Sandra Belloni by George Meredith, v5
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George Meredith >> Sandra Belloni by George Meredith, v5
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"I hope there are not many in this world to whom the thought of honour
being tied to money ever appears possible. If it is so there is wide
suffering--deep, for it, must be silent. Cornelia suggests one comfort
for them that they will think less of poverty.
"Why was Brookfield ever bought? Our old peaceful City-life--the vacant
Sundays!--my ears are haunted by their bells for Evening Service. I
said 'There they go, the dowdy population of heaven!' I remember it now.
It should be almost punishment enough to be certain that of all those
people going to church, there cannot be one more miserable than we who
stood at the old window ridiculing them. They at least do not feel that
everything they hope for in human life is dependent upon one human will--
the will of a mortal weather-vane! It is the case, and it must be
conciliated. There is no half-measure--no choice. Feel that nothing you
have ever dreamed of can be a disgrace if it is undergone to forestall
what positively impends, and act immediately. I shall expect to see you
in three days. She is to have the South-west bedroom (mine), for which
she expressed a preference. Prepare every mind for the ceremony:--an old
man's infatuation--money--we submit. It will take place in town. To
have the Tinleys in the church! But this is certainly my experience,
that misfortune makes me feel more and more superior to those whom I
despise. I have even asked myself--was I so once? And, Apropos of
Laura! We hear that their evenings are occupied in performing the scene
at Besworth. They are still as distant as ever from Richford. Let me
add that Albert Tinley requested my hand in marriage yesterday. I agree
with Cornelia that this is the first palpable sign that we have sunk.
Consequent upon the natural consequences came the interview with Papa.
"Dearest, dearest Wilfrid! can you, can I, can any one of us settle--that
is, involve another life in doubt while doubt exists? Papa insists; his
argument is, "Now, now, and no delay." I accuse nothing but his love.
Excessive love is perilous for principle!
"You have understood me, I know, and forgiven me for writing so nakedly.
I dare not reperuse it. You must satisfy him that Lady C. has fixed a
date. Adela is incomprehensible. One day she sees a friend in Lady C.,
and again it is an enemy. Papa's immediate state of health is not
alarming. Above all things, do not let the girl come near him. Papa
will send the cheque you required."
"When?" Wilfrid burst out upon Arabella's affectionate signature. "When
will he send it? He doesn't do me the honour to mention the time. And
this is his reply to a third application!"
The truth was that Wilfrid was in dire want of tangible cash simply to
provision his yacht. The light kindled in him by this unsatisfied need
made him keen to comprehend all that Arabella's attempt at plain writing
designed to unfold.
"Good God, my father's the woman's trustee!" shaped itself in Wilfrid's
brain.
And next: "If he marries her we may all be as poor as before." That is
to say, "Honour may be saved without ruin being averted."
His immediate pressing necessity struck like a pulse through all the
chords of dismal conjecture. His heart flying about for comfort, dropped
at Emilia's feet.
"Bella's right," he said, reverting to the green page in his hand; "we
can't involve others in our scrape, whatever it may be."
He ceased on the spot to be at war with himself, as he had been for many
a day; by which he was taught to imagine that he had achieved a mental
indifference to misfortune. This lightened his spirit considerably. "So
there's an end of that," he emphasized, as the resolve took form to tell
Lady Charlotte flatly that his father was ruined, and that the son,
therefore, renounced his particular hope and aspiration.
"She will say, in the most matter-of-fact way in the world, "Oh, very
well, that quite alters the case," said Wilfrid aloud, with the smallest
infusion of bitterness. Then he murmured, "Poor old governor!" and
wondered whether Emilia would come to this place according to his desire.
Love, that had lain crushed in him for the few recent days, sprang up and
gave him the thought, "She may be here now;" but, his eyes not being
satiated instantly with a sight of her, the possibility of such happiness
faded out.
"Blessed little woman!" he cried openly, ashamed to translate in tenderer
terms the soft fresh blossom of love that his fancy conjured forth at the
recollection of her. He pictured to himself hopefully, moreover, that
she would be shy when they met. A contradictory vision of her eyes
lifted hungry for his first words, or the pressure of his arm displeased
him slightly. It occurred to him that they would be characterized as a
singular couple. To combat this he drew around him all the mysteries of
sentiment that had issued from her voice and her eyes. She had made
Earth lovely to him and heaven human. She--what a grief for ever that
her origin should be what it was! For this reason:--lovers must live
like ordinary people outwardly; and say, ye Fates, how had she been
educated to direct a gentlemen's household?
"I can't exist on potatoes," he pronounced humorously.
But when his thoughts began to dwell with fitting seriousness on the
woman-of-the-world tone to be expected from Lady Charlotte, he folded the
mental image of Emilia closely to his breast, and framed a misty idea of
a little lighted cottage wherein she sat singing to herself while he was
campaigning. "Two or three fellows--Lumley and Fredericks--shall see
her," he thought. The rest of his brother officers were not even to know
that he was married.
His yacht was lying in a strip of moonlight near Sir Twickenham's
companion yawl. He gave one glance at it as at a history finished, and
sent up his name to Lady Charlotte.
"Ah! you haven't brought the good old dame with you?" she said, rising to
meet him. "I thought it better not to see her to-night."
He acquiesced, mentioning the lateness of the hour, and adding, "You are
alone?"
She stared, and let fall "Certainly," and then laughed. "I had forgotten
your regard for the proprieties. I have just sent my maid for Georgiana;
she will sleep here. I preferred to come here, because those people at
the hotel tire me; and, besides, I said I should sleep at the villa, and
I never go back to people who don't expect me."
Wilfrid looked about the room perplexed, and almost suspicious because of
his unexplained perplexity. Her (as he deemed it--not much above the
level of Mrs. Chump in that respect) aristocratic indifference to opinion
and conventional social observances would have pleased him by daylight,
but it fretted him now.
Lady Charlotte's maid came in to say that Miss Ford would join her. The
maid was dismissed to her bed. "There's nothing to do there," said her
mistress, as she was moving to the folding-doors. The window facing
seaward was open. He went straight to it and closed it. Next, in an
apparent distraction, he went to the folding-doors. He was about to
press the handle, when Lady Charlotte's quiet remark, "My bedroom,"
brought him back to his seat, crying pardon.
"Have you had news?" she inquired. "You thought that a letter might be
there. Bad, is it?"
"It is not good," he replied, briefly.
"I am sorry."
"That is--it tells me--" (Wilfrid disciplined his tongue) "that I--we
are--a lieutenant on half-pay may say that he is ruined, I suppose, when
his other supplies are cut off!..."
"I can excuse him for thinking it," said Lady Charlotte. She exhibited
no sign of eagerness for his statement of facts.
Her outward composure and a hard animation of countenance (which, having
ceased the talking within himself, he had now leisure to notice)
humiliated him. The sting helped him to progress.
"I may try to doubt it as much as I please, to avoid seeing what must
follow.... I may shut my eyes in the dark, but when the light stares me
in the face...I give you my word that I have not been justified even in
imagining such a catastrophe."
"The preamble is awful," said Lady Charlotte, rising from her recumbent
posture.
"Pardon me; I have no right to intrude my feelings. I learn to-day, for
the first time, that we are--are ruined."
She did not lift her eyebrows, or look fixedly; but without any change at
all, said, "Is there no doubt about it?"
"None whatever." This was given emphatically. Resentment at the perfect
realization of her anticipated worldly indifference lent him force.
"Ruined?" she said.
"Yes."
"You I'll be more so than you were a month ago. I mean, you tell me
nothing new, I have known it."
Amid the crush and hurry in his brain, caused by this strange
communication, pressed the necessity to vindicate his honour.
"I give you the word of a gentleman, Lady Charlotte, that I came to you
the first moment it has been made known to me. I never suspected it
before this day."
"Nothing would prompt me to disbelieve that." She reached him her hand.
"You have known it!" he broke from a short silence.
"Yes--never mind how. I could not allude to it. Of course I had to wait
till you took the initiative."
The impulse to think the best of what we are on the point of renouncing
is spontaneous. If at the same time this object shall exhibit itself in
altogether new, undreamt-of, glorious colours, others besides a
sentimentalist might waver, and be in some danger of clutching it a
little tenderly ere it is cast off.
"My duty was to tell you the very instant it came to my knowledge," he
said, fascinated in his heart by the display of greatness of mind which
he now half divined to be approaching, and wished to avoid.
"Well, I suppose that is a duty between friends?" said she.
"Between friends! Shall we still--always be friends?"
"I think I have said more than once that it won't be my fault if we are
not."
"Because, the greater and happier ambition to which I aspired..." This
was what he designed to say, sentimentally propelled, by way of graceful
exit, and what was almost printed on a scroll in his head for the tongue
to read off fluently. He stopped at 'the greater,' beginning to stumble
--to flounder; and fearing that he said less than was due as a compliment
to the occasion, he said more.
By no means a quick reader of character, Lady Charlotte nevertheless
perceived that the man who spoke in this fashion, after what she had
confessed, must be sentimentally, if not actually, playing double.
Thus she came to his assistance: "Are you begging permission to break our
engagement?"
"At least, whatever I do get I must beg for now!" He took refuge
adroitly in a foolish reply, and it served him. That he had in all
probability lost his chance by the method he had adopted, and by
sentimentalizing at the wrong moment, was becoming evident,
notwithstanding. In a sort of despair he attempted comfort by critically
examining her features, and trying to suit them to one or other of the
numerous models of Love that a young man carries about with him. Her
eyes met his, and even as he was deciding against her on almost every
point, the force of their frankness held his judgement in suspense.
"The world is rather harsh upon women in these cases," she said, turning
her head a lithe, with a conscious droop of the eyelids. "I will act as
if we had an equal burden between us. On my side, what you have to tell
me does not alter me. I have known it.... You see that I am just the
same to you. For your part, you are free, if you please. That is fair
dealing, is it not?"
The gentleman's mechanical assent provoked the lady's smile.
But Wilfrid was torn between a profound admiration of her and the galling
reflection that until she had named the engagement, none had virtually
existed which diplomacy, aided by time and accident, might not have
stopped.
"You must be aware that I am portionless," she continued. "I have--let
me name the sum--a thousand pounds. It is some credit to me that I have
had it five years and not spent it. Some men would think that a quality
worth double the amount. Well, you will make up your mind to my bringing
you no money;--I have a few jewels. En revanche, my habits are not
expensive. I like a horse, but I can do without one. I like a large
house, and can live in a small one. I like a French cook, and can dine
comfortably off a single dish. Society is very much to my taste; I shall
indulge it when I am whipped at home."
Wilfrid took her hand and pressed his lips to the fingers, keeping his
face ponderingly down. He was again so divided that the effort to find
himself absorbed all his thinking faculties.
At last he muttered: "A lieutenant's pay!"--expecting her to reply, "We
can wait," as girls do that find it pleasant to be adored by curates,
Then might follow a meditative pause--a short gaze at her, from which she
could have the option of reflecting that to wait is not the privilege of
those who have lived to acquire patience. The track he marked out was
clever in a poor way; perhaps it was not positively unkind to instigate
her to look at her age: but though he read character shrewdly, and knew
hers pretty accurately, he was himself too much of a straw at the moment
to be capable of leading-moves.
"We can make up our minds, without great difficulty, to regard the
lieutenant's pay as nothing at all," was Lady Charlotte's answer. "You
will enter the Diplomatic Service. My interest alone could do that. If
we are married, there would be plenty to see the necessity for pushing
us. I don't know whether you could keep the lieutenancy; you might. I
should not like you to quit the Army: an opening might come in it.
There's the Indian Staff--the Persian Mission: they like soldiers for
those Eastern posts. But we must take what we can get. We should,
anyhow, live abroad, where in the matter of money society is more
sensible. We should be able to choose our own, and advertize tea,
brioche, and conversation in return for the delicacies of the season."
"But you, Charlotte--you could never live that life!" Wilfrid broke in,
the contemplation of her plain sincerity diminishing him to himself. "It
would drag you down too horribly!"
"Remorse at giving tea in return for dinners and balls?"
"Ah! there are other things to consider."
She blushed unwontedly.
Something, lighted by the blush, struck him as very feminine and noble.
"Then I may flatter myself that you love me?" he whispered.
"Do you not see?" she rejoined. "My project is nothing but a whim--a
whim."
The divided man saw himself whole, if not happy in the ranks of
Diplomacy, with a resolute, frank, faithful woman (a lady of title)
loving him, to back him. Fortune shone ahead, and on the road he saw
where his deficiencies would be filled up by her. She was firm and open
--he irresolute and self-involved. Animal courage both possessed. Their
differences were so extreme that they met where they differed. It struck
him specially now that she would be like Day to his spirit in continued
intercourse. Young as he was he had wisdom to know the right meaning of
the word "helpmate." It was as if the head had dealt the heart a blow,
saying, "See here the lady thou art to serve." But the heart was a surly
rebel. Lady Charlotte was fully justified in retorting upon his last
question: "I think I also should ask, do you love me? It is not
absolutely imperative for the occasion or for the catastrophe, I merely
ask for what is called information."
And yet, despite her flippancy, which was partly designed to relieve his
embarrassment, her hand was moist and her eyes were singularly watchful.
"You who sneer at love!" He gave a musical murmur.
"Not at all. I think it a very useful part of the capital to begin the
married business upon."
"You unsay your own words."
"Not 'absolutely imperative,' I think I said, if I remember rightly."
"But I take the other view, Charlotte."
"You imagine that there must be a little bit of love."
"There should be no marriage without it."
"On both sides?"
"At least, if not on both sides, one should bring such a love."
"Enough for two! So, then, we are not to examine your basket?"
Touched by the pretty thing herein implied, he squeezed her hand.
"This is the answer?" said she.
"Can you doubt me?"
She rose from her seat. "Oh! if you talk in that style, I really am
tempted to say that I do. Are there men--women and women--men? My dear
Wilfrid, have we changed parts to-night?"
His quickness in retrieving a false position, outwardly, came to his aid.
He rose likewise, and, while perfecting the minor details of an easy
attitude against the mantelpiece, said: "I am so constituted, Charlotte,
that I can't talk of my feelings in a business tone; and I avoid that
subject unless... You spoke of a basket just now. Well, I confess I
can't bring mine into the market and bawl out that I have so many pounds'
weight of the required material. Would a man go to the market at all if
he had nothing to dispose of? In plain words--since my fault appears to
be, according to your reading, in the opposite direction--should I be
here if my sentiments could not reply eloquently to your question?"
This very common masterpiece of cunning from a man in a corner, which
suggests with so persuasive an air that he has ruled his actions up to
the very moment when he faces you, and had almost preconceived the
present occasion, rather won Lady Charlotte; or it seemed to, or the
scene had been too long for her vigilance.
"In the affirmative?" she whispered, coming nearer to him.
She knew that she had only to let her right shoulder slip under his left
arm, and he would very soon proclaim himself her lover as ardently as
might be wished. Why did she hesitate to touch the blood of the man? It
was her fate never to have her great heart read aright. Wilfrid could
not know that generosity rather than iciness restrained her from yielding
that one unknown kiss which would have given the final spring to passion
in his breast. He wanted the justification of his senses, and to run
headlong blindly. Had she nothing of a woman's instinct?
"In the affirmative!" was his serene reply.
"That means "Yes." Her tone had become pleasantly soft.
"Yes, that means 'Yes,'" said he.
She shut her eyes, murmuring, "How happy are those who hear that they are
loved!" and opening them, all her face being red, "Say it!" she pleaded.
Her fingers fell upon his wrist. "I have this weakness, Wilfrid; I wish
to hear you say it."
The flush of her face, and tremour of her fingers, told of an unimagined
agitation hardly to be believed, though seen and felt. Yet, still some
sign, some shade of a repulsion in her figure, kept him as far from her
as any rigid rival might have stipulated for.
The interrogation to the attentive heavens was partially framed in his
mind, "How can I tell this woman I love her, without..." without putting
his arm about her waist, and demonstrating it satisfactorily to himself
as well as to her? In other words, not so framed, "How, without that
frenzy which shall make me forget whether it be so or not?"
He remained in his attitude, incapable of moving or speaking, but
fancying, that possibly he was again to catch a glimpse of the vanished
mountain nymph, sweet Liberty. Her woman's instinct warmed more and
more, until, if she did not quite apprehend his condition, she at least
understood that the pause was one preliminary to a man's feeling himself
a fool.
"Dear Wilfrid," she whispered, "you think you are doubted. I want to be
certain that you think you have met the right woman to help you, in me."
He passed through the loophole here indicated, and breathed.
"Yes, Charlotte, I am sure of that. If I could be only half as worthy!
You are full of courage and unselfishness, and, I could swear, faithful
as steel."
"Thank you--not dogs," she laughed. "I like steel. I hope to be a good
sword in your hand, my knight--or shield, or whatever purpose you put me
to."
She went on smiling, and seeming to draw closer to him and throw down
defences.
"After all, Wilfrid, the task of loving your good piece of steel won't be
less thoroughly accomplished because you find it difficult. Sir, I do
not admit any protestation. Handsome faces, musical voices, sly manners,
and methods that I choose not to employ, make the business easy to men."
"Who discover that the lady is not steel," said Wilfrid. "Need she, in
any case, wear so much there?"
He pointed, flittingly as it were, with his little finger to the slope of
her neck.
She turned her wrist, touching the spot: "Here? You have seen, then,
that it is something worn?"
There followed a delicious interplay of eyes. Who would have thought
that hers could be sweet and mean so much?
"It is something worn, then? And thrown aside for me only, Charlotte?"
"For him who loves me," she said.
"For me!"
"For him who loves me," she repeated.
"Then it is for me!"
She had moved back, showing a harder figure, or the "I love you, love
you!" would have sounded with force. It came, though not so vehemently
as might have been, to the appeal of a soft fixed look.
"Yes, I love you, Charlotte; you know that I do."
"You love me?"
"Yes."
"Say it."
"I love you! Dead, inanimate Charlotte, I love you!"
She threw out her hand as one would throw a bone to a dog.
"My living, breathing, noble Charlotte," he cried, a little bewitched, "I
love you with all my heart!"
It surprised him that her features should be gradually expressing less
delight.
"With all your heart?"
"Could I give you a part?"
"It is done, sometimes," she said, mock-sadly. Then, in her original
voice: "Good. I never credited that story of you and the girl Emilia.
I suppose what people say is a lie?"
Her eyes, in perfect accordance with the tone she had adopted, set a
quiet watch on him.
"Who says it?" he thundered, just as she anticipated.
"It's not true?"
"Not true!--how can it be true?"
"You never loved Emilia Belloni?--don't love her now?--do not love her
now? If you have ever said that you love Emilia Belloni, recant, and you
are forgiven; and then go, for I think I hear Georgiana below. Quick! I
am not acting. It's earnest. The word, if you please, as you are a
gentleman. Tell me, because I have heard tales. I have been perplexed
about you. I am sure you're a manly fellow, who would never have played
tricks with a girl you were bound to protect; but you might have--pardon
the slang--spooned,--who knows? You might have been in love with her
downright. No harm, even if a trifle foolish; but in the present case,
set my mind at rest. Quick! There are both my hands. Take them, press
them, and speak."
The two hands were taken, but his voice was not so much at command. No
image of Emilia rose in his mind to reproach him with the casting over of
his heart's dear mistress, but a blind struggle went on. It seemed that
he could do what he dared not utter. The folly of lips more loyal than
the spirit touched his lively perception; and as the hot inward struggle,
masked behind his softly-playing eyes, had reduced his personal
consciousness so that if he spoke from his feeling there was a chance of
his figuring feebly, he put on his ever-ready other self:--
"Categorically I reply: Have I loved Miss Emilia Belloni?--No. Do I?--
No. Do I love Charlotte Chillingworth?--Yes, ten thousand times! And
now let Britomart disarm."
He sought to get his reward by gentle muscular persuasion. Her arms
alone yielded: and he judged from the angle of the neck, ultra-sharp
though it was, that her averted face might be her form of exhibiting
maidenly reluctance, feminine modesty. Suddenly the fingers in his grasp
twisted, and not being at once released, she turned round to him.
"For God's sake, spare the girl!"
Emilia stood in the doorway.
CHAPTER XXXVII
A knock at Merthyr's chamber called him out while he sat writing to
Marini on the national business. He heard Georgiana's voice begging him
to come to her quickly. When he saw her face the stain of tears was
there.
"Anything the matter with Charlotte?" was his first question.
"No. But, come: I will tell you on the way. Do not look at me."
"No personal matter of any kind?"
"Oh, no! I can have none;" and she took his hand for a moment.
They passed into the dark windy street smelling of the sea.
"Emilia is here," said Georgiana. "I want you to persuade her--you will
have influence with her. Oh, Merthyr! my darling brother! I thank God I
love my brother with all my love! What a dreadful thing it is for a
woman to love a man:"
"I suppose it is, while she has nothing else to do," said Merthyr. "How
did she come?--why?"
"If you had seen Emilia to-night, you would have felt that the difference
is absolute." Georgiana dealt first with the general case. "she came, I
think, by some appointment."
"Also just as absolute between her and her sex," he rejoined, controlling
himself, not to be less cool. "What has happened?"
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