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

COLONEL OSBORNE

It has been already said that Colonel Osborne was a bachelor, a man

of fortune, a member of Parliament, and one who carried his half

century of years lightly on his shoulders. It will only be necessary

to say further of him that he was a man popular with those among

whom he lived, as a politician, as a sportsman, and as a member

of society. He could speak well in the House, though he spoke but

seldom, and it was generally thought of him that he might have been

something considerable, had it not suited him better to be nothing

at all. He was supposed to be a Conservative, and generally voted

with the conservative party; but he could boast that he was altogether

independent, and on an occasion would take the trouble of proving

himself to be so. He was in possession of excellent health; had all

that the world could give; was fond of books, pictures, architecture,

and china; had various tastes, and the means of indulging them,

and was one of those few men on whom it seems that every pleasant

thing has been lavished. There was that little slur on his good

name to which allusion has been made; but those who knew Colonel

Osborne best were generally willing to declare that no harm was

intended, and that the evils which arose were always to be attributed

to mistaken jealousy. He had, his friends said, a free and pleasant

way with women which women like, a pleasant way of free friendship;

that there was no more, and that the harm which had come had always

come from false suspicion. But there were certain ladies about the

town—good, motherly, discreet women—who hated the name of Colonel

Osborne, who would not admit him within their doors, who would not

bow to him in other people’s houses, who would always speak of him

as a serpent, a hyena, a kite, or a shark. Old Lady Milborough was

one of these, a daughter of a friend of hers having once admitted

the serpent to her intimacy.

‘Augustus Poole was wise enough to take his wife abroad,’ said old

Lady Milborough, discussing about this time with a gossip of hers

the danger of Mrs Trevelyan’s position, ‘or there would have been

a breakup there; and yet there never was a better girl in the world

than Jane Marriott.’

The reader may be quite certain that Colonel Osborne had no

premeditated evil intention when he allowed himself to become the

intimate friend of his old friend’s daughter. There was nothing

fiendish in his nature. He was not a man who boasted of his

conquests. He was not a ravening wolf going about seeking whom he

might devour, and determined to devour whatever might come in his

way; but he liked that which was pleasant; and of all pleasant things

the company of a pretty clever woman was to him the pleasantest.

At this exact period of his life no woman was so pleasantly pretty

to him, and so agreeably clever, as Mrs Trevelyan.

When Louis Trevelyan heard on the stairs the step of the dangerous

man, he got up from his chair as though he too would have gone into

the drawing-room, and it would perhaps have been well had he done

so. Could he have done this, and kept his temper with the man, he

would have paved the way for an easy reconciliation with his wife.

But when he reached the door of his room, and had placed his hand

upon the lock, he withdrew again. He told himself he withdrew because

he would not allow himself to be jealous; but in truth he did so

because he knew he could not have brought himself to be civil to

the man he hated. So he sat down, and took up his pen, and began

to cudgel his brain about the scientific article. He was intent

on raising a dispute with some learned pundit about the waves of

sound, but he could think of no other sound than that of the light

steps of Colonel Osborne as he had gone upstairs. He put down his

pen, and clenched his fist, and allowed a black frown to settle

upon his brow. ‘What right had the man to come there, unasked by

him, and disturb his happiness? And then this poor wife of his,

who knew so little of English life, who had lived in the Mandarin

Islands almost since she had been a child, who had lived in one

colony or another almost since she had been born, who had had so

few of those advantages for which he should have looked in marrying

a wife, how was the poor girl to conduct herself properly when

subjected to the arts and practised villanies of this viper? And

yet the poor girl was so stiff in her temper, had picked up such a

trick of obstinacy in those tropical regions, that Louis Trevelyan

felt that he did not know how to manage her. He too had heard how

Jane Marriott had been carried off to Naples after she had become

Mrs Poole. Must he too carry off his wife to Naples in order to

place her out of the reach of this hyena? It was terrible to him

to think that he must pack up everything and run away from such

a one as Colonel Osborne. And even were he to consent to do this,

how could he explain it all to that very wife for whose sake he

would do it? If she got a hint of the reason she would, he did not

doubt, refuse to go. As he thought of it, and as that visit upstairs

prolonged itself, he almost thought it would be best for him to be

round with her! We all know what a husband means when he resolves

to be round with his wife. He began to think that he would not

apologise at all for the words he had spoken but would speak them

again somewhat more sharply than before. She would be very wrathful

with him; there would be a silent enduring indignation, which,

as he understood well, would be infinitely worse than any torrent

of words. But was he, a man, to abstain from doing that which he

believed to be his duty because he was afraid of his wife’s anger?

Should he be deterred from saying that which he conceived it would

be right that he should say, because she was stiff-necked? No. He

would not apologise, but would tell her again that it was necessary,

both for his happiness and for hers, that all intimacy with Colonel

Osborne should be discontinued.

He was brought to this strongly marital resolution by the length

of the man’s present visit; by that and by the fact that, during

the latter portion of it, his wife was alone with Colonel Osborne.

Nora had been there when the man came, but Mrs Fairfax had called,

not getting out of her carriage, and Nora had been constrained to

go down to her. She had hesitated a moment, and Colonel Osborne

had observed and partly understood the hesitation. When he saw it,

had he been perfectly well-minded in the matter, he would have gone

too. But he probably told himself that Nora Rowley was a fool, and

that in such matters it was quite enough for a man to know that he

did not intend any harm.

‘You had better go down, Nora,’ said Mrs Trevelyan; ‘Mrs Fairfax

will be ever so angry if you keep her waiting.’

Then Nora had gone and the two were alone together. Nora had gone,

and Trevelyan had heard her as she was going and knew that Colonel

Osborne was alone with his wife.

‘If you can manage that it will be so nice,’ said Mrs Trevelyan,

continuing the conversation.

‘My dear Emily,’ he said, ‘you must not talk of my managing it, or

you will spoil it all.’

He had called them both Emily and Nora when Sir Marmaduke and Lady

Rowley were with them before the marriage, and, taking the liberty

of a very old family friend, had continued the practice. Mrs Trevelyan

was quite aware that she had been so called by him in the presence

of her husband and that her husband had not objected. But that was

now some months ago, before baby was born; and she was aware also

that he had not called her so latterly in presence of her husband.

She thoroughly wished that she knew how to ask him not to do so

again; but the matter was very difficult, as she could not make

such a request without betraying some fear on her husband’s part.

The subject which they were now discussing was too important to

her to allow her to dwell upon this trouble at the moment, and so

she permitted him to go on with his speech.

‘If I were to manage it, as you call it, which I can’t do at all,

it would be a gross job.’

‘That’s all nonsense to us, Colonel Osborne. Ladies always like

political jobs, and think that they and they only make politics

bearable. But this would not be a job at all. Papa could do it

better than anybody else. Think how long he has been at it!’

The matter in discussion was the chance of an order being sent

out to Sir Marmaduke to come home from his islands at the public

expense, to give evidence, respecting colonial government in general,

to a committee of the House of Commons which was about to sit on

the subject. The committee had been voted, and two governors were

to be brought home for the purpose of giving evidence. What arrangement

could be so pleasant to a governor living in the Mandarin Islands,

who had had a holiday lately, and who could but ill afford to

take any holidays at his own expense? Colonel Osborne was on this

committee, and, moreover, was on good terms at the Colonial Office.

There were men in office who would be glad to do Colonel Osborne

a service, and then if this were a job, it would be so very little

of a job! Perhaps Sir Marmaduke might not be the very best man for

the purpose. Perhaps the government of the Mandarins did not afford

the best specimen of that colonial lore which