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

would never cease to tell him that he had illused her. She would din

it into his ears, let him come to her as often as he might with his

wise words. Wise words!

What was the use of wise words when a man was such a fool in nature?

And as for Colonel Osborne she would see him if he came to her three

times a day, unless her husband gave some clearly intelligible order to

the contrary. She was fortifying her mind with this resolution when

Colonel Osborne’s letter was brought to her. She asked whether any

servant was waiting for an answer. No the servant, who had left it, had

gone at once. She read the note, and sat working, with it before her,

for a quarter of an hour; and then walked over to her desk and answered

it.

‘My Dear Colonel Osborne,

It will be best to say nothing whatever about the occurrence of

yesterday; and if possible, not to think of it. As far as I am

concerned, I wish for no change except that people should be more

reasonable. You can call of course whenever you please; and I am very

grateful for your expression of friendship.

Yours most sincerely,

Emily Trevelyan.

‘Thanks for the words of the opera.’

When she had written this, being determined that all should be open and

above board, she put a penny stamp on the envelope, and desired that

the letter should be posted. But she destroyed that which she had

received from Colonel Osborne. In all things she would act as she would

have done if her husband had not been so foolish, and there could have

been no reason why she should have kept so unimportant a communication.

In the course of the day Trevelyan passed through the hall to the room

which he himself was accustomed to occupy behind the parlour, and as he

did so saw the note lying ready to be posted, took it up, and read the

address.

He held it for a moment in his hand, then replaced it on the hall

table, and passed on. When he reached his own table he sat down

hurriedly, and took up in his hand some Review that was lying ready for

him to read. But he was quite unable to fix his mind on the words

before him. He had spoken to his wife on that morning in the strongest

language he could use as to the unseemliness of her intimacy with

Colonel Osborne; and then, the first thing she had done when his back

was turned was to write to this very Colonel Osborne, and tell him, no

doubt, what had occurred between her and her husband. He sat thinking

of it all for many minutes. He would probably have declared himself

that he had thought of it for an hour as he sat there. Then he got up,

went upstairs and walked slowly into the drawing-room. There he found

his wife sitting with her sister. ‘Nora,’ he said, ‘I want to speak to

Emily. Will you forgive me, if I ask you to leave us for a few

minutes?’ Nora, with an anxious look at Emily, got up and left the

room.

‘Why do you send her away?’ said Mrs Trevelyan.

‘Because I wish to be alone with you for a few minutes. Since what I

said to you this morning, you have written to Colonel Osborne.’

‘Yes I have. I do not know how you have found it out; but I suppose you

keep a watch on me.’

‘I keep no watch on you. As I came into the house, I saw your letter

lying in the hall.’

‘Very well. You could have read it if you pleased.’

‘Emily, this matter is becoming very serious, and I strongly advise you

to be on your guard in what you say. I will bear much for you, and much

for our boy; but I will not bear to have my name made a reproach.’

‘Sir, if you think your name is shamed by me, we had better part,’ said

Mrs Trevelyan, rising from her chair, and confronting him with a look

before which his own almost quailed.

‘It may be that we had better part,’ he said, slowly. ‘But in the first

place I wish you to tell me what were the contents of that letter.’

‘If it was there when you came in, no doubt it is there still. Go and

look at it.’

‘That is no answer to me. I have desired you to tell me what are its

contents.’

‘I shall not tell you. I will not demean myself by repeating anything

so insignificant in my own justification. If you suspect me of writing

what I should not write, you will suspect me also of lying to conceal

it.’

‘Have you heard from Colonel Osborne this morning?’

‘I have.’

‘And where is his letter?’

‘I have destroyed it.’

Again he paused, trying to think what he had better do, trying to be

calm. And she stood still opposite to him, confronting him with the

scorn of her bright angry eyes. Of course, he was not calm. He was the

very reverse of calm. ‘And you refuse to tell me what you wrote,’ he

said.

‘The letter is there,’ she answered, pointing away towards the door.

‘If you want to play the spy, go and look at it for yourself.’

‘Do you call me a spy?’

‘And what have you called me? Because you are a husband, is the

privilege of vituperation to be all on your side?’

‘It is impossible that I should put up with this,’ he said ‘quite

impossible. This would kill me. Anything is better than this. My

present orders to you are not to see Colonel Osborne, not to write to

him or have any communication with him, and to put under cover to me,

unopened, any letter that may come from him. I shall expect your

implicit obedience to these orders.’

‘Well go on.’

‘Have I your promise?’

‘No no. You have no promise. I will make no promise exacted from me in

so disgraceful a manner.’

‘You refuse to obey me?’

‘I will refuse nothing, and will promise nothing.’

‘Then we must part—that is all. I will take care that you shall hear

from me before tomorrow morning.’

So saying, he left the room, and, passing through the hall, saw that

the letter had been taken away.