CHAPTER XVIII.
WE QUARREL.
During the first days of my stay at the Terrace, Graham never took aseat near me, or in his frequent pacing of the room approached thequarter where I sat, or looked pre-occupied, or more grave than usual,but I thought of Miss Fanshawe and expected her name to leap from hislips. I kept my ear and mind in perpetual readiness for the tendertheme; my patience was ordered to be permanently under arms, and mysympathy desired to keep its cornucopia replenished and ready foroutpouring. At last, and after a little inward struggle, which I sawand respected, he one day launched into the topic. It was introduceddelicately; anonymously as it were.
Your friend is spending her vacation in travelling, I hear?
Friend, forsooth! thought I to myself: but it would not do tocontradict; he must have his own way; I must own the soft impeachment:friend let it be. Still, by way of experiment, I could not help askingwhom he meant?
He had taken a seat at my work-table; he now laid hands on a reel ofthread which he proceeded recklessly to unwind.
Ginevra--Miss Fanshawe, has accompanied the Cholmondeleys on a tourthrough the south of France?
She has.
Do you and she correspond?
It will astonish you to hear that I never once thought of makingapplication for that privilege.
You have seen letters of her writing?
Yes; several to her uncle.
They will not be deficient in wit and _naivete_; there is so muchsparkle, and so little art in her soul?
She writes comprehensively enough when she writes to M. deBassompierre: he who runs may read. (In fact, Ginevra's epistles toher wealthy kinsman were commonly business documents, unequivocalapplications for cash.)
And her handwriting? It must be pretty, light, ladylike, I shouldthink?
It was, and I said so.
I verily believe that all she does is well done, said Dr. John; andas I seemed in no hurry to chime in with this remark, he added You,who know her, could you name a point in which she is deficient?
She does several things very well. (Flirtation amongst the rest,subjoined I, in thought.)
When do you suppose she will return to town? he soon inquired.
Pardon me, Dr. John, I must explain. You honour me too much inascribing to me a degree of intimacy with Miss Fanshawe I have not thefelicity to enjoy. I have never been the depositary of her plans andsecrets. You will find her particular friends in another sphere thanmine: amongst the Cholmondeleys, for instance.
He actually thought I was stung with a kind of jealous pain similar tohis own!
Excuse her, he said; judge her indulgently; the glitter of fashionmisleads her, but she will soon find out that these people are hollow,and will return to you with augmented attachment and confirmed trust. Iknow something of the Cholmondeleys: superficial, showy, selfishpeople; depend on it, at heart Ginevra values you beyond a score ofsuch.
You are very kind, I said briefly.
A disclaimer of the sentiments attributed to me burned on my lips, butI extinguished the flame. I submitted to be looked upon as thehumiliated, cast-off, and now pining confidante of the distinguishedMiss Fanshawe: but, reader, it was a hard submission.
Yet, you see, continued Graham, while I comfort _you_, I cannot takethe same consolation to myself; I cannot hope she will do me justice.De Hamal is most worthless, yet I fear he pleases her: wretcheddelusion!
My patience really gave way, and without notice: all at once. I supposeillness and weakness had worn it and made it brittle.
Dr. Bretton, I broke out, there is no delusion like your own. On allpoints but one you are a man, frank, healthful, right-thinking,clear-sighted: on this exceptional point you are but a slave. Ideclare, where Miss Fanshawe is concerned, you merit no respect; norhave you mine.
I got up, and left the room very much excited.
This little scene took place in the morning; I had to meet him again inthe evening, and then I saw I had done mischief. He was not made ofcommon clay, not put together out of vulgar materials; while theoutlines of his nature had been shaped with breadth and vigour, thedetails embraced workmanship of almost feminine delicacy: finer, muchfiner, than you could be prepared to meet with; than you could believeinherent in him, even after years of acquaintance. Indeed, till someover-sharp contact with his nerves had betrayed, by its effects, theiracute sensibility, this elaborate construction must be ignored; and themore especially because the sympathetic faculty was not prominent inhim: to feel, and to seize quickly another's feelings, are separateproperties; a few constructions possess both, some neither. Dr. Johnhad the one in exquisite perfection; and because I have admitted thathe was not endowed with the other in equal degree, the reader willconsiderately refrain from passing to an extreme, and pronouncing him_un_sympathizing, unfeeling: on the contrary, he was a kind, generousman. Make your need known, his hand was open. Put your grief intowords, he turned no deaf ear. Expect refinements of perception,miracles of intuition, and realize disappointment. This night, when Dr.John entered the room, and met the evening lamp, I saw well and at oneglance his whole mechanism.
To one who had named him slave, and, on any point, banned him fromrespect, he must now have peculiar feelings. That the epithet was wellapplied, and the ban just, might be; he put forth no denial that it wasso: his mind even candidly revolved that unmanning possibility. Hesought in this accusation the cause of that ill-success which had gotso galling a hold on his mental peace: Amid the worry of aself-condemnatory soliloquy, his demeanour seemed grave, perhaps cold,both to me and his mother. And yet there was no bad feeling, no malice,no rancour, no littleness in his countenance, beautiful with a man'sbest beauty, even in its depression. When I placed his chair at thetable, which I hastened to do, anticipating the servant, and when Ihanded him his tea, which I did with trembling care, he said: Thankyou, Lucy, in as kindly a tone of his full pleasant voice as ever myear welcomed.
For my part, there was only one plan to be pursued; I must expiate myculpable vehemence, or I must not sleep that night. This would not doat all; I could not stand it: I made no pretence of capacity to wagewar on this footing. School solitude, conventual silence andstagnation, anything seemed preferable to living embroiled with Dr.John. As to Ginevra, she might take the silver wings of a dove, or anyother fowl that flies, and mount straight up to the highest place,among the highest stars, where her lover's highest flight of fancychose to fix the constellation of her charms: never more be it mine todispute the arrangement. Long I tried to catch his eye. Again and againthat eye just met mine; but, having nothing to say, it withdrew, and Iwas baffled. After tea, he sat, sad and quiet, reading a book. I wishedI could have dared to go and sit near him, but it seemed that if Iventured to take that step, he would infallibly evince hostility andindignation. I longed to speak out, and I dared not whisper. His motherleft the room; then, moved by insupportable regret, I just murmured thewords Dr. Bretton.
He looked up from his book; his eyes were not cold or malevolent, hismouth was not cynical; he was ready and willing to hear what I mighthave to say: his spirit was of vintage too mellow and generous to sourin one thunder-clap.
Dr. Bretton, forgive my hasty words: _do, do_ forgive them.
He smiled that moment I spoke. Perhaps I deserved them, Lucy. If youdon't respect me, I am sure it is because I am not respectable. I fear,I am an awkward fool: I must manage badly in some way, for where I wishto please, it seems I don't please.
Of that you cannot be sure; and even if such be the case, is it thefault of your character, or of another's perceptions? But now, let meunsay what I said in anger. In one thing, and in all things, I deeplyrespect you. If you think scarcely enough of yourself, and too much ofothers, what is that but an excellence?
Can I think too much of Ginevra?
_I_ believe you may; _you_ believe you can't. Let us agree to differ.Let me be pardoned; that is what I ask.
Do you think I cherish ill-will for one warm word?
I see you do not and cannot; but just say, 'Lucy, I forgive you!' Saythat, to ease me of the heart-ache.
Put away your heart-ache, as I will put away mine; for you wounded mea little, Lucy. Now, when the pain is gone, I more than forgive: I feelgrateful, as to a sincere well-wisher.
I _am_ your sincere well-wisher: you are right.
Thus our quarrel ended.
Reader, if in the course of this work, you find that my opinion of Dr.John undergoes modification, excuse the seeming inconsistency. I givethe feeling as at the time I felt it; I describe the view of characteras it appeared when discovered.
He showed the fineness of his nature by being kinder to me after thatmisunderstanding than before. Nay, the very incident which, by mytheory, must in some degree estrange me and him, changed, indeed,somewhat our relations; but not in the sense I painfully anticipated.An invisible, but a cold something, very slight, very transparent, butvery chill: a sort of screen of ice had hitherto, all through our twolives, glazed the medium through which we exchanged intercourse. Thosefew warm words, though only warm with anger, breathed on that frailfrost-work of reserve; about this time, it gave note of dissolution. Ithink from that day, so long as we continued friends, he never indiscourse stood on topics of ceremony with me. He seemed to know thatif he would but talk about himself, and about that in which he was mostinterested, my expectation would always be answered, my wish alwayssatisfied. It follows, as a matter of course, that I continued to hearmuch of Ginevra.
Ginevra! He thought her so fair, so good; he spoke so lovingly of hercharms, her sweetness, her innocence, that, in spite of my plain proseknowledge of the reality, a kind of reflected glow began to settle onher idea, even for me. Still, reader, I am free to confess, that heoften talked nonsense; but I strove to be unfailingly patient with him.I had had my lesson: I had learned how severe for me was the pain ofcrossing, or grieving, or disappointing him. In a strange and newsense, I grew most selfish, and quite powerless to deny myself thedelight of indulging his mood, and being pliant to his will. He stillseemed to me most absurd when he obstinately doubted, and despondedabout his power to win in the end Miss Fanshawe's preference. The fancybecame rooted in my own mind more stubbornly than ever, that she wasonly coquetting to goad him, and that, at heart, she coveted everyoneof his words and looks. Sometimes he harassed me, in spite of myresolution to bear and hear; in the midst of the indescribablegall-honey pleasure of thus bearing and hearing, he struck so on theflint of what firmness I owned, that it emitted fire once and again. Ichanced to assert one day, with a view to stilling his impatience, thatin my own mind, I felt positive Miss Fanshawe _must_ intend eventuallyto accept him.
Positive! It was easy to say so, but had I any grounds for suchassurance?
The best grounds.
Now, Lucy, _do_ tell me what!
You know them as well as I; and, knowing them, Dr. John, it reallyamazes me that you should not repose the frankest confidence in herfidelity. To doubt, under the circumstances, is almost to insult.
Now you are beginning to speak fast and to breathe short; but speak alittle faster and breathe a little shorter, till you have given anexplanation--a full explanation: I must have it.
You shall, Dr. John. In some cases, you are a lavish, generous man:you are a worshipper ever ready with the votive offering should PereSilas ever convert _you_, you will give him abundance of alms for hispoor, you will supply his altar with tapers, and the shrine of yourfavourite saint you will do your best to enrich: Ginevra, Dr. John--
Hush! said he, don't go on.
Hush, I will _not_: and go on I _will_: Ginevra has had her handsfilled from your hands more times than I can count. You have sought forher the costliest flowers; you have busied your brain in devising giftsthe most delicate: such, one would have thought, as only a woman couldhave imagined; and in addition, Miss Fanshawe owns a set of ornaments,to purchase which your generosity must have verged on extravagance.
The modesty Ginevra herself had never evinced in this matter, nowflushed all over the face of her admirer.
Nonsense! he said, destructively snipping a skein of silk with myscissors. I offered them to please myself: I felt she did me a favourin accepting them.
She did more than a favour, Dr. John: she pledged her very honour thatshe would make you some return; and if she cannot pay you in affection,she ought to hand out a business-like equivalent, in the shape of somerouleaux of gold pieces.
But you don't understand her; she is far too disinterested to care formy gifts, and too simple-minded to know their value.
I laughed out: I had heard her adjudge to every jewel its price; andwell I knew money-embarrassment, money-schemes; money's worth, andendeavours to realise supplies, had, young as she was, furnished themost frequent, and the favourite stimulus of her thoughts for years.
He pursued. You should have seen her whenever I have laid on her lapsome trifle; so cool, so unmoved: no eagerness to take, not evenpleasure in contemplating. Just from amiable reluctance to grieve me,she would permit the bouquet to lie beside her, and perhaps consent tobear it away. Or, if I achieved the fastening of a bracelet on herivory arm, however pretty the trinket might be (and I always carefullychose what seemed to _me_ pretty, and what of course was notvalueless), the glitter never dazzled her bright eyes: she would hardlycast one look on my gift.
Then, of course, not valuing it, she would unloose, and return it toyou?
No; for such a repulse she was too good-natured. She would consent toseem to forget what I had done, and retain the offering with lady-likequiet and easy oblivion. Under such circumstances, how can a man buildon acceptance of his presents as a favourable symptom? For my part,were I to offer her all I have, and she to take it, such is herincapacity to be swayed by sordid considerations, I should not ventureto believe the transaction advanced me one step.
Dr. John, I began, Love is blind; but just then a blue subtle raysped sideways from Dr. John's eye: it reminded me of old days, itreminded me of his picture: it half led me to think that part, atleast, of his professed persuasion of Miss Fanshawe's _naivete_ wasassumed; it led me dubiously to conjecture that perhaps, in spite ofhis passion for her beauty, his appreciation of her foibles mightpossibly be less mistaken, more clear-sighted, than from his generallanguage was presumable. After all it might be only a chance look, orat best the token of a merely momentary impression. Chance orintentional real or imaginary, it closed the conversation.