He Knew He Was Right by Anthony Trollope (books you need to read .txt) 📕

THE DELIVERY OF THE LAMB

It is hoped that a certain quarter of lamb will not have been forgotten—

a quarter of lamb that was sent as a peace-offering from Exeter to

Nuncombe Putney by the hands of Miss Stanbury’s Martha, not with

purposes of corruption, not intended to buy back the allegiance of

Dorothy, folded delicately and temptingly in one of the best table

napkins, with no idea of bribery, but sent as presents used to be sent

of old in the trains of great ambassadors as signs of friendship and

marks of true respect. Miss Stanbury was, no doubt, most anxious that

her niece should return to her, but was not, herself, low spirited

enough to conceive that a quarter of lamb could be efficacious in

procuring such return. If it might be that Dorothy’s heart could be

touched by mention of the weariness of her aunt’s solitary life; and

if, therefore, she would return, it would be very well; but it could

not be well unless the offer should come from Dorothy herself. All

of which Martha had been made to understand by her mistress,

considerable ingenuity having been exercised in the matter on each

side.

On her arrival at Lessboro’, Martha had hired a fly, and been driven

out to Nuncombe Putney; but she felt, she knew not why, a dislike to be

taken in her carriage to the door of the cottage; and was put down in

the middle of the village, from whence she walked out to Mrs Stanbury’s

abode, with the basket upon her arm. It was a good half mile, and the

lamb was heavy, for Miss Stanbury had suggested that a bottle of sherry

should be put in under the napkin and Martha was becoming tired of her

burden, when whom should she see on the road before her but Brooke

Burgess! As she said herself afterwards, it immediately occurred to

her, ‘that all the fat was in the fire.’ Here had this young man come

down, passing through Exeter without even a visit to Miss Stanbury, and

had clandestinely sought out the young woman whom he wasn’t to marry;

and here was the young woman herself flying in her aunt’s face, when

one scratch of a pen might ruin them both! Martha entertained a sacred,

awful, overcoming feeling about her mistress’s will. That she was to

have something herself she supposed, and her anxiety was not on that

score; but she had heard so much about it, had realised so fully the

great power which Miss Stanbury possessed, and had had her own feelings

so rudely invaded by alterations in Miss Stanbury’s plans, that she had

come to entertain an idea that all persons around her should

continually bear that will in their memory. Hugh had undoubtedly been

her favourite, and, could Martha have dictated the will herself, she

would still have made Hugh the heir; but she had realised the

resolution of her mistress so far as to confess that the bulk of the

property was to go back to a Burgess. But there were very many

Burgesses; and here was the one who had been selected, flying in the

very face of the testatrix! What was to be done? Were she to go back

and not tell her mistress that she had seen Brooke Burgess at Nuncombe,

then, should the fact be found out, would the devoted anger of Miss

Stanbury fall upon her own head? It would be absolutely necessary that

she should tell the story, let the consequences be what they might; but

the consequences, probably, would be very dreadful. ‘Mr Brooke, that is

not you?’ she said, as she came up to him, putting her basket down in

the middle of the dusty road.

‘Then who can it be?’ said Brooke, giving her his hand to shake.

‘But what do bring you here, Mr Brooke? Goodness me, what will missus

say?’

‘I shall make that all straight. I’m going back to Exeter tomorrow.’

Then there were many questions and many answers. He was sojourning at

Mrs Crocket’s, and had been there for the last two days. ‘Dear, dear,

dear,’ she said over and over again. ‘Deary me, deary me!’ and then she

asked him whether it was ‘all along of Miss Dorothy’ that he had come.

Of course, it was all along of Miss Dorothy. Brooke made no secret

about it. He had come down to see Dorothy’s mother and sister, and to

say a bit of his own mind about future affairs and to see the beauties

of the country. When he talked about the beauties of the country,

Martha looked at him as the people of Lessboro’ and Nuncombe Putney

should have looked at Colonel Osborne, when he talked of the church

porch at Cockchaffington. ‘Beauties of the countries, Mr Brooke you

ought to be ashamed of yourself!’ said Martha.

‘But I ain’t the least in the world,’ said Brooke.

Then Martha took up her basket, and went on to the cottage, which had

been close in sight during their conversation in the road. She felt

angry with Dorothy. In such matters a woman is always angry with the

woman who has probably been quite passive, and rarely with the man, who

is ever the real transgressor. Having a man down after her at Nuncombe

Putney! It had never struck Martha as very horrible that Brooke Burgess

should fall in love with Dorothy in the city, but this meeting, in the

remoteness of the country, out of sight even of the village, was almost

indecent; and all, too, with Miss Stanbury’s will just, as one might

say, on the balance! Dorothy ought to have buried herself rather than

have allowed Brooke to see her at Nuncombe Putney; and Dorothy’s mother

and Priscilla must be worse. She trudged on, however, with her lamb,

and soon found herself in the presence of the three ladies.

‘What Martha!’ said Dorothy.

‘Yes, miss here I am. I’d have been here half-an-hour ago amost, if I

hadn’t been stopped on the road.’

‘And who stopped you?’ asked Priscilla.

‘Why Mr Brooke, of course.’

‘And what did Mr Brooke say to you?’ asked Dorothy.

Martha perceived at once that Dorothy was quite radiant. She told her

mistress that she had never seen Miss Dorothy look half so comely

before. ‘Laws, ma’am, she brightened up and speckled about, till it did

your heart good to see her in spite of all.’ But this was some time

afterwards.

‘He didn’t say very much,’ replied Martha, gravely. ‘But I’ve got very

much to tell you,’ continued Dorothy. ‘I’m engaged to be married to Mr

Brooke, and you must congratulate me. It is settled now, and mamma and

my sister know all about it.’

Martha, when she was thus asked directly for congratulation, hardly

knew at once how to express herself. Being fully aware of Miss

Stanbury’s objection to the marriage, she could not venture to express

her approbation of it. It was very improper, in Martha’s mind, that any

young woman should have a follower, when the ‘missus’ didn’t approve of

it. She understood well enough that, in that matter of followers,

privileges are allowed to young ladies which are not accorded to maid

servants. A young lady may do things, have young men to walk and talk

with them, to dance with them and embrace them, and perhaps even more

than this, when for half so much a young woman would be turned into the

streets without a character. Martha knew all this, and knew also that

Miss Dorothy, though her mother lived in a very little cottage, was not

altogether debarred, in the matter of followers, from the privileges of

a lady. But yet Miss Dorothy’s position was so very peculiar!

Look at that will or, rather, at that embryo will, which might be made

any day, which now probably would be made, and which might affect them

both so terribly! People who have not got money should not fly in the

face of those who have. Such at least was Martha’s opinion very

strongly. How could she congratulate Miss Dorothy under the existing

circumstances. ‘I do hope you will be happy, miss, that you knows,’ said

Martha, in her difficulty. ‘And now, ma’am, miss, I mean,’ she added,

correcting herself, in obedience to Miss Stanbury’s direct orders about

the present ‘missus has just sent me over with a bit of lamb, and a

letter as is here in the basket, and to ask how you is and the other

ladies.’

‘We are very much obliged,’ said Mrs Stanbury, who had not understood

the point of Martha’s speech.

‘My sister is, I’m sure,’ said Priscilla, who had understood it.

Dorothy had taken the letter, and had gone aside with it, and was

reading it very carefully. It touched her nearly, and there had come

tears into both her eyes, as she dwelt upon it. There was something in

her aunt’s allusion to the condition of unmarried women which came home

to her especially. She knew her aunt’s past history, and now she knew,

or hoped that she knew, something of her own future destiny. Her aunt

was desolate, whereas upon her the world smiled, most benignly. Brooke

had just informed her that he intended to make her his wife as speedily

as possible, with her aunt’s consent if possible, but if not, then

without it. He had ridiculed the idea of his being stopped by Miss

Stanbury’s threats, and had said all this in such fashion that even

Priscilla herself had only listened and obeyed. He had spoken not a

word of his own income, and none of them had dreamed even of asking him

a question. He had been as a god in the little cottage, and all of them

had been ready to fall down and worship him. Mrs Stanbury had not known

how to treat him with sufficient deference, and, at the same time, with

sufficient affection. He had kissed them all round, and Priscilla had

felt an elation which was hardly intelligible to herself. Dorothy, who

was so much honoured, had come to enjoy a status in her mother’s

estimation very different from that which she had previously possessed,

and had grown to be quite beautiful in her mother’s eyes.

There was once a family of three ancient maiden ladies, much respected

and loved in the town in which they lived. Their manners of life were

well known