CHAPTER XLVIII

Major Waring came to Wrexby Hall at the close of the October month. He

came to plead his own cause with Mrs. Lovell; but she stopped him by

telling him that his friend Robert was in some danger of losing his love.

"She is a woman, Percy; I anticipate your observation. But, more than

that, she believes she is obliged to give her hand to my cousin, the

squire. It's an intricate story relating to money. She does not care for

Algy a bit, which is not a matter that greatly influences him. He has

served her in some mysterious way; by relieving an old uncle of hers.

Algy has got him the office of village postman for this district, I

believe; if it's that; but I think it should be more, to justify her. At

all events, she seems to consider that her hand is pledged. You know the

kind of girl your friend fancies. Besides, her father insists she is to

marry 'the squire,' which is certainly the most natural thing of all. So,

don't you think, dear Percy, you had better take your friend on the

Continent for some weeks? I never, I confess, exactly understood the

intimacy existing between you, but it must be sincere."

"Are you?" said Percy.

"Yes, perfectly; but always in a roundabout way. Why do you ask me in

this instance?"

"Because you could stop this silly business in a day."

"I know I could."

"Then, why do you not?"

"Because of a wish to be sincere. Percy, I have been that throughout, if

you could read me. I tried to deliver my cousin Edward from what I

thought was a wretched entanglement. His selfish falseness offended me,

and I let him know that I despised him. When I found that he was a man

who had courage, and some heart, he gained my friendship once more, and I

served him as far as I could--happily, as it chanced. I tell you all

this, because I don't care to forfeit your esteem, and heaven knows, I

may want it in the days to come. I believe I am the best friend in the

world--and bad anything else. No one perfectly pleases me, not even you:

you are too studious of character, and, like myself, exacting of

perfection in one or two points. But now hear what I have done, and

approve it if you think fit. I have flirted--abominable word!--I am

compelled to use the language of the Misses--yes, I have flirted with my

cousin Algy. I do it too well, I know--by nature! and I hate it. He has

this morning sent a letter down to the farm saying, that, as he believes

he has failed in securing Rhoda's affections, he renounces all

pretensions, etc., subject to her wishes, etc. The courting, I imagine,

can scarcely have been pleasant to him. My delightful manner with him

during the last fortnight has been infinitely pleasanter. So, your friend

Robert may be made happy by-and-by; that is to say, if his Rhoda is not

too like her sex."

"You're an enchantress," exclaimed Percy.

"Stop," said she, and drifted into seriousness. "Before you praise me you

must know more. Percy, that duel in India--"

He put out his hand to her.

"Yes, I forgive," she resumed. "You were cruel then. Remember that, and

try to be just now. The poor boy would go to his doom. I could have

arrested it. I partly caused it. I thought the honour of the army at

stake. I was to blame on that day, and I am to blame again, but I feel

that I am almost excuseable, if you are not too harsh a judge. No, I am

not; I am execrable; but forgive me."

Percy's face lighted up in horrified amazement as Margaret Lovell

unfastened the brooch at her neck and took out the dull-red handkerchief.

"It was the bond between us," she pursued, "that I was to return this to

you when I no longer remained my own mistress. Count me a miserably

heartless woman. I do my best. You brought this handkerchief to me dipped

in the blood of the poor boy who was slain. I have worn it. It was a

safeguard. Did you mean it to serve as such? Oh, Percy! I felt

continually that blood was on my bosom. I felt it fighting with me. It

has saved me from much. And now I return it to you."

He could barely articulate "Why?"

"Dear friend, by the reading of the bond you should know. I asked you

when I was leaving India, how long I was to keep it by me. You said,

'Till you marry.' Do not be vehement, Percy. This is a thing that could

not have been averted."

"Is it possible," Percy cried, "that you carried the play out so far as

to promise him to marry him?"

"Your forehead is thunder, Percy. I know that look."

"Margaret, I think I could bear to see our army suffer another defeat

rather than you should be contemptible."

"Your chastisement is not given in half measures, Percy."

"Speak on," said he; "there is more to come. You are engaged to marry

him?"

"I engaged that I would take the name of Blancove."

"If he would cease to persecute Rhoda Fleming!"

"The stipulation was exactly in those words."

"You mean to carry it out?"

"To be sincere? I do, Percy!

"You mean to marry Algernon Blancove?"

"I should be contemptible indeed if I did, Percy!

"You do not?"

"I do not."

"And you are sincere? By all the powers of earth and heaven, there's no

madness like dealing with an animated enigma! What is it you do mean?"

"As I said--to be sincere. But I was also bound to be of service to your

friend. It is easy to be sincere and passive."

Percy struck his brows. "Can you mean that Edward Blancove is the man?"

"Oh! no. Edward will never marry any one. I do him the justice to say

that his vice is not that of unfaithfulness. He had but one love, and her

heart is quite dead. There is no marriage for him--she refuses. You may

not understand the why of that, but women will. She would marry him if

she could bring herself to it;--the truth is, he killed her pride. Her

taste for life has gone. She is bent on her sister's marrying your

friend. She has no other thought of marriage, and never will have. I know

the state. It is not much unlike mine."

Waring fixed her eyes. "There is a man?"

"Yes," she answered bluntly.

"It is somebody, then, whose banker's account is, I hope, satisfactory."

"Yes, Percy;" she looked eagerly forward, as thanking him for releasing

her from a difficulty. "You still can use the whip, but I do not feel the

sting. I marry a banker's account. Do you bear in mind the day I sent

after you in the park? I had just heard that I was ruined. You know my

mania for betting. I heard it, and knew when I let my heart warm to you

that I could never marry you. That is one reason, perhaps, why I have

been an enigma. I am sincere in telling Algy I shall take the name of

Blancove. I marry the banker. Now take this old gift of yours."

Percy grasped the handkerchief, and quitted her presence forthwith,

feeling that he had swallowed a dose of the sex to serve him for a

lifetime. Yet he lived to reflect on her having decided practically,

perhaps wisely for all parties. Her debts expunged, she became an old

gentleman's demure young wife, a sweet hostess, and, as ever, a true

friend: something of a miracle to one who had inclined to make a heroine

of her while imagining himself to accurately estimate her deficiencies.

Honourably by this marriage the lady paid for such wild oats as she had

sown in youth.

There were joy-bells for Robert and Rhoda, but none for Dahlia and

Edward.

Dahlia lived seven years her sister's housemate, nurse of the growing

swarm. She had gone through fire, as few women have done in like manner,

to leave their hearts among the ashes; but with that human heart she left

regrets behind her. The soul of this young creature filled its place. It

shone in her eyes and in her work, a lamp to her little neighbourhood;

and not less a lamp of cheerful beams for one day being as another to

her. In truth, she sat above the clouds. When she died she relinquished

nothing. Others knew the loss. Between her and Robert there was deeper

community on one subject than she let Rhoda share. Almost her last words

to him, spoken calmly, but with the quaver of breath resembling sobs,

were: "Help poor girls."

ETEXT EDITOR'S BOOKMARKS FOR THE ENTIRE RHODA FLEMING:

A fleet of South-westerly rainclouds had been met in mid-sky

All women are the same--Know one, know all

Ashamed of letting his ears be filled with secret talk

Borrower to be dancing on Fortune's tight-rope above the old abyss

But you must be beautiful to please some men

But the key to young men is the ambition, or, in the place of it.....

But great, powerful London--the new universe to her spirit

Can a man go farther than his nature?

Childish faith in the beneficence of the unseen Powers who feed us

Cold curiosity

Dahlia, the perplexity to her sister's heart, lay stretched....

Dead Britons are all Britons, but live Britons are not quite brothers

Developing stiff, solid, unobtrusive men, and very personable women

Exceeding variety and quantity of things money can buy

Found by the side of the bed, inanimate, and pale as a sister of death

Full-o'-Beer's a hasty chap

Gravely reproaching the tobacconist for the growing costliness of cigars

He had no recollection of having ever dined without drinking wine

He tried to gather his ideas, but the effort was like that of a light dreamer

He lies as naturally as an infant sucks

He will be a part of every history (the fool)

I haven't got the pluck of a flea

I never pay compliments to transparent merit

I would cut my tongue out, if it did you a service

Inferences are like shadows on the wall

It was her prayer to heaven that she might save a doctor's bill

Land and beasts! They sound like blessed things

Love dies like natural decay

Marriage is an awful thing, where there's no love

Mrs. Fleming, of Queen Anne's Farm, was the wife of a yeoman

My first girl--she's brought disgrace on this house

My plain story is of two Kentish damsels

One learns to have compassion for fools, by studying them

Pleasant companion, who did not play the woman obtrusively among men

Principle of examining your hypothesis before you proceed to decide by it

Rhoda will love you. She is firm when she loves

Silence is commonly the slow poison used by those who mean to murder love

Sinners are not to repent only in words

So long as we do not know that we are performing any remarkable feat

Sort of religion with her to believe no wrong of you

The unhappy, who do not wish to live, and cannot die

The kindest of men can be cruel

The idea of love upon the lips of ordinary men, provoked Dahlia's irony

The backstairs of history (Memoirs)

The woman seeking for an anomaly wants a master

Then, if you will not tell me

There were joy-bells for Robert and Rhoda, but none for Dahlia

To be a really popular hero anywhere in Britain (must be a drinker)

To be her master, however, one must not begin by writhing as her slave

Wait till the day's ended before you curse your luck

William John Fleming was simply a poor farmer

With this money, said the demon, you might speculate

Work is medicine

You who may have cared for her through her many tribulations, have no fear

You choose to give yourself to an obscure dog

You're a rank, right-down widow, and no mistake

EVAN HARRINGTON

By George Meredith

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