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

of it. You may trust me that we shall not find it difficult—not, at

least, on the ground of your present fears. I can bear a heavier burden

than you will bring upon me.’

‘I know that I ought to prove to you that I am right,’ she said, still

struggling with his hand.

‘And I know that you can prove nothing of the kind. Dearest, it is

fixed between us now, and do not let us be so silly as to raise

imaginary difficulties. Of course you would have to marry me, even if

there were cause for such fears. If there were any great cause, still

the game would be worth the candle. There could be no going back, let

the fear be what it might. But there need be no fear if you will only

love me.’ She felt that he was altogether too strong for her that she

had mistaken his character in supposing that she could be more firm

than he. He was so strong that he treated her almost as a child, and yet

she loved him infinitely the better for so treating her. Of course, she

knew now that her objection, whether true or unsubstantial, could not

avail. As he stood with his arm round her, she was powerless to

contradict him in anything. She had so far acknowledged this that she

no longer struggled with him, but allowed her hand to remain quietly

within his. If there was no going back from this bargain that had been

made, why, then, there was no need for combating. And when he stooped

over her and kissed her lips, she had not a word to say. ‘Be good to

me,’ he said, ‘and tell me that I am right.’

‘You must be master, I suppose, whether you are right or wrong. A man

always thinks himself entitled to his own way.’

‘Why, yes. When he has won the battle, he claims his captive. Now, the

truth is this, I have won the battle, and your friend, Miss Petrie, has

lost it. I hope she will understand that she has been beaten at last

out of the field.’ As he said this, he heard a step behind them, and

turning round saw Wallachia there almost before he could drop his arm.

‘I am sorry that I have intruded on you,’ she said very grimly.

‘Not in the least,’ said Mr Glascock. ‘Caroline and I have had a little

dispute, but we have settled it without coming to blows.’

‘I do not suppose that an English gentleman ever absolutely strikes a

lady,’ said Wallachia Petrie.

‘Not except on strong provocation,’ said Mr Glascock. ‘In reference to

wives, a stick is allowed as big as your thumb.’

‘I have heard that it is so by the laws of England,’ said Wallachia.

‘How can you be so ridiculous, Wally!’ said Caroline. ‘There is nothing

that you would not believe.’

‘I hope that it may never be true in your case,’ said Wallachia.

A couple of days after this Miss Spalding found that it was absolutely

necessary that she should explain the circumstances of her position to

Nora. She had left Nora with the purpose of performing a very

high-minded action, of sacrificing herself for the sake of her lover,

of giving up all her golden prospects, and of becoming once again the

bosom friend of Wallachia Petrie, with this simple consolation for her

future life, that she had refused to marry an English nobleman because

the English nobleman’s condition was unsuited to her. It would have

been an episode in female life in which pride might be taken, but all

that was now changed. She had made her little attempt, had made it, as

she felt, in a very languid manner, and had found herself treated as a

child for doing so. Of course she was happy in her ill success; of

course she would have been broken-hearted had she succeeded. But,

nevertheless, she was somewhat lowered in her own esteem, and it was

necessary that she should acknowledge the truth to the friend whom she

had consulted. A day or two had passed before she found herself alone

with Nora, but when she did so she confessed her failure at once.

‘You told him all, then?’ said Nora.

‘Oh yes, I told him all. That is, I could not really tell him. When the

moment came I had no words.’

‘And what did he say?’

‘He had words enough. I never knew him to be eloquent before.’

‘He can speak out if he likes,’ said Nora.

‘So I have found with a vengeance. Nobody was ever so put down as I

was. Don’t you know that there are times when it does not seem to be

worth your while to put out your strength against an adversary? So it

was with him. He just told me that he was my master, and that I was to

do as he bade me.’

‘And what did you say?’

‘I promised to be a good girl,’ said Caroline, ‘and not to pretend to

have any opinion of my own ever again. And so we kissed, and were

friends.’

‘I dare say there was a kiss, my dear.’

‘Of course there was, and he held me in his arms, and comforted me, and

told me how to behave just as you would do a little girl. It’s all over

now, of course; and if there be a mistake, it is his fault. I feel that

all responsibility is gone from myself, and that for all the rest of my

life I have to do just what he tells me.’

‘And what says the divine Wallachia?’

‘Poor Wally! She says nothing, but she thinks that I am a castaway and

a recreant. I am a recreant, I know but yet I think that I was right. I

know I could not help myself.’

‘Of course you were right, my dear,’ said the sage Nora. ‘If you had

the notion in your head, it was wise to get rid of it; but I knew how

it would be when you spoke to him.’

‘You were not so weak when he came to you.’

‘That was altogether another thing. It was not arranged in heaven that

I was to become his captive.’

After that Wallachia Petrie never again tried her influence on her

former friend, but admitted to herself that the evil was done, and that

it could not be remedied. According to her theory of life, Caroline

Spalding had been wrong, and weak—had shewn herself to be

comfort-loving and luxuriously-minded, had looked to get her happiness

from soft effeminate pleasures rather than from rational work and the

useful, independent exercise of her own intelligence. In the privacy of

her little chamber Wallachia Petrie shed not absolute tears but many

tearful thoughts over her friend. It was to her a thing very terrible

that the chosen one of her heart should prefer the career of an English

lord’s wife to that of an American citizeness, with all manner of

capability for female voting, female speechmaking, female poetising,

and, perhaps, female political action before her. It was a thousand

pities! ‘You may take a horse to water,’ said Wallachia to herself,

thinking of the ever-freshly springing fountain of her own mind, at

which Caroline Spalding would always have been made welcome freely to

quench her thirst ‘but you cannot make him drink if he be not athirst.’

In the future she would have no friend. Never again would she subject

herself to the disgrace of such a failure. But the sacrifice was to be

made, and she knew that it was bootless to waste her words further on

Caroline Spalding. She left Florence before the wedding, and returned

alone to the land of liberty. She wrote a letter to Caroline explaining

her conduct, and Caroline Spalding shewed the letter to her husband as

one that was both loving and eloquent.

‘Very loving and eloquent,’ he said. ‘But, nevertheless, one does think

of sour grapes.’

‘There I am sure you wrong her,’ said Caroline.