Man and Wife - Wilkie Collins (phonics books TXT) 📗

one of them, and containing this inscription, “With Mr. Perry’s respects.” Julius opened the volume. It was the ghastly popular record of criminal trials in England, called the Newgate Calendar. Julius showed it to his mother.

“Geoffrey’s taste in literature!” he said, with a faint smile.

Lady Holchester signed to him to put the book back.

“You have seen Geoffrey’s wife already⁠—have you not?” she asked.

There was no contempt now in her tone when she referred to Anne. The impression produced on her by her visit to the cottage, earlier in the day, associated Geoffrey’s wife with family anxieties of no trivial kind. She might still (for Mrs. Glenarm’s sake) be a woman to be disliked⁠—but she was no longer a woman to be despised.

“I saw her when she came to Swanhaven,” said Julius. “I agree with Sir Patrick in thinking her a very interesting person.”

“What did Sir Patrick say to you about Geoffrey this afternoon⁠—while I was out of the room?”

“Only what he said to you. He thought their position toward each other here a very deplorable one. He considered that the reasons were serious for our interfering immediately.”

“Sir Patrick’s own opinion, Julius, goes farther than that.”

“He has not acknowledged it, that I know of.”

“How can he acknowledge it⁠—to us?”

The door opened, and Geoffrey entered the room.

Julius eyed him closely as they shook hands. His eyes were bloodshot; his face was flushed; his utterance was thick⁠—the look of him was the look of a man who had been drinking hard.

“Well?” he said to his mother. “What brings you back?”

“Julius has a proposal to make to you,” Lady Holchester answered. “I approve of it; and I have come with him.”

Geoffrey turned to his brother.

“What can a rich man like you want with a poor devil like me?” he asked.

“I want to do you justice, Geoffrey⁠—if you will help me, by meeting me halfway. Our mother has told you about the will?”

“I’m not down for a halfpenny in the will. I expected as much. Go on.”

“You are wrong⁠—you are down in it. There is liberal provision made for you in a codicil. Unhappily, my father died without signing it. It is needless to say that I consider it binding on me for all that. I am ready to do for you what your father would have done for you. And I only ask for one concession in return.”

“What may that be?”

“You are living here very unhappily, Geoffrey, with your wife.”

“Who says so? I don’t, for one.”

Julius laid his hand kindly on his brother’s arm.

“Don’t trifle with such a serious matter as this,” he said. “Your marriage is, in every sense of the word, a misfortune⁠—not only to you but to your wife. It is impossible that you can live together. I have come here to ask you to consent to a separation. Do that⁠—and the provision made for you in the unsigned codicil is yours. What do you say?”

Geoffrey shook his brother’s hand off his arm.

“I say⁠—no!” he answered.

Lady Holchester interfered for the first time.

“Your brother’s generous offer deserves a better answer than that,” she said.

“My answer,” reiterated Geoffrey, “is⁠—no!”

He sat between them with his clenched fists resting on his knees⁠—absolutely impenetrable to anything that either of them could say.

“In your situation,” said Julius, “a refusal is sheer madness. I won’t accept it.”

“Do as you like about that. My mind’s made up. I won’t let my wife be taken away from me. Here she stays.”

The brutal tone in which he had made that reply roused Lady Holchester’s indignation.

“Take care!” she said. “You are not only behaving with the grossest ingratitude toward your brother⁠—you are forcing a suspicion into your mother’s mind. You have some motive that you are hiding from us.”

He turned on his mother with a sudden ferocity which made Julius spring to his feet. The next instant his eyes were on the ground, and the devil that possessed him was quiet again.

“Some motive I’m hiding from you?” he repeated, with his head down, and his utterance thicker than ever. “I’m ready to have my motive posted all over London, if you like. I’m fond of her.”

He looked up as he said the last words. Lady Holchester turned away her head⁠—recoiling from her own son. So overwhelming was the shock inflicted on her that even the strongly rooted prejudice which Mrs. Glenarm had implanted in her mind yielded to it. At that moment she absolutely pitied Anne!

“Poor creature!” said Lady Holchester.

He took instant offense at those two words. “I won’t have my wife pitied by anybody.” With that reply, he dashed into the passage; and called out, “Anne! come down!”

Her soft voice answered; her light footfall was heard on the stairs. She came into the room. Julius advanced, took her hand, and held it kindly in his. “We are having a little family discussion,” he said, trying to give her confidence. “And Geoffrey is getting hot over it, as usual.”

Geoffrey appealed sternly to his mother.

“Look at her!” he said. “Is she starved? Is she in rags? Is she covered with bruises?” He turned to Anne. “They have come here to propose a separation. They both believe I hate you. I don’t hate you. I’m a good Christian. I owe it to you that I’m cut out of my father’s will. I forgive you that. I owe it to you that I’ve lost the chance of marrying a woman with ten thousand a year. I forgive you that. I’m not a man who does things by halves. I said it should be my endeavor to make you a good husband. I said it was my wish to make it up. Well! I am as good as my word. And what’s the consequence? I am insulted. My mother comes here, and my brother comes here⁠—and they offer me money to part from you. Money be hanged! I’ll be beholden to nobody. I’ll get my own living. Shame on the people who interfere between man and wife! Shame!⁠—that’s what I say⁠—shame!”

Anne looked, for an explanation, from her husband