An apt pupil, Miss Wraxton had thereafter lost no opportunity of pointing out to Charles, in the most tactful way, the delinquencies and general undesirability of his father and his brothers and sisters. She was actuated by the purest of motives; she considered that the volatility of Lord Ombersley and Hubert was prejudicial to Charles’s interests; she heartily despised Lady Ombersley and as heartily deprecated the excessive sentiment which made Cecilia contemplate marriage with a penniless younger son. It seemed to her that to detach Charles from his family must be her first object, but sometimes she was seduced into playing with the notion of reclaiming the Ombersley household from the abyss of impropriety into which it had fallen.
Becoming engaged to Mr. Rivenhall at a moment when he was exacerbated by his father’s excesses, her gentle words had fallen on fruitful soil. A naturally joyless nature, reared on bleak principles, could perceive only the most deplorable tendencies in a lively family’s desire for enjoyment. Charles, wrestling with mountainous piles of bills, was much inclined to think that she was right. It was only since Sophy’s arrival that his sentiments seemed to have undergone a change. Miss Wraxton could not deceive herself into underrating Sophy’s ruinous influence upon Charles’s character; and since she was not, in spite of her learning, very wise, she tried to counteract it in a variety of ways that served merely to set up his back. When she inquired whether Sophy had offered him an explanation of her visit to Rundell and Bridge, and, in justice to his cousin, he felt himself obliged to tell her some part of the truth, her evil genius had inspired her to point out to him the total unreliability of Hubert’s character, his resemblance to his father, and the ill-judged nature of Sophy’s admittedly good-natured conduct in the affair.
But Mr. Rivenhall was already writhing under the lash of his own conscience, and since, with all his faults, he was not one to burke a clear issue, these remarks found no favor with him. He said, “I blame myself. That any hasty words of mine should have made Hubert feel that anything would be preferable to confiding his difficulties to me must be an everlasting reproach to me! I have to thank my cousin for showing me how much I have erred! I hope I may do better in the future. I had no intention — but I see now how unsympathetic I must have appeared to him! I’ll take good care poor little Theodore does not grow up in the belief that he must at all costs conceal his peccadilloes from me!”
“My dear Charles, I assure you this is an excess of sensibility!” Miss Wraxton said soothingly. “You are not to be held accountable for the behavior of your brothers!”
“You are wrong, Eugenia. I am six years older than Hubert, and since I knew — none better — that my father would never concern himself with any one of us, it was my duty to take care of the younger ones! I do not scruple to say this to you, for you know how we are circumstanced!”
She replied without hesitation, “I am persuaded you have always done your duty! I have seen how you have tried to introduce into your father’s household more exact standards of conduct, a greater notion of discipline and of management. Hubert can have been in no doubt of your sentiments upon this occasion, and to condone his behavior — which I must think quite shocking — would be most improper. Miss Stanton-Lacy’s intervention, which was, of course, meant in the kindest way, sprang from impulse and cannot have been dictated by her conscience. Painful though it might have been to her, there can be no doubt that it was her duty to have told you the whole, and immediately! To have paid off Hubert’s debts in that fashion was merely to encourage him in his gaming propensities. I fancy that a moment’s reflection must have convinced her of this, but, alas, with all her good qualities, I fear that Miss Stanton-Lacy is not much given to the indulgence of rational thought!”
He stared at her, an odd expression in his eyes which she was at a loss to interpret. “If Hubert had confided in you, Eugenia, would you have come to me with his story?” he asked.
“Undoubtedly,” she replied. “I should not have known an instant’s hesitation.”
“Not an instant’s hesitation!” he repeated. “Although it was a confidence made in the belief that you would not betray it?”
She smiled at him. “That, my dear Charles, is a great piece of nonsense. To be boggling at such a thing as that when one’s duty is so plain is what I have no patience with! My concern for your brother’s future career must have convinced me that I had no other course open to me than to divulge his wrongdoing to you. Such ruinous tendencies must be checked, and since your father, as you have said, does not concern himself with — ”