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

to the moment of his knocking at the door; but all that was driven out

of his brain at once when he saw Miss Stanbury.

‘Here is Mr Gibson himself,’ said Mrs French.

‘How do you do, Mr Gibson?’ said Miss Stanbury, with a very stately

courtesy. They had never met since the day on which he had been, as he

stated, turned out of Miss Stanbury’s house. He now bowed to her; but

there was no friendly greeting, and the Frenches were able to

congratulate themselves on the apparent loyalty to themselves of the

gentleman who stood among them. ‘I have come here, Mr Gibson,’

continued Miss Stanbury, ‘to put a small matter right in which you are

concerned.’

‘It seems to me to be the most insignificant thing in the world,’ said

Camilla.

‘Very likely,’ said Miss Stanbury. ‘But it is not insignificant to me.

Miss Camilla French has asserted publicly that you have authorised her

to make a statement about my niece Dorothy.’

Mr Gibson looked into Camilla’s face doubtingly, inquisitively, almost

piteously.’ ‘You had better let her go on,’ said Camilla.‘she will make

a great many mistakes, no doubt, but you had better let her go on to

the end.’

‘I have made no mistake as yet, Miss Camilla. She so asserted, Mr

Gibson, in the hearing of a friend of mine, and she repeated the

assertion here in this room to me just before you came in. She says

that you have authorised her to declare that—that—that; I had better

speak it out plainly at once.’

‘Much better,’ said Camilla.

‘That you never entertained an idea of offering your hand to my niece.’

Miss Stanbury paused, and Mr Gibson’s jaw fell visibly. But he was not

expected to speak as yet; and Miss Stanbury continued her accusation.

‘Beyond that, I don’t want to mention my niece’s name, if it can be

avoided.’

‘But it can’t be avoided,’ said Camilla.

‘If you please, I will continue. Mr Gibson will understand me. I will

not, if I can help it, mention my niece’s name again, Mr Gibson. But I

still have that confidence in you that I do not think that you would

have made such a statement in reference to yourself and any young lady

unless it were some young lady who had absolutely thrown herself at

your head.’ And in saying this she paused, and looked very hard at

Camilla.

‘That’s just what Dorothy Stanbury has been doing,’ said Camilla.

‘She has been doing nothing of the kind, and you know she hasn’t,’ said

Miss Stanbury, raising her arm as though she were going to strike her

opponent. ‘But I am quite sure, Mr Gibson, that you never could have

authorised these young ladies to make such an assertion publicly on

your behalf. Whatever there may have been of misunderstanding between

you and me, I can’t believe that of you.’ Then she paused for a reply.

‘If you will be good enough to set us right on that point, I shall be

obliged to you.’

Mr Gibson’s position was one of great discomfort. He had given no

authority to anyone to make such a statement. He had said nothing about

Dorothy Stanbury to Camilla; but he had told Arabella, when hard

pressed by that lady, that he did not mean to propose to Dorothy. He

could not satisfy Miss Stanbury because he feared Arabella. He could

not satisfy the Frenches because he feared Miss Stanbury. ‘I really do

not think,’ said he, ‘that we ought to talk about a young lady in this

way.’

‘That’s my opinion too,’ said Camilla; ‘but Miss Stanbury will.’

‘Exactly so. Miss Stanbury will,’ said that lady. ‘Mr Gibson, I insist

upon it, that you tell me whether you did give any such authority to

Miss Camilla French, or to Miss French.’

‘I wouldn’t answer her, if I were you,’ said Camilla.

‘I really don’t think this can do any good,’ said Mrs French.

‘And it is so very harassing to our nerves,’ said Arabella.

‘Nerves! Pooh!’ exclaimed Miss Stanbury. ‘Now, Mr Gibson, I am waiting

for an answer.’

‘My dear Miss Stanbury, I really think it better the situation is so

peculiar, and, upon my word, I hardly know how not to give offence,

which I wouldn’t do for the world.’

‘Do you mean to tell me that you won’t answer my question?’ demanded

Miss Stanbury.

‘I really think that I had better hold my tongue,’ pleaded Mr Gibson.

‘You are quite right, Mr Gibson,’ said Camilla.

‘Indeed, it is wisest,’ said Mrs French.

‘I don’t see what else he can do,’ said Arabella.

Then was Miss Stanbury driven altogether beyond her powers of

endurance. ‘If that be so,’ said she, ‘I must speak out, though I

should have preferred to hold my tongue. Mr Gibson did offer to my

niece the week before last twice, and was refused by her. My niece,

Dorothy, took it into her head that she did not like him; and, upon my

word, I think she was right. We should have said nothing about this, not

a word; but when these false assertions are made on Mr Gibson’s alleged

authority, and Mr Gibson won’t deny it, I must tell the truth.’ Then

there was silence among them for a few seconds, and Mr Gibson struggled

hard, but vainly, to clothe his face in a pleasant smile. ‘Mr Gibson,

is that true?’ said Miss Stanbury. But Mr Gibson made no reply. ‘It is

as true as heaven,’ said Miss Stanbury, striking her hand upon the

table. ‘And now you had better, all of you, hold your tongues about my

niece, and she will hold her tongue about you. And as for Mr Gibson,

anybody who wants him after this is welcome to him for us.

Good-morning, Mrs French; good-morning, young ladies.’ And so she

stalked out of the room, and out of the house, and walked back to her

house in the Close.

‘Mamma,’ said Arabella as soon as the enemy was gone, ‘I have got such

a headache that I think I will go upstairs.’

‘And I will go with you, dear,’ said Camilla.

Mr Gibson, before he left the house, confided his secret to the

maternal ears of Mrs French. He certainly had been allured into making

an offer to Dorothy Stanbury, but was ready to atone for this crime by

marrying her daughter Camilla as soon as might be convenient. He was

certainly driven to make this declaration by intense cowardice—not to

excuse himself, for in that there could be no excuse—but how else

should he dare to suggest that he might as well leave the house? ‘Shall

I tell the dear girl?’ asked Mrs French. But Mr Gibson requested a

fortnight, in which to consider how the proposition had best be made.