Chapter Twenty Nine.
Coming to an Understanding.
Mr Enderby was too angry with his sister to see her that night. He went straight to his room, at his mother’s old house, and did not breakfast with the Rowlands. He knocked at their door when breakfast was finished, and sent to request Mrs Rowland’s presence in the drawing-room. All this had given the lady time to prepare her mood, and some very clever and bold sayings but when the interview was over, she was surprised to find how some of these sayings had gone out of her mind, and how others had remained there, for want of opportunity to speak them; so that she had not made nearly so good a figure as she had intended.
There was all due politeness in Enderby’s way of inducing his sister to sit down, and of asking after the health of herself and her children.
“We are all wonderfully improved, thank you, brother. Indeed I have hopes that we shall all enjoy better health henceforward than we have ever known. Mr Walcot’s care will be new life to us.”
“Whose care?”
“Mr Walcot’s. We brought him with us last night; and he is to go at once into my mother’s house. He is a surgeon of the first degree of eminence. I think myself extremely fortunate in having secured him. The chief reason, however, of my inviting him here was, that my poor mother might be properly taken care of. Now I shall be at peace on her account, which I really never was before. Now that she will be in good hands, I shall feel that I have done my duty.”
“And, pray, does Rowland know of your having brought this stranger here?”
“Of course. Mr Walcot is our guest till his own house can be prepared for him. As I tell you, he arrived with me, last night.”
“And now let me tell you, sister, that either Mr Walcot is not a man of honour, or you have misinformed him of the true state of affairs here: I suspect the latter to be the case. It is of a piece with the whole of your conduct, towards Mr Hope—conduct unpardonable for its untruthfulness, and hateful for its malice.”
Not one of Mrs Rowland’s prepared answers would suit in this place. Before she could think of anything to say, Enderby proceeded:—
“It is a dreadful thing for a brother to have to speak to a sister as I now speak to you; but it is your own doing. Mr Hope must have justice, and you have no one to blame but yourself that justice must be done at your expense. I give you fair notice that I shall discharge my duty fully, in the painful circumstances in which you have contrived to place all your family.”
“Do what you will, Philip. My first duty is to take care of the health of my parent and my children; and if, by the same means, Deerbrook is provided with a medical man worthy of its confidence, all Deerbrook will thank me.”
“Ignorant and stupid as Deerbrook is about many things, Priscilla, it is not so wicked as to thank any one for waging a cowardly war against the good, for disparaging the able and accomplished, and fabricating and circulating injurious stories against people too magnanimous for the slanderer to understand.”
“I do not know what you mean, Philip.”
“I mean that you have done all this towards the Hopes. You do not know that he and his wife are not happy. You know that Hope is an able and most humane man in his profession, and that he does not steal dead bodies. You know the falsehood of the whole set of vulgar stories that you have put into circulation against him. You know, also, that my mother has entire confidence in him, and that it will go near to break her heart to have him dismissed for any one else. This is the meaning of what I say. As for what I mean to do—it is this. I shall speak to Mr Walcot at once, before his intention to settle here is known.”
“You are too late, my dear sir. Every one in Deerbrook knows it as well as if Dr Levitt was to give notice of it from the pulpit to-day.”
“So much the worse for you, Priscilla. I shall explain the whole of Hope’s case to Mr Walcot, avoiding, if possible, all exposure of you—.”
“Oh, pray do not disturb yourself about that. Mr Walcot knows me very well. I am not afraid.”
“Avoiding, if possible, all exposure of you,” resumed Enderby, “but not shrinking from the full statement of the facts, if that should prove necessary to Hope’s justification. If this gentleman be honourable, he will decline attending my mother, and go away more willingly than he came. I shall bear testimony to my friend with equal freedom everywhere else; and I will never rest till the wrongs you have done him are repaired—as far as reparation is possible.”
“You take the tone of defiance, I see, Philip. I have not the slightest objection. We defy each other, then.”
“I cannot but take that tone for a purpose which, I conceive, is the kindest which, under the circumstances, can be entertained towards you, sister. I do it in the hope that, before it is too late, you will yourself do the justice which I vow shall be done. I give you peremptory warning, leaving you opportunity to retrieve yourself, to repair the mischief you have done, and to alleviate the misery which I see is coming upon you.”
“You are very good: but I know what I am about, and I shall proceed in my own way. I mean to get rid of these Hopes; and, perhaps, you may be surprised to see how soon I succeed.”
“The Hopes shall remain as long as they wish to stay, if truth can prevail against falsehood. I am sorry for you, if you cannot endure the presence of neighbours whose whole minds and conduct are noble and humane, and known by you to be so. This desire to get rid of them is a bad symptom, Priscilla—a symptom of a malady which neither Hope nor Mr Walcot, nor any one but yourself, can cure. I would have you look to it.”
“Is your sermon ended? It is time I was getting ready to hear Dr Levitt’s.”
“What I have to say is not finished. I desire to know what you mean by telling everybody that I am engaged to Miss Mary Bruce.”
“I said so, because it is true.”
The cool assurance with which she said this was too much for Enderby’s gravity. He burst out a-laughing.
“If not precisely true when I said it, it was sure to be so soon; which is just the same thing. I mean that it shall be true. I have set my heart upon your marrying, and upon your marrying Mary Bruce. I know she would like it, and—”
“Stop there! Not another word about Miss Bruce! I will not have you take liberties with her name to me; and this is not the first time I have told you so. It is not true that she would like it—no more true than many other things that you have said: and if you were to repeat it till night, it would make no sort of impression upon me. Miss Bruce knows little, and cares less, about me; and beware how you say to the contrary!—And now for the plain fact. I am engaged elsewhere.”
“No; you are not.”
“Yes; I am.”
“You will marry no one but Mary Bruce at last, you will see, whatever you may think now.”
“For Heaven’s sake, Priscilla, if you have any of the regard you profess to have for Miss Bruce, treat her name with some respect!—I am accepted by Margaret Ibbotson!”
“I dare say you are? Margaret Ibbotson! So this is at the bottom of all your energy about the Hopes!”
“I admired Hope before I ever saw Margaret, with sufficient energy to prompt me to anything I mean to do in his support. But Margaret has certainly exalted my feelings towards him, as she has towards everything morally great and beautiful.”
“I hope you will all make yourselves happy with your greatness and your beauty: for these friends of yours seem likely to have little else left to comfort themselves with.”
“They will be happy with their greatness and loveliness, sister; for it is Heaven’s decree that they should. Why will you not let yourself be happy in witnessing it, Priscilla? Why will you not throw off the restraint of bad feelings, and do magnanimous justice to this family, and, having thus opened and freed your mind, glory in their goodness—the next best thing to being as good as they? You have power of mind to do this: the very force with which you persist in persecuting them shows that you have power for better things. Believe me, they are full of the spirit of forgiveness. Do but try—”
“Thank you. I am glad you are aware of my power. If they forgive me for anything, it shall be for my power.”
“That is not for you to determine, happily. To what extent they forgive is between God and themselves. You lie under their forgiveness, whether you will or not. I own, Priscilla, I would fain bestow on Margaret a sister whom she might respect rather than forgive.”
“Pray how many persons have you persuaded that Margaret Ibbotson is to be my sister-in-law?”
“Very few; for your sake, scarcely any. We have been willing to allow you your own time and methods for extricating yourself from the difficulties you have made for yourself by your inconsiderate talk about Miss Bruce. I own I cannot conceive how you could originate and carry on such a device. You must now get out of the scrape in your own way.”
“I am glad you have told so few people of your entanglement. It makes it an easier matter to help you. I shall deny the engagement everywhere.”
“That will hardly avail against my testimony.”
“It will, when you are gone. The Deerbrook people always attend to the last speaker. Indeed, I think I have the majority with me now, as the events of last night pretty plainly show.”
“Hope is not the first good man who has been slandered and suffered violence. Oh, Priscilla, I am unwilling to give you up! Let me hope, that the pride, the insane pride of this morning, is but the reaction of your internal suffering from witnessing the results of your influence in the outrages of last night. Confide this to me now, and give yourself such ease as you yet can.”
“Thank you: but you are quite mistaken. I was extremely glad to arrive when I did. It satisfied me as to the necessity of getting rid of these people; and it proved to Mr Walcot, as I observed to him at the time, how much he was wanted here. Now, if you have nothing more to say to me, I must go. I shall deny your engagement everywhere.”
Philip fixed his eyes upon her with an earnestness from which, for one moment, she shrank; but she instantly rallied, and returned him a stare which lasted till she reached the door.
“There is something almost sublime in audacity like this,” thought he. “But it cannot last. It comes from internal torture—a thing as necessarily temporary as faith (the source of the other kind of strength) is durable. Not the slightest compunction has she for having caused the misery she knows of: and not a whit would she relent if she could become aware (which she never shall) of what she made Margaret suffer. I fear my Margaret has still much to endure from her. I will watch and struggle to ward off from her every evil word and thought. This is the only comfort under the misery of her being exposed to the malice of any one belonging to me. No; not the only comfort. She does not suffer from these things as she did. She says she has a new strength; and, thank God! I believe it. Now for Mr Walcot! I must catch him as he comes out of church, and see what I can make of him. If he is an honourable man, all may turn out well. If not—Rowland and I must see what can be done next.”