"The Bill, eh? ah!" said Mr. Brooke, with a mild distractedness ofmanner. "Thrown out, you know, eh? The Lords are going too far,though. They'll have to pull up. Sad news, you know. I mean, here athome—sad news. But you must not blame me, Chettam."
"What is the matter?" said Sir James. "Not another gamekeeper shot, Ihope? It's what I should expect, when a fellow like Trapping Bass is letoff so easily."
"Gamekeeper? No. Let us go in; I can tell you all in the house, youknow," said Mr. Brooke, nodding at the Cadwalladers, to show that heincluded them in his confidence. "As to poachers like Trapping Bass, youknow, Chettam," he continued, as they were entering, "when you are amagistrate, you'll not find it so easy to commit. Severity is all very well,but it's a great deal easier when you've got somebody to do it for you.You have a soft place in your heart yourself, you know—you're not aDraco, a Jeffreys, that sort of thing."
Mr. Brooke was evidently in a state of nervous perturbation. Whenhe had something painful to tell, it was usually his way to introduce itamong a number of disjointed particulars, as if it were a medicine thatwould get a milder flavor by mixing. He continued his chat with SirJames about the poachers until they were all seated, and Mrs.Cadwallader, impatient of this drivelling, said—
"I'm dying to know the sad news. The gamekeeper is not shot: that issettled. What is it, then?"
"Well, it's a very trying thing, you know," said Mr. Brooke. "I'm gladyou and the Rector are here; it's a family matter—but you will help us allto bear it, Cadwallader. I've got to break it to you, my dear." Here Mr.Brooke looked at Celia—"You've no notion what it is, you know. And,Chettam, it will annoy you uncommonly—but, you see, you have notbeen able to hinder it, any more than I have. There's something singularin things: they come round, you know."
"It must be about Dodo," said Celia, who had been used to think ofher sister as the dangerous part of the family machinery. She had seatedherself on a low stool against her husband's knee. fx "For God's sake letus hear what it is!" said Sir James.
"Well, you know, Chettam, I couldn't help Casaubon's will: it was asort of will to make things worse."
"Exactly," said Sir James, hastily. "But what is worse?"
"Dorothea is going to be married again, you know," said Mr. Brooke,nodding towards Celia, who immediately looked up at her husband witha frightened glance, and put her hand on his knee. Sir James was almostwhite with anger, but he did not speak.
"Merciful heaven!" said Mrs. Cadwallader. "Not to young Ladislaw?"
Mr. Brooke nodded, saying, "Yes; to Ladislaw," and then fell into aprudential silence.
"You see, Humphrey!" said Mrs. Cadwallader, waving her armtowards her husband. "Another time you will admit that I have someforesight; or rather you will contradict me and be just as blind as ever.You supposed that the young gentleman was gone out of the country."
"So he might be, and yet come back," said the Rector, quietly
"When did you learn this?" said Sir James, not liking to hear any oneelse speak, though finding it difficult to speak himself.
"Yesterday," said Mr. Brooke, meekly. "I went to Lowick. Dorotheasent for me, you know. It had come about quite suddenly—neither ofthem had any idea two days ago—not any idea, you know. There'ssomething singular in things. But Dorothea is quite determined—it is nouse opposing. I put it strongly to her. I did my duty, Chettam. But shecan act as she likes, you know."
"It would have been better if I had called him out and shot him ayear ago," said Sir James, not from bloody-mindedness, but because heneeded something strong to say.
"Really, James, that would have been very disagreeable," said Celia.
"Be reasonable, Chettam. Look at the affair more quietly," said Mr.Cadwallader, sorry to see his good-natured friend so overmastered byanger.
"That is not so very easy for a man of any dignity—with any sense ofright—when the affair happens to be in his own family," said Sir James,still in his white indignation. "It is perfectly scandalous. If Ladislaw hadhad a spark of honor he would have gone out of the country at once, andnever shown his face in it again. However, I am not surprised. The dayafter Casaubon's funeral I said what ought to be done. But I was notlistened to."
"You wanted what was impossible, you know, Chettam," said Mr.Brooke. "You wanted him shipped off. I told you Ladislaw was not to bedone as we liked with: he had his ideas. He was a remarkable fellow—Ialways said he was a remarkable fellow."
"Yes," said Sir James, unable to repress a retort, "it is rather a pityyou formed that high opinion of him. We are indebted to that for hisbeing lodged in this neighborhood. We are indebted to that for seeing awoman like Dorothea degrading herself by marrying him." Sir Jamesmade little stoppages between his clauses, the words not coming easily."A man so marked out by her husband's will, that delicacy ought to haveforbidden her from seeing him again—who takes her out of her properrank—into poverty—has the meanness to accept such a sacrifice—hasalways had an objectionable position—a bad origin—and, I believe, is aman of little principle and light character. That is my opinion." Sir Jamesended emphatically, turning aside and crossing his leg.
"I pointed everything out to her," said Mr. Brooke, apologetically—"Imean the poverty, and abandoning her position. I said, 'My dear, youdon't know what it is to live on seven hundred a-year, and have nocarriage, and that kind of thing, and go amongst people who don't knowwho you are.' I put it strongly to her. But I advise you to talk toDorothea herself. The fact is, she has a dislike to Casaubon's property.You will hear what she says, you know."
"No—excuse me—I shall not," said Sir James, with more coolness. "Icannot bear to see her again; it is too painful. It hurts me too much thata woman like Dorothea should have done what is wrong."
"Be just, Chettam," said the easy, large-lipped Rector, who objectedto all this unnecessary discomfort. "Mrs. Casaubon may be actingimprudently: she is giving up a fortune for the sake of a man, and wemen have so poor an opinion of each other that we can hardly call awoman wise who does that. But I think you should not condemn it as awrong action, in the strict sense of the word."
"Yes, I do," answered Sir James. "I think that Dorothea commits awrong action in marrying Ladislaw."
"My dear fellow, we are rather apt to consider an act wrong becauseit is unpleasant to us," said the Rector, quietly. Like many men who takelife easily, he had the knack of saying a home truth occasionally to thosewho felt themselves virtuously out of temper. Sir James took out hishandkerchief and began to bite the corner.
"It is very dreadful of Dodo, though," said Celia, wishing to justifyher husband. "She said she never would marry again—not anybody atall."
"I heard her say the same thing myself," said Lady Chettam,majestically, as if this were royal evidence.
"Oh, there is usually a silent exception in such cases," said Mrs.Cadwallader. "The only wonder to me is, that any of you are surprised.You did nothing to hinder it. If you would have had Lord Triton downhere to woo her with his philanthropy, he might have carried her offbefore the year was over. There was no safety in anything else. Mr.Casaubon had prepared all this as beautifully as possible. He madehimself disagreeable—or it pleased God to make him so—and then hedared her to contradict him. It's the way to make any trumpery tempting,to ticket it at a high price in that way."
"I don't know what you mean by wrong, Cadwallader," said SirJames, still feeling a little stung, and turning round in his chair towardsthe Rector. "He's not a man we can take into the family. At least, I mustspeak for myself," he continued, carefully keeping his eyes off Mr.Brooke. "I suppose others will find his society too pleasant to care aboutthe propriety of the thing."
"Well, you know, Chettam," said Mr. Brooke, good-humoredly,nursing his leg, "I can't turn my back on Dorothea. I must be a father toher up to a certain point. I said, 'My dear, I won't refuse to give youaway.' I had spoken strongly before. But I can cut off the entail, youknow. It will cost money and be troublesome; but I can do it, you know."
Mr. Brooke nodded at Sir James, and felt that he was both showinghis own force of resolution and propitiating what was just in theBaronet's vexation. He had hit on a more ingenious mode of parryingthan he was aware of. He had touched a motive of which Sir James wasashamed. The mass of his feeling about Dorothea's marriage to Ladislawwas due partly to excusable prejudice, or even justifiable opinion, partlyto a jealous repugnance hardly less in Ladislaw's case than in Casaubon's.He was convinced that the marriage was a fatal one for Dorothea. Butamid that mass ran a vein of which he was too good and honorable aman to like the avowal even to himself: it was undeniable that the unionof the two estates—Tipton and Freshitt—lying charmingly within a ring-fence, was a prospect that flattered him for his son and heir. Hencewhen Mr. Brooke noddingly appealed to that motive, Sir James felt asudden embarrassment; there was a stoppage in his throat; he evenblushed. He had found more words than usual in the first jet of hisanger, but Mr. Brooke's propitiation was more clogging to his tonguethan Mr. Cadwallader's caustic hint.
But Celia was glad to have room for speech after her uncle'ssuggestion of the marriage ceremony, and she said, though with as littleeagerness of manner as if the question had turned on an invitation todinner, "Do you mean that Dodo is going to be married directly, uncle?"
"In three weeks, you know," said Mr. Brooke, helplessly. "I can donothing to hinder it, Cadwallader," he added, turning for a littlecountenance toward the Rector, who said—
"—I—should not make any fuss about it. If she likes to be poor, thatis her affair. Nobody would have said anything if she had married theyoung fellow because he was rich. Plenty of beneficed clergy are poorerthan they will be. Here is Elinor," continued the provoking husband; "shevexed her friends by me: I had hardly a thousand a-year—I was a lout—nobody could see anything in me—my shoes were not the right cut—allthe men wondered how a woman could like me. Upon my word, I musttake Ladislaw's part until I hear more harm of him."
"Humphrey, that is all sophistry, and you know it," said his wife."Everything is all one—that is the beginning and end with you. As if youhad not been a Cadwallader! Does any one suppose that I would havetaken such a monster as you by any other name?"
"And a clergyman too," observed Lady Chettam with approbation."Elinor cannot be said to have descended below her rank. It is difficult tosay what Mr. Ladislaw is, eh, James?"
Sir James gave a small grunt, which was less respectful than hisusual mode of answering his mother. Celia looked up at him like athoughtful kitten.
"It must be admitted that his blood is a frightful mixture!" said Mrs.Cadwallader. "The Casaubon cuttle-fish fluid to begin with, and then arebellious Polish fiddler or dancing-master, was it?—and then an oldclo—"
"Nonsense, Elinor," said the Rector, rising. "It is time for us to go."
"After all, he is a pretty sprig," said Mrs. Cadwallader, rising too, andwishing to make amends. "He is like the fine old Crichley portraits beforethe idiots came in."
"I'll go with you," said Mr. Brooke, starting up with alacrity. "Youmust all come and dine with me to-morrow, you know—eh, Celia, mydear?"
"You will, James—won't you?" said Celia, taking her husband's hand.
"Oh, of course, if you like," said Sir James, pulling down hiswaistcoat, but unable yet to adjust his face good-humoredly. "That is tosay, if it is not to meet anybody else.':
"No, no, no," said Mr. Brooke, understanding the condition."Dorothea would not come, you know, unless you had been to see her."
When Sir James and Celia were alone, she said, "Do you mind aboutmy having the carriage to go to, Lowick, James?"
"What, now, directly?" he answered, with some surprise.
"Yes, it is very important," said Celia.
"Remember, Celia, I cannot see her," said Sir James.
"Not if she gave up marrying?"
"What is the use of saying that?—however, I'm going to the stables.I'll tell Briggs to bring the carriage round."
Celia thought it was of great use, if not to say that, at least to take ajourney to Lowick in order to influence Dorothea's mind. All throughtheir girlhood she had felt that she could act on her sister by a wordjudiciously placed—by opening a little window for the daylight of herown understanding to enter among the strange colored lamps by whichDodo habitually saw. And Celia the matron naturally felt more able toadvise her childless sister. How could any one understand Dodo so wellas Celia did or love her so tenderly?
Dorothea, busy in her boudoir, felt a glow of pleasure at the sight ofher sister so soon after the revelation of her intended marriage. She hadprefigured to herself, even with exaggeration, the disgust of her friends,and she had even feared that Celia might be kept aloof from her.
"O Kitty, I am delighted to see you!" said Dorothea, putting herhands on Celia's shoulders, and beaming on her. "I almost thought youwould not come to me."
"I have not brought Arthur, because I was in a hurry," said Celia, andthey sat down on two small chairs opposite each other, with their kneestouching.
"You know, Dodo, it is very bad," said Celia, in her placid guttural,looking as prettily free from humors as possible. "You have disappointedus all so. And I can't think that it ever will be—you never can go and livein that way. And then there are all your plans! You never can havethought of that. James would have taken any trouble for you, and youmight have gone on all your life doing what you liked."
