
‘How can I say? I suppose there is no reason against her remaining as
far as you are concerned?’
‘For me personally, none. Were she much worse than I think she is, I
should not care in the least for myself, if I thought that we were
doing her good helping to bring her back. She can’t hurt me. I am so
fixed, and dry, and established that nothing anybody says will affect
me. But mamma doesn’t like it.’
‘What is it she dislikes?’
‘The idea that she is harbouring a married woman, of whom people say,
at least, that she has a lover.’
‘Is she to be turned out because people are slanderers?’
‘Why should mamma suffer because this woman, who is a stranger to her,
has been imprudent? If she were your wife, Hugh—’
‘God forbid!’
‘If we were in any way bound to her, of course we would do our duty.
But if it makes mamma unhappy I am sure you will not press it. I think
Mrs Merton has spoken to her. And then Aunt Stanbury has written such
letters!’
‘Who cares for Aunt Jemima?’
‘Everybody cares for her except you and I. And now this man who has
been here asking the servant questions has upset her greatly. Even
your coming has done so, knowing, as she does, that you have come, not
to see us, but to make inquiries about Mrs Trevelyan. She is so annoyed
by it, that she does not sleep.
‘Do you wish her to be taken away at once?’ asked Hugh almost in an
angry tone.
‘Certainly not. That would be impossible. We have agreed to take her,
and must bear with it. And I would not have her moved from this, if I
thought that if she stayed awhile it might be arranged that she might
return from us direct to her husband.’
‘I shall try that, of course now.’
‘But if he will not have her, if he be so obstinate, so foolish, and so
wicked, do not leave her here longer than you can help. Then Hugh
explained that Sir Marmaduke and Lady Rowley were to be in England in
the spring, and that it would be very desirable that the poor woman
should not be sent abroad to look for a home before that. ‘If it must
be so, it must’ said Priscilla. ‘But eight months is a long time.’
Hugh went out to smoke his pipe on the church-wall in a moody, unhappy
state of mind. He had hoped to have done so well in regard to Mrs
Trevelyan. Till he had met Colonel Osborne, he felt sure, almost sure,
that she would have refused to see that pernicious trouble of the peace
of families. In this he found that he had been disappointed; but he
had
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