“But what does it signify, Harry? There she is, and you know how people are talking. Of course it would be best for her to marry again; and if she would take Archie—Sir Hugh’s brother, my brother-in-law, nothing further would be said. She might go anywhere then. As her sister, I feel sure that it is the best thing she could do.”
Harry’s brow became clouded, and there was a look of anger on his face as he answered her.
“Lady Clavering,” he said, “your sister will never marry my cousin Archie. I look upon the thing as impossible.”
“Perhaps it is, Harry, that you—you yourself would not wish it.”
“Why should I wish it?”
“He is your own cousin.”
“Cousin indeed! Why should I wish it, or why should I not wish it? They are neither of them anything to me.”
“She ought not to be anything to you.”
“And she is nothing. She may marry Archie, if she pleases, for me. I shall not set her against him. But, Lady Clavering, you might as well tell him to get one of the stars. I don’t think you can know your sister when you suppose such a match to be possible.”
“Hermione!” shouted Sir Hugh—and the shout was uttered in a voice that always caused Lady Clavering to tremble.
“I am coming,” she said, rising from her chair. “Don’t set yourself against it, Harry,” and then, without waiting to hear him further, she obeyed her husband’s summons. “What the mischief keeps you in there?” he said. It seemed that things had not been going well in the larger room. The rector had stuck to his review, taking no notice of Sir Hugh when he entered. “You seem to be very fond of your book, all of a sudden,” Sir Hugh had said, after standing silent on the rug for a few minutes.
“Yes, I am,” said the rector—“just at present.”
“It’s quite new with you, then,” said Sir Hugh, “or else you’re very much belied.”
“Hugh,” said Mr. Clavering, rising slowly from his chair, “I don’t often come into my father’s house, but when I do, I wish to be treated with respect. You are the only person in this parish that ever omits to do so.”
“Bosh!” said Sir Hugh.
The two girls sat cowering in their seats, and poor Florence must have begun to entertain an uncomfortable idea of her future connections. Archie made a frantic attempt to raise some conversation with Mrs. Clavering about the weather. Mrs. Clavering, paying no attention to Archie whatever, looked at her husband with beseeching eyes. “Henry,” she said, “do not allow yourself to be angry; pray do not. What is the use?”
“None on earth,” he said, returning to his book. “No use on earth;—and worse than none in showing it.”
Then it was that Sir Hugh had made a diversion by calling to his wife. “I wish you’d stay with us, and not go off alone with one person in particular, in that way.” Lady Clavering looked round and immediately saw that things were unpleasant. “Archie,” she said, “will you ring for tea?” And Archie did ring. The tea was brought, and a cup was taken all round, almost in silence.
Harry in the meantime remained by himself thinking of what he had heard from Lady Clavering. Archie Clavering marry Lady Ongar—marry his Julia! It was impossible. He could not bring himself even to think of such an arrangement with equanimity. He was almost frantic with anger as he thought of this proposition to restore Lady Ongar to the position in the world’s repute which she had a right to claim, by such a marriage as that. “She would indeed be disgraced then,” said Harry to himself. But he knew that it was impossible. He could see what would be the nature of Julia’s countenance if Archie should ever get near enough to her to make his proposal! Archie indeed! There was no one for whom, at that moment, he entertained so thorough a contempt as he did for his cousin, Archie Clavering.
Let us hope that he was no dog in the manger;—that the feelings which he now entertained for poor Archie would not have been roused against any other possible suitor who might have been named as a fitting husband for Lady Ongar. Lady Ongar could be nothing to him!
But I fear that he was a dog in the manger, and that any marriage contemplated for Lady Ongar, either by herself or by others for her, would have been distasteful to him—unnaturally distasteful. He knew that Lady Ongar could be nothing to him; and yet, as he came out of the small room into the larger room, there was something sore about his heart, and the soreness was occasioned by the thought that any second marriage should be thought possible for Lady Ongar. Florence smiled on him as he went up to her, but I doubt whether she would have smiled had she known all his heart.
Soon after that Mrs. Clavering rose to return home, having swallowed a peace-offering in the shape of a cup of tea. But though the tea had quieted the storm then on the waters, there was no true peace in the rector’s breast. He shook hands cordially with Lady Clavering, without animosity with Archie, and then held out three fingers to the baronet. The baronet held out one finger. Each nodded at the other, and so they parted. Harry, who knew nothing of what had happened, and who was still thinking of Lady Ongar, busied himself with Florence, and they were soon out of the house, walking down the broad road from the front door.
“I will never enter that house again, when I know that Hugh Clavering is in it,” said the rector.
“Don’t make rash assertions, Henry,” said his wife.
“I hope it is not rash, but I make that assertion,” he said. “I will never again enter that house as my nephew’s guest. I have borne a great deal for the sake of peace, but there are things which a
