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

somewhat to this affection, so that Mrs Clifford was almost closer to

our friend’s heart even than Mrs MacHugh, who lived just at the other

end of the cathedral. And in truth Mrs Clifford was a woman more

serious in her mode of thought than Mrs MacHugh, and one who had more

in common with Miss Stanbury than that other lady. Mrs Clifford had

been a Miss Noel of Doddiscombe Leigh, and she and Miss Stanbury had

been engaged to be married at the same time each to a man of fortune.

One match had been completed in the ordinary course of matches. What

had been the course of the other we already know. But the friendship

had been maintained on very close terms. Mrs MacHugh was a Gallio at

heart, anxious chiefly to remove from herself and from her friends also

all the troubles of life, and make things smooth and easy. She was one

who disregarded great questions; who cared little or nothing what

people said of her; who considered nothing worth the trouble of a fight.

Epicuri de grege porca. But there was nothing swinish about Mrs

Clifford of Budleigh Salterton. She took life thoroughly in earnest.

She was a Tory who sorrowed heartily for her country, believing that it

was being brought to ruin by the counsels of evil men. She prayed daily

to be delivered from dissenters, radicals, and wolves in sheep’s

clothing by which latter bad name she meant especially a certain

leading politician of the day who had, with the cunning of the devil,

tempted and perverted the virtue of her own political friends. And she

was one who thought that the slightest breath of scandal on a young

woman’s name should be stopped at once. An antique, pure-minded,

anxious, self-sacrificing matron was Mrs Clifford, and very dear to the

heart of Miss Stanbury.

After lunch was over on the day in question Mrs Clifford got Miss

Stanbury into some closet retirement, and there spoke her mind as to

the things which were being said. It had been asserted in her presence

by Camilla French that she, Camilla, was authorised by Mr Gibson to

declare that he had never thought of proposing to Dorothy Stanbury, and

that Miss Stanbury had been ‘labouring under some strange

misapprehension in the matter.’ ‘Now, my dear, I don’t care very much

for the young lady in question,’ said Mrs Clifford, alluding to Camilla

French.

‘Very little, indeed, I should think,’ said Miss Stanbury, with a shake

of her head.

‘Quite true, my dear, but that does not make the words out of her mouth

the less efficacious for evil. She clearly insinuated that you had

endeavoured to make up a match between this gentleman and your niece,

and that you had failed.’ So much was at least true. Miss Stanbury felt

this, and felt also that she could not explain the truth, even to her

dear old friend. In the midst of her divine wrath she had acknowledged

to herself that she had brought Mr Gibson into his difficulty, and that

it would not become her to tell any one of his failure. And in this

matter she did not herself accuse Mr Gibson. She believed that the lie

originated with Camilla French, and it was against Camilla that her

wrath raged the fiercest.

‘She is a poor, mean, disappointed thing,’ said Miss Stanbury.

‘Very probably, but I think I should ask her to hold her tongue about

Miss Dorothy,’ said Mrs Clifford.

The consultation in the closet was carried on for about half-an-hour,

and then Miss Stanbury put on her bonnet and shawl and descended into

Mrs Clifford’s carriage. The carriage took the Heavitree road, and

deposited Miss Stanbury at the door of Mrs French’s house. The walk

home from Heavitree would be nothing, and Mrs Clifford proceeded on her

way, having given this little help in counsel, and conveyance to her

friend. Mrs French was at home, and Miss Stanbury was shown up into the

room in which, the three ladies were sitting.

The reader will doubtless remember the promise which Arabella had made

to Mr Gibson. That promise she had already fulfilled to the amazement

of her mother and sister; and when Miss Stanbury entered the room the

elder daughter of the family was seen without her accustomed head-gear.

If the truth is to be owned, Miss Stanbury gave the poor young woman no

credit for her new simplicity, but put down the deficiency to the

charge of domestic slatternliness. She was unjust enough to declare

afterwards that she had found Arabella French only half dressed at

between three and four o’clock in the afternoon! From which this lesson

may surely be learned: that though the way down Avernus may be, and

customarily is, made with great celerity, the return journey, if made

at all, must be made slowly. A young woman may commence in chignons by

attaching any amount of an edifice to her head; but the reduction

should be made by degrees. Arabella’s edifice had, in Miss Stanbury’s

eyes, been the ugliest thing in art that she had known; but, now, its

absence offended her, and she most untruly declared that she had come

upon the young woman in the middle of the day just out of her bedroom

and almost in her dressing-gown.

And the whole French family suffered a diminution of power from the

strange phantasy which had come upon Arabella. They all felt, in sight

of the enemy, that they had to a certain degree lowered their flag. One

of the ships, at least, had shown signs of striking, and this element

of weakness made itself felt through the whole fleet. Arabella,

herself, when she saw Miss Stanbury, was painfully conscious of her

head, and wished that she had postponed the operation till the evening.

She smiled with a faint watery smile, and was aware that something

ailed her.

The greetings at first were civil, but very formal, as are those

between nations which are nominally at peace, but which are waiting for

a sign at which each may spring at the other’s throat. In this instance

the Juno from the Close had come quite prepared to declare her casus

belli as complete, and to fling down her gauntlet, unless the enemy

should at once yield to her everything demanded with an abject

submission. ‘Mrs French,’ she said, ‘I have called to-day for a

particular purpose, and I must address myself chiefly to Miss Camilla.’

‘Oh, certainly,’ said Mrs French.

‘I shall be delighted to hear anything from you, Miss Stanbury,’ said

Camilla not without an air of bravado. Arabella said nothing, but she

put her hand up almost convulsively to the back of her head.

‘I have been told to-day by a friend of mine, Miss Camilla,’ began Miss

Stanbury, ‘that you declared yourself, in her presence, authorised by

Mr Gibson to make a statement about my niece Dorothy.’

‘May I ask who was your friend?’ demanded Mrs French.

‘It was Mrs Clifford, of course,’ said Camilla. ‘There is nobody else

would try to make difficulties.’

‘There need be no difficulty at all, Miss Camilla,’ said Miss Stanbury,

‘if you will promise me that you will not repeat the statement. It

can’t be true.’

‘But it is true,’ said Camilla.

‘What is true?’ asked Miss Stanbury, surprised by the audacity of the

girl.

‘It is true that Mr Gibson authorised us to state what I did state when

Mrs Clifford heard me.’

‘And what was that?’

‘Only this, that people had been saying all about Exeter that he was

going to be married to a young lady, and that as the report was

incorrect, and as he had never had the remotest idea in his mind of

making the young lady his wife.’ Camilla, as she said this, spoke with

a great deal of emphasis, putting forward her chin and shaking her head,

‘and as he thought it was uncomfortable both for the young lady and for

himself, and as there was nothing in it, the least in the world, nothing

at all, no glimmer of a foundation for the report, it would be better

to have it denied everywhere. That is what I said; and we had authority

from the gentleman himself. Arabella can say the same, and so can mamma,

only mamma did not hear him.’ Nor had Camilla heard him, but that

incident she did not mention.

The circumstances were, in Miss Stanbury’s judgment, becoming very

remarkable. She did not for a moment believe Camilla. She did not

believe that Mr Gibson had given to either of the Frenches any

justification for the statement just made. But Camilla had been so much

more audacious than Miss Stanbury had expected, that that lady was for

a moment struck dumb. ‘I’m sure, Miss Stanbury,’ said Mrs French, ‘we

don’t want to give any offence to your niece—very far from it.’

‘My niece doesn’t care about it two straws,’ said Miss Stanbury. ‘It is

I that care. And I care very much. The things that have been said have

been altogether false.’

‘How false, Miss Stanbury?’ asked Camilla.

‘Altogether false; as false as they can be.’

‘Mr Gibson must know his own mind,’ said Camilla.

‘My dear, there’s a little disappointment,’ said Miss French, ‘and it

don’t signify.’

‘There’s no disappointment at all,’ said Miss Stanbury, ‘and it does

signify very much. Now that I’ve begun, I’ll go to the bottom of it. If

you say that Mr Gibson told you to make these statements, I’ll go to Mr

Gibson. I’ll have it out somehow.’

‘You may have what you like out for us, Miss Stanbury,’ said Camilla.

‘I don’t believe Mr Gibson said anything of the kind.’

‘That’s civil,’ said Camilla.

‘But why shouldn’t he?’ asked Arabella.

‘There were the reports, you know,’ said Mrs French.

‘And why shouldn’t he deny them when there wasn’t a word of truth in

them?’ continued Camilla. ‘For my part, I think the gentleman is bound

for the lady’s sake to declare that there’s nothing in it when there is

nothing in it.’ This was more than Miss Stanbury could bear. Hitherto

the enemy had seemed to have the best of it. Camilla was firing

broadside after broadside, as though she was assured of victory. Even

Mrs French was becoming courageous; and Arabella was forgetting the

place where her chignon ought to have been. ‘I really do not know what

else there is for me to say,’ remarked Camilla, with a toss of her

head, ‘and an air of impudence that almost drove poor Miss Stanbury

frantic.

It was on her tongue to declare the whole truth, but she refrained. She

had schooled herself on this subject vigorously. She would not betray

Mr Gibson.’ Had she known all the truth or had she believed Camilla

French’s version of the story there would have been no betrayal. But

looking at the matter with such knowledge as she had at present, she

did not even yet feel herself justified in declaring that Mr Gibson had

offered his hand to her niece, and had been refused. She was, however,

sorely tempted. ‘Very well, ladies,’ she said. ‘I shall now see Mr

Gibson, and ask him whether he did give you authority to make such

statements as you have been spreading abroad everywhere.’ Then the door

of the room was opened, and in a moment Mr Gibson was among them. He

was true to his promise, and had come to see Arabella with her altered

headdress, but he had come at this hour thinking that escape in the

morning would be easier and quicker than it might have been in the

evening. His mind had been full of Arabella and