 Chapter 10 of Can You Forgive Her. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Leanne Howlett. Can You Forgive Her by Antony Trollop. Chapter 10, Nethercoats. We will leave Mrs. Greenow with her niece and two sisters at Yarmouth, and returning by stages to London, we'll call upon Mr. Gray at his place in Cambridgeshire as we pass by. I believe it is conceded by all the other counties that Cambridgeshire possesses fewer rural beauties than any other county in England. It is very flat, it is not well timbered, the rivers are merely dykes, and in a very large portion of the county, the farms and fields are divided simply by ditches, not by hedge-rows. Such arrangements are, no doubt, well adapted for agricultural purposes, but are not conducive to rural beauty. Mr. Gray's residence was situated in a part of Cambridgeshire in which the above-named characteristics are very much marked. It was in the Isle of Ely, some few distant miles from the cathedral town on the side of a long, straight road which ran through the fields for miles without even a bush to cheer it. The name of his place was Nethercoats, and here he lived generally throughout the year, and here he intended to live throughout his life. His father had held a prebendal stall at Ely in times when prebendal stalls were worth more than they are at present, and having also been possessed of a living in the neighborhood, had amassed a considerable sum of money. With this he had during his life purchased the property of Nethercoats and a built-on at the house in which his son now lived. He had married late in life and had lost his wife soon after the birth of an only child. The house had been built in his own parish, and his wife had lived there for a few months and had died there. But after that event the old clergyman had gone back to his residence in the clothes at Ely, and there John Gray had had the home of his youth. He had been brought up under his father's eye, having been sent to no public school. But he had gone to Cambridge, had taken college honors, and had then, his father dying exactly at this time, declined to accept a fellowship. His father had left to him an income of some fifteen hundred a year, and with this he sat himself down, near to his college friends, near also to the old cathedral which he loved, and the house which his father had built. But though Nethercoats possessed no beauty of scenery, though the country around it was in truth as uninteresting as any country could be, it had many delights of its own. The house itself was as excellent a residence for a country gentleman of small means as taste and skill together could construct. I doubt whether prettier rooms were ever seen than the drawing room, the library, and the dining room at Nethercoats. They were all on the ground floor and all opened out onto the garden and lawn. The library, which was the largest of the three, was a handsome chamber and so filled us to make it well known in the university as one of the best private collections in that part of England. But perhaps the gardens of Nethercoats constituted its greatest glory. They were spacious and excellently kept up and had been originally laid out without knowledge of gardening, without which no garden, merely as a garden, can be effective. And such of necessity was the garden of Nethercoats. Find single forest trees, there were none there, nor was it possible that there should have been any such. Nor could there be a clear rippling stream with steep green banks and broken rocks lying about its bed. Such beauties are beauties of landscape and do not of their nature belong to a garden. But the shrubs of Nethercoats were of the rarest kind and had been long enough in their present places to have reached the period of their beauty. Nothing had been spared that a garden could want. The fruit trees were perfect in their kind and the glass houses were so good and so extensive that John Gray and his prudence was sometimes tempted to think that he had too much of them. It must be understood that there were no grounds according to the meaning usually given to that word belonging to the house at Nethercoats. Between the garden and the public road there was a paddock belonging to the house, along the side of which, but divided from it by a hedge and shrubbery, ran the private carriage way up to the house. This swept through the small front flower garden, dividing it equally. But the lawns and indeed the whole of that, which made the beauty of the place lay on the back of the house, on which side opened the windows from the three sitting rooms. Down on the public road there should a lodge at which lived one of the gardeners. There was another field of some six or seven acres to which there was a gate from the corner of the front paddock in which went round two sides of the garden. This was Nethercoats and the whole estate covered about twelve acres. It was not a place for much bachelor enjoyment of that sort generally popular with bachelors. Nevertheless, Mr. Gray had been constant in his residence there for the seven years which had now elapsed since he had left his college. His easy access to Cambridge had probably done much to mitigate what might otherwise have been the too great tedium of his life. And he had, prompted there too by early associations, found most of his society in the clothes at Ely Cathedral. But with all the delight he could derive from these two sources there had still been many solitary hours in his life and he had gradually learned to feel that he of all men wanted a companion in his home. His visits to London had generally been short and far between occasioned probably by some need in the library or by the necessity of some slight literary transaction with the editor or publisher of a periodical. In one of these visits he had met Alice Vavasor and had remained in town. I will not say till Alice had promised to share his home in Cambridgeshire but so long that he had resolved before he went that he would ask her to do so. He had asked her and we know that he had been successful. He had obtained her promise and from that moment all his life had been changed for him. Hitherto at Nethercoats his little smoking room, his books and his plants had been everything to him. Now he began to surround himself with an infinity of feminine belongings and to promise himself an infinity of feminine blessings wondering much that he should have been content to pass so long a portion of his life and the dull seclusion which he had endured. He was not by nature an impatient man but now he became impatient longing for the fruition of his new idea of happiness. Longing to have that as his own which he certainly loved beyond all else in the world on which perhaps was all he had ever loved with the perfect love of equality but though impatient and fully aware of his own impatience he acknowledged to himself that Alice could not be expected to share it. He could plan nothing now could have no pleasure in life that she was not expected to share but as yet it could not be so with her. She had her house in London her town society and her father and then as much as the change for her would be much greater than it would be for him it was natural that she should require some small delay. He had not pressed her at least he had not pressed her with that eager pressure which a girl must resist with something of the opposition of a contest if she resisted at all. But in truth his impatience was now waxing strong and during the absence in Switzerland of which we have spoken she resolved that a marriage very late in the autumn that a marriage even in winter would be better than a marriage postponed to the following year. It was not yet late in August when the party returned from their tour would not a further delay of two months suffice for his bride Alice had written to him occasionally from Switzerland and her first two letters had been very charming they had referred almost exclusively to the tour and had been made pleasant with some slightly colored account of George Vavasar's idleness and of Kate's obedience to her brother's behest. Alice had never written much of love in her love letters and Grey was well enough contented with her style though it was not impassioned. As for doubting her love it was not in the heart of the man to do so after it had been once assured to him by her word. He could not so slightly respect himself or her as to leave room for such a doubt in his bosom. He was a man who could never have suggested to himself that a woman loved him till the fact was there before him but who having ascertained as he might think the fact could never suggest to himself that her love would fail him. Her first two letters from Switzerland had been very pleasant but after that there seemed to have crept over her a melancholy which she unconsciously transferred to her words and which he could not but taste in them at first unconsciously also but soon was so plain a flavor that he recognized it and made it a matter of mental inquiry. During the three or four last days of the journey while they were at Basil and on their way home she had not written but she did write on the day after her arrival having then received from Mr. Grey a letter and which he told her how very much she would add to his happiness if she would now agree that their marriage should not be postponed beyond the end of October. This letter she found in her room on her return and this she answered at once and she answered it in such words that Mr. Grey resolved that he would at once go to her in London. I will give her letter at length as I shall then be best able to proceed with my story quickly. Queen Anne Street, August 186 Blank dearest John we reached home yesterday tired enough as we came through from Paris without stopping I may indeed say that we came through from Strasbourg as we only slept in Paris I don't like Strasbourg a steeple after all is not everything and putting the steeple aside I don't think the style is good but the hotel was uncomfortable which goes for so much and then we were saturated with beauty of a better kind I got your letter directly I came in last night and I suppose I'd better dash at it at once I would so willingly delay doing so saying nice little things the while did I not know that this would be mere cowardice whatever happens I won't be a coward and therefore I will tell you at once that I cannot let you hope that we should be married this year of course you will ask me why as you have a right to do and of course I am bound to answer I do not know that I can give any answer with which you will not have a right to complain if it be so I can only ask your pardon for the injury I am doing you marriage is a great change in life much greater to me than to you who will remain in your old house will keep your old pursuits will still be your own master and will change in nothing except in this that you will have a companion who probably may not be all that you expect but I must change everything it will be to me as though I were passing through a grave to a new world I shall see nothing that I have been accustomed to see and must abandon all the ways of life that I have hitherto adopted of course I should have thought of this before I accepted you and I did think of it I made up my mind that as I truly loved you I would risk the change that I would risk it for your sake and for mine hoping that I might add something to your happiness and that I might secure my own dear John do not suppose that I despair that it may be so but indeed you must not hurry me I must tune myself to the change that I have to make what if I should wake some morning after six months living with you and tell you that the quiet of your home was making me mad you must not ask me again till the winter shall have passed away if in the meantime I shall find that I have been wrong I will humbly confess that I have wronged you and asked you to forgive me and I will freely admit this if the delay which I now purpose is so contrary to your own plans as to make your marriage under such circumstances not that which you had expected I know that you are free to tell me so and to say that our engagement shall be over I am well aware that I can have no right to mind you to a marriage at one period which you had only contemplated as to take place at another period I think I may promise that I will obey any wish you may express in anything except in that one thing which you urged in your last letter Kate is going down to Yarmouth with Mrs. Greenow and I shall see no more of her probably till next year as she will be doing Westmoreland after that George left me at the door when he brought me home and declared that he intended to vanish out of London whether in town or out he is never to be seen at this period of the year Papa offers to go to Ramsgate for a fortnight but he looks so wretched when he makes the offer that I shall not have the heart to hold him to it Lady MacLeod very much wants me to go to Keltonham I very much want not to go simply because I can never agree with her about anything but it will probably end in my going there for a week or two over and beyond that I have no prospects before Christmas which are not purely domestic there is a project that we shall all eat our Christmas dinner at Vaviser Hall, of course not including George but this project is quiet in the clouds and as far as I am concerned will remain there Dear John, let me hear that this letter does not make you unhappy most affectionately yours Alice Vavasor At Nethercoats the post was brought in at breakfast time and Mr. Gray was sitting with his tea and eggs before him when he read Alice's letter he read it twice before he began to think what he would do in regard to it and then referred to one or two others which he had received from Switzerland reading them also very carefully after that he took up the slouch hat which he had been wearing in the garden before he was called to his breakfast and with the letters in his hand sauntered down among the shrubs and lawns he knew, he thought he knew that there was more in Alice's mind than a mere wish for delay there was more in it than that hesitation to take at once a step which she really desired to take if not now then after some short interval he felt that she was unhappy and unhappy because she distrusted the results of her marriage but it never for a moment occurred to him that therefore the engagement between them should be broken in the first place he loved her too well to allow of his admitting such an idea without terrible sorrow to himself he was a constant firm man somewhat reserved and unwilling to make new acquaintances and therefore specially unwilling to break away from those which he had made undoubtedly had he satisfied himself that Alice's happiness demanded such a sacrifice of himself he would have made it and made it without a word of complaint the blow would not have prostrated him but the bruise would have remained on his heart indelible not to be healed but by death he would have submitted and no man would have seen that he had been injured but it did not once occur to him that such a proceeding on his part would be beneficial to Alice without being aware of it he reckoned himself to be the nobler creature of the two and now thought of her as of one wounded and wanting a cure some weakness had followed on her and strength must be given to her from another he did not in the least doubt her love but he knew that she had been associated for a few weeks past with two persons whose daily conversation would be prone to weaken the tone of her mind he no more thought of giving her up than a man thinks of having his leg cut off because he has sprained his sinews he would go up to town and see her and would not even yet abandon all hope that she might be found sitting at his board when Christmas should come by that day's post he wrote a short note to her dearest Alice he said I have resolved to go to London at once I will be with you in the evening at eight the day after tomorrow yours JG there was no more in the letter than that and now she said when she received it I must dare to tell him the whole truth End of Chapter 10 Recording by Leanne Howlett Chapter 11 of Can You Forgive Her This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Leanne Howlett Can You Forgive Her by Antony Trollop Chapter 11 John Gray Goes to London and what was the whole truth? Alice Vavasor when she declared to herself that she must tell her lover the whole truth was expressing to herself her intention of putting an end to her engagement with Mr. Gray she was acknowledging that which had to be told was not compatible with the love and perfect faith which she owed to the man who was a refined husband and yet why should it be so she did not intend to tell him that she had been false in her love to him it was not that her heart had again veered itself round and given itself to that wild cousin of hers though she might feel herself constrained to part from John Gray George Vavasor could never be her husband of that she assured herself fifty times during the two days grace which had been allowed her nay, she went farther than that with herself and pronounced a verdict against any marriage as possible to her if she now decided against this marriage which had for some months passed been regarded as fixed by herself and all her friends people often say that marriage is an important thing and should be much thought of in advance and marrying people or caution that there are many who marry in haste and repent at leisure I am not sure however that marriage may not be pondered over too much nor do I feel certain that the leisurely repentance does not as often follow the leisurely marriages as it does the rapid ones that some repent no one can doubt but I am inclined to believe that most men and women take their lots as they find them marrying as the birds do by force of nature and going on with their mates with a general though not perhaps an undisturbed satisfaction feeling inwardly assured that providence if it had not done the very best for them has done for them as well as they could do for themselves with all the thought of the world I do not know that a woman can assure to herself by her own prudence and taste a good husband any more than she can add two cubits to her stature but husbands have been made to be decently good and wives too for the most part in our country so that the thing does not require quite so much thinking as some people say that Alice Vavasor had thought too much about it I feel quite sure she had gone on thinking of it till she had filled herself with a cloud of doubts which even the sunshine of love was unable to drive from her heavens that a girl should really love the man she intends to marry that at any rate may be admitted but love generally comes easily enough with all her doubts Alice never doubted her love for Mr. Gray nor did she doubt his character nor his temper nor his means but she had gone on thinking of the matter till her mind had become filled with some undefined idea of the importance to her of her own life what should a woman do with her life there had arisen round her a flock of learned ladies asking that question to whom it seems that the proper answer has never yet occurred fall in love, marry the man, have two children and live happy ever afterwards I maintain that answer has as much wisdom in it as any other that can be given or perhaps more the advice contained in it cannot perhaps always be followed to the letter but neither can the advice of the other kind which is given by the flock of learned ladies who ask the question a woman's life is important to her as is that of a man to him not chiefly in regard to that which she shall do with it the chief thing for her to look to is the matter in which that something shall be done it is a moment to a young man when entering life to decide whether he shall make hats or shoes but not of half the moment that will be that other decision whether he shall make good shoes or bad and so with a woman if she shall have recognized the necessity of truth and honesty for the purposes of her life I do not know that she need ask herself many questions as to what she will do with it Alice Vavasor was ever asking herself that question and had by degrees filled herself with a vague idea that there was a something to be done a something over and beyond or perhaps altogether beside that marrying and having two children if she only knew what it was she had filled herself or had been filled by her cousins with an undefined ambition that made her restless without giving her any real food for her mind when she told herself that she would have no scope for action in that life in Cambridgeshire which Mr. Gray was preparing for her she did not herself know what she meant by action had anyone accused her of being afraid to separate herself from London society she would have declared that she went very little into society and disliked that little had it been whispered to her that she loved the neighborhood of the shops she would have scorned the whisperer had it been suggested that the continued rattle of the big city was necessary to her happiness she would have declared that she and her father had picked out for their residents the quietest street in London because she could not bear noise and yet she told herself that she feared to be taken into the desolate calmness of Cambridgeshire when she did contrive to find any answer to that question as to what she should do with her life or rather what she would wish to do with it if she were a free agent it was generally of a political nature she was not so far advanced as to think that women should be lawyers and doctors or to wish that she might have the privilege of the franchise for herself but she had undoubtedly a hankering after some second-hand political maneuvering she would have liked, I think, to have been the wife of the leader of a radical opposition in the time when such men were put into prison and to have kept up for him his seditious correspondence while he lay in the tower she would have carried the answers to him inside her stays and have made long journeys down into northern parts without any money if the cause required it she would have liked to have around her ardent spirits, male or female who would have talked of the cause and have kept alive in her some flame of political fire as it was she had no cause her father's political views were very mild Lady MacLeod's were deadly conservative Kate Vavasor was an aspiring radicalist now because her brother was in the same line but during the year of the love passages between George and Alice George Vavasor's politics had been as conservative as you please he did not become a radical till he had quarreled with his grandfather now indeed he was possessed of very advanced views views with which Alice felt that she could sympathize what would be the use of sympathizing down in Cambridgeshire? John Gray had, so to speak, no politics he had decided views as to the treatment which the Roman Senate received from Augustus and had even discussed with Alice the conduct of the Gerondists at the time of Rogespierre's triumph but for Manchester and its carers he had no apparent solicitude and had declared to Alice that he would not accept a seat in the British House of Commons if it were offered to him free of expense what political enthusiasm could she indulge with such a companion down in Cambridgeshire? she thought too much of all this and was, if I may say, overprudent in calculating the chances of her happiness and of his for to give her credit for what was her due she was quite as anxious on the latter head as on the former I don't care for the Roman Senate she would say to herself I don't care much for the Gerondists how am I to talk to him day after day, night after night when we shall be alone together? no doubt her tour in Switzerland with her cousin had had some effect in making such thoughts stronger now than they had ever been she had not again learned to love her cousin she was as firmly sure as ever that she could never love him more he had insulted her love and though she had forgiven him and again enrolled him among her dearest friends she could never again feel for him that passion which a woman means when she acknowledges that she is in love that as regarded her and George Vavasor was over but nevertheless there had been a something of romance during those days in Switzerland which she feared she would regret when she found herself settled at Nethercoats she envied Kate Kate could as his sister attach herself on to George's political career and obtain from it all that excitement of life which Alice desired for herself Alice could not love her cousin and marry him but she felt that if she could do so without impropriety she would like to stick close to him like another sister to spend her money in aiding his career in parliament as Kate would do and trust herself and her career into the boat which he was to command she did not love her cousin but she still believed in him with a faith which he certainly did not deserve as the two days passed over her her mind grew more and more fixed as to its purpose she would tell Mr. Gray that she was not fit to be his wife and she would beg him to pardon her and to leave her it never occurred to her that perhaps he might refuse to let her go she felt quite sure that she would be free as soon as she had spoken the word which she intended to speak if she could speak it with decision she would be free and to attain that decision she would school herself with her utmost strength at one moment she thought of telling all to her father and of begging him to break the matter to Mr. Gray but she knew that her father would not understand her and that he would be very hostile to her saying hard uncomfortable words which would probably be spared if the thing were done before he was informed nor would she write to Kate whose letters to her at this time were full of wit to the expense of Mrs. Greenow she would tell Kate as soon as the thing was done but not before that Kate would sympathize with her she was quite certain so the two days passed by and the time came at which John Gray was to be there as the minute hand on the drawing room clock came round to the full hour she felt that her heart was beating with the violence which she could not repress the thing seemed to her to assume bigger dimensions than it had hitherto done she began to be aware that she was about to be guilty of a great iniquity when it was too late for her to change her mind she could not bring herself to resolve that she would on the moment change her mind she believed that she could never pardon herself such weakness but yet she felt herself to be aware that her purpose was wicked when the knock at the door was at last heard she trembled and feared that she would almost be unable to speak to him might it be possible that there should yet be a reprieve for her no it was his step on the stairs and there he was in the room with her my dearest he said coming to her his smile was sweet and loving as it ever was and his voice had its usual manly, genial, loving tone as he walked across the room Alice felt that he was a man of whom a wife might be very proud he was tall and very handsome with brown hair with bright blue eyes and a mouth like a god it was the beauty of his mouth beauty which comprised firmness within itself that made Alice afraid of him he was still dressed in his morning clothes but he was a man who always seemed to be well dressed my dearest he said advancing across the room and before she knew how to stop herself for him he had taken her in his arms and kissed her he did not immediately begin about the letter but placed her upon the sofa seating himself by her side and looked into her face with loving eyes not as though to scrutinize what might be amiss there but as though determined to enjoy to the full his privilege as a lover there was no reproach at any rate in his countenance none as yet nor did it seem that he thought that he had any cause for fear they sat in this way for a moment or two in silence and during those moments Alice was summoning up her courage to speak the palpitation at her heart was already gone and she was determined that she would speak though I am very glad to see you, she said at last I am sorry that my letter should have given you the trouble of this journey trouble, he said nay, you ought to know that it is no trouble I have not enough to do down at Nethercoats to make the running up to you at any time an unpleasant excitement so your Swiss journey went off pleasantly yes, it went off very pleasantly this she said in the tone of voice which clearly implies that the speaker is not thinking of the words spoken and Kate has now left you yes, she is with her aunt at the seaside so I understand and your cousin George I never know much of George's movements he may be in town but I have not seen him since I came back ah, that is the way with friends living in London unless circumstances bring them together they are in fact further apart than if they lived 50 miles of Sunder in the country and he managed to get through all the trouble without losing your luggage for you very often if you were to say that we did not lose his, that would be nearer the mark but John, you have come up to London in the sudden way to speak to me about my letter to you is it not so? certainly it is so, certainly I have I have thought much sense of what I then wrote very much very much indeed and I have learned to feel sure that we had better stop Alice, stop a moment love do not speak hurriedly, shall I tell you what I learned from your letter? yes, tell me if you think it better that you should do so perhaps it may be better I learned love that something had been said or done during your journey or perhaps only something thought that had made you melancholy and filled your mind for a while with those unsubstantial and indefinable regrets for the past which we are all up to feel at certain moments of our life there are few of us who do not encounter now and again some of that irrational spirit of sadness which when overindulged drives men to madness and self-destruction I used to know well what it was before I knew you but since I have had the hope of having you in my house I have banished it utterly and that I think I have been stronger than you do not speak under the influence of that spirit till you have thought whether you too cannot banish it I have tried and it will not be banished try again Alice it is a damned spirit and belongs neither to heaven nor to earth do not say to me the words that you were about to say till you have wrestled with it manfully I think I know what those words were to be if you love me those words should not be spoken if you do not if I do not love you I love no one upon earth I believe it I believe it as I believe in my own love for you I trust your love implicitly Alice I know that you love me I think I can read your mind tell me that I may return to Cambridgeshire and again plead my cause for an early marriage from thence I will not take such speech from you to mean more than it says she sat quiet looking at him looking full into his face she had in no wise changed her mind but after such words from him she did not know how to declare to him her resolution there was something in his manner that awed her and something also that softened her tell me said he that I may see you again tomorrow morning in our usual quiet loving way and that I may return home tomorrow evening pronounce a yay to that speech from me and I will ask for nothing further no I cannot do so she said and the tone of her voice as she spoke was different to any tone that he had heard before from her mouth is that melancholy fiend too strong for you he smiled as he said this and as he smiled he took her hand she did not attempt to withdraw it but sat by him in a strange calmness looking straight before her into the middle of the room you have not struggled with it you know as I do that it is a bad fiend and a wicked one a fiend that is prompting you to the worst cruelty in the world Alice Alice Alice try to think of all this as though some other person were concerned if it were your friend what advice would you give her I would bid her tell the man who had loved her that is if he were noble good and great that she found herself to be unfit to be his wife and then I would bid her ask his pardon humbly on her knees as she said this she sank before him onto the floor and looked up into his face with an expression of sad contrition which almost drew him from his purpose firmness he had purposed to be firm to yield to her and nothing resolving to treat all that she might say as the hallucination of a sickened imagination as the effect of absolute want of help for which some change in her mode of life would be the best cure she might bid him be gone in what language she would he knew well that such was her intention but he would not allow a word coming from her in such a way to disturb arrangements made for the happiness of their joint lives as a loving husband would treat a wife who in some exceptional moment of a melancholy malady should declare herself unable to remain longer in her home so would he treat her as for accepting what she might say as his dismissal he would assume think of taking the fruit trees from the southern wall because the sun sometimes shines from the north he could not treat either his interests or hers so lightly as that but what if he granted no such pardon Alice I will grant none such you are my wife, my own, my dearest, my chosen one you are all that I value in the world my treasure and my comfort my earthly happiness and my gleam of something better that is to come hereafter do you think that I shall let you go from me in that way no love if you are ill I will wait till your illness has gone by and if you will let me I will be your nurse I am not ill not ill with any defined sickness you do not shake with egg you nor does your head rack you with aching but yet you may be ill think of what has passed between us do you not be ill when you seek to put an end to all that without any cause assigned you will not hear my reasons she was still kneeling before him and looking up into his face I will hear them if you will tell me that they refer to any supposed faults of my own no, no, no then I will not hear them it is for me to find out your faults and when I have found out any that require complaint come and make it dear Alice, I wish you knew how I longed for you then he put his hand upon her hair as though he would caress her but this she would not suffer so she rose slowly and stood with her hand upon the table in the middle of the room Mr. Gray, she said if you will call me so, I shall think it only a part of your malady Mr. Gray, she continued, I can only hope that you will take me at my word oh, but I will not certainly I will not if that would be adverse to my own interests I am thinking of your interests I am indeed at any rate as much of my own I feel quite sure that I should not make you happy as your wife quite sure in feeling that, I think that I am right even after all that has passed to ask your forgiveness and to beg that our engagement may be over no, Alice, no, never with my consent I cannot tell you with what contentment I would marry you tomorrow tomorrow or next month or the month after but if it cannot be so, then I will wait nothing but your marriage with someone else would convince me I cannot convince you in that way, she said, smiling you will convince me in no other you have not spoken to your father of this as yet not as yet do not do so at any rate for the present you will own that it might be possible that you would have to unsay what you had said no, it is not possible give yourself and me the chance it can do no harm and Alice, I ask you now for no reasons I will not ask your reasons or even listen to them because I do not believe that they will long have effect even on yourself do you still think of going to Keltonham? I have decided nothing as yet if I were you, I would go I think a change of error would be good for you yes, you treat me as though I were partly silly and partly insane but it is not so the change you speak of should be in my nature and in yours he shook his head and still smiled there was something in the imperturb security of his manner which almost made her angry with him it seemed as though he assumed so great a superiority that he felt himself able to treat any resolve of hers as a petulance of a child and though he spoke in strong language of his love and of his longing that she should come to him yet he was so well able to command his feelings that he showed no sign of grief at the communication she had made to him she did not doubt his love she believed him to be so much the master of his love as he was the master of everything else that her separation from him would cause him no uncontrollable grief in that she utterly failed to understand his character had she known him better she might have been sure that such a separation now would with him have carried its mark to the grave should he submit to her decision he would go home and settle himself to his books the next day but on no following day would he be again capable of walking forth among his flowers with an easy heart he was a strong, constant man perhaps over-conscious of his own strength but then his strength was great he is perfect, Alice had said to herself often oh that he were less perfect he did not stay with her long after the last word that has been recorded perhaps he said as for a moment he held her hand at parting I had better not come tomorrow no, no, it is better not I advise you not to tell your father of this and doubtless you will think of it before you do so but if you do tell him let me know that you have done so why that? because in such case I also must see him God bless you Alice God bless you dearest Alice then he went and she sat there on the sofa without moving till she heard her father's feet as he came up the stairs what, Alice, are you not in bed yet? not yet, Papa and so John Gray has been here he is left to stick in the hall I should know it among a thousand yes, he has been here is anything the matter, Alice? no, Papa, nothing is the matter he has not made himself disagreeable, has he? not in the least, he never does anything wrong he may define man or woman to find fault with him so that is it, is it? he is just a shade too good well, I've always thought that myself but it's a fault on the right side it's no fault, Papa if there be any fault that is not with him but I'm yawning and tired and I will go to bed is he to be here tomorrow? no, he returns to Nethercoats early good night, Papa Mr. Vavasor, as he went up to his bedroom felt sure that there had been something wrong between his daughter and her lover I don't know how she'll ever put up with him, he said to himself he is so terribly conceited I shall never forget how he went on about Charles Kimball and what a fool he made of himself Alice, before she went to bed sat down and wrote a letter to her cousin Kate End of Chapter 11 Recording by Leanne Howlett Chapter 12 Of Can You Forgive Her This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Leanne Howlett Can You Forgive Her by Antony Trollop Chapter 12 Mr. George Vavasor at home it cannot perhaps fairly be said that George Vavasor was an unhospitable man seeing that it was his custom to entertain his friends occasionally at Greenwich, Richmond or such places and he would now and again have a friend to dine with him at his club but he never gave breakfasts, dinners or suppers under his own roof during a short period of his wine-selling career at which time he had occupied handsome rooms over his place of business in New Burlington Street he had presided at certain feasts given to customers or expectant customers by the firm but he had not found this employment to his taste and had soon relinquished it to one of the other partners since that he had lived in lodgings in Cecil Street down at the bottom of that retired nook near to the river and away from the strand here he had simply two rooms on the first floor and hither his friends came to him very rarely they came very rarely on any account a stray man might now and then pass an hour with him here but on such occasions the chances were that the visit had some reference near or distant to affairs of business eating or drinking there was never any to be found here by the most intimate of his allies his lodgings were his private retreat and they were so private that but few of his friends knew where he lived and had it been possible he would have wished that no one should have known his whereabouts I am not aware that he had any special reason for this peculiarity or that there was anything about his mode of life that required hiding but he was a man who had always lived as though secrecy in certain matters might at any time become useful to him he had a mode of dressing himself when he went out at night that made it almost impossible that anyone should recognize him the people at his lodgings did not even know that he had relatives and his nearest relatives hardly knew that he had lodgings even Kate had never been at the rooms in Cecil Street and addressed all her letters to his place of business or his club he was a man who would bear no inquiry into himself if he had been out of view for a month and his friends asked him where he had been he always answered the question falsely or left it unanswered there are many men of whom everybody knows all about all their belongings as to whom everybody knows where they live, whether they go what is their means and how they spend it but there are others of whom no man knows anything and George Vavasor was such a one for myself I like the open babbler the best babbling may be a weakness but to my thinking mystery is a vice Vavasor also maintained another little establishment down at Oxfordshire but the two establishments did not even know of each other's existence there was a third two very closely hidden from the world's eye which shall be nameless but of the establishment at Oxfordshire he did sometimes speak in very humble words among his friends when he found himself among hunting men he would speak of his two nags at robbery saying that he had never yet been able to mount a regular hunting stable and that he supposed he never would there were at robbery two indifferent beasts of his if anyone chose to buy them and men very often did buy Vavasor's horses when he was on them they always went well and sold themselves readily and though he thus spoke of two and perhaps did not keep more during the summer he always seemed to have horses enough when he was down in the country no one even knew George Vavasor not to hunt because he was short of stuff and here at robbery he kept a trustee servant an ancient groom with two little bushy gray eyes which looked as though they could see through a stable door many were the long whisperings which George and Bat Smithers carried on at the stable door and the very back depth of the yard attached to the hunting in at robbery Bat regarded his master as a man wholly devoted to horses but often wondered why he was not more regular in his sojournings in Oxfordshire of any other portion of his master's life Bat knew nothing Bat could give the address of his master's club in London but he could give no other address but though Vavasor's private lodgings were so very private he had nevertheless taken some trouble in adorning them the furniture in the sitting room was very neat and the bookshelves were filled with the volumes that shone with gilding on their backs the ink stand, the paperweight, the envelope case on his writing table were all handsome he had a single good portrait of a woman's head hanging on one of his walls he had a special place adapted for his pistols others for his foils and again another for his whips the room was as pretty a bachelor's room as you would wish to enter but you might see by the position of the single easy chair that was brought forward that it was seldom appropriated to the comfort of more than one person here he sat lounging over his breakfast laid on a Sunday morning in September when all the world was out of town he was reading a letter which had just been brought down to him from his club though the writer of it was his sister Kate she had not been privileged to address it to his private lodgings he read it very quickly running rapidly over its contents and then threw it aside from him as though it were of no moment keeping however an enclosure in his hand and yet the letter was of much moment and made him think deeply if I did it at all said he it would be more with the object of cutting him out than with any other the reader will hardly require to be told that the him in question was John Gray and that Kate's letter was one instigating her brother to renew his love affair with Alice and Vavasor was in truth well inclined to renew it and would have begun the renewing it at once had he not doubted his power with his cousin indeed it has been seen that he had already attempted some commencement of such renewal at Basil he had told Kate more than once that Alice's fortune was not much and that her beauty was past its prime and he would no doubt repeat the same objections to his sister with some pretense of disinclination it was not his custom to show his hand to the players at any game that he played but he was in truth very anxious to obtain from Alice a second promise of her hand how soon after that he might marry her would be another question perhaps it was not Alice's beauty that he coveted nor yet her money exclusively nevertheless he thought her very beautiful and was fully aware that her money would be of great service to him but I believe that he was true in that word that he spoke to himself and that his chief attraction was the delight which he would have in robbing Mr. Gray of his wife Alice had once been his love had clung to his side had whispered love to him and he had enough of the weakness of humanity in him to feel the soreness arising from her affection for another when she broke away from him he had acknowledged that he had been wrong and when since her engagement with Mr. Gray he had congratulated her he had told her in his quiet half whispered impressive words how right she was but not the less therefore did he feel himself hurt that John Gray should be her lover and when he had met this man he had spoken well of him to his sister saying that he was a gentleman a scholar and a man of parts but not the less had he hated him from the first moment of his seeing him such hatred under such circumstances was almost pardonable but George Vavasor when he hated was apt to follow up his hatred with injury he could not violently dislike a man and yet not wish to do him any harm at present as he sat lounging in his chair he thought that he would like to marry his cousin Alice but he was quite sure that he would like to be the means of putting a stop to the proposed marriage between Alice and John Gray Kate had been very false to her friend and had sent up to her brother the very letter which Alice had written to her after that meeting in Queen Anne Street which was described in the last chapter or rather a portion of it for with the reserve common to women she had kept back the other half Alice had declared to herself that she would be sure of her cousin's sympathy and had written out all her heart on the matter as was her want when writing to Kate but you must understand she wrote that all that I said to him went with him for nothing I had determined to make him know that everything between us must be over but I failed I found that I had no words at command but that he was able to talk to me as though I were a child he told me that I was sick and full of fantasies and made me change the air as he spoke in this way I could not help feeling how right he was to use me so but I felt also that he in his mighty superiority could never be a fitting husband for a creature so inferior to him as I am though I all together failed to make him understand that it was so every moment that we were together made me more fixed in my resolution this letter from Alice to Kate Vavasor read over and over again though Kate's letter to himself which was the longer one he had thrown aside after the first glance there was nothing that he could learn from that he was as good a judge of the manner in which he would play his own game as Kate could be but in this matter he was to learn how he would play his game from a knowledge of the other girl's mind she'll never marry him at any rate he said to himself and she is right he'd make an upper servant of her very respectable no doubt but still only an upper servant now with me well I hardly know what I should make of her I cannot think of myself as a man married then he threw her letter after Kate's and we took himself to his newspaper and his cigar it was two hours after this and he still wore his dressing gown and he was still lounging in his easy chair when the waiting made at the lodgings brought him upward that a gentleman wished to see him Vavasor kept no servant of his own except that confidential room down at Bista it was a rule with him that people could be better served and cheaper served by other people's servants than by their own even in the stables at Bista the innkeeper had to find what assistance was wanted and charge for it in the bill and George Vavasor was no Siborite he did not deem it impracticable to put on his own trousers without having a man standing at his foot to hold up the leg of the garment a valet about a man knows a great deal of a man's ways and therefore George had no valet a gentleman said he to the girl does the gentleman look like a public housekeeper well I think he do said the girl then show him up said George and the gentleman was a public housekeeper Vavasor was pretty sure of his visitor before he desired the servant to give him entrance it was Mr. Grimes from the handsome man public house in Tavern in the Brompton Road and he had come by appointment to have a little conversation with Mr. Vavasor on matters political Mr. Grimes was a man who knew that business was business and as such had some considerable weight in his own neighborhood with him politics was business as well as beer and omniborce horses and foreign wines in the fabrication of which latter article Mr. Grimes was supposed to have an extended experience to such as him when intent on business Mr. Vavasor was not averse to make known the secrets of his lodging house and now when the idol of London World was either at morning church or still in bed Mr. Grimes had come out by appointment to do a little political business with the lately rejected member for the Chelsea districts Vavasor had been as I have said lately rejected and the new member who had beaten him at the Hustings had sat now for one session in Parliament under his present reign he was destined to the honor of one other session and in the period of his existing glory for which he was said to have paid nearly 6,000 pounds would be over but he might be elected again perhaps for a full period of six sessions and it might be hoped that the second election would be conducted on more economical principles to this the economical view of the matter Mr. Grimes was very much opposed and was now waiting upon George Vavasor in Cecil Street chiefly with the object of opposing the new member's wishes on this head no doubt Mr. Grimes was personally an advocate for the return of Mr. Vavasor and would do all in his power to prevent the re-election of the young Lord Kilfinora whose father the Marquis of Bonradi had scattered that 6,000 pounds among the electors and non-electors of Chelsea but his main object was that money should be spent taint all together for myself he said to a confidential friend in the same way of business I don't get so much on it perhaps sometimes not none maybe I've a bill again some of those gents not paid this weary moment but it's the game I looks to if the game dies away it'll never be got up again never who'll care about elections then anybody go and get a self elected if we was to let the game go by and so that the game might not go by Mr. Grimes was now present to Mr. George Vavasor's rooms well Mr. Grimes said George how are you this morning sit down Mr. Grimes if every man were as punctual as you are the world would go like clockwork wouldn't it business is business Mr. Vavasor said the publican after having made his salute and having taken his chair with some little show of mock modesty that's my maxim if I didn't stick to that nothing wouldn't ever stick to me and nothing doesn't much as it is times is very bad Mr. Vavasor of course they are they're always bad what was the devil made for except that they should be bad but I should have thought you publicans were the last men who ought to complain Lord love you Mr. Vavasor why I suppose of all the men as is put upon we're put upon the worst what's the good of drawing of beer if the more you draw the more you don't make yesterday as ever was was Saturday and we draw three pound ten and nine what do that come to Mr. Vavasor when you reckons it up with the brewer why it's a next to nothing you knows that well enough upon my word I don't but I know you don't sell a pint of beer without getting a profit out of it Lord love you Mr. Vavasor if I hadn't nothing to look to but beer I couldn't keep a house over my head no I couldn't that house of mine belongs to muse people and very good people they are too have made a side of money haven't they Mr. Vavasor I has to get my beer from them in course why not when it's their house but if I sells their stuff as I gets it there ain't a half penny coming to me out of a gallon look at that now but then you don't sell it as you get it you stretch it that's in course I'm not going to tell you a lie Mr. Vavasor you know what's what as well as I do and a site better I expect there's a dozen different ways of handling beer Mr. Vavasor but what's the use of that when they can take four or five pounds a day over the counter for their rotgut stuff at the Cadogan arms and I can't do no better nor yet perhaps so well for real honest glass of beer stretch it it's my belief the more you poison their liquor the more the people likes it Mr. Grimes was the stout man not very tall with a mottled red face and large protruding eyes as regards his own person Mr. Grimes might have been taken as a fair sample of the English innkeeper as described for many years past but in his outer garments he was very unlike that description he wore a black swallow-tailed coat made however to set very loose upon his back a black waistcoat and black pantaloons he carried moreover in his hands a black chimney pot hat not only have the top boots and breeches vanished from the costume of innkeepers but also the long part of colored waistcoat and the bird's eye fogal round their necks they get themselves up to look like dissenting ministers or undertakers except that there is still something about their rosy gills which tells a tale of the spigot and corkscrew Mr. Grimes had only just finished the tale of his own hard ways as a publican when the doorbell was again rung there's screwbie said George Bavisar and now we can go to business End of chapter 11 Recording by Leanne Howlett Chapter 13 of Can You Forgive Her This is a LibriVox recording All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Recording by Leanne Howlett Can You Forgive Her by Antony Trollop Chapter 13 Mr. Grimes gets his odd money The handmaiden at George Bavisar's lodgings announced another gent and then Mr. Screwbie entered the room in which receded George and Mr. Grimes the publican from the handsome man on the Brompton Road Mr. Screwbie was an attorney from Great Marlboro Street supposed to be very knowing in the ways of Metropolitan elections and he had now stepped round as he called it with the object of saying a few words to Mr. Grimes partly on the subject of the forthcoming contest at Chelsea and partly on that of the contest last part These words were to be said in the presence of Mr. Bavisar, the person interested that some other words had been spoken between Mr. Screwbie and Mr. Grimes on the same subjects behind Mr. Bavisar's back I think very probable But even though this might have been so I am not prepared to say that Mr. Bavisar had been deceived by their combinations The two men were very civil to each other in their salutations The attorney assuming an air of patronizing condescension always calling the other Grimes whereas Mr. Screwbie was treated with considerable deference by the publican and was always called Mr. Screwbie Business is business said the publican as soon as these salutations were over Isn't it now Mr. Screwbie? And I suppose Grimes thinks Sunday morning a particularly good time for business said the attorney laughing It's quiet you know said Grimes but it weren't me as named Sunday morning It was Mr. Bavisar here but it is quiet ain't it Mr. Screwbie Mr. Screwbie acknowledged that it was quiet especially looking out over the river and then they proceeded to business We must pull the governor through better next time than we did last said the attorney Of course we must Mr. Screwbie but Lord love you Mr. Bavisar whose fault was it? What notice did I get? Just tell me that why Travers' name was up on the liberal interest ever so long for the governor had ever thought about it Nobody is blaming you Mr. Grimes said George and nobody can't Mr. Bavisar I done my work true as steel and there ain't another man about the place as could have done half as much You asked Mr. Screwbie else Mr. Screwbie knows if there a man in London does I tell you what it is Mr. Bavisar Some Chelsea fellows who lives mostly down by the river ain't like your Maraboners or Finsburyites It wants something of a man to manage them Don't it Mr. Screwbie It wants something of a man to manage any of them as far as my experience goes said Mr. Screwbie Of course it do and there ain't one in London knows so much about it as you do Mr. Screwbie I will say that for you but the long and the short of it is this Business is business and money is money Money is money certainly said Mr. Screwbie There's no doubt in the world about that Grimes and a deal of it you had out of the last election No I hadn't begging your pardon Mr. Screwbie for making so free What I had to my own cheek wasn't nothing to speak of I wasn't paid for my time that's what I wasn't You look how a publican's business gets cut up at them elections and then the state of the house afterwards What would the governor say to me if I was to put down painting inside and out in my little bill It doesn't seem to make much difference how you put it down said Bavisar The total is what I look at Just so Mr. Bavisar, just so The total is what I looks at too and I has to look at it a doos long time before I gets it I ain't got it yet have I Mr. Bavisar Well if you ask me I should say you had said George I know I paid Mr. Screwbie 300 pounds on your account and I got every shilling of it Mr. Bavisar I'm not going to deny the money Mr. Bavisar You'll never find me doing that I'm as round as your hat than a square as your elbow I am Mr. Screwbie knows me, don't you Mr. Screwbie Perhaps I know you too well Grimes No you don't Mr. Screwbie, not a bit too well Nor I don't know you too well either I respect you Mr. Screwbie because you're a man who understands your business But as I was saying, what's 300 pounds when a man's bill is 392.13 and 4 pence I thought that was all settled Mr. Screwbie said Bavisar While you see Mr. Bavisar, it's very hard to settle these things If you ask me whether Mr. Grimes here can sue you for the balance I tell you very plainly that he can't We were a little short of money when we came to a settlement As is generally the case at such times And so we took Mr. Grimes' receipt for 300 pounds Of course you did Mr. Screwbie Not on account but in full of all demands Now Mr. Screwbie and the publican as he made this appeal Looked at the attorney with an expression of countenance Which was absolutely eloquent Are you going to put me off with such an excuse as that So the look spoke plainly enough Are you going to bring up my own signature against me When you know very well that I shouldn't have got a shilling at all For the next 12 months if I hadn't given it Oh Mr. Screwbie That's what Mr. Grimes' look said And both Mr. Screwbie and Mr. Vavasor understood it perfectly In full of all demands said Mr. Screwbie With a slight tone of triumph in his voice As though to show that Grimes' appeal Had no effect at all upon his conscience If you were to go into a court of law Grimes You wouldn't have a leg to stand upon A court of law Who's going to law with the governor I should like to know Not I Not if he didn't pay me them 92 pounds 13 and 4 pence For the next five years Five years or 15 would make no difference Said Screwbie You couldn't do it And I ain't a going to try That's not the ticket I've come here about Mr. Vavasor This blessed Sunday morning Going to law indeed But Mr. Screwbie I've got a family Not in the veil of taunting I hope Said George They is at the handsome man In the Brompton Road Mr. Vavasor And I always feel that I owes my first duty to them If a man don't work for his family What do he work for Come, come Grimes said Mr. Screwbie What is it you're at Out with it and don't keep us here all day What is it I'm at Mr. Screwbie As if you didn't know very well what I'm at There is my house In all them Chelsea districts It's the most convenientest of any public As is open for all manner of election purposes That's given up to it And what next said Screwbie The next is I myself There isn't one of the lot of them Can work them Chelsea fellows down along the river Unless it is me Mr. Screwbie knows that Why I've been getting of them up with a view To this very job ever since Why ever since they was talking of the Chelsea districts When Lord Robert was coming in for the county On the religious dodge He couldn't have worked them fellows anyhow Only for me Mr. Screwbie knows that Let's take it all for granted Mr. Grimes said Babasaur What comes next Well them Bunratty people It is they as has come next They know which side their bread is likely to be buttered They do They're bidding for the handsome man already They are And you'd let your house to the Tory party Grimes Said Mr. Screwbie in a tone in which Disgust and anger were blended Who said anything of my letting my house To the Tory party Mr. Screwbie I'm as round as your hat Mr. Screwbie And as square as your elbow I am But suppose as all the liberal gents As employs you Mr. Screwbie was to turn again you And not pay you your little bills Wouldn't you have your eyes open for customers Of another kind Come now Mr. Screwbie You won't make much of that game Grimes Perhaps not Perhaps not There's a risk in all these things Isn't there Mr. Babasaur I should like to see a Parliament gent I should indeed You'd be a credit to the districts I really think you would I'm much obliged by your good opinion Mr. Grimes Said George When I see a gent coming forward I know whether he's fit for Parliament Or whether he ain't I says you are fit But Lord love you Mr. Babasaur It's a thing a gentleman always has to pay for That's true enough A deal more than it's worth generally A thing's worth what it fetches I'm worth what I'll fetch That's the long and the short of it I want to have my balance that's the truth It's the odd money in a man's bill As always carries the profit You ask Mr. Screwbie else Only with a lawyer it's all profit I believe That's what you know about it said Screwbie If you cut off a man's odd money Continue to the publican You break his heart He'd almost sooner have that and leave the other standing He'd call the hundreds capital And if he lost them at last Why he'd put it down as being in the way of trade With the odd money He looks at that Mr. Babasaur As in a manner of the very sweat of his brow The work of his own hand That's what goes to his family And keeps the pot of boiling downstairs Never stop a man's odd money Mr. Babasaur That is unless he comes at very strong indeed And what is it you want now said Screwbie I want 92 pounds, 13 and 4 pence Mr. Screwbie And then we'll go to work for the new fight With contented hearts If we're to begin at all it's quite time It is indeed Mr. Babasaur And what you mean us to understand is That you won't begin at all without your money Said the lawyer That's about it Mr. Screwbie Take a 50 pound note Grimes said the lawyer 50 pound notes are not so ready said George Oh he'll be only too happy to have your acceptance Won't you Grimes Not for 50 pounds Mr. Screwbie It's the odd money that I want I don't mind the 13 and 4 Because that's neither here nor there among friends But if I didn't get all them 92 pounds I should be a broken hearted man I should indeed Mr. Babasaur I couldn't go about your work for next year So as to do you justice among the electors I couldn't indeed You'd better give them a bill for 90 pounds At three months Mr. Babasaur I have no doubt he has got a stamp in his pocket That I have Mr. Screwbie There ain't no mistake about that A bill stamp is a thing that often turns up convenient With gents' mean business like Mr. Babasaur and you But you must make it 92 You must indeed Mr. Babasaur And do make it two months if you can Mr. Babasaur They do charge so unconscionable On 90 days of them branch banks They do indeed George Babasaur and Mr. Screwbie Between them yielded at last So far as to allow the bill to be drawn for 92 pounds But they were staunchest to the time If it must be it must Said the publican with a deep sigh As he folded up the paper and put it into the pocket Of a huge case which he carried And now gents I'll tell you what it is We'll make safe work of this here next election We know what's to be our little game in time And if we don't go in and win My name ain't Jacob Grimes and I ain't the landlord Of the handsome man As you gents has perhaps got something to say Among yourselves I'll make so bold As to wish you good morning So with that Mr. Grimes lifted his hat from the floor And bowed himself out of the room You couldn't have done it cheaper You couldn't indeed said the lawyer As soon as the sound of the closing front door Had been heard Perhaps not but what a thief the man is I remember you're telling me that the bill Was about the most preposterous you had ever seen So it was and if we hadn't wanted him again Of course we shouldn't have paid him But we'll have it all let off his next account Mr. Vavasor every shilling of it It's only lint, that's all It's only lint But one doesn't want to lend such a man money If one can help it That's true if you look at it in that light It's quite true But you see we cannot do without him If he hadn't got your bill He'd have gone over to the other fellows Before the week was over And the worst of it would have been That he knows our hand Looking at it all around You've got him cheap Mr. Vavasor You have indeed Looking at it all around Is just what I don't like Mr. Scrooby But if a man will have a whistle He must pay for it You can't do it cheap When you've been in four or five times Like old Duncombe Why then of course you may snap your fingers At such men as Grimes But the Chelsea Districts ain't dear I don't call them by any means dear Now Merlebone is dear And so is Southwick It's dear and nasty That's what the borough is Only that I never tell tales I could tell you a tale Mr. Vavasor That'd make your hair stand on in I could indeed Worth the candle I believe That depends on what way You choose to look at it A seat in Parliament is a great thing To a man who wants to make his way A very great thing Especially when a man's young Like you Mr. Vavasor Young, said George Sometimes it seems to me as though I've been living for a hundred years But I won't trouble you with that Mr. Scrooby And I believe I needn't keep you any longer With that he got up With just a little more ceremony Than he had shown to the publican Young, said Vavasor To himself when he was left alone There is my uncle or the old squire They're both younger men than I am One cares for his dinner And the other for his bullocks and his trees But what is there that I care for Unless it is not getting among The sheriff's officers for debt Then he took out a little memorandum Book from his breast pocket And having made in it an entry As to the amount and date of that bill Which he had just accepted on the publican's behalf He conned over the particulars Of its pages Very blue Very blue indeed he said to himself When he had completed the study But nobody shall say I hadn't the courage To play the game out and that old fellow Must die someday one supposes If I were not a fool I should make it up with him before he went But I am a fool And shall remain so till the last Soon after that he dressed himself slowly Reading a little every now and then As he did so When his toilet was completed And his Sunday newspaper sufficiently perused He took up his hat and umbrella And sauntered out End of Chapter 13 Recording by Leanne Howlett Chapter 14 Alice Vavasor becomes troubled Kate Vavasor had sent to her brother Only the first half of her cousin's letter That half in which Alice had attempted To describe what had taken place Between her and Mr. Gray In doing this Kate had been a wicked traitor A traitor who had never seen She had been a wicked traitor A traitor to that feminine faith Against which treason on the part of one woman Is always unpardonable In the eyes of other women But her treason would have been of a deeper die Had she sent the latter portion For in that Alice had spoken Of George Vavasor himself But even of this treason Kate would, I think, have been guilty Had the words which Alice wrote Been of a nature to serve her own purpose If read by her brother But they had not been of this nature They had spoken of George as a man With whom any closer connection Than that which existed at present Was impossible and had been written With the view of begging Kate to desist From making futile attempts In that direction I feel myself driven, Alice had said To write all this as otherwise If I were simply to tell you That I have resolved to part from Mr. Gray You would think that the other thing might follow The other thing cannot follow I should think myself untrue in my friendship to you If I did not tell you about Mr. Gray And you will be untrue in your friendship to me If you take advantage of my confidence By saying more about your brother This part of Alice's letter Kate had not sent to George Vavasor But the other thing shall follow Kate had said, as she read the words For the second time And then put the papers into her desk It shall follow To give Kate Vavasor her due She was, at any rate, unselfish In her intrigues She was obstinately persistent And she was moreover unscrupulous But she was not selfish Many years ago she had made up her mind That George and Alice should be man and wife Feeling that such a marriage would be good At any rate for her brother It had been almost brought about And had then been hindered altogether Through a fault on her brother's part But she had forgiven him this sin As she had forgiven many others And she was now at work on his behalf again Determined that they too should be married Even though neither of them might be now anxious That it should be so The intrigue itself was dear to her And success in it was necessary To her self-respect She answered Alice's letter with a pleasant Gossiping epistle which shall be recorded As it will tell us something Of Mrs. Greenow's proceedings at Yarmouth Kate had promised to stay at Yarmouth for a month But she had already been there six weeks And was still under her aunt's wing Yarmouth, October, 1866 Blank Dearest Alice, of course I am delighted It is no good saying that I am not I know how difficult it is to deal with you And therefore I sit down to answer your letter With fear and trembling, lest I should say a word too much And thereby drive you back Or not say quite enough and thereby Fail to encourage you on Of course I am glad I have long thought that Mr. Gray could not Make you happy and as I have thought so How can I not be glad It is no use saying that he is good And noble and all that sort of thing I have never denied it But he was not suited to you And his life would have made you wretched Ergo, I rejoice And as you are the dearest friend I have Of course I rejoice mightily I can understand accurately the sort of way In which the interview went Of course he had the best of it I can see him so plainly as he stood up In unrupled self-possession Ignoring all that you said Suggesting that you were feverish Or perhaps bilious, waving his hand Over you a little as though that Might possibly do you some small good And then taking his leave with An assurance that it would be all right As soon as the wind changed I suppose it's very noble in him Not taking you at your word and giving you As it were another chance But there is a kind of nobility Which is almost too great for this world I think very well of you, my dear, as women go But I do not think well enough of you To believe that you are fit to be Mr. John Gray's wife Of course I'm very glad You have known my mind from the first To the last, and therefore What would be the good of my mencing matters No woman wishes her dearest friend To marry a man to whom she herself Is antipathetic You would have been as much lost to me As you'd become Mrs. Gray Of Nethercoat's Cambridgeshire As though you had gone to heaven I don't say but what Nethercoats May be a kind of heaven, but then One doesn't wish one's friend That distant sort of happiness A flat Eden I can fancy it Hemmed in by broad dykes In which cream and eggs are very plentiful Where an Adam and an Eve Might drink the choicest tea Out of the finest china With toast buttered to perfection Into which no money troubles would ever Find their way nor yet any naughty novels But such an Eden is not tempting to me Nor as I think to you I can fancy you stretching your poor neck Over the dyke longing to fly away So that you might cease to be at rest But knowing that the matrimonial dragon Was too strong for any such flight If ever Bird banged his wings To pieces against gilded bars You would have banged yours to pieces In that cage You say that you have failed to make him Understand that the matter is settled I need not say that of course it is settled And that he must be made to understand it You owe it to him now to put him out of all doubt He is, I suppose, accessible to the words Of a mortal god though he may be But I do not fear about this for, after all You have as much firmness about you as most people Perhaps as much as he has at bottom You may not have so many occasions to show it As to that other matter I can only say that you shall be obliged As far as it is in my power to obey you For what may come out from me By word of mouth when we are together I will not answer with certainty But my pen is under better control And it shall not write the appending name And now I must tell you a little about myself Or rather I am inclined to spin a yarn And tell you a great deal I have got such a lover But I did describe him before Of course it's Mr. Cheesaker If I were to say he hasn't declared himself I should hardly give you a fair idea of my success And yet he has not declared himself And, which is worse, is very anxious to marry a rival But it's a strong point in my favour That my rival wants him to take me And that he will assuredly be driven To make me an offer sooner or later In obedience to her orders My aunt is my rival And I would feel the least doubt As to his having offered to her half a dozen times But then she has another lover, Captain Delfield And I see that she prefers him He is a penniless scamp and looks as though he drank He paints his whiskers too, which I don't like And, being forty, tries to look like twenty-five Otherwise he is agreeable enough And I rather approve of my aunt's taste In preferring him But my lover has solid attractions And he will give me on by a description of the fat cattle Which he sends to market He is a man of substance And should I ever become Mrs. Cheesaker I have reason to think that I shall not be left in want We went up to his place on a visit the other day Oily-meat is the name of my future home Not so pretty as net-a-coats, is it? And we had such a time there We reached the place at ten and left it at four And he managed to give us three meals For our eyes at different times Every bit of china, delt, glass, and plate In the establishment He made us go into the cellar And told us how much wine he had got there And how much beer It's all paid for, Mrs. Greenow, every bottle of it He said, turning round to my aunt With a pathetic earnestness For which I had hardly given him credit Everything in this house is my own It's all paid for I don't call anything a man's own till it's paid for The racket that Bellefield swells about with On the sands at Yarmouth That's not his own, and it's not like to be either And then he winked his eye as though bidding my aunt To think of that before she encouraged Such a lover as Bellefield He took us into every bedroom And disclosed to us all the glories Of his upper chambers It would have done you good to see him Lifting the counterpains and bidding my aunt Feel the texture of the blankets And then to see her turn round to me Kate, it's simply the best furnished house I ever went over in my life It does seem very comfortable, said I Comfortable, said he Yes, I don't think there's anybody can say That oily mead isn't comfortable I did so think of you and nethercoats The attractions are the same, only in the one place You would have a god for your keeper And in the other a brute For myself, if I'm ever to have a keeper at all I shall prefer a man But when we got to the farmyard His eloquence reached the highest pitch Mrs. Greenow, said he Look at that And he pointed to heaps of manure Raised like the streets of a little city Look at that There's a great deal, said my aunt I believe you, said he I've more muck upon this place here Than any farmer in Norfolk, gentle or simple I don't care who the other is Only fancy Alice May all be mine The blankets, the wine, the muck And the rest of it So my aunt assured me when we got home that evening When I remarked that the wealth Had been exhibited to her and not to me She did not affect to deny it But treated that as a matter of no moment He wants a wife, my dear, she said And you may pick him up tomorrow By putting out your hand When I remarked that his mind Seemed to be intent on low things And specially named the muck She only laughed at me Money's never dirty, she said Nor yet what makes money She talks of talking lodgings In Norwich for the winter Saying that in her widowed state She will be as well there as anywhere else And she wants me to stay with her up to Christmas Indeed, she first proposed The Norwich plan on the ground That it might be useful to me With a view to Mr. Cheezaker, of course But I fancy that she is unwilling To tear herself away from Captain Belfield At any rate, to Norwich she will go And I have promised not to leave her Before the second week in November With all her absurdities I like her Her faults are terrible faults But she has not the fault Of hiding them by falsehood She is never stupid And she is very good-natured She would have allowed me to equip myself From head to foot at her expense If I would have accepted her liberality And absolutely offered to give me my true so If I would marry Mr. Cheezaker I live in the hope that you will come down To the old place at Christmas I won't offend you more than I can help At any rate, he won't be there And if I don't see you there Where am I to see you? If I were you, I would certainly not go to Cheltenham You are never happy there Do you ever dream of the river at Baal? I do so often Most affectionately yours Kate Vavasor Alice had almost lost the sensation Created by the former portion Of Kate's letter by the fun of the latter Before she had quite made that sensation Her own. The picture of the Cambridgeshire Eden Would have displeased her had she dwelt upon it And the allusion to the cream and toast Would have had the very opposite effect To that which Kate had intended Perhaps Kate had felt this And had therefore merged it all In her stories about Mr. Cheezaker I will go to Cheltenham She said to herself, he has recommended it I shall never be his wife But till we have parted all together I will show him that I think well Of his advice That same afternoon she told her father That she would go to Lady MacLeod's At Cheltenham before the end of the month She was, in truth, prompted to this By a resolution of which she was Herself hardly conscious That she would not, at this period Of her life, be in any way guided By her cousin Having made up her mind about Mr. Gray It was right that she should let her Cousin know her purpose But she would never be driven to confess To herself that Kate had influenced Her in the matter. She would go To Cheltenham. Lady MacLeod would No doubt vex her by hourly solicitations That the match might be renewed But if she knew herself She had strength to withstand Lady MacLeod. She received one letter from Mr. Gray Before the time came for her departure And she answered it, telling him Of her intention, telling him Also that she now felt herself bound To explain to her father her present Position. I tell you this, she said, in consequence Of what you said to me on the matter. My father will know it to-morrow, and on The following morning I shall start For Cheltenham. I have heard from Lady MacLeod and she expects me. On the following morning she did Tell her father, standing by him As he sat at his breakfast. What! said he, putting down His teacup and looking up into her Face! What! not Mary John Gray? No, Papa. I know how strange you must think it. And you say that there has been no quarrel? No. There has been no quarrel. By degrees I have learned to feel That I should not make him happy as his wife. It's true nonsense, Said Mr. Bavisaur. Now such an expression as this From him, addressed to his daughter Showed that he was very deeply moved. Oh, Papa! Don't talk to me in that way. But it is. I never heard such trash in my life. If he comes to me I shall tell him so. Not make him happy. Why can't you make him happy? We are not suited to each other. But what's the matter with him? He's a gentleman. Yes, he's a gentleman. And a man of honour and with good Means and with all that knowledge And reading which you profess to like. Look here, Alice. I'm not going to Hear nor shall I attempt to make you marry Anyone. You are your own mistress As far as that is concerned. But I do hope, for your sake And for mine, I do hope there is Nothing again between you and your cousin. There is nothing, Papa. I did not like your going Abroad with him, though I Didn't choose to interrupt your plan By saying so. But if there were Anything of that kind going on, I should be bound to tell you that Your cousin's position at present Will not speak well of him. There is nothing between us, Papa. But if there were, men speaking ill Of him would not deter me. And men speaking well of Mr. Gray Will not do the other thing. I know very well that women can be obstinate. I haven't come to this Resolution without thinking much About it, Papa. I suppose not. Well, I can't say anything more. You are your own mistress, and your fortune Is in your own keeping. I can't Tell John Gray. I think you are Very foolish, and if he comes to me I shall tell him so. You are going Down to Cheltenham, are you? Yes, Papa. I have promised Lady McLeod. Very well. I'd sooner it should be you than me. That's all I can say. Then he took up his newspaper, thereby Showing that he had nothing further To say on the matter, and Alice Left him alone. The whole Thing was so vexatious that Even Mr. Vavasor was disturbed As it was not term time He had no signing to do in chance Relay, and could not therefore Burry his unhappiness in his daily Labour, or rather in his labour That was by no means daily. So he sat at home till four o'clock, Expressing to himself in various Phrases his wonder that Any man alive should ever Rear a daughter. And when He got to his club the waiters Found him quite unmanageable about His dinner, which he ate alone, Acting all proposition of companionship. But later in the evening He regained his composure over A glass of whiskey-toddy and a cigar. She's got her own money, he said To himself, and what does it matter? I don't suppose she'll probably Make it up again with John Gray. And in this way he determined That he might let his annoyance Run off him, and that he need Not as a father, take the trouble Of any interference. But while he was at his club Came a visitor to Queen Anne Street, And that visitor was the Dangerous cousin of whom, according To his uncle's testimony, men At present did not speak well. Alice had not seen him since They had parted on the day of their arrival In London, nor, indeed, had Heard of his whereabouts. In the consternation of her mind At this step which she was taking, A step which she had taught herself To regard as essentially her duty Before it was taken, but which Self to be false and treacherous The moment she had taken it, she Had become aware that she had been Wrong to travel with her cousin. She felt sure, she thought that She was sure, that her doing so Had in no wise affected her dealings With Mr. Gray. She was very certain, She thought that she was certain That she would have rejected him Just the same had she never gone To Switzerland. But everyone Would say of her that her journey To Switzerland with such companions Was a result. It had been unlucky And she was sorry for it, and now She wished to avoid all communication With her cousin till this affair Should be altogether over. She was especially unwilling to see him But she had not felt it necessary To give any special injunctions As to his admittance. And now Before she had time to think of it On the eve of her departure for Cheltenham He was in the room with her Just as the dusk of the October evening Was coming on. She was sitting Away from the fire, almost behind The window curtains, thinking of John Gray and very unhappy in her Thoughts, when George Vavasor was Announced. It will, of course, be Understood that Vavasor had at this Time received his sister's letter. He had received it, and had had Time to consider the matter since The Sunday morning on which we saw Him in his own rooms in Cecil Street. She can turn it all into capital Tomorrow if she pleases, he had Said to himself when thinking of her Income. But he had also Reminded himself that her grandfather Would probably enable him to settle An income out of the property upon Alice, in the event of their being Married. And then he had Also felt that he could have no greater Triumph than walking atop of John Gray, as he called it. His return for the Chelsea districts Would hardly be sweeter to him than That. You must have thought I had vanished out Of the world, said George, coming up To her with his extended hand. Alice was confused and hardly Knew how to address him. Somebody told me that you were Shooting, she said after a pause. So I was, but my shooting is not Like the shooting of your great Nimrods, men who are hunters upon The earth. Two days among the Grouse, and two more among the Partridges are about the extent Of it. Capital Court is the preserve In which I am usually to be found. Alice knew nothing of Capital Court Said, oh, indeed. Have you heard from Kate? George asked. Yes, once or twice. She is still at Yarmouth with Aunt Greenow. And is going to Norwich, as she says. Kate seems to have made a league With Aunt Greenow. I, who don't Pretend to be very disinterested in Money matters, think that she is quite Right. No doubt Aunt Greenow may marry Again, but friends with forty Thousand pounds are always agreeable. I don't believe that Kate Thinks much of that, said Alice. Not so much as she ought, I dare say. Poor Kate is not a rich woman Or I fear likely to become one. She doesn't seem to dream Of getting married, and her own Fortune is less than a hundred a year. Girls who never dream Of getting married are just those Who make the best marriages at last, Said Alice. Perhaps so, But I wish I was easier about Kate. She is the best sister a man Ever had. Indeed she is. And I have done nothing for her as yet. I did think, while I was in that Wine business, that I could have done Anything I pleased for her. But my grandfather's obstinacy Put me out of that, and now I'm Beginning the world again. That is, Comparatively, I wonder whether you Think I'm wrong in trying to get into Parliament. No, quite right. I admire you for it. It is Just what I would do in your place. You are unmarried and have a right To run the risk. I am so glad to hear you speak like That, said he. He had now Managed to take up that friendly, Confidential, almost affectionate Tone of talking which he had so Often used when abroad with her, And which he had failed to assume When first entering the room. I have always thought so. But you never have said it. Haven't I? I thought I had. Not heartily like that. I know that people abuse me, My own people, my grandfather And probably your father, Saying that I am reckless and the rest Of it. I do risk everything for My object, but I do not know that Anyone can blame me, unless it be Kate. To whom else do I owe Anything? Kate does not Blame you. No, she sympathizes with me. She, and only she, unless It be you. Then he paused For an answer, but she made him None. She is brave enough to give Me her hearty sympathy, but For that very reason I ought to be The more cherry in endangering the only Support that she is like to have. What is ninety pounds a year for the Maintenance of a single lady? I hope that Kate will always live With me, said Alice. That is, As soon as she has lost her home At Vavasor Hall. He had been very crafty And had laid a trap for her. He had laid a trap for her, and She had fallen into it. She had determined not to be To talk of herself, but he had Brought the thing round so cunningly That the words were out of her mouth Before she remembered whether they would Lead her. She did remember this As she was speaking them, but then It was too late. What, at Nethercoats, said he, Neither she nor I doubt your love, But few men would like such an intruder As that into their household, and Of all men Mr. Gray, whose nature Is retiring, would like it the least. I was not thinking of Nethercoats, Said Alice. Ah, no, that is it, you see. Kate says so often to me that When you are married she will be Alone in the world. I don't think she will ever find That I shall separate myself from her. No, not by any will of your own. Poor Kate, you cannot be surprised That she should think of your marriage With dread. How much of her life Has been made up of her companionship With you, and all the best of it too. You ought not to be angry with her For regarding your withdrawal into Cambridgeshire with dismay. Alice could not act the lie Which now seemed to be incumbent on her. She could not let him talk of Nethercoats as though it were to be Her future home. She made the struggle And she found that she could not do it. She was unable to find the words Which should tell no lie to the ear And which should yet deceive him. Kate may still live with me, She said slowly. Everything is over between me and The grey. Alice, is that true? Yes, George, it is true. If you will allow me to say so I would rather not talk about it, Not just at present. And does Kate know it? Yes, Kate knows it. And my uncle? Yes, Papa knows it also. Alice, how can I help speaking of it? How can I not tell you that I am rejoiced that you are saved From a thralldom which I have long Felt sure would break your heart? Pray do not talk of it further. Well, if I am forbidden I shall of course obey. But I own it as hard to me. How can I not congratulate you? To this she answered nothing But beat with her foot upon the floor As though she were impatient of his words. Yes, Alice, I understand You are angry with me, he continued. And yet you have no right To be surprised that when you tell Me this I should think of all That passed between us in Switzerland. Surely the cousin who was with you then Has a right to say what he thinks Of this change in your life. At any rate he may do so if, as in this case He approves altogether of what you are doing. I am glad of your approval, George, But pray let that be an end to it. After that the two sat silent For a minute or two. She was waiting for him to go But she could not bid him leave the house. She was angry with herself In that she had allowed herself To tell him of her altered plans And she was angry with him Because he would not understand That she ought to be spared All conversation on the subject. So she sat looking through the window At the row of gas-lights as they were Being lit, and he remained in his chair With his elbow on the table And his head resting on his hand. Do you remember asking me Whether I ever shivered, he said At last, whether I ever thought Of things that made me shiver? Do you remember on the bridge at Baal? Yes, I remember. Well, Alice, one cause For my shivering is over. I won't say more than that now. Shall you remain long at Cheltenham? Just a month. And then you come back here? I suppose so. Papa and I will probably go down To Vavasor Hall before Christmas. How much before I cannot say? I shall see you at any rate After your return from Cheltenham. Of course Kate will know When she will tell me. Yes, Kate will know. I suppose she will stay here When she comes up from Norfolk. Good-bye. Good-bye, Alice. I shall have fewer fits Of that inward shivering that you spoke of. Many less on account of what I have now heard. God bless you, Alice. Good-bye. Good-bye, George. As he went he took her hand And pressed it closely between his own. In those days when they were Engaged lovers, a close, long Continued pressure of her hand Had been his most eloquent speech Of love. He had not been given to many kisses Not even to many words of love But he would take her hand And hold it, even as he looked away From her, and she remembered well The touch of his palm. It was ever cool, cool And with a surface smooth as a woman's A small hand that had a firm grip. There had been days when she Had loved to feel that her own Heart when she trusted in it And intended that it should be her Staff through life. Now she distrusted it, and as The thoughts of the old days came Upon her, and the remembrance of That touch was recalled, she drew Her hand away rapidly. Not for that had she driven from Her as honest a man as ever wished To mate with a woman. He, George Vavasor, had never So held her hand since the day When they had parted, and now On this first occasion of her Woman, what did he think of her? Did he suppose that she could Transfer her love in that way, as A flower may be taken from one Buttonhole and placed in another? He read it all, and knew that He was hurrying on too quickly. I can understand well, he said In a whisper, what your present Feelings are, but I do not Think you will be really angry With me, because I have been Unable to repress my joy at What I cannot but regard as A fortune. Then he went. My release, she said, Seating herself on the chair From which she had risen. My release from a misfortune? No, but my fall from heaven. Oh, what a man he is! That he should have loved me, And that I should have driven Him away from me. Her thoughts travelled off To the sweetness of that home At Nethercoats, to the excellence Of that master who might have Been there, she told herself That she had been an idiot and A fool, as well as a traitor. What had she wanted in life That she should have thus quarreled With as happy a lot as had ever Been offered to a woman? Had she not been mad when she Sent from her side the only man That she loved, the only man That she had ever truly respected? For hours she sat there, all Alone, putting out the candles Which the servant had lighted Poor Alice, I hope that she may be Forgiven. It was her special fault That when at Rome she longed for Tiber, and when at Tiber She regretted Rome. Not that her cousin George is to be Taken as representing the joys Of the great capital, though Mr. Gray May be presumed to form no inconsiderable Part of the promised delights Of the country. Now that she had sacrificed her Tiber, because it had seemed to her That the sunny quiet of its pastures Was the excitement necessary for the happiness Of life, she was again prepared to quarrel With the heartlessness of Rome, and Already was again sighing for the Tranquility of the country. Sitting there, full of these regrets She declared to herself that she would Wait for her father's return, and Then, throwing herself upon his love And upon his mercy, would beg Him to go to Mr. Gray and Ask for pardon for her. I should be very humble to him, She said, but he is so good That I may dare to be humble before him. So she waited for her father. She waited till twelve, till One, till two. But still he did not come. Later than that she did not dare To wait for him. She feared to trust him on such business Returning so late as that, after so Many cigars, after perhaps some Superfluous beakers of club nectar. His temper at such a moment Would not be fit for such work As hers. But if he was late in coming home Who had sent him away from his home In unhappiness, between two And three she went to bed. And on the following morning she left Queen Anne Street, for the Great Western Station, before her father Was up.