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Mr. Scarborough's Family, a novel by Anthony Trollope |
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Part 2 - Chapter 48. Mr. Prosper Changes His Mind |
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_ PART II CHAPTER XLVIII. MR. PROSPER CHANGES HIS MIND When Florence with her mother reached Cheltenham she found a letter lying for her, which surprised her much. The the letter was from Harry, and seemed to have been written in better spirits than he had lately displayed. But it was very short: "DEAREST FLORENCE,--When can I come down? It is absolutely necessary that I should see you. All my plans are likely to be changed in the most extraordinary manner. "Nobody can say that this is a love-letter. "Yours affectionately, H. A." Florence, of course, showed the letter to her mother, who was much frightened by its contents. "What am I to say to him when he comes?" she exclaimed. "If you will be so very, very good as to see him you must not say anything unkind." "Unkind! How can I say anything else than what you would call unkind? I disapprove of him altogether. And he is coming here with the express object of taking you away from me." "Oh no;--not at once." "But at some day,--which I trust may be very distant. How can I speak to him kindly when I feel that he is my enemy?" But the matter was at last set at rest by a promise from Florence that she would not marry her lover in less than three years without her mother's express consent. Three years is a long time, was Mrs. Mountjoy's thought, and many things might occur within that term. Harry, of whom she thought all manner of unnatural things, might probably in that time have proved himself to be utterly unworthy. And Mountjoy Scarborough might again have come forward in the light of the world. She had heard of late that Mountjoy had been received once more into his father's full favor. And the old man had become so enormously rich through the building of mills which had been going on at Tretton, that, as Mrs. Mountjoy thought, he would be able to make any number of elder sons. On the subject of entail her ideas were misty; but she felt sure that Mountjoy Scarborough would even yet become a rich man. That Florence should be made to change on that account she did not expect. But she did think that when she should have learned that Harry was a murderer, or a midnight thief, or a wicked conspirator, she would give him up. Therefore she agreed to receive him with not actually expressed hostility when he should call at Montpelier Place. But now, in the proper telling of our story, we must go back to Harry Annesley himself. It will be remembered that his father had called upon Mr. Prosper, to inform him of Harry's projected journey to America; that Mountjoy Scarborough had also called at Buston Hall; and that previous to these two visits old Mr. Scarborough had himself written a long letter giving a detailed account of the conflict which had taken place in the London streets. These three events had operated strongly on Mr. Prosper's mind; but not so strongly as the conduct of Miss Thoroughbung and Messrs. Soames & Simpson. It had been made evident to him, from the joint usage which he had received from these persons, that he was simply "made use of," with the object of obtaining from him the best possible establishment for the lady in question. After that interview, at which the lady, having obtained in way of jointure much more than was due to her, demanded also for Miss Tickle a life-long home, and for herself a pair of ponies, he received a farther letter from the lawyers. This offended him greatly. Nothing on earth should induce him to write a line to Messrs. Soames & Simpson. Nor did he see his way to writing again to Messrs. Grey & Barry about such trifles as those contained in the letter from the Buntingford lawyers. Trifles to him they were not; but trifles they must become, if put into a letter addressed to a London firm. "Our client is anxious to know specifically that she is to be allowed to bring Miss Tickle with her, when she removes to Buston Hall. Her happiness depends greatly on the company of Miss Tickle, to which she had been used now for many years. Our client wishes to be assured also that she shall be allowed to keep a pair of ponies in addition to the carriage-horses, which will be maintained, no doubt, chiefly for your own purposes." These were the demands as made by Messrs. Soames & Simpson, and felt by Mr. Prosper to be altogether impossible. He recollected the passionate explosion of wrath to which the name of Miss Tickle had already brought him in presence of the clergyman of his parish. He would endure no farther disgrace on behalf of Miss Tickle. Miss Tickle should never be an inmate of his house, and as for the ponies, no pony should ever be stabled in his stalls. A pony was an animal which of its very nature was objectionable to him. There was a want of dignity in a pony to which Buston Hall should never be subjected. "And also," he said to himself at last, "there is a lack of dignity about Miss Thoroughbung herself which would do me an irreparable injury." But how should he make known his decision to the lady herself? and how should he escape from the marriage in such a manner as to leave no stain on his character as a gentleman? If he could have offered her a sum of money, he would have done so at once; but that he thought would not be gentleman-like,--and would be a confession on his own part that he had behaved wrongly. At last he determined to take no notice of the lawyers' letter, and himself to write to Miss Thoroughbung, telling her that the objects which they proposed to themselves by marriage were not compatible, and that therefore their matrimonial intentions must be allowed to subside. He thought it well over, and felt assured that very much of the success of such a measure must depend upon the wording of the letter. There need be no immediate haste. Miss Thoroughbung would not come to Buston again quite at once to disturb him by a farther visit. Before she would come he would have flown to Italy. The letter must be courteous, and somewhat tender, but it must be absolutely decisive. There must be no loop-hole left by which she could again entangle him, no crevice by which she could creep into Buston. The letter should be a work of time. He would give himself a week or ten days for composing it. And then, when it should have been sent, he would be off to Italy. But before he could allow himself to go upon his travels he must settle the question about his nephew, which now lay heavy upon his conscience. He did feel that he had ill treated the young man. He had been so told in very strong language by Mr. Scarborough of Tretton, and Mr. Scarborough of Tretton was a man of very large property, and much talked about in the world. Very wonderful things were said about Mr. Scarborough, but they all tended to make Mr. Prosper believe that he was a man of distinction. And he had also heard lately about Mr. Scarborough's younger son,--or, indeed, his only son, according to the new way of speaking of him,--tidings which were not much in that young man's favor. It was from Augustus Scarborough that he had heard those evil stories about his own nephew. Therefore his belief was shaken; and it was by no means clear to him that there could be any other heir for their property. Miss Thoroughbung had proved herself to be altogether unfit for the high honor he had intended her. Miss Puffle had gone off with Farmer Tazlehurst's son. Mr. Prosper did not think that he had energy enough to look for a third lady who might be fit at all points to become his wife. And now another evil had been added to all these. His nephew had declared his purpose of emigrating to the United States and becoming an American. It might be true that he should be driven to do so by absolute want. He, Mr. Prosper, had stopped his allowance, and had done so after deterring him from following any profession by which he might have earned his bread. He had looked into the law, and, as far as he could understand it, Buston must become the property of his nephew, even though his nephew should become an American citizen. His conscience pricked him sorely as he thought of the evil which might thus accrue, and of the disgrace which would be attached to his own name. He therefore wrote the following letter to his nephew, and sent it across to the parsonage, done up in a large envelope, and sealed carefully with the Buston arms. And on the corner of the envelope "Peter Prosper" was written very legibly: "MY DEAR NEPHEW, HENRY ANNESLEY,-- "Under existing circumstances you will, I think, be surprised at a letter written in my handwriting; but facts have arisen which make it expedient that I should address you. "You are about, I am informed, to proceed to the United States, a country against which I acknowledge I entertain a serious antipathy. They are not a gentlemanlike people, and I am given to understand that they are generally dishonest in all their dealings. Their President is a low person, and all their ideas of government are pettifogging. Their ladies, I am told, are very vulgar, though I have never had the pleasure of knowing one of them. They are an irreligious nation, and have no respect for the Established Church of England and her bishops. I should be very sorry that my heir should go among them. "With reference to my stopping the income which I have hitherto allowed you, it was a step I took upon the best advice, nor can I allow it to be thought that there is any legal claim upon me for a continuance of the payment. But I am willing for the present to continue it, on the full understanding that you at once give up your American project. "But there is a subject on which it is essentially necessary that I should receive from you, as my heir, a full and complete explanation. Under what circumstances did you beat Captain Scarborough in the streets late on the night of the 3d of June last? And how did it come to pass that you left him bleeding, speechless, and motionless on that occasion? "As I am about to continue the payment of the sum hitherto allowed, I think it only fitting that I should receive this explanation under your own hand.--I am your affectionate uncle, "PETER PROSPER. "P.S.--A rumor may probably have reached you of a projected alliance between me and a young lady belonging to a family with which your sister is about to connect herself. It is right that I should tell you that there is no truth in this report." This letter, which was much easier to write than the one intended for Miss Thoroughbung, was unfortunately sent off a little before the completion of the other. A day's interval had been intended. But the missive to Miss Thoroughbung was, under the press of difficulties, delayed longer than was intended. There was, we grieve to say, much of joy but more of laughter at the rectory when this letter was received. As usual, Joe Thoroughbung was there, and it was found impossible to keep the letter from him. The postscript burst upon them all as a surprise, and was welcomed by no one with more vociferous joy than by the lady's nephew. "So there is an end forever to the hope that a child of the Buntingford Brewery should sit upon the throne of the Prospers." It was thus that Joe expressed himself. "Why shouldn't he have sat there?" said Polly. "A Thoroughbung is as good as a Prosper any day." But this was not said in the presence of Mrs. Annesley, who on that subject entertained views very different from her daughter. "I wonder what his idea is of the Church of England?" said Mr. Annesley. "Does he think that the Archbishop of Canterbury is supreme in all religious matters in America?" "How on earth he knows that the women are all vulgar, when he has never seen one of them, is a mystery," said Harry. "And that they are dishonest in all their dealings," said Joe. "I suppose he got that out of some of the radical news papers." For Joe, after the manner of brewers, was a staunch Tory. "And their President, too, is vulgar as well as the ladies," said Mr. Annesley. "And this is the opinion of an educated Englishman, who is not ashamed to own that he entertains serious antipathies against a whole nation!" But at the parsonage they soon returned to a more serious consideration of the matter. Did Uncle Prosper intend to forgive the sinner altogether? And was he coerced into doing so by a conviction that he had been told lies, or by the uncommon difficulties which presented themselves to him in reference to another heir? At any rate, it was agreed by them all that Harry must meet his uncle half-way, and write the "full and complete explanation," as desired. "'Bleeding, speechless, and motionless!'" said Harry. "I can't deny that he was bleeding; he certainly was speechless, and for a few moments may have been motionless. What am I to say?" But the letter was not a difficult one to write, and was sent across on the same day to the Hall. There Mr. Prosper gave up a day to its consideration,--a day which would have been much better devoted to applying the final touch to his own letter to Miss Thoroughbung. And he found at last that his nephew's letter required no rejoinder. But Harry had much to do. It was first necessary that he should see his friend, and explain to him that causes over which he had no control forbade him to go to America. "Of course, you know, I can't fly in my uncle's face. I was going because he intended to disinherit me; but he finds that more troublesome than letting me alone, and therefore I must remain. You see what he says about the Americans." The gentleman, whose opinion about our friends on the other side of the Atlantic was very different from Mr. Prosper's, fell into a long argument on the subject. But he was obliged at last to give up his companion. Then came the necessity of explaining the change in all his plans to Florence Mountjoy, and with this view he wrote the short letter given at the beginning of the chapter, following it down in person to Cheltenham. "Mamma, Harry is here," said Florence to her mother. "Well, my dear? I did not bring him." "But what am I to say to him?" "How can I tell? Why do you ask me?" "Of course he must come and see me," said Florence. "He has sent a note to say that he will be here in ten minutes." "Oh dear! oh dear!" exclaimed Mrs. Mountjoy. "Do you mean to be present, mamma? That is what I want to know." But that was the question which at the moment Mrs. Mountjoy could not answer. She had pledged herself not to be unkind, on condition that no marriage should take place for three years. But she could not begin by being kind, as otherwise she would immediately have been pressed to abandon that very condition. "Perhaps, mamma, it would be less painful if you would not see him." "But he is not to make repeated visits." "No, not at present; I think not." "He must come only once," said Mrs. Mountjoy, firmly. "He was to have come because he was going to America. But now he has changed all his plans. It isn't fair, Florence." "What can I do? I cannot send him to America because you thought he was to go there. I thought so too; and so did he. I don't know what has changed him; but it wasn't likely that he'd write and say he wouldn't come because he had altered his plans. Of course he wants to see me; and so do I want to see him--very much. Here he is!" There was a ring at the bell, and Mrs. Mountjoy was driven to resolve what she would do at the moment. "You mustn't be above a quarter of an hour. I won't have you together for above a quarter of an hour,--or twenty minutes at the farthest." So saying, Mrs. Mountjoy escaped from the room, and within a minute or two Florence found herself in Harry Annesley's arms. The twenty minutes had become forty before Harry had thought of stirring, although he had been admonished fully a dozen times that he must at that moment take his departure. Then the maid knocked at the door, and brought word "that missus wanted to see Miss Florence in her bedroom." "Now, Harry, you must go. You really shall go,--or I will. I am very, very happy to hear what you have told me." "But three years!" "Unless mamma will agree." "It is quite out of the question. I never heard of anything so absurd." "Then you must get mamma to consent. I have promised her for three years, and you ought to know that I will keep my word. Harry, I always keep my word; do I not? If she will consent, I will. Now, sir, I really must go." Then there was a little form of farewell which need not be especially explained, and Florence went up stairs to her mother. _ |
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