Miss Marjoribanks

  _Chapter XXX_

  It is possible that some people may think Mr Cavendish's emotions tooacute for all the danger to which he was exposed; but no doubt everyalarm gets intensified when a man broods on it, and thinks of nothingelse for weeks at a time. All that he had to do at the present momentwas to walk into Carlingford by the most frequented way, and to go upGrange Lane, where every house was open to him, and where nobody was sogreat a favourite as he. There were as many chances in his favour thathe would not in that friendly neighbourhood encounter his one enemy, asthere is for every man who goes into action that the bullet which ispredestined to strike somebody will not be directed to him; but then MrCavendish had not the excitement of personal conflict, nor the kind ofsecurity which is given by sharing a risk with a great many otherpeople. And to see everything smiling and serene around, and yet to knowthat the most deadly danger may arrive to you at any innocent opening,or round the first street-corner, is a kind of risk which naturallytells upon the nerves more than a more open peril. Mr Cavendish met DrMarjoribanks, and the Doctor was good enough to stop his brougham andkeep him in conversation for five minutes with his back to the foe, iffoe there was approaching; and then he met Mrs Chiley, who all butkissed him, and was so glad to see him again, and so pleased that he wasin time to make acquaintance with the Archdeacon, and so sure thatLucilla would be quite happy now he had come back. "Perhaps I ought notto say so, but I _know_ she has missed you," said the injudicious oldlady; and she took both his hands and held the miserable man in a kindof pillory, from whence he gazed with despairing eyes over her shoulder,feeling sure that now was the fatal moment, and that his enemy _must_ becoming. But fortune still favoured him, as it happened. He had thepresence of mind to say, "I am going to call on Miss Marjoribanks;" andMrs Chiley dropped his hands on the instant as if they burned her, andpatted him on the arm and sent him away. "She is sure to be in just now,and I am so glad; and, my dear, you need not mind me, for I am both yourfriends," Mrs Chiley said. But when he was delivered from that danger,something still more formidable awaited the unfortunate man. He couldnot believe his eyes at first, nor conceive it possible that Fate wouldhave such a spite against him; but there was no mistaking the crumpleddress, any more than the straight eyebrows and flashing oblique glancesthat had already found him out. Of all the horrible chances in theworld, it was Barbara--Barbara, who had a right to think he had desertedher on the previous night, and with whom his next interview could not beotherwise than stormy--who thus appeared like a lion in his way. When hesaw what awaited him, Mr Cavendish lost courage. His heart sank downinto unfathomable depths. He did not know what he could say to her toshorten the inevitable interview, nor how he could escape, nor howhinder her from discovering that it was Lucilla he was going to see; andhe had no longer any doubt in his mind that while he was thus engagedthe Archdeacon must inevitably appear. If he had had time to think ofordinary subjects, he would have been sufficiently annoyed at the ideaof an interview with Barbara in broad daylight on the sacred soil ofGrange Lane, where all the world could or might be spectators; but sucha merely prudential sentiment was entirely swallowed up to-day in muchmore urgent considerations. He would have been content just now, in thehorror of the moment, to plight his troth to Barbara by way of gettingrid of her, and leaving his path clear; but he could not stop her orhimself from advancing, and dared not give any vent to the panic whichwas consuming his soul.

  "Oh, I am sure I never thought of seeing you here, Mr Cavendish," saidBarbara, with a toss of her head. She would have done a great deal tosecure her wavering lover, but she could not be amiable at a moment whenshe had him at a disadvantage. "Perhaps you are going to see MissMarjoribanks," said the foolish young woman. To tell the truth, she didnot suspect him of any such treachery; but her heart was beating louderthan usual, and she had the best position of the two, or thought shehad, and chose what she supposed the most aggravating thing to say.

  But it is always hard to tell what a man may do when he is in a state ofdespair. Mr Cavendish looked her in the face with the composure ofdesperation, though she did not know that. All that he was able to thinkof was how to get rid of her soonest, and to be able to continue hisway. "Yes, I am going to see Miss Marjoribanks," he said, with a facewhich extremity rendered stolid and impassible. As for poor Barbara, hercolour changed in a moment. The very least that she had a right toexpect was that he should have asked her pardon, put himself at herfeet; and her mingled spite and humiliation and mortification at thisresponse were beyond telling. Her cheeks blazed with sudden rage, herpassion was so furious that she actually did what he wanted and stoodout of his way, and made him an imperious sign to pass on and leave her.But even then she did not expect to be taken at her word. When MrCavendish took off his hat in that heartless way and passed on, Barbarastood aghast, not able to believe her senses. Had he really passed andleft her, she who had done so much for him? Had he actually gone over toher adversary before her very eyes? She stood stock-still when he lefther, gazing after him, blazing with rage and despite, and scarcely ableto keep herself from shrieking out the torrent of reproaches andvituperations that were in her mind. She made no attempt whatever tohide her wrath or jealous curiosity from any eyes that might be there tosee; but to be sure she had, as her sister said, no proper pride. If MrCavendish had carried out his intentions, the chances are that Barbara,driven desperate, would have rushed after him, and found some means ofbreaking in upon his interview with Lucilla; but after all thisbadgering, he had not the courage to carry out his intentions. He lookeddown the long sunshiny line of Grange Lane with a sickening sense thatany of these doors might open at any moment, and his fate rush out uponhim. There was not a soul to be seen, but that only made it all the morelikely to poor Mr Cavendish's distempered fancy that somebody wascoming. He had not even a single thought at leisure to give to Barbara,and never asked himself whether or not she was standing watching him.All his senses and faculties were engaged forecasting what might happento him before he could reach Dr Marjoribanks's house. He was approachingit from the lower end of Grange Lane, and consequently had everything torisk; and when Mr Centum's door opened, and all the nurses and all thechildren poured out, the unfortunate man felt his heart jump, and dropagain, if possible, lower than ever. It was this that drove him, insteadof going on to Lucilla, to take refuge in his sister's house, where thedoor happened to be open. He rushed in there, and took breath, and wassafe for the instant. But Barbara, for her part, watching him, divinednone of Mr Cavendish's reasons. Her heart too gave a jump, and her wrathcooled down miraculously. No doubt it was a little impatience at beingquestioned which had made him answer as he did. He had not gone toLucilla--he had not deserted her standard, who had always met himhalf-way, and done so much for him. Barbara calmed down as she saw himenter at Mrs Woodburn's door. After having thus witnessed his safe exit,she felt at liberty to go back and return to her own affairs, andprepare her toilette for the evening; for it moved her very little lessthan Mr Cavendish to know that it was Thursday, and that there was notelling what might happen that night.

  As for the hero of all this commotion, he went and buried himself in MrsWoodburn's back drawing-room, and threw himself on the sofa in the darkcorner, and wiped his forehead like the Archdeacon. It was not his faultif events had overwhelmed him. If he had not met in succession DrMarjoribanks and Mrs Chiley and Barbara, he would have gone right toLucilla without stopping to question himself further--but he could notbear all this accumulation. Panic had seized upon him, and this panicwrought more effectually than all argument. It was so terrible to liveunder such a shadow, that he felt it must be put an end to. If only hewere left at rest for this moment, he felt that he could make up hismind to take the perilous leap at night, and dare everything. "It can'tbe worse than ruin," he said to himself, and tried not to think thatfor his sister it might be something even worse than ruin. But the firstthing of all was to get a little rest in the meantime, and hide himself,and forget the nightmare that was seated on his shoulders.
When MrsWoodburn came to him in haste, and saw his careful dress and pale looks,she was frightened for the moment. She thought it possible for onesecond that despair had driven him out of his wits, and that there mightbe, for anything she could tell, a little bottle of prussic acid in hiswaistcoat pocket. That was her first idea, and her second was that hewas going to carry out at last his most wise and laudable resolution ofproposing to Miss Marjoribanks, and that it was this--naturally aserious and hazardous enterprise--which made him look so pale.

  "Harry, if you are going to Lucilla----!" said Mrs Woodburn; "wait andrest yourself a little, and I will get you a glass of wine. Keep still;there's some Tokay," said the anxious sister. "Don't you go and worryyourself. You shall see nobody. I'll bring it you with my own hand."

  "Oh, confound the Tokay!" said Mr Cavendish. "I know what Woodburn'sTokay is--if that mattered. Look here, I want to speak to you. I _was_going to Lucilla, but I'm not up to it. Oh, not in the way you think!Don't be a fool like everybody. I tell you she wouldn't have me, and Iwon't ask her. Read this, which is much more to the purpose," MrCavendish added, taking out Miss Marjoribanks's letter. He watched her,while she read it, with that sense of contempt and superiority which aman naturally feels who has advanced much beyond the point in anyspecial matter at which his interlocutor is still stationary. He evensmiled at her cry of horror and amazement, and found the agitation sheshowed ridiculous. "Don't make a row about it," he said, regaining hiscolour as his sister lost hers. "It's all right. I can't ask LucillaMarjoribanks to have me after that, but I mean to put my trust in her,as she says. I was going to ask her to explain; but after all, onthinking of it, I don't see the good of explanations," said MrCavendish, with lofty tranquillity. "The fact is, she is right, Nelly,and, stand or fall, we'll have it out to-night."

  But Mrs Woodburn was scarcely in a condition to reply, much less to giveany advice. "Oh, good heavens! what does she know?" cried the tremblingwoman. "What do you suppose she can know? She gave me a dreadfulfright, coming and asking about you and your name. And then she neverwas a great friend of mine--and if she should say anything to Woodburn!Oh, Harry, go away, go away, and don't face her. You know you slightedher, and she is laying a snare for us. Oh, Harry, go away! She can't doyou much harm, but she could ruin me, and any little peace I have!Woodburn would never--never forgive--he would be frantic, you know. Ithas always been he that made a fuss about the Cavendishes--and, goodheavens! to be in a girl's power, and she one that you have slighted,Harry! Oh, for Heaven's sake, for pity's sake, if you care anything forme----"

  "Hold your tongue, Nelly," said Mr Cavendish. "Don't make a row. What onearth is the use of Heaven's-saking? I tell you I am going to make anend of it. If I were to run away now, it would turn up again at someother corner, and some other moment. Give me a pen and a bit of paper. Iwill write a note, and say I am coming. I don't want any explanations.If it's all a mistake, so much the better; but I'm going to face it outto-night."

  It was some time before Mrs Woodburn recovered her senses; but in themeantime her brother wrote Lucilla his note, and in sight of hissister's agitation felt himself perfectly composed and serene andmanful. It even made him complaisant to feel the difference that therewas, when the emergency really arrived at last, between his own manlycalm and her womanish panic. But then it was for herself that she wasafraid, lest her husband should find out that she was not one of theCavendishes. "You must have been giving yourself airs on the subject,"Mr Cavendish said, as he fastened up his note. "I never was so foolishas that, for my part;" and naturally the more he admired his ownsteadiness and courage, the steadier and more courageous he grew--or atleast so he felt for the moment, with her terror before his eyes.

  "If you do go," said Mrs Woodburn at last, "oh, Harry, for goodness'sake, mind that you deny _everything_. If you confess to anything, itwill all be proved against you; don't allow a single thing that's saidto you. It is a mistaken identity, you know--that is what it is; therewas a case in the papers just the other day. Oh, Harry, for Heaven'ssake don't be weak!--deny everything; you don't know anything aboutit--you don't know what they mean--you can't understand----"

  "It is I that have to do it, Nelly," said Mr Cavendish, more and moretranquil and superior. "You must let me do it my way;" and he was verykind and reassuring to her in his composure. This was how things oughtto be; and it was astonishing how much he gained in his own mind andestimation by Mrs Woodburn's panic. Being the stronger vessel, he was ofcourse superior to all that. But somehow when he had got back to his ownhouse again, and had no longer the spectacle of his sister's terrorbefore him, the courage began to ooze out of Mr Cavendish'sfinger-points; he tried hard to stimulate himself up to the same point,and to regain that lofty and assured position; but as the eveningapproached, matters grew rather worse than better. He did not turn andflee, because flight, in the present alarmed and touchy state of publicopinion, would have equally been destruction; and nobody could answerfor it how far, if he failed to obey her, Miss Marjoribanks's discretionmight go. And thus the eventful evening fell, and the sun went down,which was to Mr Cavendish as if it might be the last sun he should ever(metaphorically) see--while, in the meantime, all the other peopledressed for dinner as if nothing was going to happen, and as if it wasmerely a Thursday like other Thursdays, which was coming to GrangeLane.