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

up widows and orphans, and had done his work in the firm of Cropper and

Burgess after the old-fashioned safe manner, which leads neither to

riches nor to ruin. Therefore he was respected. But he was a

discontented, sour old man, who believed himself to have been injured

by all his own friends, who disliked his own partners because they had

bought that which had, at any rate, never belonged to him and whose

strongest passion it was to hate Miss Stanbury of the Close.

‘She’s got a parson by the hand now,’ said the uncle, as he continued

his caution to the nephew.

‘There was a clergyman there last night.’

‘No doubt, and she’ll play him off against you, and you against him;

and then she’ll throw you both over. I know her.’

‘She has got a right to do what she likes with her own, Uncle Barty.’

‘And how did she get it? Never mind. I’m not going to set you against

her, if you’re her favourite for the moment. She has a niece with her

there hasn’t she?’

‘One of her brother’s daughters.’

‘They say she’s going to make that clergyman marry her.’

‘What, Mr Gibson?’

‘Yes. They tell me he was as good as engaged to another girl, one of the

Frenches of Heavitree. And therefore dear Jemima could do nothing

better than interfere. When she has succeeded in breaking the girl’s

heart—’

‘Which girl’s heart, Uncle Barty?’

‘The girl the man was to have married; when that’s done she’ll throw

Gibson over. You’ll see. She’ll refuse to give the girl a shilling. She

took the girl’s brother by the hand ever so long, and then she threw

him over. And she’ll throw the girl over too, and send her back to the

place she came from. And then she’ll throw you over.’

‘According to you, she must be the most malicious old woman that ever

was allowed to live!’

‘I don’t think there are many to beat her, as far as malice goes. But

you’ll find out for yourself. I shouldn’t be surprised if she were to

tell you before long that you were to marry the niece.’

‘I shouldn’t think that such very hard lines either,’ said Brooke

Burgess.

‘I’ve no doubt you may have her if you like,’ said Barty, ‘in spite of

Mr Gibson. Only I should recommend you to take care and get the money

first.’

When Brooke went back to the house in the Close, Miss Stanbury was

quite fussy in her silence. She would have given much to have been told

something about Barty, and, above all, to have learned what Barty had

said about herself. But she was far too proud even to mention the old

man’s name of her own accord. She was quite sure that she had been

abused. She guessed, probably with tolerable accuracy, the kind of

things that had been said of her, and suggested to herself what answer

Brooke would make to such accusations. But she had resolved to cloak it

all in silence, and pretended for awhile not to remember the young

man’s declared intention when he left the house. ‘It seems odd to me,’

said Brooke, ‘that Uncle Barty should always live alone as he does. He

must have a dreary time of it.’

‘I don’t know anything about your Uncle Barty’s manner of living.’

‘No I suppose not. You and he are not friends.’

‘By no means, Brooke.’

‘He lives there all alone in that poky bank-house, and nobody ever goes

near him. I wonder whether he has any friends in the city?’

‘I really cannot tell you anything about his friends. And, to tell you

the truth, Brooke, I don’t want to talk about your uncle. Of course,

you can go to see him when you please, but I’d rather you didn’t tell

me of your visits afterwards.’

‘There is nothing in the world I hate so much as a secret,’ said he. He

had no intention in this of animadverting upon Miss Stanbury’s secret

enmity, nor had he purposed to ask any question as to her relations

with the old man. He had alluded to his dislike of having secrets of

his own. But she misunderstood him.

‘If you are anxious to know—’ she said, becoming very red in the face.

‘I am not at all curious to know. You quite mistake me.’

‘He has chosen to believe or to say that he believed that I wronged him

in regard to his brother’s will. I nursed his brother when he was dying

as I considered it to be my duty to do. I cannot tell you all that

story. It is too long, and too sad. Romance is very pretty in novels,

but the romance of a life is always a melancholy matter. They are most

happy who have no story to tell.’

‘I quite believe that.’

‘But your Uncle Barty chose to think indeed, I hardly know what he

thought. He said that the will was a will of my making. When it was

made I and his brother were apart; we were not even on speaking terms.

There had been a quarrel, and all manner of folly. I am not very proud

when I look back upon it. It is not that I think myself better than

others; but your Uncle Brooke’s will was made before we had come

together again. When he was ill it was natural that I should go to him

after all that had passed between us. Eh, Brooke?’

‘It was womanly.’

‘But it made no difference about the will. Mr Bartholomew Burgess might

have known that at once, and must have known it afterwards. But he has

never acknowledged that he was wrong, never even yet.’

‘He could not bring himself to do that, I should say.’

‘The will was no great triumph to me. I could have done without it. As

God is my judge, I would not have lifted up my little finger to get

either a part or the whole of poor Brooke’s money. If I had known that

a word would have done it, I would have bitten my tongue before it

should have been spoken.’ She had risen from her seat, and was speaking

with a solemnity that almost filled her listener with awe. She was a

woman short of stature; but now, as she stood over him, she seemed to

be tall and majestic. ‘But when the man was dead,’ she continued, ‘and

the will was there the property was mine, and I was bound in duty to

exercise the privileges and bear the responsibilities which the dead

man had conferred upon me. It was Barty, then, who sent a low attorney

to me, offering me a compromise. What had I to compromise? Compromise!

No. If it was not mine by all the right the law could give, I would

sooner have starved than have had a crust of bread out of the money.’

She had now clenched both her fists, and was shaking them rapidly as

she stood over him, looking down upon him.

‘Of course it was your own.’

‘Yes. Though they asked me to compromise, and sent messages to me to

frighten me, both Barty and your Uncle Tom; ay, and your father too,

Brooke; they did not dare to go to law. To law, indeed! If ever there

was a good will in the world, the will of your Uncle Brooke was good.

They could talk, and malign me, and tell lies as to dates, and strive

to make my name odious in the county; but they knew that the will was

good. They did not succeed very well in what they did attempt.’

‘I would try to forget it all now, Aunt Stanbury.’

‘Forget it! How is that to be done? How can the mind forget the history

of its own life? No I cannot forget it. I can forgive it.’

‘Then why not forgive it?’

‘I do. I have. Why else are you here?’

‘But forgive old Uncle Barty also!’

‘Has he forgiven me? Come now. If I wished to forgive him, how should I

begin? Would he be gracious if I went to him? Does he love me, do you

think or hate me? Uncle Barty is a good hater. It is the best point

about him. No, Brooke, we won’t try the farce of a reconciliation after

a long life of enmity. Nobody would believe us, and we should not

believe each other.’

‘Then I certainly would not try.’

‘I do not mean to do so. The truth is, Brooke, you shall have it all

when I’m gone, if you don’t turn against me. You won’t take to writing

for penny newspapers, will you, Brooke?’ As she asked the question she

put one of her hands softly on his shoulder.

‘I certainly shan’t offend in that way.’

‘And you won’t be a Radical?’

‘No, not a Radical.’

‘I mean a man to follow Beales and Bright, a republican, a putter-down

of the Church, a hater of the Throne. You won’t take up that line, will

you, Brooke?’

‘It isn’t my way at present, Aunt Stanbury. But a man shouldn’t

promise.’

‘Ah me! It makes me sad when I think what the country is coming to. I’m

told there are scores of members of Parliament who don’t pronounce

their h’s. When I was young, a member of Parliament used to be a

gentleman and they’ve taken to ordaining all manner of people. It used

to be the case that when you met a clergyman you met a gentleman.

By-the-bye, Brooke, what do you think of Mr Gibson?’

‘Mr Gibson! To tell the truth, I haven’t thought much about him yet.’

‘But you must think about him. Perhaps you haven’t thought about my

niece, Dolly Stanbury?’

‘I think she’s an uncommonly nice girl.’

‘She’s not to be nice for you, young man. She’s to be married to Mr

Gibson.’

‘Are they engaged?’

‘Well, no; but I intend that they shall be. You won’t begrudge that I

should give my little savings to one of my own name?’

‘You don’t know me, Aunt Stanbury, if you think that I should begrudge

anything that you might do with your money.’

‘Dolly has been here a month or two. I think it’s three months since

she came, and I do like her. She’s soft and womanly, and hasn’t taken

up those vile, filthy habits which almost all the girls have adopted.

Have you seen those Frenches with the things they have on their heads?’

‘I was speaking to them yesterday.’

‘Nasty sluts! You can see the grease on their foreheads when they try

to make their hair go back in the dirty French fashion. Dolly is not

like that is she?’

‘She is not in the least like either of the Miss Frenches.’

‘And now I want her to become Mrs Gibson. He is quite taken.’

‘Is he?’

‘Oh dear, yes. Didn’t you see him the other night at dinner and

afterwards? Of course he knows that I can give her a little bit of

money, which always goes for something, Brooke. And I do think it would

be such a nice thing for Dolly.’

‘And what does Dolly think about it?’

‘There’s the difficulty. She likes him well enough; I’m sure of that.

And she has no stuck-up ideas about herself. She isn’t one of those who

think that almost nothing is good enough for