The Way We Live Now by Anthony Trollope (best fiction novels of all time .TXT) 📕

which she did not like to see. And she heard things which she did not like to hear. And her lover, though he was beautiful⁠—oh, so beautiful!⁠—was not all that a lover should be. She was still a little afraid of him, and did not dare as yet to ask him for the promise which she expected him to make to her. Her mind was set upon⁠—marriage, but the word had hardly passed between them. To have his arm round her waist was heaven to her! Could it be possible that he and John Crumb were of the same order of human beings? But how was this to go on? Even Mrs. Pipkin made disagreeable allusions, and she could not live always with Mrs. Pipkin, coming out at nights to drink brandy and water and hear music with Sir Felix Carbury. She was glad therefore to take the first opportunity of telling her lover that something was going to happen. “Who do you suppose was at our place yesterday?”

Sir Felix changed colour, thinking of Marie Melmotte, thinking that perhaps some emissary from Marie Melmotte had been there; perhaps Didon herself. He was amusing himself during these last evenings of his in London; but the business of his life was about to take him to New York. That project was still being elaborated. He had had an interview with Didon, and nothing was wanting but the money. Didon had heard of the funds which had been entrusted by him to Melmotte, and had been very urgent with him to recover them. Therefore, though his body was not unfrequently present, late in the night, at the City Road Music-Hall, his mind was ever in Grosvenor Square. “Who was it, Ruby?”

“A friend of the Squire’s, a Mr. Montague. I used to see him about in Bungay and Beccles.”

“Paul Montague!”

“Do you know him, Felix?”

“Well;⁠—rather. He’s a member of our club, and I see him constantly in the city⁠—and I know him at home.”

“Is he nice?”

“Well;⁠—that depends on what you call nice. He’s a prig of a fellow.”

“He’s got a lady friend where I live.”

“The devil he has!” Sir Felix of course had heard of Roger Carbury’s suit to his sister, and of the opposition to this suit on the part of Hetta, which was supposed to have been occasioned by her preference for Paul Montague. “Who is she, Ruby?”

“Well;⁠—she’s a Mrs. Hurtle. Such a stunning woman! Aunt says she’s an American. She’s got lots of money.”

“Is Montague going to marry her?”

“Oh dear yes. It’s all arranged. Mr. Montague comes quite regular to see her;⁠—not so regular as he ought, though. When gentlemen are fixed as they’re to be married, they never are regular afterwards. I wonder whether it’ll be the same with you?”

“Wasn’t John Crumb regular, Ruby?”

“Bother John Crumb! That wasn’t none of my doings. Oh, he’d been regular enough, if I’d let him; he’d been like clockwork⁠—only the slowest clock out. But Mr. Montague has been and told the Squire as he saw me. He told me so himself. The Squire’s coming about John Crumb. I know that. What am I to tell him, Felix?”

“Tell him to mind his own business. He can’t do anything to you.”

“No;⁠—he can’t do nothing. I ain’t done nothing wrong, and he can’t send for the police to have me took back to Sheep’s Acre. But he can talk⁠—and he can look. I ain’t one of those, Felix, as don’t mind about their characters⁠—so don’t you think it. Shall I tell him as I’m with you?”

“Gracious goodness, no! What would you say that for?”

“I didn’t know. I must say something.”

“Tell him you’re nothing to him.”

“But aunt will be letting on about my being out late o’nights; I know she will. And who am I with? He’ll be asking that.”

“Your aunt does not know?”

“No;⁠—I’ve told nobody yet. But it won’t do to go on like that, you know⁠—will it? You don’t want it to go on always like that;⁠—do you?”

“It’s very jolly, I think.”

“It ain’t jolly for me. Of course, Felix, I like to be with you. That’s jolly. But I have to mind them brats all the day, and to be doing the bedrooms. And that’s not the worst of it.”

“What is the worst of it?”

“I’m pretty nigh ashamed of myself. Yes, I am.” And now Ruby burst out into tears. “Because I wouldn’t have John Crumb, I didn’t mean to be a bad girl. Nor yet I won’t. But what’ll I do, if everybody turns again me? Aunt won’t go on forever in this way. She said last night that⁠—”

“Bother what she says!” Felix was not at all anxious to hear what aunt Pipkin might have to say upon such an occasion.

“She’s right too. Of course she knows there’s somebody. She ain’t such a fool as to think that I’m out at these hours to sing psalms with a lot of young women. She says that whoever it is ought to speak out his mind. There;⁠—that’s what she says. And she’s right. A girl has to mind herself, though she’s ever so fond of a young man.”

Sir Felix sucked his cigar and then took a long drink of brandy and water. Having emptied the beaker before him, he rapped for the waiter and called for another. He intended to avoid the necessity of making any direct reply to Ruby’s importunities. He was going to New York very shortly, and looked on his journey thither as an horizon in his future beyond which it was unnecessary to speculate as to any farther distance. He had not troubled himself to think how it might be with Ruby when he was gone. He had not even considered whether he would or would not tell her that he was going, before he started. It was not his fault that she had come up to London. She was an “awfully jolly girl,” and he liked the feeling of the intrigue better perhaps than the girl herself. But he assured himself that he wasn’t going to give himself any