“As any other old man might have done,” said Nora.
“It was not likely that I should openly confess myself to be afraid to see my father’s old friend. But the truth is, my husband does not know what a woman is.”
She had begun by declaring that she would not trouble her friend with any statement of her husband’s complaints against her; but now she had made her way to the subject, and could hardly refrain herself. Priscilla understood this, and thought that it would be wise to interrupt her by a word that might bring her back to her original purpose. “Is there anything,” said she, “which we can do to help you?”
“To help me? No;—God only can help me. But Louis informs me that I am to be turned out of this house, because you demand that we should go.”
“Who says that?” exclaimed Mrs. Stanbury.
“My husband. Listen; this is what he says:—‘I am greatly grieved to hear from my friend Mr. Stanbury that your conduct in reference to Colonel Osborne has been such as to make it necessary that you should leave Mrs. Stanbury’s house.’ Is that true? Is that true?” In her general mode of carrying herself, and of enduring the troubles of her life, Mrs. Trevelyan was a strong woman; but now her grief was too much for her, and she burst out into tears. “I am the most unfortunate woman that ever was born!” she sobbed out through her tears.
“I never said that you were to go,” said Mrs. Stanbury.
“But your son has told Mr. Trevelyan that we must go,” said Nora, who felt that her sense of injury against Hugh Stanbury was greatly increased by what had taken place. To her mind he was the person most important in the matter. Why had he desired that they should be sent away from the Clock House? She was very angry with him, and declared to herself that she hated him with all her heart. For this man she had sent away that other lover—a lover who had really loved her! And she had even confessed that it was so!
“There is a misunderstanding about this,” said Priscilla.
“It must be with your brother, then,” said Nora.
“I think not,” said Priscilla. “I think that it has been with Mr. Trevelyan.” Then she went on to explain, with much difficulty, but still with a slow distinctness that was peculiar to her, what had really taken place. “We have endeavoured,” she said, “to show you—my mother and I—that we have not misjudged you; but it is certainly true that I told my brother that I did not think the arrangement a good one—quite as a permanence.” It was very difficult, and her cheeks were red as she spoke, and her lips faltered. It was an exquisite pain to her to have to give the pain which her words would convey; but there was no help for it—as she said to herself more than once at the time—there was nothing to be done but to tell the truth.
“I never said so,” blurted out Mrs. Stanbury, with her usual weakness.
“No, mother. It was my saying. In discussing what was best for us all, with Hugh, I told him—what I have just now explained.”
“Then of course we must go,” said Mrs. Trevelyan, who had gulped down her sobs and was resolved to be firm—to give way to no more tears, to bear all without sign of womanly weakness.
“You will stay with us till your father comes,” said Priscilla.
“Of course you will,” said Mrs. Stanbury—“you and Nora. We have got to be such friends, now.”
“No,” said Mrs. Trevelyan. “As to friendship for me, it is out of the question. We must pack up, Nora, and go somewhere. Heaven knows where!”
Nora was now sobbing. “Why your brother—should want to turn us out—after he has sent us here—!”
“My brother wants nothing of the kind,” said Priscilla. “Your sister has no better friend than my brother.”
“It will be better, Nora, to discuss the matter no further,” said Mrs. Trevelyan. “We must go away—somewhere; and the sooner the better. To be an unwelcome guest is always bad; but to be unwelcome for such a reason as this is terrible.”
“There is no reason,” said Mrs. Stanbury; “indeed there is none.”
“Mrs. Trevelyan will understand us better when she is less excited,” said Priscilla. “I am not surprised that she should be indignant now. I can only say again that we hope you will stay with us till Sir Marmaduke Rowley shall be in England.”
“That is not what your brother means,” said Nora.
“Nor is it what I mean,” said Mrs. Trevelyan. “Nora, we had better go to our own room. I suppose I must write to my husband; indeed, of course I must, that I may send him—the correspondence. I fear I cannot walk out into the street, Mrs. Stanbury, and make you quit of me, till I hear from him. And if I were to go to an inn at once, people would speak evil of me;—and I have no money.”
“My dear, how can you think of such a thing!” said Mrs. Stanbury.
“But you may be quite sure that we shall be gone within three days—or four at the furthest. Indeed, I will pledge myself not to remain longer than that—even though I should have to go to the poorhouse. Neither I nor my sister will stay in any family—to contaminate it. Come, Nora.” And so speaking she sailed out
