They were all in doubt, terribly in doubt, whether the aggravated malady of which the telegram spoke was malady of the mind or of the body. If of the former nature then the difficulty might be very great indeed; and it would be highly expedient that Stanbury should have someone in Italy to assist him. It was Nora who suggested that he should carry a letter of introduction to Mr. Spalding, and it was she who wrote it. Sir Marmaduke had not foregathered very closely with the English Minister, and nothing was said of assistance that should be peculiarly British. Then, at last, about three or four in the morning came the moment for parting. Sir Marmaduke had suggested that Stanbury should dine with them on the next day before he started, but Hugh had declined, alleging that as the day was at his command it must be devoted to the work of providing for his absence. In truth, Sir Marmaduke had given the invitation with a surly voice, and Hugh, though he was ready to go to the North Pole for any others of the family, was at the moment in an aggressive mood of mind towards Sir Marmaduke.
“I will send a message directly I get there,” he said, holding Lady Rowley by the hand, “and will write fully—to you—immediately.”
“God bless you, my dear friend!” said Lady Rowley, crying.
“Good night, Sir Marmaduke,” said Hugh.
“Good night, Mr. Stanbury.”
Then he gave a hand to the two girls, each of whom, as she took it, sobbed, and looked away from Nora. Nora was standing away from them, by herself, and away from the door, holding on to her chair, and with her hands clasped together. She had prepared nothing—not a word, or an attitude, not a thought, for his farewell. But she had felt that it was coming, and had known that she must trust to him for a cue for her own demeanour. If he could say adieu with a quiet voice, and simply with a touch of the hand, then would she do the same—and endeavour to think no worse of him. Nor had he prepared anything; but when the moment came he could not leave her after that fashion. He stood a moment hesitating, not approaching her, and merely called her by her name—“Nora!” For a moment she was still; for a moment she held by her chair; and then she rushed into his arms. He did not much care for her father now, but kissed her hair and her forehead, and held her closely to his bosom. “My own, own Nora!”
It was necessary that Sir Marmaduke should say something. There was at first a little scene between all the women, during which he arranged his deportment. “Mr. Stanbury,” he said, “let it be so. I could wish for my child’s sake, and also for your own, that your means of living were less precarious.” Hugh accepted this simply as an authority for another embrace, and then he allowed them all to go to bed.
XCII
Trevelyan Discourses on Life
Stanbury made his journey without pause or hindrance till he reached Florence, and as the train for Siena made it necessary that he should remain there for four or five hours, he went to an inn, and dressed and washed himself, and had a meal, and was then driven to Mr. Spalding’s house. He found the American Minister at home, and was received with cordiality; but Mr. Spalding could tell him little or nothing about Trevelyan. They went up to Mrs. Spalding’s room, and Hugh was told by her that she had seen Mrs. Trevelyan once since her niece’s marriage, and that then she had represented her husband as being very feeble. Hugh, in the midst of his troubles, was amused by a second and a third, perhaps by a fourth, reference to “Lady Peterborough.” Mrs. Spalding’s latest tidings as to the Trevelyans had been received through “Lady Peterborough” from Nora Rowley. “Lady Peterborough” was at the present moment at Naples, but was expected to pass north through Florence in a day or two. They, the Spaldings themselves, were kept in Florence in this very hot weather by this circumstance. They were going up to the Tyrolese mountains for a few weeks as soon as “Lady Peterborough” should have left them for England. “Lady Peterborough” would have been so happy to make Mr. Stanbury’s acquaintance, and to have heard something direct from her friend Nora. Then Mrs. Spalding smiled archly, showing thereby that she knew all about Hugh Stanbury and his relation to Nora Rowley. From all which, and in accordance with the teaching which we got—alas, now many years ago—from a great master on the subject, we must conclude that poor, dear Mrs. Spalding was a snob. Nevertheless, with all deference to the memory of that great master, we think that Mrs. Spalding’s allusions to the success in life achieved by her niece were natural and altogether pardonable; and that reticence on the subject—a calculated determination to abstain from mentioning a triumph which must have been very dear to her—would have betrayed on the whole a condition of mind lower than that which she exhibited. While rank, wealth, and money are held to be good things by all around us, let them be acknowledged as such. It is natural that a mother should be as proud when her daughter marries an Earl’s heir as when her son becomes Senior Wrangler; and when we meet a lady in Mrs. Spalding’s condition who purposely abstains from mentioning the name of her titled daughter,
