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

SHEWING HOW COLONEL OSBORNE WENT TO NUNCOMBE PUTNEY

Colonel Osborne was expected at Nuncombe Putney on the Friday, and, it

was Thursday evening before either Mrs Stanbury or Priscilla was told

of his coming. Emily had argued the matter with Nora, declaring that

she would make the communication herself, and that she would make it

when she pleased, and how she pleased. ‘If Mrs Stanbury thinks,’ said

she, ‘that I am going to be treated as a prisoner, or that I will not

judge myself as to whom I may see, or whom I may not see, she is very

much mistaken.’ Nora felt that were she to give information to those

ladies in opposition to her sister’s wishes, she would express

suspicion on her own part by doing so; and she was silent. On that same

Thursday Priscilla had written her last defiant letter to her aunt, that

letter in which she had cautioned her aunt to make no further

accusation without being sure of her facts. To Priscilla’s imagination

that coming of Lucifer in person, of which Mrs Trevelyan had spoken,

would hardly have been worse than the coming of Colonel Osborne. When,

therefore, Mrs Trevelyan declared the fact on the Thursday evening,

vainly endeavouring to speak of the threatened visit in an ordinary

voice, and as of an ordinary circumstance, it was as though a

thunderbolt had fallen upon them.

‘Colonel Osborne coming here!’ said Priscilla, mindful of the Stanbury

correspondence mindful of the evil tongues of the world.

‘And why not?’ demanded Mrs Trevelyan, who had heard nothing of the

Stanbury correspondence.

‘Oh dear, oh dear!’ ejaculated Mrs Stanbury, who, of course, was aware

of all that had passed between the Clock House and the house in the

Close, though the letters had been written by her daughter.

Nora was determined to stand up for her sister, whatever might be the

circumstances of the case. ‘I wish Colonel Osborne were not coming,’

said she, ‘because it makes a foolish fuss; but I cannot understand how

anybody can suppose it to be wrong that Emily should see papa’s very

oldest friend in the world.’

‘But why is he coming?’ demanded Priscilla.

‘Because he wants to see an acquaintance at Cockchaffington;’ said Mrs

Trevelyan; ‘and there is a wonderful church-door there.’

‘A church-fiddlestick!’ said Priscilla.

The matter was debated throughout all the evening. At one time there

was a great quarrel between the ladies, and then there was a

reconciliation. The point on which Mrs Trevelyan stood with the

greatest firmness was this that it did not become her, as a married

woman ‘whose conduct had always been good and who was more careful as

to that than she was even of her name, to be ashamed to meet any man.

‘Why should I not see Colonel Osborne, or Colonel anybody else who

might call here with the same justification for calling which his old

friendship gives him?’ Priscilla endeavoured to explain to her that her

husband’s known wishes ought to hinder her from doing so. ‘My husband

should have remained with me, to express his wishes,’ Mrs Trevelyan

replied.

Neither could Mrs Stanbury nor could Priscilla bring herself to say

that the man should not be admitted into the house. In the course of

the debate, in the heat of her anger, Mrs Trevelyan declared that were

any such threat held out to her, she would leave the house and see

Colonel Osborne in the Street, or at the inn.

‘No, Emily; no,’ said Nora.

‘But I will. I will not submit to be treated as a guilty woman, or as a

prisoner. They may say what they like, but I won’t be shut up.’

‘No one has tried to shut you up,’ said Priscilla.

‘You are afraid of that old woman at Exeter,’ said Mrs Trevelyan; for

by this time the facts of the Stanbury correspondence had all been

elicited in general conversation; ‘and yet you know how uncharitable

and malicious she is.’

‘We are not afraid of her,’ said Priscilla. ‘We are afraid of nothing

but of doing wrong.’

‘And will it be wrong to let an old gentleman come into the house,’

said Nora, ‘who is nearly sixty, and who has known us ever since we

were born?’

‘If he is nearly sixty, Priscilla,’ said Mrs Stanbury, ‘that does seem

to make a difference.’ Mrs Stanbury herself was only just sixty, and

she felt herself to be quite an old woman.

‘They may be devils at eighty,’ said Priscilla.

‘Colonel Osborne is not a devil at all,’ said Nora.

‘But mamma is so foolish,’ said Priscilla. ‘The man’s age does not

matter in the least.’

‘I beg your pardon, my dear,’ said Mrs Stanbury, very humbly.

At that time the quarrel was raging, but afterwards came the

reconciliation. Had it not been for the Stanbury correspondence the

fact of Colonel Osborne’s threatened visit would have been admitted as

a thing necessary, as a disagreeable necessity; but how was the visit to

be admitted and passed over in the teeth of that correspondence?

Priscilla felt very keenly the peculiar cruelty of her position. Of

course, Aunt Stanbury would hear of the visit. Indeed, any secrecy in

the matter was not compatible with Priscilla’s ideas of honesty. Her

aunt had apologised humbly for having said that Colonel Osborne had

been at Nuncombe. That apology, doubtless, had been due. Colonel

Osborne had not been at Nuncombe when the accusation had been made, and

the accusation had been unjust and false. But his coming had been

spoken of by Priscilla in her own letters as an occurrence which was

quite out of the question. Her anger against her aunt had been for

saying that the man had come, not for objecting to such a visit. And

now the man was coming, and Aunt Stanbury would know all about it. How

great, how terrible, how crushing would be Aunt Stanbury’s triumph!

‘I must write and tell her,’ said Priscilla.

‘I am sure I shall not object,’ said Mrs Trevelyan. ‘And Hugh must be

told,’ said Mrs Stanbury.

‘You may tell all the world, if you like,’ said Mrs Trevelyan.

In this way it was settled among them that Colonel Osborne was to be

received. On the next morning, Friday morning, Colonel Osborne,

doubtless having heard something of Mrs Crocket from his friend at

Cockchaffington, was up early, and had himself driven over to Nuncombe

Putney before breakfast. The ever-watchful Bozzle was, of course, at

his heels or rather, not at his heels on the first two miles of the

journey; for Bozzle, with painful zeal, had made himself aware of all

the facts, and had started on the Nuncombe Putney road half an hour

before the Colonel’s fly was in motion. And when the fly passed him he

was lying discreetly