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

one.

He found the two French girls sitting with their mother, and they all

expressed their great gratitude to him for coming to say good-bye

before he went. ‘It is so very nice of you, Mr Burgess,’ said Camilla,

‘and particularly just at present.’

‘Yes, indeed,’ said Arabella, ‘because you know things have been so

unpleasant.’

‘My dears, never mind about that,’ said Mrs French. ‘Miss Stanbury has

meant everything for the best, and it is all over now.’

‘I don’t know what you mean by its being all over, mamma,’ said

Camilla. ‘As far as I can understand, it has never been begun.’

‘My dear, the least said the soonest mended,’ said Mrs French.

‘That’s of course, mamma,’ said Camilla; ‘but yet one can’t hold one’s

tongue altogether. All the city is talking about it, and I dare say Mr

Burgess has heard as much as anybody else.’

‘I’ve heard nothing at all,’ said Brooke.

‘Oh yes, you have,’ continued Camilla. Arabella conceived herself at

this moment to be situated in so delicate a position, that it was best

that her sister should talk about it, and that she herself should hold

her tongue with the exception, perhaps, of a hint here and there which

might be of assistance; for Arabella completely understood that the

prize was now to be hers, if the prize could be rescued out of the

Stanbury clutches. She was aware, no one better aware, how her sister had

interfered with her early hopes, and was sure, in her own mind, that

all her disappointment had come from fratricidal rivalry on the part of

Camilla. It had never, however, been open to her to quarrel with

Camilla. There they were, linked together, and together they must fight

their battles. As two pigs may be seen at the same trough, each

striving to take the delicacies of the banquet from the other, and yet

enjoying always the warmth of the same dunghill in amicable contiguity,

so had these young ladies lived in sisterly friendship, while each was

striving to take a husband from the other. They had understood the

position, and, though for years back they had talked about Mr Gibson,

they had never quarrelled; but now, in these latter days of the

Stanbury interference, there had come tacitly to be something of an

understanding between them that, if any fighting were still possible on

the subject, one must be put forward and the other must yield. There

had been no spoken agreement, but Arabella quite understood that she

was to be put forward. It was for her to take up the running, and to

win, if possible, against the Stanbury filly. That was her view, and

she was inclined to give Camilla credit for acting in accordance with

it with honesty and zeal. She felt, therefore, that her words on the

present occasion ought to be few. She sat back in her corner of the

sofa, and was intent on her work, and shewed by the pensiveness of her

brow that there were thoughts within her bosom of which she was not

disposed to speak. ‘You must have heard a great deal,’ said Carnilla,

laughing. ‘You must know how poor Mr Gibson has been abused, because he

wouldn’t—’

‘Camilla, don’t be foolish,’ said Mrs French.

‘Because he wouldn’t what?’ asked Brooke. ‘What ought he to have done

that he didn’t do?’

‘I don’t know anything about ought,’ said Camilla. ‘That’s a matter of

taste altogether.’

‘I’m the worst hand in the world at a riddle,’ said Brooke.

‘How sly you are,’ continued Camilla, laughing; ‘as if dear Aunt

Stanbury hadn’t confided all her hopes to you.’

‘Camilla, dear don’t,’ said Arabella.

‘But when a gentleman is hunted, and can’t be caught, I don’t think he

ought to be abused to his face.’

‘But who hunted him, and who abused him?’ asked Brooke.

‘Mind, I don’t mean to say a word against Miss Stanbury, Mr Burgess.

We’ve known her and loved her all our lives haven’t we, mamma?’

‘And respected her,’ said Arabella.

‘Quite so,’ continued Camilla. ‘But you know, Mr Burgess, that she

likes her own way.’

‘I don’t know anybody that does not,’ said Brooke.

‘And when she’s disappointed, she shows it. There’s no doubt she is

disappointed now, Mr Burgess.’

‘What’s the good of going on, Camilla?’ said Mrs French. Arabella sat

silent in her corner, with a conscious glow of satisfaction, as she

reflected that the joint disappointment of the elder and the younger

Miss Stanbury had been caused by a tender remembrance of her own

charms. Had not dear Mr Gibson told her, in the glowing language of

truth, that there was nothing further from his thoughts than the idea

of taking Dorothy Stanbury for his wife?

‘Well, you know,’ continued Camilla, ‘I think that when a person makes

an attempt, and comes by the worst of it, that person should put up

with the defeat, and not say all manner of ill-natured things.

Everybody knows that a certain gentleman is very intimate in this

house.’

Don’t, dear,’ said Arabella, in a whisper.

‘Yes, I shall,’ said Camilla. ‘I don’t know why people should hold

their tongues, when other people talk so loudly. I don’t care a bit

what anybody says about the gentleman and us. We have known him for

ever so many years, and mamma is very fond of him.’

‘Indeed I am, Camilla,’ said Mrs French.

‘And for the matter of that, so am I very,’ said Camilla, laughing

bravely. ‘I don’t care who knows it.’

‘Don’t be so silly, child,’ said Arabella. Camilla was certainly doing

her best, and Arabella was grateful.

‘We don’t care what people may say,’ continued Camilla again. ‘Of

course we heard, as everybody else heard too, that a certain gentleman

was to be married to a certain lady. It was nothing to us whether he

was married or not.’

‘Nothing at all,’ said Arabella.

‘We never spoke ill of the young lady. We did not interfere. If the

gentleman liked the young lady, he was quite at liberty to marry her,

as far as we were concerned. We had been in the habit of seeing him

here, almost as a brother, and perhaps we might feel that a connection

with that particular young lady would take him from us; but we never

hinted so much even as that to him or to anyone else. Why should we? It

was nothing to us. Now it turns out that the gentleman never meant

anything of the kind, whereupon he is pretty nearly kicked out of the

house, and all manner of ill-natured things are said about us

everywhere.’ By this time Camilla had become quite excited, and was

speaking with much animation.

‘How can you be so foolish, Camilla?’ said Arabella.

‘Perhaps I am foolish,’ said Camilla, ‘to care what anybody says.’

‘What can it all be to Mr Burgess?’ said Mrs French.

‘Only this, that as we all like Mr Burgess, and as he is almost one of

the family in the Close, I think he ought to know why we are not quite

so cordial as we used to be. Now that the matter is over I have no

doubt things will get right again. And as for the young lady, I’m sure

we feel for her. We think it was the aunt who was indiscreet.’

‘And then she has such a tongue,’ said Arabella.

Our friend Brooke, of course, knew the whole truth knew the nature of

Mr Gibson’s failure, and knew also how Dorothy had acted in the affair.

He was inclined, moreover, to believe that the ladies who were now

talking to him were as well instructed on the subject as was he

himself. He had heard, too, of the ambition of the two young ladies now

before him, and believed that that ambition was not yet dead. But he

did not think it incumbent on him to fight a battle even on behalf of

Dorothy. He might have declared that Dorothy, at least, had not been

disappointed, but he thought it better to be silent about Dorothy.

‘Yes,’ he said, ‘Miss Stanbury has a tongue; but I think it speaks as

much good as it does evil, and perhaps that is a great deal to say for

any lady’s tongue.’

‘We never speak evil of anybody,’ said Camilla; ‘never. It is a rule

with us.’ Then Brooke took his leave, and the three ladies were cordial

and almost affectionate in their farewell greetings.

Brooke was to start on the following morning before anybody would be up

except Martha, and Miss Stanbury was very melancholy during the

evening. ‘We shall miss him very much; shall we not?’ she said,

appealing to Dorothy. ‘I am sure you will miss him very much,’ said

Dorothy. ‘We are so stupid here alone,’ said Miss Stanbury. ‘When they

had drank their tea, she sat nearly silent for half an hour, and then

summoned him up into her own room.‘so you are going, Brooke?’ she said.

‘Yes; I must go now. They would dismiss me if I stayed an hour longer.’

‘It was good of you to come to the old woman; and you must let me hear

of you from time to time.’

‘Of course I’ll write.’

‘And, Brooke—’

‘What is it, Aunt Stanbury?’

‘Do you want any money, Brooke?’

‘No none, thank you. I’ve plenty for a bachelor.’

‘When you think of marrying, Brooke, mind you tell me.’

‘I’ll be sure to tell you but I can’t promise yet when that will be.’

She said nothing more to him, though she paused once more as though she

were going to speak. She kissed him and bade him good-bye, saying that

she would not go downstairs again that evening. He was to tell Dorothy

to go to bed. And so they parted.

But Dorothy did not go to bed for an hour after that. When Brooke came

down into the parlour with his message she intended to go at once, and

put up her work, and lit her candle, and put out her hand to him, and

said good-bye to him. But, for all that, she remained there for an hour

with him. At first she said very little, but by degrees her tongue was

loosened, and she found herself talking with a freedom which she could

hardly herself understand. She told him how thoroughly she believed her

aunt to be a good woman, how sure she was that her aunt was at any rate

honest. ‘As for me,’ said Dorothy, ‘I know that I have displeased her

about Mr Gibson and I would go away, only that I think she would be so

desolate.’ Then Brooke begged her never to allow the idea of leaving

Miss Stanbury to enter her head. Because Miss Stanbury was capricious,

he said, not on that account should her caprices either be indulged or

permitted. That was his doctrine respecting Miss Stanbury, and he

declared that, as regarded himself, he would never be either

disrespectful to her or submissive. ‘It is a great mistake,’ he said,

‘to think that anybody is either an angel or a devil.’ When Dorothy

expressed an opinion that with some people angelic tendencies were

predominant, and with others diabolic tendencies, he assented; but

declared that it was not always easy to tell the one tendency from the

other. At last, when Dorothy had made about five attempts to go, Mr

Gibson’s name was mentioned. ‘I am very glad that you are not going to

be Mrs Gibson,’ said he.

‘I don’t know why you should be glad.’