The Three Brothers; Complete

by Mrs. Oliphant

‘Before he went away!’ said Mrs. Rich, surprised.

‘Yes. He has exchanged into the 200th, and they are going to India,’ said Nelly, following the train, as it swept along the curves, with an eye which was far from friendly. And Mrs. Rich’s conclusion was that the young man must be mad.

Nor must it be supposed that Frank Renton’s thoughts were particularly comfortable as he pursued his way. He was not vain enough to be gratified by Nelly’s mortification, and he could not conceal from himself the fact that he had not behaved quite as he ought to have done. He had not gone any great length, but still he had said and done enough to justify these kind people in thinking badly of him. He had made them an ungracious return for their hospitality and kindness. And when they should come to know that he was going to be married before he left, and that it was Alice Severn who was to be his bride, what would they think? Would it not look as if lie had gone to Richmont and pretended to pay court to Nelly for the sake of their visitor? Would it not be supposed that both he and his innocent Alice had been traitors;—his innocent Alice, to whom the very thought of evil was unknown? And then there was Alice’s mother,—though she did not like him,—who might be injured by this misconception. Mr. Rich was her patron, he had heard. All this maze of humiliating contingencies made Frank half frantic. He was angry with Mrs. Severn for being a painter,—angry with the Riches for buying her pictures,—angry that there should be any connexion, and that, above all, a connexion as of patron and dependant between the family of the girl he might have married and that of the girl he loved. Thinking it over, his very soul grew sick of the imbroglio. If he could but rush up to town and take his Alice to church, and be off to India the very same day,—seeing nobody, making explanations to nobody,—that was the only way of managing matters which could be in the least degree satisfactory; and that was impossible. Mothers of far higher pretensions than Mrs. Severn would, he knew, have received his suit much less cavalierly. He would have her susceptibilities to ménager as well as those of everybody else. There was not a point in the whole business, except Alice herself, upon which he could look with the least satisfaction; and indeed it said a great deal for Frank’s love that Alice herself retained his allegiance unbroken through it all.

Next morning Frank hurried over to Renton at an hour so early as to startle himself and everybody concerned. He met his cousin Mary as she made her habitual round of the flower-beds before breakfast. It had always been hard work to get him to be ready for breakfast at all, not to speak of sauntering in the garden. And yet he had come all the way from Royalborough. Mary held out her hand to him with a little cry of surprise.

‘Is it you, Frank, or your double?’ she asked in her amaze. ‘It does not seem possible it can be you.’

‘I wish I had a double who would be so obliging as to do half my work for me,’ said Frank, dolefully. ‘It is me, worse luck! and if you don’t stand my friend, Mary, I don’t know what I shall do.’

‘Of course I will stand your friend. But, Frank, what is it?’ cried Mary, gliding her arm within his with sisterly confidence. And he took breath for a few minutes without saying a word, leading her from the front of the house out of sight under the shadow of the trees.

‘I may as well tell you at once,’ he said, after this pause. ‘I could not stand it any longer. I have settled all about my exchange, and I am going to India in three months.’

‘To India!’ said Mary. But she had a brother in India, and perhaps it was not quite so appalling to her as Frank expected it to be. She made a little pause, however, and then she said, ‘Poor godmamma!’ with as much feeling as he could desire.

‘Well,’ said Frank; ‘could I help it? It is my father you must blame. How was it to be expected that I could get on in the most expensive regiment in the service after what has happened? It was my duty to do something, and this was the only thing I could do.’