Barchester Towers [217]
For I may presume I may judge by your manner of telling it, that--that--that you and your sister are not exactly of one mind on the subject.'
'No, we are not.'
'And if so,' said Mrs Bold, who was now really angry with the unnecessary insult, which she thought had been offered to her, 'and if so, why has it been worth your while to tell me all this?'
'I did once think, Mrs Bold--that you--that you--'
The widow now again became entirely impassive, and would not lend the slightest assistance to her companion.
'I did once think that you perhaps might--might have been taught to regard me as more than a friend.'
'Never!,' said Mrs Bold, 'never. If I have ever allowed myself to do anything to encourage such an idea, I have been very much to blame,--very much to blame, indeed.'
'You never have,' said Bertie, who really had a good-natured anxiety to make what he said as little unpleasant as possible. 'You never have, and I have seen for some time that I had no chance; but my sister's hopes ran higher. I have not mistaken you, Mrs Bold, though perhaps she has.'
'Then why have you said all this to me?'
'Because I must not anger her.'
'And will not this anger her? Upon my word, Mr Stanhope, I do not understand the policy of your family. Oh, how I wish I was at home!' And as she expressed this wish, she could restrain herself no longer, but burst out into a flood of tears.
Poor Bertie was greatly moved. 'You shall have the carriage to yourself going home,' said he, 'at least you and my father. As for me I can walk, or for the matter of that it does not much signify what I do.' He perfectly understood that part of Eleanor's grief arose from the apparent necessity of going back to Barchester in the carriage of her second suitor.
This somewhat mollified her. 'Oh, Mr Stanhope,' said she, 'why should you have made me so miserable? What will have gained by telling me all this?'
He had not even yet explained to her the most difficult part of his proposition; he had not told her that she was to be a party to the little deception which he intended to play off upon his sister. This suggestion had still to be made, and as it was absolutely necessary, he proceeded to make it.
We need not follow him through the whole of his statement. At last, and not without considerable difficulty, he made Eleanor understand why he had let her into his confidence, seeing that he no longer intended her the honour of a formal offer. At last he made her comprehend the part which she was destined to play in this little family comedy.
But when she did understand it, she was only more angry with him than ever: more angry, not only with him, but with Charlotte also. Her fair name was to bandied about between them in different senses, and each sense false. She was to played off by the sister against the father; and then by the brother against the sister. Her dear friend Charlotte, with all her agreeable sympathy and affection, was striving to sacrifice her for the Stanhope family welfare; and Bertie, who, as he now proclaimed himself, was over head and heels in debt, completed the compliment of owning that he did not care to have his debts paid at so great a sacrifice to himself. Then she was asked to conspire together with this unwilling suitor, for the sake of making the family believe that he had in obedience to their commands done his best to throw himself thus away!
She lifted up her face when she had finished, and looking at him with much dignity, even through her tears, she said--
'I regret to say it, Mr Stanhope; but after what has passed, I believe that all intercourse between your family and myself had better cease.'
'Well, perhaps it had,' said Bertie naively; 'perhaps that will be better, at any rate for a time; and then Charlotte will think you are offended at what I have done.'
'And now I will go back to the house, if you please,' said Eleanor. 'I can find my way by myself, Mr Stanhope: after what has passed,' she added, 'I would rather go alone.'
'But I must find the carriage for you, Mrs Bold,
'No, we are not.'
'And if so,' said Mrs Bold, who was now really angry with the unnecessary insult, which she thought had been offered to her, 'and if so, why has it been worth your while to tell me all this?'
'I did once think, Mrs Bold--that you--that you--'
The widow now again became entirely impassive, and would not lend the slightest assistance to her companion.
'I did once think that you perhaps might--might have been taught to regard me as more than a friend.'
'Never!,' said Mrs Bold, 'never. If I have ever allowed myself to do anything to encourage such an idea, I have been very much to blame,--very much to blame, indeed.'
'You never have,' said Bertie, who really had a good-natured anxiety to make what he said as little unpleasant as possible. 'You never have, and I have seen for some time that I had no chance; but my sister's hopes ran higher. I have not mistaken you, Mrs Bold, though perhaps she has.'
'Then why have you said all this to me?'
'Because I must not anger her.'
'And will not this anger her? Upon my word, Mr Stanhope, I do not understand the policy of your family. Oh, how I wish I was at home!' And as she expressed this wish, she could restrain herself no longer, but burst out into a flood of tears.
Poor Bertie was greatly moved. 'You shall have the carriage to yourself going home,' said he, 'at least you and my father. As for me I can walk, or for the matter of that it does not much signify what I do.' He perfectly understood that part of Eleanor's grief arose from the apparent necessity of going back to Barchester in the carriage of her second suitor.
This somewhat mollified her. 'Oh, Mr Stanhope,' said she, 'why should you have made me so miserable? What will have gained by telling me all this?'
He had not even yet explained to her the most difficult part of his proposition; he had not told her that she was to be a party to the little deception which he intended to play off upon his sister. This suggestion had still to be made, and as it was absolutely necessary, he proceeded to make it.
We need not follow him through the whole of his statement. At last, and not without considerable difficulty, he made Eleanor understand why he had let her into his confidence, seeing that he no longer intended her the honour of a formal offer. At last he made her comprehend the part which she was destined to play in this little family comedy.
But when she did understand it, she was only more angry with him than ever: more angry, not only with him, but with Charlotte also. Her fair name was to bandied about between them in different senses, and each sense false. She was to played off by the sister against the father; and then by the brother against the sister. Her dear friend Charlotte, with all her agreeable sympathy and affection, was striving to sacrifice her for the Stanhope family welfare; and Bertie, who, as he now proclaimed himself, was over head and heels in debt, completed the compliment of owning that he did not care to have his debts paid at so great a sacrifice to himself. Then she was asked to conspire together with this unwilling suitor, for the sake of making the family believe that he had in obedience to their commands done his best to throw himself thus away!
She lifted up her face when she had finished, and looking at him with much dignity, even through her tears, she said--
'I regret to say it, Mr Stanhope; but after what has passed, I believe that all intercourse between your family and myself had better cease.'
'Well, perhaps it had,' said Bertie naively; 'perhaps that will be better, at any rate for a time; and then Charlotte will think you are offended at what I have done.'
'And now I will go back to the house, if you please,' said Eleanor. 'I can find my way by myself, Mr Stanhope: after what has passed,' she added, 'I would rather go alone.'
'But I must find the carriage for you, Mrs Bold,