The Last Chronicle of Barset [359]
and say nothing more about it.'
'But, Miss Clara--'
'It's no good your Miss Claraing me, sir. What I have said to you may be sure I mean. Good-morning, sir.' Then she opened the door, and left him.
'By Jove, she is a Tartar,' said Musselboro to himself, when he was alone. 'They're both Tartars, but the younger is the worse.' Then he began to speculate whether Fortune was not doing the best for him in so arranging that he might have use of the Tartar-mother's money without binding himself to endure for life the Tartar qualities of the daughter.
It had been understood that Clara was to wait at home till her mother should return before she again went to Mrs Broughton. At about eleven Mrs Van Siever came in, and her daughter intercepted her at the dining-room door before she made her way upstairs to Mr Musselboro. 'How is she, mamma?' said Clara with something of hypocrisy in her assumed interest for Mrs Broughton.
'She is an idiot!' said Mrs Van Siever.
'She has had a terrible misfortune!'
'That is no reason why she should be an idiot; and she is heartless too. She never cared a bit for him--not a bit.'
'He was a man whom it was impossible to care for much. I will go to her now, mamma.'
'Where is Musselboro?'
'He is upstairs.'
'Well?'
'Mamma, that is quite out of the question. Quite. I would not marry him to save myself from starving.'
'You do not know what starving is yet, my dear. Tell me the truth at once. Are you engaged to that painter?' Clara paused a moment before she answered, not hesitating as to the expediency of telling her mother any truth on the matter in question, but doubting what the truth might really be. Could she say that she was engaged to Mr Dalrymple, or could she say that she was not? 'If you tell me a lie, miss, I'll have you put out at once.'
'I certainly shall not tell you a lie. Mr Dalrymple has asked me to be his wife, and I have made him no answer. If he asks me again I shall accept him.'
'Then I order you not to leave this house,' said Mrs Van Siever.
'Surely I may go to Mrs Broughton?'
'I order you not to leave this house,' said Mrs Van Siever again --and thereupon she stalked out of the dining-room and went upstairs. Clara had been standing with her bonnet on, ready dressed to go out, and the mother made no attempt to send the daughter up to her room. That she did not expect to be obeyed in her order may be inferred from the first words which she spoke to Mr Musselboro. 'She has gone off to that man now. You are not good, Musselboro, at this kind of work.'
'You see, Mrs Van, he had the start of me so much. And then being at the West End, and all that, gives a man such a standing with a girl.'
'Bother!' said Mrs Van Siever, as he quick ear caught the sound of the closing hall-door. Clara had stood a minute or two to consider, and then had resolved that she would disobey her mother. She tried to excuse her own conduct to her own satisfaction as she went. 'There are some things,' she said, 'which even a daughter cannot hear from her mother. If she chooses to close the door against me, she must do so.'
She found Mrs Broughton still in bed, and could not but agree with her mother that the woman was both silly and heartless.
'Your mother says that everything must be sold up,' said Mrs Broughton.
'At any rate you would hardly choose to remain here,' said Clara.
'But I hope she will let me have my own things. A great many of them are altogether my own. I know there's a law that a woman may have her own things, even though her husband has--done what poor Dobbs did. And I think she was hard upon me about the mourning. They never do mind giving credit for such things as that, and though there is a bill due to Mrs Morell now, she has had a deal of Dobbs's money.' Clara promised her that she would have mourning to her heart's content. 'I will see to that myself,' she said.
Presently there was a knock at the door, and the discreet head-servant beckoned Clara out of the room. 'You are not going away,' said Mrs Broughton. Clara promised
'But, Miss Clara--'
'It's no good your Miss Claraing me, sir. What I have said to you may be sure I mean. Good-morning, sir.' Then she opened the door, and left him.
'By Jove, she is a Tartar,' said Musselboro to himself, when he was alone. 'They're both Tartars, but the younger is the worse.' Then he began to speculate whether Fortune was not doing the best for him in so arranging that he might have use of the Tartar-mother's money without binding himself to endure for life the Tartar qualities of the daughter.
It had been understood that Clara was to wait at home till her mother should return before she again went to Mrs Broughton. At about eleven Mrs Van Siever came in, and her daughter intercepted her at the dining-room door before she made her way upstairs to Mr Musselboro. 'How is she, mamma?' said Clara with something of hypocrisy in her assumed interest for Mrs Broughton.
'She is an idiot!' said Mrs Van Siever.
'She has had a terrible misfortune!'
'That is no reason why she should be an idiot; and she is heartless too. She never cared a bit for him--not a bit.'
'He was a man whom it was impossible to care for much. I will go to her now, mamma.'
'Where is Musselboro?'
'He is upstairs.'
'Well?'
'Mamma, that is quite out of the question. Quite. I would not marry him to save myself from starving.'
'You do not know what starving is yet, my dear. Tell me the truth at once. Are you engaged to that painter?' Clara paused a moment before she answered, not hesitating as to the expediency of telling her mother any truth on the matter in question, but doubting what the truth might really be. Could she say that she was engaged to Mr Dalrymple, or could she say that she was not? 'If you tell me a lie, miss, I'll have you put out at once.'
'I certainly shall not tell you a lie. Mr Dalrymple has asked me to be his wife, and I have made him no answer. If he asks me again I shall accept him.'
'Then I order you not to leave this house,' said Mrs Van Siever.
'Surely I may go to Mrs Broughton?'
'I order you not to leave this house,' said Mrs Van Siever again --and thereupon she stalked out of the dining-room and went upstairs. Clara had been standing with her bonnet on, ready dressed to go out, and the mother made no attempt to send the daughter up to her room. That she did not expect to be obeyed in her order may be inferred from the first words which she spoke to Mr Musselboro. 'She has gone off to that man now. You are not good, Musselboro, at this kind of work.'
'You see, Mrs Van, he had the start of me so much. And then being at the West End, and all that, gives a man such a standing with a girl.'
'Bother!' said Mrs Van Siever, as he quick ear caught the sound of the closing hall-door. Clara had stood a minute or two to consider, and then had resolved that she would disobey her mother. She tried to excuse her own conduct to her own satisfaction as she went. 'There are some things,' she said, 'which even a daughter cannot hear from her mother. If she chooses to close the door against me, she must do so.'
She found Mrs Broughton still in bed, and could not but agree with her mother that the woman was both silly and heartless.
'Your mother says that everything must be sold up,' said Mrs Broughton.
'At any rate you would hardly choose to remain here,' said Clara.
'But I hope she will let me have my own things. A great many of them are altogether my own. I know there's a law that a woman may have her own things, even though her husband has--done what poor Dobbs did. And I think she was hard upon me about the mourning. They never do mind giving credit for such things as that, and though there is a bill due to Mrs Morell now, she has had a deal of Dobbs's money.' Clara promised her that she would have mourning to her heart's content. 'I will see to that myself,' she said.
Presently there was a knock at the door, and the discreet head-servant beckoned Clara out of the room. 'You are not going away,' said Mrs Broughton. Clara promised