CHAPTER LXXVIII.

MISS LONGESTAFFE AGAIN AT CAVERSHAM.

All this time Mr. Longestaffe was necessarily detained in London

while the three ladies of his family were living forlornly at

Caversham. He had taken his younger daughter home on the day after

his visit to Lady Monogram, and in all his intercourse with her had

spoken of her suggested marriage with Mr. Brehgert as a thing utterly

out of the question. Georgiana had made one little fight for her

independence at the Jermyn Street Hotel. "Indeed, papa, I think it's

very hard," she said.

"What's hard? I think a great many things are hard; but I have to

bear them."

"You can do nothing for me."

"Do nothing for you! Haven't you got a home to live in, and clothes

to wear, and a carriage to go about in,--and books to read if you

choose to read them? What do you expect?"

"You know, papa, that's nonsense."

"How do you dare to tell me that what I say is nonsense?"

"Of course there's a house to live in and clothes to wear; but what's

to be the end of it? Sophia, I suppose, is going to be married."

"I am happy to say she is,--to a most respectable young man and a

thorough gentleman."

"And Dolly has his own way of going on."

"You have nothing to do with Adolphus."

"Nor will he have anything to do with me. If I don't marry what's to

become of me? It isn't that Mr. Brehgert is the sort of man I should

choose."

"Do not mention his name to me."

"But what am I to do? You give up the house in town, and how am I to

see people? It was you sent me to Mr. Melmotte."

"I didn't send you to Mr. Melmotte."

"It was at your suggestion I went there, papa. And of course I could

only see the people he had there. I like nice people as well as

anybody."

"There's no use talking any more about it."

"I don't see that. I must talk about it, and think about it too. If

I can put up with Mr. Brehgert I don't see why you and mamma should

complain."

"A Jew!"

"People don't think about that as they used to, papa. He has a very

fine income, and I should always have a house in--"

Then Mr. Longestaffe became so furious and loud, that he stopped her

for that time. "Look here," he said, "if you mean to tell me that you

will marry that man without my consent, I can't prevent it. But you

shall not marry him as my daughter. You shall be turned out of my

house, and I will never have your name pronounced in my presence

again. It is disgusting,--degrading,--disgraceful!" And then he left

her.

On the next morning before he started for Caversham he did see Mr.

Brehgert; but he told Georgiana nothing of the interview, nor had

she the courage to ask him. The objectionable name was not mentioned

again in her father's hearing, but there was a sad scene between

herself, Lady Pomona, and her sister. When Mr. Longestaffe and his

younger daughter arrived, the poor mother did not go down into the

hall to meet her child,--from whom she had that morning received the

dreadful tidings about the Jew. As to these tidings she had as yet

heard no direct condemnation from her husband. The effect upon Lady

Pomona had been more grievous even than that made upon the father.

Mr. Longestaffe had been able to declare immediately that the

proposed marriage was out of the question, that nothing of the kind

should be allowed, and could take upon himself to see the Jew with

the object of breaking off the engagement. But poor Lady Pomona was

helpless in her sorrow. If Georgiana chose to marry a Jew tradesman

she could not help it. But such an occurrence in the family would,

she felt, be to her as though the end of all things had come. She

could never again hold up her head, never go into society, never

take pleasure in her powdered footmen. When her daughter should have

married a Jew, she didn't think that she could pluck up the courage

to look even her neighbours Mrs. Yeld and Mrs. Hepworth in the face.

Georgiana found no one in the hall to meet her, and dreaded to go to

her mother. She first went with her maid to her own room, and waited

there till Sophia came to her. As she sat pretending to watch the

process of unpacking, she strove to regain her courage. Why need she

be afraid of anybody? Why, at any rate, should she be afraid of other

females? Had she not always been dominant over her mother and sister?

"Oh, Georgey," said Sophia, "this is wonderful news!"

"I suppose it seems wonderful that anybody should be going to be

married except yourself."

"No;--but such a very odd match!"

"Look here, Sophia. If you don't like it, you need not talk about it.

We shall always have a house in town, and you will not. If you don't

like to come to us, you needn't. That's about all."

"George wouldn't let me go there at all," said Sophia.

"Then--George--had better keep you at home at Toodlam. Where's mamma?

I should have thought somebody might have come and met me to say a

word to me, instead of allowing me to creep into the house like

this."

"Mamma isn't at all well; but she's up and in her own room. You

mustn't be surprised, Georgey, if you find mamma very--very much cut

up about this." Then Georgiana understood that she must be content to

stand all alone in the world, unless she made up her mind to give up

Mr. Brehgert.

"So I've come back," said Georgiana, stooping down and kissing her

mother.

"Oh, Georgiana; oh, Georgiana!" said Lady Pomona, slowly raising

herself and covering her face with one of her hands. "This is

dreadful. It will kill me. It will indeed. I didn't expect it from

you."

"What is the good of all that, mamma?"

"It seems to me that it can't be possible. It's unnatural. It's worse

than your wife's sister. I'm sure there's something in the Bible

against it. You never would read your Bible, or you wouldn't be going

to do this."

"Lady Julia Start has done just the same thing,--and she goes

everywhere."

"What does your papa say? I'm sure your papa won't allow it. If he's

fixed about anything, it's about the Jews. An accursed race;--think

of that, Georgiana;--expelled from Paradise."

"Mamma, that's nonsense."

"Scattered about all over the world, so that nobody knows who anybody

is. And it's only since those nasty Radicals came up that they have

been able to sit in Parliament."

"One of the greatest judges in the land is a Jew," said Georgiana,

who had already learned to fortify her own case.

"Nothing that the Radicals can do can make them anything else but

what they are. I'm sure that Mr. Whitstable, who is to be your

brother-in-law, will never condescend to speak to him."

Now, if there was anybody whom Georgiana Longestaffe had despised

from her youth upwards it was George Whitstable. He had been a

laughing-stock to her when they were children, had been regarded

as a lout when he left school, and had been her common example of

rural dullness since he had become a man. He certainly was neither

beautiful nor bright;--but he was a Conservative squire born of Tory

parents. Nor was he rich,--having but a moderate income, sufficient

to maintain a moderate country house and no more. When first

there came indications that Sophia intended to put up with George

Whitstable, the more ambitious sister did not spare the shafts of her

scorn. And now she was told that George Whitstable would not speak to

her future husband! She was not to marry Mr. Brehgert lest she should

bring disgrace, among others, upon George Whitstable! This was not to

be endured.

"Then Mr. Whitstable may keep himself at home at Toodlam and not

trouble his head at all about me or my husband. I'm sure I shan't

trouble myself as to what a poor creature like that may think about

me. George Whitstable knows as much about London as I do about the

moon."

"He has always been in county society," said Sophia, "and was staying

only the other day at Lord Cantab's."

"Then there were two fools together," said Georgiana, who at this

moment was very unhappy.

"Mr. Whitstable is an excellent young man, and I am sure he will make

your sister happy; but as for Mr. Brehgert,--I can't bear to have his

name mentioned in my hearing."

"Then, mamma, it had better not be mentioned. At any rate it shan't

be mentioned again by me." Having so spoken, Georgiana bounced out of

the room and did not meet her mother and sister again till she came

down into the drawing-room before dinner.

Her position was one very trying both to her nerves and to her

feelings. She presumed that her father had seen Mr. Brehgert, but did

not in the least know what had passed between them. It might be that

her father had been so decided in his objection as to induce Mr.

Brehgert to abandon his intention,--and if this were so, there could

be no reason why she should endure the misery of having the Jew

thrown in her face. Among them all they had made her think that she

would never become Mrs. Brehgert. She certainly was not prepared to

nail her colours upon the mast and to live and die for Brehgert. She

was almost sick of the thing herself. But she could not back out of

it so as to obliterate all traces of the disgrace. Even if she should

not ultimately marry the Jew, it would be known that she had been

engaged to a Jew,--and then it would certainly be said afterwards

that the Jew had jilted her. She was thus vacillating in her mind,

not knowing whether to go on with Brehgert or to abandon him. That

evening Lady Pomona retired immediately after dinner, being "far from

well." It was of course known to them all that Mr. Brehgert was her

ailment. She was accompanied by her elder daughter, and Georgiana

was left with her father. Not a word was spoken between them. He sat

behind his newspaper till he went to sleep, and she found herself

alone and deserted in that big room. It seemed to her that even the

servants treated her with disdain. Her own maid had already given her

notice. It was manifestly the intention of her family to ostracise

her altogether. Of what service would it be to her that Lady Julia

Goldsheiner should be received everywhere, if she herself were to

be left without a single Christian friend? Would a life passed

exclusively among the Jews content even her lessened ambition? At

ten o'clock she kissed her father's head and went to bed. Her father

grunted less audibly than usual under the operation. She had always

given herself credit for high spirits, but she began to fear that her

courage would not suffice to carry her through sufferings such as

these.

On the next day her father returned to town, and the three ladies

were left alone. Great preparations were going on for the Whitstable

wedding. Dresses were being made and linen marked, and consultations

held,--from all which things Georgiana was kept quite apart. The

accepted lover came over to lunch, and was made as much of as though

the Whitstables had always kept a town house. Sophy loomed so large

in her triumph and happiness, that it was not to be borne. All

Caversham treated her with a new respect. And yet if Toodlam was a

couple of thousand a year, it was all it was;--and there were two

unmarried sisters! Lady Pomona went half into hysterics every time

she saw her younger daughter, and became in her way a most oppressive

parent. Oh, heavens;--was Mr. Brehgert with his two houses worth all

this? A feeling of intense regret for the things she was losing came

over her. Even Caversham, the Caversham of old days which she had

hated, but in which she had made herself respected and partly feared

by everybody about the place,--had charms for her which seemed to

her delightful now that they were lost for ever. Then she had always

considered herself to be the first personage in the house,--superior

even to her father;--but now she was decidedly the last.

Her second evening was worse even than the first. When Mr.

Longestaffe was not at home the family sat in a small dingy room

between the library and the dining-room, and on this occasion the

family consisted only of Georgiana. In the course of the evening she

went up-stairs and calling her sister out into the passage demanded

to be told why she was thus deserted. "Poor mamma is very ill," said

Sophy.

"I won't stand it if I'm to be treated like this," said Georgiana.

"I'll go away somewhere."

"How can I help it, Georgey? It's your own doing. Of course you must

have known that you were going to separate yourself from us."

On the next morning there came a dispatch from Mr. Longestaffe,--of

what nature Georgey did not know as it was addressed to Lady Pomona.

But one enclosure she was allowed to see. "Mamma," said Sophy,

"thinks you ought to know how Dolly feels about it." And then a

letter from Dolly to his father was put into Georgey's hands. The

letter was as follows:--

MY DEAR FATHER,--

Can it be true that Georgey is thinking of marrying that

horrid vulgar Jew, old Brehgert? The fellows say so; but I

can't believe it. I'm sure you wouldn't let her. You ought

to lock her up.

Yours affectionately,

A. LONGESTAFFE.

Dolly's letters made his father very angry, as, short as they were,

they always contained advice or instruction, such as should come from

a father to a son, rather than from a son to a father. This letter

had not been received with a welcome. Nevertheless the head of the

family had thought it worth his while to make use of it, and had sent

it to Caversham in order that it might be shown to his rebellious

daughter.

And so Dolly had said that she ought to be locked up! She'd like to

see somebody do it! As soon as she had read her brother's epistle she

tore it into fragments and threw it away in her sister's presence.

"How can mamma be such a hypocrite as to pretend to care what Dolly

says? Who doesn't know that he's an idiot? And papa has thought it

worth his while to send that down here for me to see! Well, after

that I must say that I don't much care what papa does."

"I don't see why Dolly shouldn't have an opinion as well as anybody

else," said Sophy.

"As well as George Whitstable? As far as stupidness goes they are

about the same. But Dolly has a little more knowledge of the world."

"Of course we all know, Georgiana," rejoined the elder sister,

"that for cuteness and that kind of thing one must look among the

commercial classes, and especially among a certain sort."

"I've done with you all," said Georgey rushing out of the room. "I'll

have nothing more to do with any one of you."

But it is very difficult for a young lady to have done with her

family! A young man may go anywhere, and may be lost at sea; or come

and claim his property after twenty years. A young man may demand an

allowance, and has almost a right to live alone. The young male bird

is supposed to fly away from the paternal nest. But the daughter of

a house is compelled to adhere to her father till she shall get a

husband. The only way in which Georgey could "have done" with them

all at Caversham would be by trusting herself to Mr. Brehgert, and at

the present moment she did not know whether Mr. Brehgert did or did

not consider himself as engaged to her.

That day also passed away with ineffable tedium. At one time she was

so beaten down by ennui that she almost offered her assistance to

her sister in reference to the wedding garments. In spite of the

very bitter words which had been spoken in the morning she would

have done so had Sophy afforded her the slightest opportunity. But

Sophy was heartlessly cruel in her indifference. In her younger days

she had had her bad things, and now,--with George Whitstable by her

side,--she meant to have good things, the goodness of which was

infinitely enhanced by the badness of her sister's things. She

had been so greatly despised that the charm of despising again

was irresistible. And she was able to reconcile her cruelty to

her conscience by telling herself that duty required her to show

implacable resistance to such a marriage as this which her sister

contemplated. Therefore Georgiana dragged out another day, not in the

least knowing what was to be her fate.